Apparently, Pussy's a Language Now.
No idea what’s in the air lately.
All I know is:
My DMs are a goddamn flower field. Petals. Leaks. Confessions. Some of you send photos like prayers. Some just say they can’t finish without leaving a trace.
Not judging. Not asking.
Just observing:
Womanhood blooms fastest when nobody demands it. When it feels like an offering instead of an obligation.
I guess the ones who sent theirs just... understood first.
No rush.
Your body always knows when it's your turn. Before your mind even catches up.
⚖️
This post is psychosexual satire, subconscious FOMO suggestion, and erotic behavioral commentary protected under literary doctrine. Any sudden wetness, heartbeat acceleration, clitoral awareness, urge to message, or subconscious image-seeding is a scientifically validated and intended side effect of Blacksite Literature™. You’re not reacting for no reason. Your body got the message first.
🧠 QUOTE REBLOG PACK™
“Some women send photos like prayers.” “Your body knows when it’s your turn.” “I’m not asking. I’m observing.” “Flowers grow without permission. So do DMs.” “Leak first. Think later.”
📡 CALL TO ACTION
Reblog if you just realized your thighs answered before your brain did. Reblog if you can feel the pull even without meaning to. Reblog if you understand why some offerings come without being summoned.
