Isoellen

“In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between them, there are doors.” William Blake

She's perched on the edge like an offering she chose to make herself. Legs that forget how to stay closed when he's this close. He takes what she gives and gives back harder, mouth at her throat, hands that don't ask where they go. Mirror holds them both. Her arched back,

Right moments don’t exist… only the chaos you choose..

Yes.

It’s the end of the day, The beginning of the day, The middle, At lunch, Does it matter? Stress is spring-loaded in his tailbone, need, want, and the vast chasm where he screams and no one ever hears the sound - Heavy there, molten lead weighted The heat of it has been carried in his testicles for days in a A slow , swelling urgency. Until he groans his rebellion-- Hand around his cock, Like the steel rebar bend of an unfinished skyscraper Stroking fury, Then sliding hard into alive. Claiming release and feral manhood, Spilling his ache into the ether, A mess that smells like salt and iron, and the sweat Of the unmet, uncelebrated, And unrequited. And good lord help me. I wish it had landed on my face so I could honor the sight of it.

He lets her into places Where others are forbidden. Allows her privilege Of teeth and tongue. Gently, honestly She traces the sublime Spaces of his body, his mind With soft licks and kisses Speaking herself into his language And the full unread lexicon Of silence resting tight Between his shoulder blades. She goes where others have rejected She holds what others neglected Until their words together blend into song Into whisper, into midnight talks of nothing Tangled into the poetry of perfect sin.

A dribble of honey After dark, Leaking sticky With each breathless clench. You know, That slow swollen drip Of impatient want That sits right there, Right there Unrequited.

@to_flutter DM it. Make sure you got the update.

@isoellen I can’t work out how to send a voice note

I never felt alive until it felt like there was a person somewhere in the world Holding a thread, a rope, a chain My will to the flick of his command My soul bent to his As he held the deep of my everything Commanded the ugly dregs At his feet. I gave guilt, I gave shame Let him touch it, flinching from the pain Until he fed it back to me Drawing circles of communion On my lips With the blunt head of Medjool dates, Thick, and sticky sweet- Dipped in cinnamon and orange Dripping gold down my chin His hand at my throat as I swallowed aroma Inhaled peace Arched candescent in his name.

I never felt alive until There was a person somewhere in the world Holding the thread, rope, chain Of my will to the flick of his command My soul bent to his, Knees scraped naked on an old carpeted floor. He knew the deep of my everything –the fine and the fallow And still demanded the ugly dregs placed right at his feet. I gave guilt, I gave shame Let him touch it, flinching inward-quiet with the pain Until he fed it back to me from a crystal bowl Drawing circles of communion On my lips With the blunt caramel head of Medjool dates, Thick, and sticky sweet- Dipped in cinnamon and orange Dripping gold down my chin. His hand at my throat, I swallowed his aroma Inhaled his peace Arched candescent in his living name.

I’m face down, Your presence pushing, Grinding. Your hand holds my head, holds me, As you ride deep, Your body a piston, a machine, Relentless, past wet, past bleed. You pull the rod, lube the shaft, Tell me I’m your bitch and I’ll take what I begged for, Feed me hunger, force me wild I whimper in the steam. And my fingers search, begging But you yank my arm behind my back until I buck and whine Tell me I don’t touch soft without permission And right now We are going hard. Until your name brands my core Hot iron shoved to my lips, Heat molten down my chin Forever choked in my throat As dawn closes in.

Someone send me a sexy voice note and make my day. Pretty please.

A slave should not be alone

@goodtogooo83 Oh good lord. 😳

Drowning in love feels nothing like panic— it’s slow… warm… like sinking into something that wants to keep you. Every breath deepens it, every glance pulls me further under, until there’s no edge of myself left untouched by you. I don’t fight it. I let it take me— this quiet, consuming pull of your presence, this ache that feels too good to escape. And somewhere beneath it all… wrapped in the weight of you— I realize I don’t need air. I only need this.

In the after, she still wasn’t crying. There were marks, bruises. He’d knifed her down to elemental until she stank like raw humanity. He was on her, in her, over her cut up, fresh, inside of her. With deep measured breaths So he picked her up, and washed her. She was still dazed, mouth slack. So he wrote love poems to her, dripping them across her breasts in soap and water. Then. She wept. Whole.

@mrmarvillas 🔥🔥🔥

Like the air between us learns how to breathe slower, heavier, aware of what it’s holding. There’s a language in that pause~unspoken, but undeniable. A quiet daring. A question neither of us rushes to answer~because the tension is the answer•••

I'm not a fixer. Someone called me a fixer. I am not a fixer. Just because I like to play with monsters and feed them doesn't make me a fixer. It makes me a red flag chaser and an adrenaline junkie. Get my issues right, please!