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shark vs the universe
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Janaina Medeiros
we're not kids anymore.
★
Sweet Seals For You, Always
noise dept.
#extradirty
Kiana Khansmith
macklin celebrini has autism
Love Begins
styofa doing anything
⁂
Today's Document
Cosimo Galluzzi
trying on a metaphor
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Tunisia
seen from Morocco
seen from New Zealand
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Brazil
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
@underyourfeetsworld
After listening to a podcast about rediscovering the alpha within, your boyfriend stopped seeing you as a real person.
You are a tool for him to use and abuse. A toilet if he wants. A slave when he’s lazy. A cocksleeve always.
It didn’t take long for you to forget who you used to be. Just the thought of his cold eyes and superior existence makes you sink back down into the truth, deeper and deeper each time.
Nobody told you to get on the floor. You just ended up there, the way you always do around men like them. One foot on your back, one in your mouth, and the conversation above you never once stopped. You were furniture. Useful, quiet, exactly where you belonged.
The edge of victory
Your daughter is a senior in high school, and the latest boy she has brought home is also a senior. however, he has been held back a few times, and is almost 20 years old. His physique is far superior to any of the other guys in her grade, and even yours. Your shocked at his size as he hops out of his rusty old truck. His big, size 14 skater shoes made a ‘thud’ sound as he powerfully walks up to the front porch. Your daughter goes on inside to grab some things to go to his place, and he leans on the front porch railing, his triceps flexed. Your eyes are transfixed on his hairy, thick calves, wondering what it took for such a guy to get such strong looking legs. The curiosity of his endowment is killing you, and he kind of detects it.
“Give me 50 bucks for tonight’s party’s liquor, homo, and you’ll get to see all you want when I bring your daughter home passed out later tonight.” he says.
That’s all that needs to be said, and reluctant to avert your eyes for even a moment, you scramble inside to get your wallet, hoping he doesn’t ditch you. Fags will never be immune to an Alpha’s word.
A faggot Dad’s fantasy.
when you’re treated like the toxic alpha king you are you become a cocky narcissistic monster
I want to treat all toxic Alpha Kings like they deserve
Every time you’re fucking your girl, you’re just pushing his seed deeper inside of her, straight to her womb.
She’s addicted to him brah
Just like I’m addicted to you daddy 😏
Wet pussy is drawn to toxic predators
Toxic predators like us can sniff out fertile pussy from miles away.
You've never been on good terms with your brother in law, Clark. He never liked you and always treated you poorly and sometimes belittled you in front of everyone.
After your wedding, he left to live abroad for a while. During that time, you started to realize that you are into men as well, but what interests you in men is feet specifically, but sex remained for women.
After Calrk came back and settled down in your town, he invited over for a man's night. You went there excited, hoping you can make your relationship better.
He opened the door and let you into the living room. Before you could sit down, he started talking.
"So I recently got a message from a friend of mine. He saw the last picture I had on Instagram with the whole family, and he knew you. Apparently, he's been selling you foot pics for a while. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"You can't tell you sister about this. She will kill me."
He slapped your face.
"If you don't start speaking I will kill you myself."
"Okay, okay. A while back, I realized I'm bisexual, but I'm only into man's feet, I've never done anything sexual. Please believe me."
"A faggot. You're either a faggot or a man. There is no in-between. And you pump your cock to a man's foot. So you are a faggot, say it, loud and proud."
"I don't think we should be using this word. Let's deal with this as adults please."
He slapped you again and grabbed your throat.
"Say it."
"I'm a faggot. I'm a faggot."
"Was it hard? See. Now we can talk. If my sister knew about this, she would divorce you and strip you of everything you have. I might not be your biggest fan, but I can make you a deal. You know I don't do girlfriends I just fuck whoever I wamt whenever I want, so I can use a faggot for my domestic work. I'm close to your place. You pass by in the morning to clean and after work to cook. Every day you do a good job, you get my big manly alpha feet. Fair deal? Ah, and you stop finding men online to pay for foot pics. You can pay me instead for each day you serve me."
"I don't think I have any other choice. Can I think about it? Maybe I can find another solution or something."
"Listen faggot. I was minutes away from telling everyone about you. I couldn't care less about you, but I don't want drama. Let's be real here you will be hard while cleaning my apartment and cooking for me. We both know it, and I don't even have to offer my feet. You faggots are turned on by anything you do to men like me. I will now sit down and rest my feet. You will either kneel down and worship them or go out and choose divorce."
He sat down and rested his massive shoes on the table. You had forgotten how big his feet were. You knelt down and took them off, and with a strong musky smell, you laid your eyes on his huge feet and long toes. He didn't have any socks on making his feet smell leathery and sweaty.
You took a big whiff and lent to his soles and started kissing them. It was your first time kissing feet, as you only used to buy pictures and jerk off to them. You livid your fantasy licking and kissing his feet with pleasure all while he watches the game.
He stopped you at some point and asked for a foot massage, which you gladly gave him. By the end of the game, he removed his feet.
"Enough for today, maybe even the whole week. Today was an exception tomorrow. You come in time to clean before work, and you come and cook after. I have someone coming to join for dinner so the food better be good. Now get the fuck out."
I needed a new cheap place to move to after I finished college. I found a room for rent for a decent price listed by the guy who rented a two bedroom apartment and looking for a roommate.
His name was Pablo, and he was around my age, but unlike me, he was muscular and fit. We arranged a showing for me to see the room and the common areas. I arrived on time only for him to message that he'll be 30 minutes late. I had no option, so I waited on the street till he finally showed up almost an hour later.
He opened the apartment door and pointed to a room.
"That's the room, and you can see the common areas, take a look and leave. If you want the room, transfer the money by midnight and move in tomorrow."
He sat on the couch and didn't say anything else. I took a quick look, said goodbye, and left. I knew this was going to be a nightmare to deal with, but I had no other options. I transferred the money and started moving my things after he gave me the keys.
We barely interacted during the first week, but things were getting out of hand. Trash cans were full, the sink full of dishes, and the house dirty. If i didn't clean something or complete a chore, nothing was getting done. I was always cleaning up after me, so this was all his mess.
I waited till he got home and tried to talk to him. I asked him politely to do the dishes and take the trash out. He sat down on the couch and told me to stand before him.
"You think you were the only one interested in this room? Do you think I couldn't have had another man here? You're here because I need a faggot to do the chores. So shut up fag and go clean the whole apartment."
"You can't speak to me like that. I'm not here to be your maid. I'll clean after myself, and you can keep your trash in your room."
He stood up and smacked my chest.
"Listen to me faggot. You will now stand up and go clean the whole apartment, and then when you finish, you'll come back and say 'done sir'. Do not make me say that again, or I will beat up your stupid face. Do you understand?"
His tone was serious and mean. I knew he was serious this time, and he could easily beat me up. I felt completely defeated, yet I could feel my dick getting hard.
"No response faggot?"
"I understand. I'll clean now. I'm sorry."
"Sir. Address your superiors properly."
"I understand, Sir. I'll clean now, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."
"That's right you stupid fag."
I started in the kitchen and did all the dishes. After that, I started doing the laundry as I cleaned the rest of the kitchen. The apartment had no cleaning items, so I used the old dish sponge and cleaned the floor with it. I made my way out of the kitchen and started with the living area. I first took all the trash out, and them scrubbed the floor with the sponge, making sure not to miss a spot.
I got completely sucked by cleaning, and I made sure everything was clean and tidy. I made my way to the bathroom, and there was a lot of work there. I got on all fours. I made sure to clean all the stains, and after about an hour, the bathroom was shining, and I felt so proud.
I went to his bedroom and it was a mess. Clothes all around, stains, and some used condoms. I got to work and tidied things up and cleaned the whole room. My room was mostly clean, so it didn't take much work.
I finished and went to him.
"Done Sir."
"Did you not enjoy that?"
"I really enjoyed it Sir. Thank you Sir."
"You fags are primitive beings, just do as Sir say and you will be happy. Now I'll give you a reward. I know your kind love feet, so you have an hour on mine. Lick them and rub them and then go make me dinner."
"Yes Sir."
I waisted no time and started rubbing my face on his soles. His feet had a strong odor and a strong taste, making me hornier. I sniffed and licked nonstop as my hands rubbed his soles. I was so excited for how this would develop further, but I certainly didn't want it to stop.
When the email first came from the university, you couldn’t stop smiling. You were chosen — you, the quiet one, the bookworm, the kid no one looked at twice. A three-month fully funded trip to Europe to present your research at top universities. Paid flights, paid hotel, paid meals. You even bought an extra ticket for your sister, already imagining her excitement as you showed her Paris, Rome, Berlin.
And then your phone buzzed.
It was him.
Your high school bully. The guy who used to slam your books on the floor, laugh at your presentations, call you every name he could think of. “Heard you got picked for that Europe thing,” the message read. “Congrats, nerd. You taking me, right?”
You froze. You’d already promised your sister. She was counting on this. But the way he wrote it — it wasn’t a question. It was an order. And you remembered that look in his eyes from years ago. The look that said: resist, and he’ll ruin you.
Two days later, you broke the news to your sister. She cried. You lied and said there had been a mistake with the ticket. And then you stood at the airport, suitcase in hand, watching him swagger through the terminal, sunglasses on, baseball cap low, grinning like he’d won the lottery.
Europe was never yours.
From the first night, it was his show. He claimed the hotel bed, tossing his shoes toward you with a smirk. “Polish ‘em,” he said, stripping down to his boxers and sprawling out like a king. You slept curled up in the armchair, your research folder tucked against your chest.
When professors emailed to schedule dinner, he had you cancel. “Dinner? Nah, loser, we’re hitting the steakhouse. Bring your card.”
Every meal, every drink, every stupid souvenir he wanted, it was either charged to the university’s stipend or to your own pocket. You didn’t argue. You couldn’t.
And then he started pushing further.
“You’re putting my name on that presentation,” he said one morning, lighting a cigarette in bed while scrolling on his phone. “Don’t care how you do it. Co-author, assistant, whatever. Make it happen.”
You tried to explain academic rules, ethics, the risks. He just laughed and flicked ash in your direction. “Rules don’t apply to me, nerd. Do it.”
And you did. You watched your slide deck — the one you’d worked on for years — show his name under yours. He snapped a photo, posted it on LinkedIn with a caption dripping with arrogance:
“Honored to present groundbreaking work in Europe. Hard work pays off. #Blessed #AlphaMindset”
His post exploded with likes, comments, praise. Your inbox stayed quiet.
Nights were worse. He sprawled on the bed, naked or close enough, scrolling his phone, barking orders. “Feet. Rub.” “Laundry. Hand wash. Now.” One night, he didn’t even ask — just crooked his finger, and you got down on the floor, like the old days in high school when you’d pick up what he dropped. Only this time, he didn’t stop you.
By the end of three months, you weren’t the university’s rising star. You were his shadow.
And then something strange happened.
Your research — the very work you thought he’d ruined — started getting noticed. Professors mentioned it, papers were cited, invites started flooding your inbox. You didn’t understand. You’d missed dinners, cancelled meetups, let opportunities pass. And yet somehow, traction.
Maybe it was him. Maybe his sheer presence, his chaos, his domination, had burned your name into places you could never reach alone. Maybe he was your curse and your blessing all at once.
Back home, the emails kept coming. And then one stopped you cold:
A one-year fellowship. Fully funded. Presentations across Europe, deeper research, a chance to carve your name in the academic world forever.
You sat at your desk, staring at the screen, heart pounding. You wanted to jump up, to scream, to tell someone. Instead, you turned your head.
He was there. Naked on your bed, propped against your pillows, scrolling his phone like he’d lived there all his life. He didn’t even look up when he muttered, “What’s the nerd stressing about now?”
Your mouth went dry.
Do you tell him? Do you risk making it his again? Do you dare to imagine this trip as yours?
Or do you accept what you’d begun to believe in Europe — that maybe it was never about you at all? Maybe he was the reason your work mattered. Maybe without him, without his shadow towering over you, you’d still be invisible.
Your finger hovered over the “accept” button. You could feel the weight of his presence behind you, heavier than the bed he claimed, heavier than the years he’d owned you.
You hesitated too long. He noticed.
“Read it,” he said flatly, eyes still glued to his phone.
Your throat tightened. “It’s… it’s another fellowship. A year. In Europe. Fully funded.”
That made him look up. His eyes narrowed, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Another one, huh? Guess I really did fix your life, nerd.” He swung his legs off the bed, standing in front of you, tall and cut, his muscles hard under the dim light. He tapped his chest. “Go on. Tell me who’s responsible.”
You swallowed. “…you are.”
“Louder.”
“You are.”
“Damn right.” He tossed his phone onto the bed. “You think anyone gave a shit about you before I stepped in? You think professors even looked twice at your name until I plastered it next to mine? You owe me everything.”
And you knew he was right. You stood up, and before you could stop yourself, your arms wrapped around him. His bare skin was warm, his sweat salty, the smell of cigars and chlorine still clinging to him from the hotel pool earlier that day. Your face pressed into his chest, and something broke in you — the last piece of resistance, gone. He wasn’t just your bully anymore. He was magnificent. A force of nature. A man you could never match but would always need.
He let you cling for a long moment, then pulled back just enough to smirk down at you. “Good boy. That’s the gratitude I expect.”
You nodded, breathless.
“This next fellowship,” he said, stretching his arms wide like he owned the room, “isn’t gonna be like this one. I got plans. Bigger. You’ll do your nerd shit, whatever, but the rest? That’s mine. My trip. My rules.” He paused, grinning. “Oh, and now that it’s a year-long, you can bring your family, right?”
Your heart skipped. “…yes.”
“Perfect. Bring your sister. I’ll take care of her while you bury your nose in books. Everybody wins.”
You didn’t argue. You didn’t even think of arguing.
That night, while he sprawled back on your bed like a king, you sat at your desk and drafted the announcement for LinkedIn. Fingers trembling, you typed out the words:
“Honored to accept a one-year research fellowship in Europe. Excited for the journey ahead.”
You hit post. The likes started rolling in, the congratulatory comments. Professors, classmates, colleagues. The kind of validation you’d always dreamed of.
But when you turned back to the bed, to him lounging there with that satisfied grin, you realized none of it mattered. His smirk, his nod, his approval — that was your real validation.
Everything else was just noise.
[Check link below for more context]
"I got some amazing news to you faggot. You're about to reach the ultimate level of faggness. Your sister is fucking pregnant with my alpha son, your future master. Now go get me a beer so I can celebrate and come lick my feet clean."
You didn't hesitate to do as he asked, you were scared of saying anything especially since you saw him yesterday beat your parents up and force them to work overtime because their paychecks weren't enough for him.
You gave him his beer and started worshipping his feet.
"However I'll need a new pussy to use in the meantime. It'll definitely hurt, but you know that since her screams keep you awake when I fuck her. My 9 inch monster will tear your virgin pussy faggot."
You got afraid and stopped licking his foot for a second, ablnd before you realized his foot was stomping your face.
"You got scared pussy fag? You're a faggot, you should beg for my cock. Don't worry the same way I turned your whole family into my slaves I'll turn your hole into my pussy."
He stopped stomping and rested his feet again and you continued worshipping them.
"Maybe I'll make you the town's pussy next and have every alpha use you. You should be proud and honored for being treated like this faggot, others dream about being owned by me."
Their was nothing you could do. You didn't want to do anything, you accepted your fate as you sucked his toes.
"Thank you master."
Your sister stopped moaning and you knew what you should do. You rushed into the corridor and knelt at the door of her room seconds befor he
My mom called my dad for the first time in 20 years. She was getting married. She needed the apartment for her new family so i had to get out.
My dad lived in the same city, I go to school in the same city.
My dad said fine.
That's the most he's ever given me.
I'd barely met him twice in my life. My mom never talked about him except to say it was a mistake. I don't think she meant just him.
I showed up with two bags. My dad opened the door, looked at me, and stepped aside.
"Basement."
That was it. He went back down the hall and I stood in the doorway holding my bags.
Cole, my half brother, was on the couch. He looked up when I walked in. Nineteen years old and already built like our father. He looked at me for a few seconds with a smirk on his face.
He turned back to the TV.
I took my bags to the basement and slept the night.
I heard movement upstairs early. When I came up, my dad was by the front door with two suitcases. He didn't look over. Cole was there and they said something to each other low and brief and then my dad left.
I went to the kitchen and made eggs. I fixed my plate and turned to clean the pan before eating. Cole came in; boxers, cap, phone in hand. He didn't say anything. He looked at the plate, pulled a stool out at the counter, sat down and started eating.
He ate without looking up from his phone. I stood by the sink.
When he was done he pushed the plate toward the edge of the counter.
"Six eggs. Scrambled soft. Every morning."
He left the room.
I washed his plate and made myself another breakfast.
I was still eating when Cole came back through, fully dressed, keys in hand, cap pulled low. He didn't slow down.
"I'll be back by dinner. Laundry, cleaning, cooking. Better be done."
He was out the door before I could say anything.
I sat there for a second. My heart was going fast. I had a hard-on by the time I stood up.
I started with the laundry. Went room to room pulling hampers. Cole's first, then whatever my dad had left. I didn't touch my own until the machine was already running. While it cycled I went through the house. Surfaces, floors, bathroom.
I folded the laundry and left Cole's pile on his bed. Started on the dinner. Chicken and pasta.
He walked in, looked around once, said nothing, and went to shower.
He came out he was in sweats, hair damp, phone already back in his hand and took a seat. I plated his food and set it in front of him.
"Seasoning's off, fix it next time."
He ate. I stood by the counter and after a moment I pulled out the stool next to him and started to sit.
He looked at me.
"Faggots don't sit with men."
I stood by the counter the whole time he ate. Hands at my sides. When he was done he pushed the plate toward me without looking up and went to his room.
I washed everything and ate standing at the sink.
It was the end of August. No classes for another three weeks. Nowhere to be.
The routine set itself. Six eggs every morning, scrambled soft. His laundry before mine. Surfaces wiped, floors done, dinner ready by the time he walked in.
Faggot had become my name.
Mid-week he came back from the gym. Tank top, shorts, still damp. He walked through to the kitchen and I was at the sink. I don't know how long I was looking. Long enough. He caught it.
He set his bag down slowly.
I didn't move in time.
He punched me across the face.
"Don't." he said.
From then on I looked at the floor whenever he was in the same room.
It was a Saturday evening. Dad was still gone.
I came up from the basement and Cole was already in the recliner. Jeans, cap, no shirt. Both feet up on the arms, bare soles facing out. TV running.
"Come here."
I crossed the room and stood in front of him and waited.
He nodded once toward the floor.
I got down.
"You faggot freaks love man's feet, no?"
He flexed his toes.
I started with his right foot. I didn't need to be told how. I pressed my mouth to the sole and felt the warmth of it, the weight when he let it rest against my face. His skin was dry, clean. I worked slowly; heel, arch, the ball of his foot. My hands around his ankle to hold it steady.
Cole watched TV.
I moved to his toes. Took them one at a time. I was on my hands and knees on his living room floor doing this and he was watching something on the TV and the house was completely quiet except for that.
I kept going. Left foot and repeated all the steps again. I don't know how long it went on.
At some point he looked down.
He pressed his foot into my face and kicked me over.
"Pathetic little faggot."
I stayed where I was.
Eventually he stood up. He stepped over me without looking down and went down the hall to his room.
I stayed on the floor for a while after that.
Nick Bosa
Spreading, taking up as much room as he can. Expects his fags to kneel between his legs and beg to serve him. Anything he wants - a blowjob, a bussy to breed, massaging his feet, groceries, get his truck detailed…
Anything he asks, his fairy gang will need to make it all happen.
And they can hope it earns taking his fuck.
Crazy Muscles
lil bro making his big bros jealous 💪💪💪
@jockgodworship is younger and better than me in every way
Manspreading is natural. Women and faggots need to shut the fuck up and deal with it. Fold your legs closed to make more space or better yet, ask real nicely to sit on his lap. There's plenty of room for you there.
Raping cash faggots is a norm. Look at my cash faggot being thankful for being cash raped by kissing my big Arab feet. A cash raping shows true determination and dedication from my slaves. Look how inferior it looks right near my royal Arab feet. So pathetic 😂😂😂
