I should be able to use telekinesis to wiggle out the sebum of my skin like worms out of earth.
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we're not kids anymore.
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

if i look back, i am lost
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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@unproblematicbedding
I should be able to use telekinesis to wiggle out the sebum of my skin like worms out of earth.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Just about to read
(cuni in a wet grass)
licking the fruit the world had become a cold skined grape between my hands suddenly gushing in a sweet uree
*utterly sick and destroyed*

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
its so crazay how being in a transitional period will have you obsessively reevaluating every decision in yr life to the point of actual insanity…hello
“I could not stop wasting time. It was crazy. I wanted to do something with my life, but instead I went to sleep, or sung in the shower, or sat and stared at the wall. I couldn’t even tell you about anything that I saw. I didn’t talk to anybody. The cicadas kept dying outside, and as I dreamed, my mouth grew thick and venomous with silence.” (Yiwei Chai)
fish n flower….he is happy 💗
The straight woman is unsatisfied with straight studio porn. She wants to get off to something in which the actors actually emote and show passion beyond canned moans from the women and, at best, vacant grunts from the men. She turns to gay porn. She knows it's not "for her," but neither was the straight porn, and at least the actors look like they're enjoying themselves. And for a short while she is satiated by Sean Cody et al, but she runs into the same problems she had to begin with. She was not looking at sex but a simulacrum of sex, trapped in Plato's cave. Unsatisfied, she turned to vintage gay porn, harkening to a time when most gay bars still had darkrooms and reliably smelled of piss and Amyl Nitrite. Here was the real thing, in all its animalistic passion. But she still couldn't immerse herself in the fantasy. She wanted the media to engage with her own imagination and meet her half-way, rather than having it spoonfed to her onscreen. She turned to yaoi, with its elongated figures reminiscent of mannerist portraiture, then bara, including hardcore BDSM scenes. But the tactile sensations depicted in the pages didn't do justice to their real life counterparts. She turned deeper into her own imagination, this time reading erotica. No, not the poolside paperbacks sold at Barnes and Noble. The good shit. Why then, was she still not satisfied? She dug deeper, searching for the true meaning of eroticism. She studied the psychoanalysis of Freud, the cultural criticism of Susan Sontag, the feminist poetry of Audre Lorde. She took vacation time and flew to Europe, starting at the caves of Lascaux to explore the human urge to create, then traversed the Camino de Santiago on foot, along the way meeting a 56 year old carpenter from Burgos named Andrés, with whom she had an explosive affair. They both knew it couldn't last, which made them cherish each other's touch all the more. Upon flying home, she gave up. If her search for true eroticism never bore fruit this whole time, why would it now? It would take years before she stumbled upon the answer by pure happenstance: dubstep.
the parallels between confession booths and bathroom stall gloryholes are not lost on the intellectual homosexuals
J'ai oublié de vous dire j'ai rêvé qu'on allait au ski ensemble et qu'on logeait dans un hôtel étrange où il faisait toujours nuit Les gérants étaient des gens bizarres qui nous posaient plein de questions alors qu'on mangeait nos nuggets dans la cours de l'hôtel où étaient dressés de petits chalet en bois (ils faisaient cuire les nuggets là) Toutes les nuits de l'hôtel étaient noires et la neige tombait légèrement en permanence On voyait les pistes et la cours de l'hôtel que grâce à ces lampadaire qui projettent une lumières orangée et incandescente il faisait noir et jaune en permanence L'accueil de l'hôtel était un comptoir en formica à demi couvert comme les murs d'un papier peint sec et pisseux éclairé par ces néons qui donnent au froid de l'hiver une impression d'incandescence

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"why do people conflate top/bottom and Dom/sub" because we haven't socially destigmatized kink. that's literally it.
if you say you're topping your boyfriend when you push him around in the bedroom you're being cool and quirky and using slang to describe your antics. if you do the same thing and say you're domming him you must be a seriously freaky person. that's why people use top to mean Dom and bottom to mean sub. they know even if we allow the nice clean gays with their fun bedroom terms into our society, we should never ever be like Those People who spend significant amounts of time and energy learning how to have the kind of sex so many of us clumsily imitate in our bedrooms.
"researching kink is forbidden. talking about kink is forbidden. slapping your partner and choking them is normal because I saw it in porn and my buddies say they do it. don't go to seminars on how to manage the risk of those activities or you're a sex-obsessed freak. I'm the normal one, the one whose partner chokes me with their belt and doesn't know what aftercare is. I'm a bottom."
the problem is that kink activities are socially acceptable and even expected, but having any awareness of the terminology or safe ways to play surrounding them is heavily stigmatized. kink anti-intellectualism is rampant among people of every political orientation because of how badly our society has poisoned us. so we can't even say Dom or sub to refer to ourselves. it's a symptom of that problem.
Where’s the fucking post of the guy with the huge chain whipping the swat team
you need to stop saying "masculinity" when you mean "patriarchal manhood".
"masculinity" is not glorified when it's the Wrong Kind of Masculine. trans masculinity is not glorified. queer masculinity is not glorified. a woman's masculinity is not glorified. men of colors' masculinities might be fetishized, but they are not glorified.
a space is not "dominated by masculinity", it's dominated by patriarchal ideas of manhood: cis, white, straight, abled men who look and act a certain way.
you do not know what "masculinity" means and I'm putting it on the high shelf until you can show me you understand.
something charmingly twentieth century about this
?????? NATIONAL HERO???

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
my instagram explore page loves showing me those like erotic dark romance novel tiktoks and i really have to wonder: why do all these straight women desperately want to fuck a mafia boss
Okay, let's try and break this down.
Sexual fantasies are, by their very nature, transgressive. Yes, even the fluffy, romantic ones. As long as general culture remains negative about sex and sexuality in any form that isn't cishet procreative sex within the confines of matrimony with the woman not as an equal actor but an object sex is performed onto, this is going to remain true.
And the thing about fantasies is that our brains like to take the things we crave the most and mix them up with our fears, anxieties, pain, and trauma into a melange of, sometimes, truly epic levels of fuckery.
But here's the secret - things we fantasize about, from the most wholesome to the bizarre to seriously fucked up? They are very, very often NOT what we literally want.
Being into dubcon or noncon doesn't mean you actually want to be raped or rape. Being into monsters doesn't make you a zoophile. And fantasizing about violent, obsessive men doesn't mean you wouldn't run as far the fuck away from a man like that the second one of them set their sights on you.
If you're really interested in the subject, I recommend reading My Secret Garden by Nancy Friday, a compilation of anonymously submitted women's sexual fantasies. And, as it turns out, women fantasize about a lot of really violent, uncomfortable, and just plain screwed up stuff.
And, for most of them, even when they don't actively realize it, it's about reclamation. Of fear, of trauma, of loss of power. It's about THEMSELVES and how THEY feel. As weird as it's gonna sound, the men featured in those fantasies don't really matter, they're just a vessel, a manifestation of the extreme version of what you're dealing with and/or crave. A safe, cathartic way to experience something profoundly unsafe, unwise, and terrifying.
For women fantasizing about criminals, villains, monsters, and anti-heroes, it's very often about the idea that someone like that - intense, violent, with single-minded focus, and immense power - would love her, want her, always put her first, go against all his instincts/training for you without a second thought and be a clear and present danger to everyone but warmth and safety for her and only her, and burn the world itself down for hurting her in even the slightest of ways. It's a sexual version of the fantasy of having a pet tiger, one that would never, ever attack you or hurt you in any way.
And just like the people who want to boop the forbidden snoot, the women fantasizing about their fantasy Mafia Boss Lover are very well aware of the fact that 1) men like that don't actually exist, 2) the criminal world of their fantasy has all but nothing to do with reality, and 3) that the thing they're actually fantasizing about is being loved, wanted, and safe... just in a REALLY intense, exaggerated way. And, let's not mince words, there's also often a more or less strong D/s dynamics at play in the scenario, too.
Now, you can choose to be judgy bitches about it (goodness knows plenty of you in the replies, comments, and tags are), in which case I would suggest you examine why you're feeling such a profound need to shame women for enjoying themselves in their own little world, or you can apply the YKINMKATO mantra and understand that straight women, living in the constant state of preyhood, sometimes consciously or subconsciously reclaim power over that situation through transgressive sexual fantasies.
Also, fuck this idea that queer people only fantasize about healthy and wholesome relationships, romantic, sexual, or otherwise, as if at least half of Tumblr isn't simping for, oh, for example, Hannibal fucking Lecter. Do you have ANY idea how many Mafia and Thug BL content there is out there?! FFS, Tom of Finland, a WWII veteran who fought against Nazis, drew art of exaggeratedly masculine men in Nazi uniforms in pornographic situations as a way to dissociate himself from those traumas and fascists themselves as far back as the 1950s!
So yeah. Less judgement, and more taking some responsibility for curating your online experience if seeing someone's kink truly offends you this much.
“If you could press a button that would give you a great deal of money, but it would cause someone you don’t know in a distant part of the world to die, then you would have a good model for how our current economy works. Welcome to Night Vale.”
Intro to WTNV episode 105, “what happened at the Smithwick house”