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I like when harsh and soft elements like this come together. Somehow they make each other just a little bit more, if that makes any sense.

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I’m sitting on my couch watching Family Feud with my grandmother and the question is, “things you’d bring with you if you’re going to elope” and my grandmother, without missing a beat, blurts out, “my diaphragm.”

You go, grams.

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Umm. I think I just learned my new strategy for when I want to try to be in charge. Don’t tell Sir.

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One of the first gifts Sir bought me was a pair of footie pajamas.

Sometimes, I joke about “slipping into something more comfortable” and put them on. And he’s all, “pshhhhh, come on, you can’t fuck somebody in footie pajamas.”

WELL LOOKIE HERE.

MYTH DEBUNKED.

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Current status.

I finished up with my first year of my Master’s program yesterday, threw a party and am now on my way to see my family and Sir for a few weeks.

Yessssss.

(Porn to return soon.)

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fascinantechosedenouveau:

Seriously, it’s the perfect date.

Lies. It’s pouring rain and I’ve got tons of shit to do today.

Is it the weekend yet?

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Liking it best like this makes me a filthy girl by default, he says.