I’m Always So Excited When A Sub Tells Me They Don’t Like Something. I Love It When A Sub Communicates

Just want to be hugged but also fucked til tears are streaking down my face while getting whispered sweet nothings.

Is it too much to ask for?

New Crow Time 🐦‍⬛🦊🌟

Mary Oliver, from Long Life: Essays And Other Writings originally published in 2004

This is your daily reminder to not be ashamed of making your life easy for yourself.

Cut your food into small pieces, make the font size 30 on your e book, use straws to drink, get a pen that’s comfortable to hold, take more naps, walk slowly, eat another cookie, buy velcro shoes, re-watch the part you couldn’t understand the first time, write things on your hands so you don’t forget it… whatever you want and/or need

Don’t let anyone tell you how you should be doing things. We don’t need to prove each other anything

my love language: making sure you feel safe enough to be vulnerable with me.

get yourself a main character whos two primary emotions are "little cunt" and "catatonic with grief"

im sorry i moaned when you bit me.

do it again.

soulmate (n.)

A person with whom you have an immediate connection the moment you meet – a connection so strong that you are drawn to them in a way you have never experienced before. As this connection develops over time, you experience a love so deep, strong and complex, that you begin to doubt that you have ever truly loved anyone prior. Your soulmate understands and connects with you in every way and on every level, which brings a sense of peace, calmness and happiness when you are around them. And when you are not around them, you are all that much more aware of the harshness of life, and how bonding with another person in this way is the most significant and satisfying thing you will experience in your lifetime. You are also all that much aware of the beauty in life, because you have been given a great gift and will always be thankful.

“Hands behind your back.”

The words leave my mouth calm and measured, but there’s no mistaking the edge beneath them.

You hesitate—just for a second. Barely long enough to register. But it’s enough.

Wrong move.

I close the distance in three slow, deliberate steps, the air thick between us. My fingers grip your jaw, firm, tilting your face up so you’re forced to meet my eyes.

“What part of that was unclear, sweetheart?”

Your lips part like you might speak, like you might offer some excuse, but no sound comes. You just stand there, breath caught, waiting.

Then, finally, you move. Reluctant. Obedient.

Your arms slip behind your back, slow as surrender.

I circle behind you, my hands trail down your sides, mapping the lines of your body like a territory I already own. Then I lean in, mouth brushing against the soft skin of your neck, just enough to make you shiver.

“You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

I whisper it low, so close you feel the words more than hear them. You nod. It’s small, unsure. But it’s honest.

“Then be good,” I murmur.

You let out a soft, shaky whimper when the restraints tighten around your wrists—leather pulling snug, final, inescapable. I don’t rush. Every motion is slow and deliberate, to remind you that you’ve given yourself over completely.

And when I lean in again, my mouth at your ear, my breath hot against your skin, and I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to.

“Stay still,” I whisper, voice like a promise. “And take what I give you.”

"Come home to me" kind of love