Indulgence

i loved your page for a minute now, but i’ve been a bit of a silent follower as of late. though i’ve been afraid to interact, i think my foolishness has gotten the better of me

trick or treat

what do you think about palestine

i have kind of an uncomfortable question (i think)

i'm ace as well, but i'm also a smut writer. i won't bother you with the details, but i think i became a smut writer and reader because i needed to reframe sex to be a form of art instead of a form of violence. i've made my peace with that.

I want to build you up, get close and personal. I want you to think you've found your soulmate.

i feel so delusional seeing you reply to my ask while mentioning that you still have others to reply. it makes me feel special, chosen even. i know it likely means nothing and that this is very parasocial of me but i cant help it. i have your notifications on and it excites me seeing you pop up.

I have been away, I have been away, and in my absence I have neglected to worship you. To even acknowledge the many thoughts of you in my head. There are quite often too many thoughts for me to sort them out properly. Quite sorry. I wouldn’t abandon my benevolent wolf without warning, I assure. Your words are blessings I sear into my skin; the creation of red lines of prayer as ink spreads from the sentence. Hoping for a more consistent relationship with reality so as to return to my haunting, I hope you are well. Forever your evansecent follower - 🐈

Its been a very long time wolf, alot has gone on and as much as i wish to speak about it i dont wish to bore you with a little dogs sadness. I’ve missed yoy greatly and opening tumblr to see you again reminded me how much i missed being outside your den waiting for you to appear. I hope you have done well wolf, i wish to appear close to your den more often once again -🐕🪽

Screaming and crying so it feels better for master :3

i am distraught that you think me complacent but who am i to disagree? any label you give me, i will wear like a scarlet letter on my chest, or perhaps—more permanently—a brand seared into my skin. i think i understand now that patience is a virtue—except when it comes to you. no, you want me indulgent, ravenous. you want me to surrender and bask in the sins of greed and gluttony. you want me to endure a hunger as sharp as the teeth of a rotary saw, lacerating me from the inside out. i understand my mistake and accept my penance. the thought of your divine punishment fills me simultaneously with dread and delight. yes, i do believe that the frosty bite of your shunning would bring me to tears. i imagine myself waiting at the threshold of our domains once again, pacing, restless and anxious, my skin itching and aching for your gaze, your touch. as the snow of your shun falls upon me, the cold enveloping me instead of your hands, my jackrabbiting heart would begin to slow as a pool of icy dread wells in the pit of my stomach, freezing me from the inside out. would my tears fall like the snow? crystalline rivers rolling down my cheeks? or would they be as ugly as the sin i’ve committed? rampant and raucous? a heartbroken howl for your attention? a wailing yawp, animalistic in its desperation? but. *but* after succumbing to the hypothermia of your disregard, if and when you finally do gaze upon me… *God*, your very gaze would set me alight. your touch would be searing, nearly unbearably so but i would bare myself to you nonetheless. as my constricted blood and nerve vessels thaw, a delicious pain would devour me. starting as tingling pin-pricks, the pressure would only worsen and worsen until it becomes excruciating. still, i would welcome it. pathetic in my rejoice, i would pant and whine like a dog, a mutt left in the cold, its frostbitten tail a blur as it wags when its merciful master returns. yes, your attention again would taste like the sweetest, *hottest* ambrosia and i would *indulge*. greedy and insatiable, i would welcome your violence just as your gentleness so long as it is your hand that delivers it, and with each hit or stroke i would whine for more, more, more. perhaps this would amuse you: the second i opened my eyes, i sought your response. jetlagged and with an exhaustion that is bone deep (my flight last night was dreadful and my sleep minimal), i fear my words may not be entirely coherent (putting it mildly perhaps?) but i couldn’t wait another moment to speak to you. i often describe my letters and ramblings but i couldn’t think of a more apt description for this one—i fear its length may be gratuitous and its contents almost manic. (in my haste, i have not even checked my spelling or grammar—pathetic? perhaps.) overjoyed to hear from you, and anxiously anticipating your next reply,

I want your despair. I want to twist you into yourself. I want you to wonder if you’re enough for me.

i'm wondering if iron and rust is all you are. is there more to you than blood and bone? or rather — do you find interest in things that are not carnal and real? what are your thoughts on ghosts and spectres? tentacles? werewolves and vampires? do your fantasies stay close to reality or do they stray off to enchanted places when reality becomes too boring a muse? can reality become too boring if you view it through eyes like yours?