Pspspspsspss Puppies With An Oral Fixation, I’m A Masochist Top.

HEY

WAIT

STOP SCROLLING !!!!

shlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorp Drink water today shlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorpshlorp

every so often I come across a kink post about like being kidnapped and tortured or held at gunpoint or begging for ones life for sexual purposes and I understand its going for a very haggard frail thing being taken advantage of vibe but in my mental image it really just comes off the same as that picture of wolverine strapped to a nuke

There's something so erotic about ripping or cutting clothes off. You don't even have to get them all the way off, just enough so you can get to my holes.

Why don’t you come be a cowboy with me now. Don’t gotta sorry about nothin’ but being a man

Everyone loves forcemasc dumbification but I need the opposite SO BAD

Academic validation forcemasc. Telling him how smart he is. Lending him old, queer books with underlined passages about the beauty in his masculinity, in loving men as he does. Take advantage of his need for knowledge, for validation. Give him the information he never knew he needed and praise him when he starts to internalize these ideas. Bring him to write his own experiences and compare him to those poets he reads so much.

Casually fingering a trans guy who’s sprawled across my lap with one hand as I focus on the book I’m reading. Vaguely acknowledging his whines and the way he’s desperately trying to hump my thigh but never quite finding the right angle. His poor little dick needs some attention but that’ll have to wait for later. I need to at least get to the next chapter, and when this one finishes on a cliff hanger, well I’m sure he’ll be a good boy and wait a little longer.

ignore their incredulity. accept the truth. you have to be cut up to be made whole

i'm a good dog. a well-trained dog. i sit so prettily on the floor to wait for you to come home from work. you have such a stressful job ! it's only fitting that you get to come home and let it out on me.

you get home and sit yourself down on the couch. you let me sit down near your feet, close enough that your hand can go to my head and stroke your fingers through my hair. i lean into the touch, so different from how you hurt me. not that i'd ever complain.

your hand moves, holding your palm up near my face, and you smile so sweetly at me, asking me to come closer. i know what's coming, but i don't stop myself from placing my cheek so gently against the palm of your hand.

slap.

you hit me. hard. my head rocks back and i have to catch myself with my hands to keep from falling to the ground. but when i look up at you, you're smiling sweetly again.

you ask if that hurt. you apologize. you hold your hand out again. i place my cheek against your palm.

slap.

again and again. you coo at me, tell me you're so sorry, you just can't help it. my face looks too pretty, my bruises have faded too much. you just have to give me another black eye. and every time you slap, i find myself placing my bruised cheek back down against your hand.

i'm nothing if not a well-trained dog.