creata-r3

[creata-r3]

I’m in the mood to gag a little, choke a lot, and taste you deep.

The nastier, the better... don’t keep me waiting.

[creata-r3]

The bass was pounding, lights flashing over sweat-slicked skin, bodies pressed too close to pretend it was still just dancing. I felt your hand on my waist, your breath hot at my neck, your hips grinding against me from behind...and I didn’t move away. I pushed back. Harder. My dress was riding up, and I didn’t care. Everyone was lost in the music. Your hand slid lower, fingers bold, daring, and I could feel how badly you wanted me through your jeans. That heat. That pressure. That promise. And when your hand gripped mine and pulled me off the floor, I followed without hesitation. Past the crowd, down the hallway, and into the bathroom... door locking behind us like a trigger. You pushed me against the wall with that hungry look in your eyes. The kind that didn’t ask. The kind that took. And I wanted you to. I dropped to my knees so fast it felt like instinct. I looked up at you while unzipping your jeans...and there was this raw, charged pause between us. You wanted to fuck my mouth. I saw it in your face. And I fucking loved it. I didn’t tease. I let you in...deep, messy, desperate. I let you use my mouth the way you needed to. I moaned around you, eyes watering, lips stretched and slick. Your hand tangled in my hair, your hips rocked forward, and I took it all, like I was starving for it. Because I was. When you pulled me up, I was breathless, my lips swollen, and I needed more..all of you. You bent me over the sink, pulled my panties aside, and shoved into me like you couldn’t wait another second. And I didn’t want you to wait. I wanted it rough, loud, reckless.. the kind of fuck that left marks and memories. You gripped my hips like you’d lose control without something to hold onto. Every thrust made my knees go weak, every slap of skin echoed over the pounding bass from outside. And I loved knowing someone could walk in at any moment...but neither of us cared. Because in that moment, there was only need. And when you came inside me, hard and deep, I felt it. Every thick, hot drop. And I knew I’d be walking back out with your taste on my lips and your cum dripping down my thighs.

[creata-r3]

missionary so i can see the look on your face when i squeeze my pussy around your dick <3

[creata-r3]

It’s wet outside, but I promise I can be wetter.

[creata-r3]

Back tattoo artwork by © Filouino on © Inkstaboy.

[creata-r3]

[creata-r3]

[creata-r3]

i was not born in silence. i chose it. because the noise knew my name and i was tired of answering.

[creata-r3]

—Richard Siken, "Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out"

[creata-r3]

[creata-r3]

[creata-r3]

missing my tumblr crush in my notifs

[creata-r3]

The fire crackled low in the corner of the cabin, casting long, restless shadows across the wood-paneled walls. Outside, spring tried to wake the forest, but the cold still clung to the air like an unfinished sentence. The wind howled through the trees, impatient. Much like me. I was supposed to be here alone. It was meant to be a weekend of silence, distance, escape. But somewhere between arriving and unpacking, he showed up..unexpected, uninvited, but impossible to ignore. A friend of a friend, they said. Just here for the night. Temporary. Harmless. He was anything but harmless. He carried himself like he belonged in the wilderness, like he could command the storm outside to hush if he wanted to. Rough hands, a shadowed jaw, a stare that lingered just a second too long on my mouth when I spoke. He didn't say much, and maybe that’s what pulled me in...he looked at me like he already knew how I tasted. We shared a bottle of wine by the fire, our knees almost touching on the worn leather couch. The heat wasn't just from the flames anymore. It was in the way he watched my fingers curl around the glass, in the way his thigh brushed mine and didn’t move away. No small talk. No polite distance. Just breath, heat, and eyes that didn’t ask permission. When he leaned in, he didn’t kiss me. He hovered. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, close enough that I had to fight the urge to tilt forward and close the space. My breath hitched. He heard it. He smirked. Then everything moved fast. He pulled me onto his lap like he’d been waiting hours to do it, his mouth finally crashing into mine..hot, hungry, claiming. My fingers tangled in his hair, his hands already under my shirt, palms rough against my skin. He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t ask. And I didn’t want him to. The couch wasn’t enough. We stumbled toward the bedroom, kissing against walls, clothes half-off, skin flushed and desperate. He pushed me back onto the bed and stood there for a moment, just looking at me...chest rising, jaw tight, eyes dark. Like he was memorizing the image of me wrecked, waiting. He climbed over me, slow now, teasing. His lips found my neck, then lower, tracing fire across my skin. I gasped, arched, whispered things I didn’t even know I wanted. His name. A moan. A curse. Over and over. There was nothing soft about the way we moved. It was primal. A battle of skin and breath, of fingers digging into flesh, of hips colliding with urgency. Every time I thought I couldn’t take more, he gave me more. Until the world collapsed into rhythm and heat and sounds I’ll never forget. Until the storm outside finally quieted, as if it, too, had been holding its breath. Afterward, tangled in sheets and silence, I didn’t ask where he came from. He didn’t ask what I was running from.

Maybe we both just needed a place to burn.

[creata-r3]

Asking her to switch positions: ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Pushing and pulling her around how you want them: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

[creata-r3]

Women talking about their sexuality and kinks online isn’t an invitation for you to be a creep in their dms

[creata-r3]

We didn’t speak on the way to the car. We didn’t need to. The air was thick with everything unsaid, everything pent up. The second the door closed behind us, he grabbed me by the waist, spun me around, and pushed me gently but firmly against the back seat. My hands braced on the leather as I felt him behind me... hard, urgent, unapologetically ready. “Leggings off. Now,” he said, low and commanding. I obeyed, shivering as the cold air hit my skin, but my body was already burning. I arched my back slightly, knowing exactly what I was doing... giving him the view I knew he’d been fantasizing about since the first touch in the theater. I heard the zipper, the rustle of fabric, the sound of him stroking himself once behind me. Just once. Enough to make me tremble. Then, something else. A cool pressure teasing my entrance. Smooth. Unfamiliar. A toy. He didn’t even warn me... just whispered, “Stay still for me…” and slid the plug in slowly, stretching me inch by inch until I gasped. My thighs shook from the sensation, from how sensitive I already was. I moaned, pushing back against it, desperate to feel full. “You take it so well,” he murmured, running his hand up my spine before gripping my hair and tugging my head back. “But this is just the beginning.” He thrust into me without mercy. The plug inside made everything tighter, every movement more intense. He pounded into me with a raw rhythm, one hand on my hip, the other buried in my hair, pulling me back into every deep, bruising stroke. “Mine,” he growled into my ear. “Say it.” I choked out the word, “Yours.” Again. “Yours.” He slapped my ass... hard.. then soothed the sting with his tongue, tracing slow circles that made me whimper and beg. “I love hearing you like this,” he said, thrusting harder, deeper, the car rocking with every movement. “Desperate. Messy. Owned.” I was lost in it. Mindless from pleasure. My body trembled, pushed to the edge with every stroke, every stretch, every word. When I came, I screamed his name. Loud. Shaking. But he didn’t stop. He kept going... relentless.. chasing his own release, and when he finally buried himself deep one last time, groaning into my neck as he let go, I felt completely ruined… and utterly satisfied. We collapsed into each other on the seat, breathless. Sweaty. Marked.

And in that haze, he whispered, “Next time, you ride me during the drive. Deal?”

I smiled, already aching for it.

[creata-r3]