whoargasm

RiteThey come to me like mothsnot for light—but for the burn..

Rite

They come to me like moths
not for light—
but for the burn.

My skin, a psalm of heat,
hips spelling curses in slow grind,
tongue like a blade baptized in red.

I do not ask for worship—
I command it.
Kneel, not because I’m divine—
but because I’m the end of your reason.
A hunger with hands.
A sin with a pulse.

Darkness spills from my thighs,
sweet and venomous.
Every moan I gift
etches itself into your ribs like scripture—
unholy and eternal.

I am the dream you shouldn't speak of,
the ache you never shake.
Not gentle, not safe—
but holy in the ruin I leave.

Let them drown in my storm,
let them beg in the wreck.
I don't make love—
I make altars.

Supposed to post a while ago... Lol

Supposed to post a while ago... Lol

Apparently I'm not allowed to post one of my poems because i..

Apparently I'm not allowed to post one of my poems because it has restricted words... Lol. If you wanna read it, you'll have to go to my patreon... And apparently it's restricted to post the link to it too. Lol. Message me if you want it, I suppose.

Tell Me AgainTell me again,how I look when you wrap the leat..

Tell Me Again

Tell me again,

how I look when you wrap the leather around my wrists—

how my breath hitches,

eyes wide as prey,

yet waiting. Wanting.

How still I go when you step close,

the floor creaking like it knows

you’re about to take your time with me.

The air is thick with your scent—

cologne and skin,

the faint burn of rope fibers

where they kissed my thighs hours ago.

The room is candle-warm,

and my knees are already aching on the rug,

but I don’t move.

I live for the way your voice drops

when you say, “Good girl.”

How you kneel behind me

just to press your fingers between my shoulder blades—

no thrust, no heat—

just a promise

that you own the thunder I hold in my ribs.

Your belt is your symphony.

Your palm is the metronome.

Each slap is a story you write across my skin

and read back to me in moans.

I don’t beg for release.

I beg for you to keep going,

to let me be the altar

where you lay your pleasure down.

Because when you groan—

low, feral, wrecked—

my spine arches

like prayer.

And in the end,

when you're panting above me,

your hands shaking just slightly as you untie me,

you kiss my temple

and whisper,

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

That’s when I come.

Not with a cry,

but with a shiver,

because your pleasure

is the only leash I need.

And I’ll beg you tomorrow

to fasten it tighter.

And Then, The FireI want you like a match wants friction—lik..

And Then, The Fire

I want you like a match wants friction—
like the split second before the flame licks up
and consumes everything.

My hands find the heat in you before the light switch clicks,
before air dares to still—
there is already a riot in my bloodstream,
set off by the gravity of your mouth
moving toward mine like it has known me
in every other life.

You touch me like I’m already undone,
like you read the secrets beneath my skin
before I can whisper them,
before I even think to ask.
And gods, the way your fingertips hover,
not quite landing, just promising—
that’s where I start to lose language.
That’s where I begin to beg
without saying a thing.

We are not gentle.
This is not soft love, not tonight.
This is teeth and breath,
flesh on flesh like fever
and desperate need.

I press you to the wall with something like reverence
and something like hunger
that’s gone far too long unmet.
My mouth charts the map of your collarbone,
your throat,
the shiver-place where your sigh turns into a sound
I will replay later,
shamelessly.

You say my name like it’s breaking in you,
like it’s falling from the back of your throat
with the weight of desire
you didn’t mean to carry.

And then your hands—
fuck—
the way they explore, command, invite,
dare me to unravel.
You hold me there, open and gasping,
like you could drink from me.
And maybe you do.
Maybe you do.

I want to make a mess of you—
the kind that drips,
the kind that stains sheets,
the kind you find bruised onto your hip
three days later
and ache to feel again.

I want to hear you lose composure,
say my name like it’s sin and salvation,
pull me closer until I can’t tell
where your hunger ends and mine begins.

I don’t want a slow burn.
I want the whole fucking fire.

I want the crash of bodies and breath
like we are trying to become
a single ruined, radiant thing.

No hesitation.
No scripts.
Just the truth of your pulse
against my palm
as I take you
again
and again
until even the walls remember our names.

Bleed for me, in moans, in sweat,
in the sacred wreckage of touch.
This is what worship looks like
when the altar is the body
and the god is want.

And I will pray with every inch of you.
Until there’s nothing left
but the echo
of us.

Also, lovely friends; my page is completely free. If there's..

Also, lovely friends; my page is completely free. If there's something out there you want to buy, lmk so I can change the settings of that post. I'm not about trying to go around to every post I've ever posted to change it. Lol.

Forgot to post this with the photo dump, I guess. Lol. Song ..

Forgot to post this with the photo dump, I guess. Lol. Song is called Pray to Me by Deathbyromy.

To You (You Know Who You Are)Come closer—not because I ask,b..

To You (You Know Who You Are)

Come closer—

not because I ask,

but because you need to,

because it’s written in your body like instinct,

because the air between us is too thick with wanting,

too charged to ignore.

Touch me.

Not in haste, not in hunger alone,

but in reverence, in slow discovery,

as if your hands have always known

the path they must take,

as if my body is the map

you were born to follow.

Trace the slopes of my hips,

the curve of my waist,

the soft plane of my stomach,

fingertips whispering against my skin

like you’re learning me by heart.

I want to feel the way your breath trembles

as you reach the heat of me,

as your fingers hesitate—

just there, at the edge of my opening,

hovering, waiting,

caught between restraint and desperate need.

Let me hear it—

that sharp inhale,

that aching pause before surrender,

before my soft permission unravels you,

before I give you what you crave.

And when I do—

when my lips part to whisper yes,

when my body welcomes you inside—

I want to feel your relief,

the way your tension melts into the air between us,

the way your breath stumbles

as you finally slip your fingers into my warmth.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Like stepping into the deepest comfort,

like finding home in a place you have ached for,

a place that has waited for your return.

Fill me—not just with your body,

but with all of you,

with the weight of your longing,

the heat of your worship,

the silent confession of your touch that says

I need this. I need you. I need to be here.

And I will pull you in deeper,

press against you,

wrap myself around you

until there is no space between us,

until we are breath and skin and fire,

until the world outside disappears

and nothing exists but this—

this moment, this touch,

this slow, aching, beautiful surrender.

Hunger It’s not love, not lust, not longing—it’s a fire bene..

Hunger
It’s not love, not lust, not longing—

it’s a fire beneath my ribs,

a gnawing ache in marrow,

a pulse that beats too fast to name.

I need hands, need mouths, need heat—

fingers tangled in my hair,

lips dragging slow over flushed skin,

teeth grazing the curve of my throat

just enough to make me gasp,

to remind me I am real,

that I am here, solid, wanted.

I want to be touched like I am burning,

like I am something to be consumed,

bodies tangled, breathless, frantic—

nails raking, hips grinding,

moans swallowed between desperate kisses.

My body is a battlefield,

but I don’t want to fight—

I want to be taken, ruined,

pinned beneath the weight of now,

skin against skin, sweat slick and shivering,

to drown the ghosts inside my veins.

Let me beg, let me break,

let me fall apart under you—

trace the edges of me with your tongue,

drag me back from the abyss

with every thrust, every sigh,

every whispered plea against my lips.

Take me, claim me, press me down—

until I forget the past,

until I remember the pleasure in pain,

until there is nothing left but sensation,

the sharp, sweet sting of being alive.

Alright, guys. I'm back. Maybe. Lol. Here's a photo dump.

Alright, guys. I'm back. Maybe. Lol. Here's a photo dump.

Just making a smoothie 👀🤷

Just making a smoothie 👀🤷

Masturbation 🥰

Masturbation 🥰

Blowjob 🥰

Blowjob 🥰

Up close of my pussy 🥰

Up close of my pussy 🥰

Strip tease in the bathroom 🥰

Strip tease in the bathroom 🥰

Bubble bath time

Bubble bath time

Gradually releasing the titties 💞

Gradually releasing the titties 💞

Masterbation in the bath 🥰🥰

Masterbation in the bath 🥰🥰

Now that I am back and running, I am offering the girlfriend..

Now that I am back and running, I am offering the girlfriend experience at $50 a week. You would have access to all paid content that week (2-3 posts) sent to you directly. You will also be able to message me daily on Snapchat, receiving pictures, videos, etc throughout my day as well as one video chat per week. Message me if you are interested!! 🥰🥰

Close up playing with pussy 🥰🥰

Close up playing with pussy 🥰🥰

I'm going to start posting more frequently. If you have any ..

I'm going to start posting more frequently. If you have any suggestions, send me a message!