lust confessions

Deep breath. “It was you that I chose as we met eyes for the first time, but I never noticed until talking about you made me confused, my heart would scream, and the thought of you gave me hope that maybe I did have a heart, that love was really real no matter how many times I would tell my friends that I would rather be alone, but they would never know that I’d rather just be with you then to be all alone. Even if it’s crazy, even when I know I can’t have you or you could never feel the same I still hold out hope that my heart, for the first time isn’t lying to me because the only honesty I am giving myself is that I know what my feelings are and I am no longer a child and that telling you how I feel is a risk…I like you.” He never said anything, and she left the rest unsaid as she left the room, continuing in her head; But in reality, I’m going to ask you to break my heart and to turn me away because I need to be let go even when you never had me to begin with. I feed myself hope and pretty soon I will walk out that door and never see you again but first, let me go, I need to be let go… “Don’t go.” Deep breath.
—  Excerpt from a book I will never write // 3

easy pete was one of the most ominous characters in any game he felt like there was way more to him than he ever let on and his general appearance was reassuring but at the same time terrifying also the way he lent me so much dynamite when he could see i was high on mentats leads me to believe that deep down inside him he held a wicked and insatiable lust for mayhem

You don’t understand the power of her kiss. It takes over me. It knocks me out and sets me down all at once. Her lips are full of magic. That’s all I can think of to describe it. Soft yet rough, tender and sweet, eager yet slow, teasing and biting… She pulls me into a whirlpool of emotions and I love being lost in her. She’s definitely worth the headache.
—  Oko Ninjah

all women have secrets and here are mine:
sometimes i want to keep the last slice of pie
for myself, pose for nude photographs, respond
to your boyfriend’s drunken text at three
in the morning.

sometimes there is no fun in being good when
it means sitting alone on the mantel like a porcelain
angel.

i want to come down from my shelf and light
a cigarette. i want to drive off an overpass
and land on the road below, tires squealing.
i want to keep loving a liar.

sometimes i want to do the wrong thing.

sometimes i do it.

—  I’M 23% SORRY by jones howell

anonymous asked:

confession : I want johnny to spank me hard and make me his kitten. Sometimes him running his hands through his locs gimme those chills.. enough to cream me up..

Originally posted by taesyong

“You’re so sexy, baby,” Johnny whispered, his hands running over the backs of your thighs. He sent a trail of kisses along your spine, the ends of his hair tickling you as he went.

You pulled at the ropes strapped to your wrists, connecting them to the headboard. You groaned low as Johnny’s trail of kisses reached down to the cheeks of your ass, nipping softly with his teeth at the left one.

If you’d been on your hands and knees, they would have given out from the sensation. Luckily, you were flat on your stomach, your face buried into a pillow. Johnny moved away slightly, the anticipation causing your skin to crawl.

The smack of his hand against your ass sent a trill down your spine. He massaged the reddening skin, kissing it again before his hand came down again, harder. The next one was harder, and harder, and harder, until you were floating from the mixture of intense pain and the excitement shooting through your whole body.

He rubbed his throbbing erection against the cleft of your reddening ass cheeks, another light slap resounding throughout the room. He mumbled softly under his breathe, his voice heavy with lust. “So damn sexy…”

Things are often different in reality
than they are in my imagination.
For example,
I rehearse conversations with you in my head
as my feet carry me along the familiar path towards you
but when I see you,
when you’re really there,
all my words run away
and I am left
a quiet quivering fool
trying to pick up all the reasons
why I came here in the first place.
It wasn’t just for a blaze.
Things are often different in reality
than they are in my imagination.
For example,
when I lay in my bed at night
I conjure up heated and passionate confessions of lust,
scenes of you throwing me onto your bed
as if suddenly unable to comprehend
why you waited so long to touch me again.
But when we are in close proximity
we just perch,
like little birds
on separate sides of the room
and the space between us
looms
and mocks me without apology.
When I leave,
it is all of a sudden
and without a goodbye.
But although they may be different,
things are often better in reality
than they are in my imagination.
For example,
you never would have existed in my imagination alone.
I never could have created you.
You’re too much.
You’re too mysterious.
You’re too mystical.
And when I see you
sitting down cross-legged in the grass by the creek
with your bow and arrows
laid out at your feet
you look like something from a Miyazaki film
and I approach you
as you prepare to meditate
and it is like you are untouchable.
Unbreachable.
Unpassable.
And then I watch
as you fire arrows
at the eye of the dragon’s head
(which is really just a fallen tree)
and I think about eight-year-old me
and how you would have swept her off her feet
and sent her tumbling into the very essence of her dreams
and I think about me
right here
right now
and I think about reality
and how you really do exist
and it shocks me.
To the very core.
Always has.