soulja00 - Tumblr blog

[soulja00]

Reblog if it is Ok to contact you on Tumblr Messenger!=)

[soulja00]

if you’re reading this

a lump sum of money is on the way to you

[soulja00]

The Heartless Horseman

An original song for Valentine’s Day

[soulja00]

❤❤❤

Getting help from someone who cares about u does not make u a damsel in distress

Support me on patreon.com/mewtripled for early access and behind the scenes of my comics!

[soulja00]

A beauty ✨

Model IG : Erabina_okai

( https://www.instagram.com/erabina_okai/ )

Photographer IG : blk.drnd.media

[soulja00]

Yet

Note: the following piece is about two female butches who use he/him as a part of sex play. Neither of the people involved are male, and any and all “cocks” and “dicks” mentioned are strap-ons. Content warning for rough sex, all of which is fully and enthusiastically consented to. He’s not my daddy. I have to keep telling myself this, every time I think of him, because I can’t help but switch out his name for Daddy every time: but we haven’t talked about it, and I haven’t mentioned it, and he hasn’t mentioned it, so I won’t say it, and I really shouldn’t think it. So instead, I think: he’s not my daddy. And this is the thought running through my mind all through dinner and all through the Holiday Baking Championship and all through his shower, and then mine, that he’s not my daddy, he’s not my daddy… And then I’m washing my face, and he’s shaving his face, and I’m watching his veined hand slowly drag the blade along his jaw and I wish it was my face…and I‘m staring…until he smiles at me, and I blush and finish my face, and then I start for my kitchen, telling him I’m grabbing a drink. He tells me to make him one. Yes daddy, I think, then admonish myself, then awkwardly say “okay” a minute and a half too late. I try to walk confidently and casually but end up stomping…and also tripping. Where he can see me. Oh well. I make myself my favorite drink, him one of the same—he’ll live—and as I put the last dish in the sink, I feel a hand on my wrist that pulls me back and I tumble into his chest, breathing in his aftershave and how it mixes with mine, and he walks me backwards to the stretch of wall I’ve kept bare for this purpose, and he pulls my head out from the crook I’ve tucked it into and we kiss, slow at first, but the second he pushes his tongue into my mouth I suck it, run my tongue along its tip like I would his cock. He growls, and suddenly his hands are pinning me against my own wall, one digging into my hip and the other my breastbone, his crotch thrust against mine, pinning me there too, and I try not to laugh at how easy Daddies—I mean…doms are after all. Then he slides his hand up to my throat and I’m just as gone as he is, eyes shut, knees weak, dick hard, cunt wet. God, it’s fun being a Daddy’s boi. He starts to bite my lips and kiss harder, and I let my jaw slacken a little so he has room for whatever he wants—and I realize as he keeps kissing me that he hasn’t caught my hint, so I brush his robe aside and grab the front of his pajama pants, squeeze his hard on. He moans and shudders—I know that feeling—but doesn’t oblige me. Instead he yanks my boxer briefs down and grabs my packer—I suppose we’re both outed as having no intention of going to sleep after all—and jerks it, presses it against me, and I slump completely into the hand holding my throat and choke out a sob, which he hears and immediately lets me go, asks if I’m okay. Yes Daddy, I breathe, staring at his feet, and I don’t even notice I said anything: I notice the long silence, and then my mistake hits me cold, and I look at him so quick I almost bust his lip, and there’s a moment of eye contact with his shock and my panic. Then: What did you just call me? Panic, and then his hand curls back around my throat and my desire curls back up in my gut and my dick and What did you just call me, boy? And I get dizzy with it all and—he knows I like and want this—he punches me in the stomach. I pitch forward into the waiting choke and gasp for air, he asks me again and again I don’t reply—is it shame? Fear? A hint of rebellion?—and he shoves me down, steps back so I catch myself on all fours at his feet, coughing onto the floor. He walks away, and I slump to the ground, content, my mind clear and at peace for the first time in days. I hear him walking back before I see him, largely because my cheek is against my laminate, but also because it’s loud: there’s a heaviness to his steps and a jingling of metal, and I get hot again. And I think: how long was he gone, that he put on boots? And what’s the metal? But what do I care, any metal is good metal when it comes to sex, and then he shoves the toe of his boot under my cheekbone to lift my head up and I realize it’s the clip. You know, the clip where my new collar connects to my new leash. I’m excited about that—a lot—so I scramble to my knees and he clips it around my neck—I almost swoon—and hooks the ring right in the middle to the leash and pulls my face to his covered cock, which I start to wrap my mouth around even under the flannel. He tugs on my leash and says I’m not your daddy— —and I’m very confused because that is not the direction this seemed to be going— —yet. I’m not your daddy yet. Oh shit. And then a yank up, and I’m half hoisted, half stumbling to my feet, grabbing at the leather dog collar I bought at a pet store, and I’m shoved against and over my counter. I’m not your daddy yet. And my briefs are yanked past my ass and my bare ankles are kicked apart by leather boots and my weight is on my t-shirt and the cold counter and I’m excited and terrified in the best possible way as I listen to the condom package tear. He teases me, warms me up, by pressing the head of his cock—by far, my favorite part: I get scolded sometimes for focusing on the head too much but it’s where I drift to always—around my asshole before he presses into me, slowly, as I moan and gasp and he reminds me that the head is the hardest part—the best part—that once that’s in, the rest comes easily—is less fun—and maybe he’s forgotten I’m a masochist, maybe he’s tormenting me, but he talks me through the pain like I don’t crave it and wraps his arms around me in a hug when he’s in. I’m grateful, and I love how he worries and cares for me, but I would really prefer if he made me scream, and right now he’s on the fast track to make me cry, so I do what I know will make him hurt me: I piss him off, I say Be gentle, Daddy, and he snarls I’m not your daddy yet and jerks on my leash, makes my chest lift off the counter as I scramble for air, and he starts to fuck me hard, hard cock deep and shallow in rapid thrusts, (and I cum) I try to keep quiet so I can hear his angry grunts as he tries to drive right through me, break me open and in half, and one of the things I love about him taking my ass is that it will never betray me: my cunt will rat me out, but my ass will never tell him I like it when even his shortest of fingernails start to leave dents in my hips (I cum again), I like it when he gets desperate to make me scream and starts to blindly punch my back, strong enough to take far more than he could ever give despite being double my size, I like it when he forgets to watch his mouth and starts calling me a dirty faggot (I cum again), I like it when he thrusts so roughly and so blindly that he almost pulls out and the head pulls tight against my muscles, I like it when he starts to win. And he’s winning right now (I cum again), every part of me is burning and aching, my ass tight enough—I haven’t quite mastered completely relaxing—to feel where each ridge in his cock is inside me, my pubic bone bruising from being shoved into the counter by each thrust, my neck itching from the cheap collar chafing, my back stinging from his fists, and all to a string of low, angry butch grunts and moans and curses and oaths, and I treat him in kind with rounds of struggling, collapsing, whimpering, gasping, shouting, cumming (again), and groaning please, daddy please—and every time he gets rougher with an I’m not your daddy yet until he finally loses his composure entirely and comes in me, swearing and growling and grabbing at every inch of me his tired hands can reach until he’s back in control of himself, and like a good boi I make no mention of his momentary lapse of control, partially because every time he cums I cum too, almost just from the thought of it, of him, of his cum, inside me… And he’s back, and he lifts me off the counter and sets me on my feet, but I slump back onto the counter—I came six times with rough anal how the fuck am I supposed to stand—so he carries me to the couch, but sits me on the floor, my aching ass against a thin rug, and leaves me to breathe as he switches to a new condom. From the kitchen he asks where his drink is, and I tell him in the pot on the stove, and there’s a long pause between the clang of the lid and his next words, which are Hot chocolate? And I say yes daddy, and he says softly that he’s not my daddy yet as he walks over with two mugs. He sets the Christmas one on the table a foot behind me and keeps the Chanukah one in his hand as he plants one boot on either side of my knees and grabs my collar and pulls my face towards his cock, hot from being inside me, and I gratefully snatch it into my mouth and start to suck it, pressing my lips to the tip and tracing my tongue around the painted veins and sucking the head until I hear not just the head, boy, and feel a hand on the back of my head against my spiky wet hair and pulling my mouth down the shaft, pushing his cock deeper into me, fucking my mouth and my throat, ignoring my struggling and choking and pushing back—he knows that I’ll stop him if I need to—and keeps rhythmically thrusting deep down my throat, harder and deeper as he goes until he almost busts my lip against the balls—I do protest this, I have work tomorrow—and then he settles for making me hold it deep; he pushes far and holds until I gag, then holds until I sputter, then holds until I tap out. Then I get a three second break, and back down it goes, over and over again until my eyes stay shut and my body totally limp and under his control. When I’m too relaxed and too broken in to even gag anymore, even with his full shaft in my throat, with his balls against my lips—I’ve practiced long and well—he pulls me up onto the couch and tucks my head into his lap, stroking my hair and letting my drool puddle on his pajama pants, patting my back to my occasional cough. And then right before I fall asleep, softly, gruffly, sweetly, roughly, quietly: Now you can call me Daddy.

[soulja00]

Introducing SUCCUBISHEZ— the new comic series of my life stories, except more real, raw, and raunchy. Rated triple R for all the #succubishez out there 😈

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It’s always been easier to tell stories to my closest friends. The way I tell stories to them will always be more raw and unfiltered as opposed to the ones I tell to strangers or people I just met — censored, incomplete, and pretty rated G. I wanted to create a comic where I can just be myself (while keepin shit postive af), and also unify these various stories into something meaningful *GAGS* despite the dildos, UTIs, and curse words. Ultimately, I’m just getting a clearer vision of what I want to make out of some of my “my life” comics, so here’s the leap of freakin faith yo bish is taking for it. THANK YOU FOR LIKING MY SHIT 😭💩❤️

[soulja00]

A concept: A sub placing their dom’s hand around their neck and looking innocently into their eyes before saying, “Please ruin me, i want to be used like a little toy”, which makes the dom tighten their grip and grin, “oh, you should not have said that angel”.

, 

[soulja00]

I wonder if you think of me...

Cause though I shouldn't, I still do

[soulja00]

[soulja00]

[soulja00]

[soulja00]

Innocent: Shoujo Memoria(Master & Maidoll) by Akatsuki Myuuto

[soulja00]

For everyone’s information:

The plan for the 17th, when the adult content ban comes in, is to protest.

To do that, we are making as much noise either side of the 17th as possible, and using the site as normal.

On the 17th, dead silence.

People are saying log off but what they really mean is don’t open the site or the app.

But, on the 17th make as much noise as possible on every other platform. Tweet about it and post on facebook and instagram and everywhere else.

What this does is causes a massive dip in ad revenue for one single day. That does not make staff think ‘oh everyone’s gone let’s shut down.’ What it actually makes them think is ‘oh shit people aren’t happy and if people don’t keep using our site we’re out of money and out of jobs.’

A boycott reminds a company that the users (consumers) have the power to make their site (business) worthless with one single coordinated decision.

If you want to join in, here’s what to do:

Do:

Close all open instances of the app and site on all your devices before the 17th

Make posts before and after the 17th on tumblr and other platforms, talking about why this ban is bad

Make posts on other sites during the 17th. Flood the official tumblr staff twitter and facebook with your anger and your opinion

Come back on the 18th and check in

Don’t:

Delete the app from your phone (this doesn’t affect their revenue and since it’s off the store at the moment it’ll be hard to get back)

Delete your account. I mean you can if you want to, but if you keep your account and don’t use it you’re saying to staff that there’s still time to save it. If you delete it’s hard work to come back.

Open the app or website (including specific blogs)

Make any posts (turn down/off your queue and make sure nothing is scheduled)

Go quiet elsewhere. Make it clear that this is just about tumblr, not a mass move away from all social media.

Remember: the execs don’t care about anything but money. Shutting down the site means there’s $0 further income from it. That’s their last possible course of action. If we make it clear we’re not happy, they’ll have to do something or we can do more and more until it becomes too expensive.

Protests take commitment. They’re a defiant action against a business that is doing something wrong. They will try to scare you into not participating, because they’re scared. We hold all the power here, sometimes the execs just need to be reminded of that.

[soulja00]

Ok

Let me be your big booty succubus gf

[soulja00]

Yes please

here’s a big fetish: consensual nasty-stuff while sleeping, like being fingered/sucked off/teased/fucked, etc while asleep, hoo huff huff

[soulja00]