Come into my parlor

i keep replaying the happy moments knowing it’ll never happen again. why must i torture myself?

now perhaps it was a bad idea for any number of reasons, but i think it was actually really really funny to make "snap out of it!" and "remember who you are!" deepeners so the whole time its friends were trying to free it, it was locking the fuck in even harder and getting excited about being rewarded by me later.

muscle memory is so beautiful to me. my body remembered better than i did. yet we're the same thing, with the same memory.

The way a girl’s eyes widen ever so slightly as she feels your raw cock slide into her entrance, every nerve ending in her body anticipating you thrusting deep inside her and making her body yours

sorry for acting gross perverted obsessed & deranged. it’s cause i am gross perverted obsessed & deranged

i hold onto people like a dying flower holding onto sunlight

i keep looking for proof that i’m loved but keep finding reasons i’m not.

she’s a 10 but you’ll become her favorite person in a week and she’ll lose her shit if you even suggest space, has avoidant attachment, and is in a constant state of melancholy

bite marks are love notes written in flesh.

the concept of your favorite person enabling all your toxic behaviors and encouraging it and accepting you as you are. the thought that they secretly enjoy how emotionally dependent you are on them, how much power they have over you, and see it as validation rather than something unhealthy. ah, to feel accepted and wanted without being judged or called "too much."

I want you to show me off as yours. I want you to be proud of me, to want me so badly that you can't help but show everyone else what they're missing. I want everyone to be so jealous of us, and I want you to tell everyone I'm yours.

you don’t have to suppress your feelings. tell me everything. show me everything. i want to see how crazy you are over me.

I don't really tend to see my sadism as very cruel. It comes from the same place as wanting to see you happy, or wanting to see you laugh. Wanting to see you cry, wanting to see you scream, wanting to see you break. They're all just feelings, and I want all of you. I'd cut your chest open to see more of you if I could still have you after, but ah well. Much of the sadistic component is just wanting to see and cause stronger emotions. A hands-on experience discovering what noises your lungs are capable of making. Is that really so unusual?