Pattie Boyd Summer🌞🫧🌅🌸🪴🐈‍⬛🍰🍏🌊🧘‍♀️💛

Some things never change

if i drop my paypal xxxx

sum1 pleaseeee buy me this fucking mowalola skirt how hard can it beeeee

What’s your opinion on men with long hair

i wanna bounce on it

cocker’s short for sucker… sucker of…

sensual, smoky, glossy jet black hair; I imagine the pulp fan girl as sleazy as many of their songs. She dances throwing her limbs and tossing her long hair around. She cherishes her morning walk through the dirtier parts of town with her tangled headphones and beat up walkman. Her chiselled face and full lips cry 90s androgyny. She adores a 70s suit or a little skirt, something a tad eccentric. Guaranteed her favourite pulp song is as obscure as possible and raunchy too. The best girl you’ll never have. Magnetic.

The pulp girl smells like the lingering tobacco on a smokers leather jacket, something alluring and natural underneath with a hint of the bright red lipstick she can often be found wearing.

notes: lipstick, incense, leather, smoke, orris root, sandalwood, fur

see you there baby

So ur okay with the fact the Gallaghers are awful people?

i wish they were worse

perfumes for kinky little sluts

you probably love dangerous liasons or any historical smut that includes corsets and sheer lace stockings. the sex scene in marie antoinette is your favorite. heliotrope milkbath smells exactly like its name. like putting on a lightly soiled pair of panties after a bath. the slight pissiness of it is a draw not a detractor.

something about this reminds you of being a teenager again in all its confusing, ravenous sexuality. you wear it to recapture the feeling of reading debauched fanfic in the middle of english class. the smell of hormones and guilt and flushed cheeks after a first kiss that you think about for months.

you somehow end up having sex with an older woman. shes in her 40s-50s and keeps saying shes too old for you with a smirk. this is what her inner thigh smells like: musky, warm, slightly powdery from her hygiene routine she's kept since the 80s/90s. she smokes when you're finished and sends you home in an uber and a fur coat that smells like this too.

you didn't know you were a sub, you fancied yourself a tough bitch actually but apparently people could see right through you. you're candy sweet underneath looking for a guiding hand. you always smell like the leather of your doms jacket and whatever fruity lotion they rubbed into your bruised ass. you're still a brat after all.

the dom wears this. they're rich, cold and aloof with a sexual appetite that would scare most. this fragrance lingers and mixes in the air after they piss on you in your nice expensive outfit they bought you.

burlesque is your day job, hooking is your night. think of the dancers in the brothel layer of suckerpunch. lipstick and powder and the bouquet from your best client scents your dressing room. you're the star, sure you fucked your wy to the top to get there. doesn't mean you don't deserve it.

your owner puts your bowl of milk in your cage. a nice post-nap treat. they pet down your back as you drink and their hands come away smelling like sweat and baby lotion. if you're good you can come out.

it's summer vacation and you've spent most of your time in the water. your skin never quite loses its sunwarmed, sea salty scent even after you apply spf. while on the beach you encounter an older couple. they like you a lot. you spend lots of time in their beachside cabin.

the first foray into gay erotic art. you make it your new personality, covering yourself head to toe in leather in your small town. the first trip to the city is the best night of your life, they hang your picture up on the wall.

a sneyd-sokol drawing come to life, you hide behind a sweet persona. but everyone who knows you knows youre a real slut. there's not a husband you havent fucked. you smell like a sticky sweet peach pit.