🔐

it seems to follow me into my dreams

meowwwwwwww

I really enjoy the idea of switching during the act. You’re on your knees for me, then suddenly I’m under you and I can’t help but want it, to be submissive. I love the feeling of control, knowing the effect I have and how powerful that can be.. then to have that taken away and flipped; now all I can think about and want is to be controlled and touched and told I’m pretty and feel a slight sense of humiliation at how easy it was.. but I like it. I like changing dynamics, I like how easy it can be to fall into submission or dominance, how there’s never a guarantee on how I might be feeling, or how you feel either

ok so it’s come to my attention that maybe I should meow like a cat

I’ll never be a women, but I think there are times that I’m a girl. a girl boy… or more like a boy girl, girlish boy, boy first. It’s never when I’m with others, only when I’m alone. I only feel comfortable being a girl when I’m alone, or whatever. It’s never very long, sometimes I think I’m also something else, something androgynous. I’ll always be a boy , I just sometimes wear a tank top and feel pretty and think maybe I’m okay with being a girl for a little bit. I’m never “she”, just a girl occasionally. guess it’s embracing a quiet part of me that only speaks up once in awhile, sexual and non sexual. often times it’s just for comfort and expression

can’t cut yourself in 2026 without people freaking out omgggg god forbid a boy craves iron and likes the way it stings

gosh I’m thinking about murder again, now I’m horny. Rewatching Scream for the 100th time just to get off on the chase scenes.. the fear… the blood… it’s sooooo good not to be corny but I am actually Billy and if I like you I will want to kill you <3

I think of her often, now I miss the softness of her hair, her scent, how warm she is. Skin against mine. Sometimes I think about the panties I cut off of her, she told me to keep them… so they sit in a jar I make sure no one ever finds. prized possession of mine for sure. I need more of her. Clothing, jewelry, hair, blood, teeth, etc… whatever I can get a hold of. When we’ve both taken a sip from a drink I think about how our spit mingles, how I’ve ingested her inside me many times. I think about the depth of our connection often. She could never find someone like me, someone who could ever be as obsessive and caring and kind and thoughtful … no one else loves like I do. I feel a sense of pride knowing how irreplaceable I am, how she misses me when I’m not there. Satisfaction

killing and stalking and fucking and topping and stabbing then kissing following by brutal violence continued till I’m satisfied, covered in blood while my skin stings. blows thrown at me, hands pushing me away while my hands force thighs open… legs that thrash but quell as I continue, weapon coming into view as the situation becomes clearer. you can do nothing.. how long will it take for you to stop fighting? I love it when you fight, I enjoy asserting my control over you, taking charge. never stop fighting, beg me to stop, and as you realize how good I am, beg me to keep going. admit you want it shamefully, cry about it. let me taste those tears, lick across your cheek with such filthy perversion you wonder how anyone but me could make you feel this way. who else is so primal with you? possessive, dominant… who else makes you submit so easily? humiliatingly so… I want to see you cry again, talk about me, tell me how much you want me and how difficult it is without me there. tell me all the details, soothe my ego. worship my every move, praise everything I do. devote yourself to me, think of me when you touch yourself and when you notice a gap I fill perfectly… the ease I am, the comfort I bring. think about how much better I am than anyone else you could ever be with, cry tears of joy and gratitude. I am the best, I am everything you could ever need. only me, else… i might be more inclined to bring my all to the table… you’ll pray for the tears and the knife, during the rape and the torture. you’d beg for anything I do, fucking your body and mind. you just desire to be used. I will take, I will destroy, then I will repair. I’ll do what I want..beg for more, keep crying. I’ll kill you, I could do it so easily. knife trails across your skin, small marks lefts that aren’t quite cutting into skin… give me another excuse to hurt you please. Press down harder, dragging across skin, watching the new slit well with small spots of blood. it’s almost like you’re crying for me again; I taste you once more, this time you taste like pain, sadistic satisfaction. more. I bite and suck the skin, tasting it again. it lingers on my tongue and coats my mouth. I could eat you alive, bite into your flesh and never let go, keep you captive with my teeth. scream and cry some more. I want to hear the hope leave your voice, replaced by content submission

the thing that’s truly unfortunate about me is that often times, I just get so horny at the worst things. Something violent in a show, thinking about killing someone that was rude to me at work, thinking about hurting people that have hurt my loved ones, the idea of someone trying to attack me, not knowing how eager I am to hurt someone and have an excuse. I would never hurt someone innocent, and I’d surely never risk my own freedoms just for the thrill but… I think about it. They stay thoughts, and I discuss them with you sometimes. I worry my fantasies are too much but you seem to like them… you liked it when I talked about torturing that one guy that hurt you, and the other one who made you uncomfortable by coming onto you at work…I kill them in my head constantly. I wanna threaten you too, even though I’d never do any of those things. I’d cut you, I’d hurt you, I’d choke you and scare you and pressure you and take advantage of you but I’d never seriously maim you… it’s no fun if there’s no victim. It won’t feel good when you’re not there to listen and be afraid of my words …

pay attention to me else I might do something really deprived !! Looking down as you with my cold stare, smirking, all my thoughts on you. How afraid you could be, how you might truly be scared of me; how you should be afraid of me, what I could do to you. You love the way I trace my knife across your skin, the way I threaten you… but you do realize I could just… snap? One second I’m biting your neck then all of a sudden it hurts and you’re bleeding all over me… the warmth pooling against my skin and soaking through my shirt. I could gag you and press against the wound, press the knife in deeper. I could press it against your neck and make you suck me off, your life is at stake. Everytime you give me less attention than I need, I imagine all the ways I could force you to take me seriously. I will not beg for your attention, I will take it from you. I will make you pay attention in one way or another…. I really am a sweet guy but I often fantasize about the most terrible things. Violence and sex and control and power… vulgar filthy perversion. I’ve gotta let that out on you soon. I’ve gotta remind you who’s in charge, you owns you and who makes you feel so treasured and special… all me. God I need to fuck you, mark you inside and possess you… soon..soon..