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#loser fag
tayenaminha · 2 years
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Serving me is just right
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candyflikks · 5 months
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mistress-barbaraxx · 6 months
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Like mommy’s COCK?
Take it if you dare 😈😈
DM and REBLOG !!!!
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pinkfemgurl · 4 months
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What do you mean you replaced my wardrobe with only these types of clothes???
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obeymommy788 · 9 months
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windelboy-berlin · 3 months
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Neues Jahr, neue Ziele?
Würdet ihr mitbestimmen können, was wären eure Ziele für mich? Ein neues Jahr ist ja immer mit Vorsätzen verbunden, ich würde gern eure Vorsätze lesen die meine Erziehung und meinen Weg betreffen.
Wie oft soll ich Windeln tragen? Wie oft soll ich Bilder posten? Was soll auf den Bildern zu sehen sein? Wie weit soll meine Reise gehen? Und so weiter....stellt Fragen, ich werde die Fragen posten und beantworten.
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sissyboiiii69 · 2 months
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sissycensorslut · 2 years
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It feels so good to be a whore while no one knows. Or maybe they do... But that just adds to the fun ;)
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metsfan7 · 2 months
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I agree
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sissyboi2323 · 7 months
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pinkfemgurl · 4 months
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PROOF I am doing the "Ruin Me" post!
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I spent the first $20 on these items and they finally arrived. Here is a teaser image~ (Also if I post anything more explicit Tumblr will shut it down)
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𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟖𝟎'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
↳ warnings: mention of one slur, (that is reclaimable don't come for me twitter), homophobia, death, etc
↳ song: american pie—don mclean
masterlist!
• Compared to the old giants that were London and Rome, Derry was an infant in terms of age
• But it didn't feel that way. The whole town had this sort of tint to it, like the stain of coffee on white paper—or the quality of an old polaroid that had been stuffed away and forgotten
• You had lived there most of your life. Gone to Derry Elementary, Derry Middle, would go on to attend Derry High, and would probably travel on to the closest college you could find to the area—unless something drastically changed that, of course
• It was almost like the whole place had a grip on its residents. And it wasn't like the comforting grip of your mother's hand as she led you through the grocery store. It was a harsher one. A cold and clamy grip, holding you tightly in place until you rotted away working a minimum wage job with no future in sight
• So thank god you had stumbled across the losers in your last year of middle school and changed just about everything
• It had been the last week of school when you had stupidly picked a fight with the biggest knothead in school and his gang of pimple faced idiots, figuring that if you were going to die anyway, might as well do it young
• Your school books had gone sprawling across the freshly waxed school hallway one fateful afternoon in May, the disaster courtesy of Derrys biggest doucuebag Henry Bowers
• In fact, you had told him he was such a thing to his face, which would be the reason you were currently being subjected to the pleasure of watching as Henry and his goons ripped up all of your school papers in front of everyone
• Math homework, eat your heart out
• You didn't, however, expect a stuttering voice to speak up from your left not long after watching the science paper you had worked so hard on get ripped to shreds
• "Guh-guh-guh-get fu-fucked Bowers!" A lanky kid spat out from your left, drawing most people's attention over to his blazing brown eyes instead of Henry's ugly mud colored ones
• You recognized your knight in shining armor, so to speak, as the infamous stuttering Bill Denbrough. He wasn't an unfamiliar face to you—in fact, you were pretty sure the two of you had homeroom together. But until that moment you'd never given him a second thought beyond asking to borrow a pencil
• Bill wasn't alone, either. Three more kids stood idly behind him, each one looking more anxious than the last. You'd later learn all their names to be Stan, Eddie, and Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier—the man of a hundered voices as he'd introduce himself. But right then, they were just more people to add to this already overcrowded shitshow
• "Muh-my buh-buh-bad Billy." Henry mocked Bill's stutter poorly, crossing his eyes crudely while he did it. "Duh-did I mess with one of yuh-your fag fruh-fruh-fruh-friends?"
• The shrill chorus of giggles that his friends let out at his words were like nails on a chalkboard to you
• "Takes one to know one." Richie had mummbled under his breath sourly, pushing the thick glasses he wore up his nose anxiously. The only people who heard him couldn't help but break up into a fit of sudden giggles—who of which just so happened to be you and Bill
• Both of you were found sporting black eyes the next day
• Ever since that odd school day, you had found yourself spending more and more time with each of them
• Riding bikes with Bill in his street as you got left in the dust by him and Silver, listening as Eddie rambled on nervously about all of the weird sicknesses he had gotten, furiously smashing buttons on arcade games in an attempt to beat Richie at least once, helping Stan organize all of his comics by color and alphabetical order—all became a part of your summer routine
• You quickly became a part of the losers club. Another peice to the odd puzzle you all made together. And you'd be lying if you didn't say it felt damn good
• It was only after Ben and the others showed up that things began to get both better and worse
• For starters, you had begun to see red balloons and dead kids everywhere—a detail that would later become a much bigger issue
• But you also found yourself making three entire new friends, which including Stan, Eddie, Richie and Bill, was the most you'd ever had
• Hot summer evenings down in the barrens and, eventually, the clubhouse now had a new sense of comradery to it
• You enjoyed talking with Beverly about certain book series the both of you kept up with and what songs she could play on the piano. Asking Mike about all the adventures he had gone on after hard days of farm work became a highlight of your Saturdays. Pouring over books in the library with Ben quickly became one of your favorite activities, the two of you sharing recommendations with each other. Even the librarian eventually got old of the two of you whispering excitedly to each other about story lines and character development
• Occasionally Bill or Richie would bring another kid down to the barrens to play with. It would be fun, but you all were thinking the same thing throught it all—that they were not a part of the club. That title was reserved for only the eight of you. And it would stay that way
• Together, all of you would eventually have to beat a common enemy together, sacrificing parts of yourself with it. But for now, you were content to watch as sticky syrup from popsicle sticks dripped down into your hands while you all walked to the movies, laughing about god knows what, feeling like nothing else in the world mattered but each other
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