Nothing Is Hotter Than A Vocal Top

babygirl the way you forsake your happiness on your relentless quest to vengeance, your complicated relationship with gender and the way you're covered in blood have bewitched me body and soul

take me to the back of the church and muffle my cries as you force your way into me.

make me plead for you father, make me devote myself to you as if you are my god.

It's been so fucking hot lately. Something something ghosts and temperature play. Ice-cold fingers trailing down your body with no regard for whatever clothes you have on. Being bent over while frigid fingers open you up, icy breaths ghosting over the back of your neck

slapping a boy and then having him kiss your hand as a thank you <3

The urge to wrap a rosary around a priest’s neck and walk him with it like a dog <3

You claim to crave salvation, but I see the way your eyes wander. I see the way you gaze so longingly at my hands. I see how you can never seem to meet my gaze, how your eyes never seem to raise past my lips.

Would it help if I made you?

Would it help if I made you kneel before me? If I tied my cincture around your neck? Wrapping that holy cord around my hand until I can force you to tip your head up?

Then you could see the amusement in my gaze as I nudge your legs apart with the toe of my dress shoe, the patent leather pressing right where you need it most.

Would you want a private sermon then? Trying to hold back from grinding against my shoe? Of course, I wont make it easy on you. If I think you're getting a little too distracted I'll have to give the cincture a tug, forcing you up onto your knees before allowing you to settle back down.

You'd better be good sweetheart, or I might forget where I was. If that happens, well, I'll just have to start from the beginning.

You'd like that, wouldn't you?

Happy “slap your boy’s ass then push him onto the bed and mount him from behind” day to all that celebrate