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“I want you. Now.”

No hello. No emoji. Just that.

He opened the door without knocking, walking in like a man who knew exactly where his mouth belonged. You were already there — soft, warm, aching. Trembling like a candle flame in front of a storm.

He didn’t say a word at first. Just came closer. His hand slid along your jaw, tilting your head up like something precious he planned to ruin gently.

Then he kissed you.

And when he pulled back, lips damp, he whispered:

— I’ve been starving for this. For you.

He didn’t undress you. He devoured you.

His mouth found your neck, your collarbone, lower — tongue trailing like fire down your stomach until he was on his knees. Not to worship. To consume.

— You taste like sin, he murmured, eyes meeting yours as he licked slowly, deliberately, like he was learning your flavor by heart.

You gasped — and that was his invitation. His hands gripped your thighs and pulled you into his mouth like a prayer he’d been waiting to say with his tongue.

By the time he entered you, you were trembling. He didn’t go slow. He went deep. And when you moaned — helpless, unguarded — he smiled against your shoulder and said:

— That’s it. Let go. I’ve got you.

You lost count of the positions. The rooms. The hours. But you remember the way he kissed your inner thigh before the last round, licking the sweat off your skin like it belonged to him.

And maybe it did.

When you collapsed onto him, breathing wild, he whispered:

— Next time, you won’t even have to ask. Just say my name, and I’ll crawl through hell to find you.

And you knew he would.

Because once he’s had you on his tongue, once is never enough.

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SORRY, NOT SORRY – FOR WANTING TO FUCK YOU SENSELESS

If I had you in front of me right now,

I wouldn’t say a word.

I’d drop to my knees and pull your pants down with my teeth.

I wouldn’t even let you think. Just feel.

I’d take your cock in my mouth so deep you’d forget who you are.

Look up at you with spit on my lips and fire in my eyes.

Suck you like you owe me something.

Like I’ve been dreaming about your taste for years —

because I have.

I’d ride you so slow at first you’d beg.

Then harder. Louder. Messier.

I want to feel your tattoos digging into my palms

while you grab my ass like you’re about to break me in half.

I want you to pull my hair.

To spit in my mouth.

To fuck me so deep I shake.

But I also want you to see me —

watch the way my body takes you,

tight and wet and hungry like no one else ever did.

I want you to realize you’ll never find this again.

I want your voice to break when you cum.

I want your legs to tremble.

I want your mouth on my skin like you’re starving for it.

next time, I’m not holding back.

I’m not being cute.

I’m going to devour you.

And when I’m done,

you won’t stop thinking about me.

Not even when you’re inside someone else.

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When I was a kid, I had this one tiny Barbie flip phone. Well… I didn’t actually have it. I stole it from a friend. I wanted it so badly, but I wasn’t the kid who got Barbie playsets. My friend had everything—the houses, the accessories, the little phones—so one day, I just… took it. I hid it in my pocket and took it home with me.

And for a while, it was mine.

Except… I didn’t know what to do with it.

I didn’t play with it freely. I kept it in drawers, hidden away, thinking about returning it. I knew it wasn’t really mine, and part of me felt guilty. I told myself, “I should give it back.” There were times when I even put it in my pocket, ready to return it… but then I didn’t.

Because another part of me wanted it too much.

I wanted it because I needed to belong.

I wanted to show it to my other friends, the ones who weren’t there when I took it, the ones in a different friend group. I wanted them to see that I had cool Barbie accessories too, that I wasn’t the kid who had nothing. I wanted to feel like I had what others had.

But then, just like that, I lost it anyway.

Another friend took it from me. She claimed it as hers, and I was too much of a people-pleaser to say anything. Just like that, the phone was gone. Maybe I thought I deserved it. Maybe I felt guilty for stealing it in the first place. Either way, it was lost forever.

Or at least, I thought it was.

Tonight, on a random wave of nostalgia, I started searching for it. At first, I couldn’t find anything. No pictures, no listings, no proof that it even existed. I thought maybe I imagined it. But I didn’t stop searching.

And then—I found it.

It’s from the Barbie Trendy & Bendy collection, 2003. I saw it, and I knew instantly. That was the phone. My phone. But then something even crazier happened—I found one for sale. In perfect condition. In my country. For 20 RON.

I was ready to pay 500 RON to get it from the US. I thought it was something lost forever, something I’d have to chase with no guarantee of ever really getting it. But no—it was right there, waiting for me to find it.

And now? Now it’s mine again. But this time, for real.

Not stolen. Not taken from me. Not lost.

I found it, I chose it, and I finally get to keep it.

I don’t know how to describe what this means to me. It’s not just about a Barbie phone. It’s about realizing that not everything is lost forever. That the things we thought were gone—the pieces of our childhood, the things we once longed for—sometimes they come back. And when they do, they come back better, at the right time, when we’re finally ready to receive them.

Tonight, I found more than just a toy. I found proof that some things, the things that matter, have a way of finding their way home.

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The colors of the sky

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Hathersage & Shatton, Peak District

peaklass

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where's that picture that ruined my life

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