Puppet (The Dollhouse Book 2)

by Ryan J. Powell

Crusts of blood surrounded her vulva, breaking free and floating down onto the wooden table like flecks of paprika.

I am never looking at paprika the same again...

Pustule Princss

Where the fuck does he pull these nicknames from

Like a fresh rain of the season in the scorching African savanna, mud mixed with sand. The knife, a paintbrush among the landscape as howls of animal-like creatures echoed off in the distance. A celebration of prosperity.

🫢✋ok mister imagination