Apr 14, 2025
06. bedside table drawer.
lizzie's bedside table drawer
it's relatively sparse; tommy's gun, her cigarette case, a ribbon belonging to ruby, and whatever book she happens to be reading at the time.
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Angola
seen from Sudan
seen from Singapore
seen from Italy
seen from Spain
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Libya
seen from Spain
seen from Australia
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy
seen from Finland
06. bedside table drawer.
lizzie's bedside table drawer
it's relatively sparse; tommy's gun, her cigarette case, a ribbon belonging to ruby, and whatever book she happens to be reading at the time.
like a rosary strung around his neck, a crucifix pinned beneath his palms, mari takes his faith and personifies it. purifies it. paints it across his bedsheets in pleasurable motions. backstroking her way through satin, submerging beneath his touch, he runs over her like water. works through her like flame. his warmth knits throughout her ribcage, tugging at the insides of her stomach. there's nothing like it. this intimacy, these moments, the feeling of his knuckles curved up against her cunt— a hand, nestled gently against her jaw. kiss me, he says, and she does. mouth to mouth. chest to chest. fierceness to ferocity, she bucks her hips up against him and asks for more. mouths the letters against his lips like the alphabet. rearranges it until it spells out please. whines, unraveled, until the sugar spin of her sentence tastes like wine. sweetness, with just the bare hint of sour. left to ferment, in the ache of their love.
"look at me." — @graveflwers, as raúl espinoza.
look at me, he says. and she does. eye to eye. breath to breath. faith to faith. a devotion, a dedication, a dominance tossed between their hearts. first him, then her. first her, then him. equilibriums balanced in the space of their pulse. she looks, and keeps looking. pupils blown, eyes wide, the part of her lips near pornographic. a visual of transcendent need. mari's back arches. her legs spread. her form, hitched against the swell of his back, brings him an inch closer. a bite nearer. a want, slick along her thighs. "raúl," she says, and it strings across the bedsheets. strains against her vocal chords. the rasp of his name pitches higher, and any restraint dissolves. "please," she says, and she means it. like i love you, like i want you, like i'll never want anything else. like i crave you, i worship you, like prayer built on bent knees. por favor, mi amor, te necesito. i need you.
What about mine?
"drake wouldnt treat me like this" yes perf
msg me a tumblr name & ill tell u what i think about them/their blog