This dumb fucking puppy woke up in heat, so enjoy my little rant. I’m feeling so puppy, and so subby that I’d worship you like a god if you promised to breed me.

My brain feels like it’s melted and is dripping out of my puppycunt. I need to have my hips pinned down and my cunt bred so bad. I can’t stop rocking my hips back and forth and feel a deep ache inside. God, please I promise I’ll get on my knees, pray, and beg to be used however you’d like, to be filled with your cum. I don’t care how. All I need is to be a breeding pup, and nothing else. My only purpose to be filled over and over again. Use me. Use me. Please use me.

Make my dumb little puppy head feel better, and feel free to dm me or send me an ask <3

i am in fact a boykisser

When a boy has spaghetti straps on and you can see freckles splashed across his shoulders and upper chest PLEASE-

It’s so frustrating to find mlm content because when you look it up it’s literally just discourse, fetishization, or people shitting on us for no reason instead of men gushing about how they love other men or cute comics about boys cuddling and kissing

Cupping his face in my hands and giving him the gentlest kiss

I want him to sit on my lap..maybe lean on me like a weighted blanket

L get flirted with loser. ur such a dork. kiss me.

MDNI

Guess who’s a bored little slut sitting with a vibe in my puppycunt at work? Might just be me <3

What a shame would it be if someone forced me away from work and fucked me in the bathroom?

What a shame would it be if I had to go back to work all flustered with cum dripping out of my cunt?

new date idea: you come over and we take a lot of melatonin and smoke a blunt and you play with my hair and we fall asleep for like 12 hours who’s down 😁

oh to be pretty enough to tempt even him

Please I just want someone to hold me while they listen to me ramble on about by hyper fixation (and interrupt me by kissing me every so often<3)

I would make such a good house husband fr

Lets create a house where yelling means we’re having fun. When you hear a door slam you know it was accidentally pulled with too much strength, not slammed out of anger. When there is silence, it is Contentment, not another passive aggressive fight. The dog is no longer barking to protect, he simply just wants the cats to play with him. Let’s create a safe, warm environment that makes you feel like you can breathe, not hold your breath. Let’s stomp on the eggshells we use to tip toe on. Together we will make this house into a home. And welcome all with open arms into this kind and loving space.

You bring him to a party with a vibe pushed deep into his cunt, and pass the remote around.

He spends most of the first half-hour clinging to your arm, whining and shuddering, sometimes squealing when someone cruel turns the vibe up particularly hard. But it’s never enough to make him come - you made sure of that. It just makes him writhe, and whimper, and leak so much that you have to scold him for dribbling on the host’s clean floor.

Surely the mess deserves a punishment, you say loudly, but you’ll give him a chance. If he can guess who has the remote now, you’ll give his poor wet cunt a rest: he can have the remote for the rest of the night.

If he can’t, he'll be punished, and doubly so for squandering the chance you gave him.

He shakes as the crowd gathers around to leer, their hands hidden in their pockets or behind their backs, and the vibe still buzzes relentlessly, melting his mind. Anyone could have the remote, and he knows better than to keep you waiting - he finally points at a man with a crueler smile than most, who seems to be moving his hand almost in time to the pulsing of the vibe.

He’s wrong, of course. The crowd cheers.

His punishment is an orgasm, on his hands and knees before the crowd, fucking himself back on your fingers. The humiliation brings tears to his eyes, and your fingertips jolt the vibe still inside him with each stroke, but the climax after being teased so long is almost a relief.

But then the vibe buzzes back to life inside him, and now he’s even more swollen and sensitive and overwhelmed. The party’s barely started, and his real punishment has just begun.

You ask him again, with a smile: Who has the remote?