kore 𖹭

backing up against him to spoon in the morning. he’s still asleep for the most part, but he opens up to you. his arm folds over you, hand cupping your breast. his leg stretching over yours. you’re his for him to keep there, soft and warm, and you’re not sure he’s even conscious about it as he starts grinding his growing morning wood against your ass

what’s not meant for me kills me a thousand times every day

they injected me with mental illness when i was a baby because they didn't like that i radiated moonlight and had stars inside my eyes. they were jealous of me.

"Whimsy" is truly a wretched term. What maketh thee so carefree?

thy mother

Art thou for fucking real

cock warming but they press a vibrator to your clit, making you cum over and over and over again until they end up cumming from the sensation of your muscles pulsing and spasming around them alone.

the horrors persist but so do books, art, hot chocolate, winter nights, the moon, the sea, the stars, sunsets, literature, libraries, cats, flowers, stories, love and the wistful feeling you get when you finally return home

when he can tell you’re holding back from cumming bc you are bound to drench his pelvis and thighs if the way your insides feel is any indication and he simply says “come on baby, let go for me. let me have it all.”

Clenching down on his dick to tease him and regretting it just a moment later when he pushes my face into the mattress and fucks my holes like he wants to destroy me