alebarpendent

[alebarpendent]

Now tell me, you’re in control — But why is it that your voice trembles every time my eyes find yours?

Why is it that your breath catches when I whisper your name like a secret I want no one else to hear?

You say you’re the one holding the leash— but baby, it’s wrapped around your own throat. Tight. Warm. Addictive. You crave it.

Because control? Control was lost the moment I learned how to read your silences, how to answer your wants before they reached your lips. You think you're the puppeteer, but you’ve been dancing to my rhythm since the first time I touched your mind.

So go ahead— Say it again. Tell me you're in control. While your knees say otherwise. While your heart betrays every lie your mouth is brave enough to form.

Because I don’t need to own your body to possess you. I already live in the corners of your thoughts— the ones you don’t speak of. The ones that beg for more even in the middle of the night when you swear you’re done.

So yes— Tell me, you’re in control. And I’ll smile. Because we both know, you were mine long before you ever noticed.

[alebarpendent]

I’m scared.

Of the unknown. Of not being enough.

Of being seen too clearly or not seen at all.

I carry fears like shadows—silent, heavy, always present.

But then… there’s you.

With you, I’m not a sum of my mistakes.

I’m not just the anxious thoughts at night,

Or the broken pieces I’ve tried to tape back together.

With you, I’m whole.

I’m soft and strong at the same time.

With you, I’m the best version of myself—

Not perfect, just… real.

You don’t chase the fear away.

You make it irrelevant.

Because when I’m with you, the fear doesn’t win.

The love does.

So yes, I’m scared.

But with you?

I shine anyway.

[alebarpendent]

69? It’s not just a number. It’s a mutual vow. A communion of hunger— your pleasure in my mouth, mine in yours, a loop of longing with no hierarchy, no pause.

It’s not selfish. It’s symphony. Two bodies aligned not by chance, but by choice— each aching to give as much as they take.

Yes, it takes enthusiasm. A kind of devotion that lingers on your tongue. Yes, it takes curiosity. The willingness to explore what drives each other mad. And yes… it takes strong mouth muscles. But more than that, it takes a stronger desire to taste someone’s soul while baring your own.

Because in this position, there is no hiding. Only mouths full of honesty, and silence filled with moans that say more than words ever could.

[alebarpendent]

Being with you… is not just love. It’s a realm. A different world— where time slows, and the noise of life goes quiet just to hear the sound of your breath.

Being with you is like stepping into paradise, but not the perfect kind. No, not the one made of polished skies and scripted happiness. But the kind where storms pass, and still, the garden grows.

It’s in the way you look at me when I’m not speaking. It’s in the way your presence rearranges the air I breathe. With you, I don’t just exist— I bloom. I burn. I become.

But paradise is also dangerous, isn’t it? Because the more beautiful something becomes, the more terrified I am to lose it. To wake up and find it was all a dream— a feverish, too-good-to-be-true dream I never wanted to wake up from.

And still, I stay. Because if paradise exists on Earth, it’s wherever you are.

[alebarpendent]

Cowgirl? It’s not just a position. It’s a confession.

You’re on top, but not just over me— you own me. Every movement is yours. You decide the rhythm, you choose the chaos, you orchestrate the pleasure.

Speed? Depth? They’re tools in your hands— or rather, in your hips. You ride not just for your own hunger, but for the power it gives you— to watch me fall apart beneath you, again, and again.

Reverse it? Fine. Even then, it’s you, still in control, not even looking at me, and yet I am more seen than I’ve ever been.

Cowgirl is not just sex. It’s surrender. Mine to you.

And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

[alebarpendent]

Nakakagutom naman, parang gusto ko nang yakap.

[alebarpendent]

Dogstyle? No. You think it’s just about the position. But no. It’s about the depth— Of the thrust, yes. But more than that, of the need. The craving. The way your back arches not just from the pressure, But from the surrender.

It’s about the connection that hits deeper than the body. The rhythm that says—‘you’re mine’—with every motion. It’s not just pounding. It’s claiming. Not just friction. But worship. The kind that makes you feel ruined and reborn all at once.

So no— Dogstyle isn’t just animalistic. It’s sacred. It's how I remind you that in every angle, every gasp, every unspoken moan, you’re seen. You’re wanted. And you’re never getting away."

[alebarpendent]

I will not love you like a normal person would.

No, I will love you like the universe conspired to make me lose my mind over the way your lips form words and your silences scream louder than the rest of the world. I will love you with obsession disguised as loyalty, with tenderness wrapped in quiet madness. You won’t just feel loved—you’ll feel watched, understood, consumed.

Because I don’t do normal. Normal forgets. Normal gets bored. I won’t.

I’ll remember the way your voice falters when you’re tired, the names you whisper in your sleep, the books you never finish but keep by your bed. I will know you like a favorite poem—memorized, analyzed, underlined.

I will not love you like a normal person would.

I will love you like you’re the only real thing in a world full of noise.

[alebarpendent]

Tell me your secrets.

Not the polished truths you offer strangers.

Not the stories you’ve rehearsed in front of mirrors.

But the ones you hide in the corners of your mind,

The ones that tremble when touched,

The ones that made you believe no one could ever stay.

Let me love your scars—

Not despite them,

But because of them.

Because they’re proof that you survived.

Proof that you bled, broke, healed.

Proof that you are real.

And I… I want nothing less than real.

You could shatter.

You could scream, push, run, fall apart in front of me—

And I would stay.

Not out of pity.

Not out of duty.

But because loving you means staying when the storm hits,

Not just when the sky is clear.

So tell me your secrets.

Let me love your scars.

And believe me when I say—

I’ll stay.

Whatever happens.

Even when the whole world forgets how to hold you,

I won’t.

[alebarpendent]

Chinese Style Chicken w/ Kung Pao Sauce

Lemon Caper Alfredo w/ Shrimp

[alebarpendent]

You're mine. And I'm yours. Simple words. But nothing about us is simple, is it?

It’s not just a label, not just a whisper in the dark. It’s a vow stitched into the silence between heartbeats. It's the look in your eyes that says, "I see you." And the way I breathe easier when you're near—like my chaos finally found rhythm.

You’re mine. Not in the way people own things, no. Not a possession. A presence. You linger in every thought, every pause in conversation, every song that almost says what I feel.

And I’m yours. Completely. Hopelessly. Even when I try to walk away, my soul stays. Because loving you is not something I do. It’s something I am.

So when I say you're mine and I’m yours, I don’t say it like a promise. I say it like a truth that's always been there— Even before we met.

[alebarpendent]

Kita ko efforts mo today ah?! Kaya pahinga ka muna.

If wala pang nagsasabi sa'yo, You did well! Naniniwala ako lagi sa'yo.

Ayun lang! 🤗

[alebarpendent]

Okay lang mapagod minsan. Okay lang na parang naliligaw ka, na parang hindi mo na alam ang susunod na hakbang. Normal lang ‘yon.

[alebarpendent]

Sarap magbakasyon tapos kumain kasama ferson mo.

[alebarpendent]

You memorized red flags—yes, I see that.

You’ve got the list etched into your bones: gaslighting, ghosting, hot and cold love that burns and freezes in the same breath.

You know the patterns, the warning signs, the exits.

But you…

You haven’t studied the green ones yet.

The ones that stay. The hands that don’t let go just because it gets hard.

The “text me when you get home”

The “I made time for you today”

The “You don’t have to ask—I already know something’s wrong.”

You’re so ready to run, love.

So used to bleeding, that healing feels suspicious.

You think kindness is a trick, and safety is a setup.

But maybe, just maybe, someone out there won’t make you question your worth.

Maybe love doesn’t have to hurt to be real.

Study that.

Learn the green.

Let it in.

[alebarpendent]

The problem isn't love. It never was.

Love, in its purest form, is patient. It's messy and complicated, yes, but it's also brave. It shows up, even when everything else is falling apart. The problem is how quickly we give up on it. How we romanticize beginnings and underestimate the weight of staying.

We’ve been taught that love should always feel like fire—intense, passionate, unstoppable. But no one ever told us that real love is also quiet. It's in the stillness after a fight, when neither of you knows what to say but you stay anyway. It’s in the showing up. Again and again. Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s boring. Even when it’s not picture-perfect.

But we don’t stay anymore, do we? We leave at the first crack in the glass. We treat people like temporary homes, like layovers before the next best thing. We call it growth, self-respect, boundaries— and yes, sometimes it is. But sometimes, it's just fear in disguise.

Because staying—really staying— means choosing someone even when they’re not their best. It means seeing the worst parts of a person, and choosing them anyway.

And maybe that’s the kind of love that matters. Not the one that burns out in a flash, but the kind that survives the storm. The kind that grows stronger with time. The kind that says:

"I saw all of you. I didn’t run. I stayed."

So no, love isn't the problem. It's the way we unlearn loyalty. The way we call it quits before we’ve even tried.

But I still believe in staying. Even when it hurts. Especially when it matters.

Because at the end of the day, the people who stay— they're the ones who change everything.

[alebarpendent]

Today was quiet.

Slow.

And a little sad.

But sadness… you see, sadness is honest. It doesn’t perform.

It doesn’t wear red lips or a pretty laugh.

It just… lingers. Stays.

Like I do.

For you.

I watched the hours slip by—unbothered, almost cruel in their silence.

And I thought of you.

Of how your presence makes time bearable.

Of how your absence sharpens it.

Today didn’t ask much from me. Just breath. Just survival.

And even that felt heavy without your voice.

But I endured, because I must.

Because even in the silence, I still choose you.

Even when you’re far, when you’re quiet, when you’re gone—

I am still here.

Loving you in stillness.

Loving you in slow, quiet, sad days like this one.

And somehow… that feels enough.

For now.