yourprettiestpet

[yourprettiestpet]

Marry me and be my soft little pet wife fuck toy?

🫣🫣 well at least take me out to dinner first, gosh, anon

this made me blush unreasonably hard tbh

[yourprettiestpet]

i got a tie 👉👈 39% Librarian, 33% Pet

@toy-with-eli @kirathewarrior1999 @aurora03e

Why don't you be a Good Girl and reblog with your bimbo personality?

[yourprettiestpet]

i went swimming today since i only had to work a half day 💕 had so much fun splashing around and exposing myself when no one was looking 🫣🥵 definitely need to get a new swimsuit though... this one was squeezing my tits sooooo tight!! maybe next time i'll get a pretty bikini so i can really show off ✨️💕 it's so fun learning to be dumber and sluttier!!

[yourprettiestpet]

catgirl mood: meowing and pawing at someone for attention until they give in and make space for it to curl up on their lap, where they pet its hair all nicely while it kneads on their lap and mrows all gently until it takes a little nap.

[yourprettiestpet]

just got called a "pretty and slutty kitty" and absolutely meltedddddd. yes i am!! i am Your pretty and slutty kitty!!!! i love being as pretty and slutty and obedient for You as i can be 🥺😵‍💫🫠💕 love showing off, following orders, and making You happy. that's all i'm good for!!

[yourprettiestpet]

can i stress the importance of boundary setting? of being able to say no? if you want to be able to play with this shit, or really engage sexually at all, you need to be able to look someone in the eye and say “i don’t want this.”

[yourprettiestpet]

Taking cute hypnotoys and adding new kinks and triggers into their brains is the closest thing we have to giving humans DLC's and I love that

[yourprettiestpet]

my brain needs to be reset... retrained... reprogrammed 😵‍💫🥺💕 make me into Your perfect, personal free use pet

[yourprettiestpet]

quick note - i know i've been bad at responding to DMs lately, and i'm really sorry!! life has been.. unpleasantly hectic lately (ask privately if You want details) and there's barely been time for my normal posts. doesn't mean You did anything wrong or i'm not interested, but i've had to pick and choose where to spend my remaining energy and free time 🥺💕 things are finally settling down again now (i jinxed myself last time i said that...) so if it's been a while since You heard from me, i'm so sorry, and please reach out again!!

[yourprettiestpet]

need someone to do this to me..... i spend so long at work every day being Smart and Focused and Responsible and Independent. need someone to turn me into their ditzy, dumb doll so i can have a break from thinking 🥺😵‍💫💕

Brain Stuff. You’re hunched over your desk, the glow of your laptop screen casting shadows across your cluttered apartment. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to type the next paragraph of your dissertation — something about neural plasticity in machine learning models. It’s brilliant stuff, the kind of work that’s gotten you whispers of “genius” from your PhD advisors. You’re in the zone, your brain firing on all cylinders, when the front door clicks open.

“Hey, babe,” comes his voice, low and casual, like he doesn’t know what it does to you. Your boyfriend steps inside, shedding his jacket. He’s got that easy grin, the one that makes your stomach tighten. You glance up, meaning to say something sharp and witty, but he’s already peeling off his shirt, revealing the lean muscle underneath. Your mouth goes dry. The words you were about to type — something about synaptic pruning — slip away like sand through your fingers.

“Missed you today,” he says, crossing the room. He’s close now, close enough that you can smell the faint spice of his cologne. Your pulse kicks up, and you try to focus on the screen. You’re a goddamn scholar, you can handle this. But then he leans over your shoulder, his breath brushing your ear, and says, “What’s my smart girl working on?”

Your brain stutters. “Uh… it’s, um…” You squint at the screen, but the words lose their meaning. Neural what? Plasticity? Fuck, you know this. You wrote fifteen pages on it yesterday. His hand slides onto your shoulder, thumb brushing your neck, and your IQ takes a nosedive. “It’s… brain stuff,” you manage, voice small. You hate how stupid you sound, how you can feel your own brilliance leaking out of you as he closes the distance.

He chuckles, soft and loving, and that sound alone makes your thighs clench. “Brain stuff, huh? Tell me more.” His fingers dip lower, tracing the edge of your tank top, and you try — God, you try — to string a sentence together. “It’s about… how brains… change?” Your voice lilts up like a question, and you want to scream. You’re not some ditzy undergrad; you’re a fucking PhD candidate. But his hands are on your chest now, cupping you through your shirt, and your thoughts scatter like dropped marbles.

“C’mon, babe,” he teases, turning your chair to face him. “You’re usually so quick.” He’s smirking, and you hate how much you love it. You open your mouth to snap back, to prove you’ve still got it, but then he’s kissing you, hard, messy, all tongue and heat, and your mind goes blank. Not fuzzy, not slow, just empty. You kiss him back, hands fumbling to his waist, and all you can think is cock. One word, looping like a broken record.

He pulls you up, backing you toward the couch, and you trip over your own feet. Normally you’d curse yourself for being clumsy, but right now you just giggle. High pitched, brainless. “You’re so hot,” you blurt, and it’s the most coherent thing you’ve said in minutes. He grins, shoving his jeans down, and when you see him — hard, thick, right there — your knees buckle. You drop to the cushions, staring up at him, mouth slack. You should be analyzing data right now, not drooling like some horny idiot.

“Fuck, look at you,” he mutters, climbing over you. His hands yank your shorts off. You’re already so wet. You try to focus, one last chance to claw back a shred of intellect. “Wait, I... I need to finish...” you start, but then he’s pushing inside you, slow and deliberate, and the rest of the sentence evaporates. Your head lolls back, a moan spilling out instead. You feel him stretch you, fill you, and your brain shuts down completely. “Oh… oh God,” you whimper, legs wrapping around him on instinct.

He starts moving, thrusting deep, and you’re gone. No more dissertation, no more research... just his cock, slamming into you, turning you into a panting, writhing mess. “Tell me something smart,” he pants against your neck, mocking you now, and you want to, you need to, to prove you’re not this dumb slut he’s turning you into. “Th-the brain… it… f-fuck, it d—” You can’t finish. Every thrust scrambles your thoughts more, until you’re babbling nonsense, hips bucking to meet him.

You’re frustrated, somewhere deep down, because you know this isn’t you. You’ve presented at conferences, dismantled arguments from tenured professors, but right now you can’t even remember your own name. “Please,” you gasp, not sure what you’re begging for — him to stop, or keep going, or something else entirely. He grabs your hips, angles himself deeper, and you stop caring. “Sho… haaard…” you slur, drooling over the syllables, “sho… deeeep…”

He laughs, a low rumble. “That’s my girl. Just let go.” And you do, you can’t hold on anymore. He fucks you harder, faster, and you’re nothing but heat and need, whimpering every time he bottoms out. Your nails dig into his back, and you’re close — so close — then he groans, loud and guttural, and you feel his hot cum pour into every crevice. You climax alongside each other.

It’s instant. The second his cum hits you, it’s like a switch flips. Your vision clears, your breathing steadies, and your brain kicks back into gear. Synaptic pruning. Neural plasticity. Machine learning models. You blink up at him, still slick with sweat, and push him off with a shaky hand. “Rude,” you say, voice sharp again. He flops beside you, grinning, while you stagger to your desk, naked, his cum dripping down your thigh. You sit down, pull up your dissertation, and start typing like nothing happened. Sentences are crisp, ideas flowing.

“Welcome back, genius,” he calls, still sprawled on the couch, annoyingly smug. You don’t even look at him, but your lips twitch. Just ignore him, you’re back, and you’ve got work to finish. At least until he gets hard again.

[yourprettiestpet]

why not do both? treat me like your precious princess babydoll, then call me the filthiest names you can think of while choking me out..

half “wanna push your hair out of your face and leave the sweetest kisses across your cheeks💕”

half “wanna wrap my hand around your throat and make you see stars while you cum❣️”

[yourprettiestpet]

I want constant princess treatment but I lowkey also want to be a free use slut that she can fuck whenever and wherever she wants

[yourprettiestpet]

it's not a pretty pet's job to think... that's what we have Owners for. all we have to do is obey 💕😵‍💫✨️

the CHEESY trope I'm guilty of enjoying is "I thought-" "You don't think- you obey." is it overdone? perhaps. but you can pry it from my cold dead hands.

[yourprettiestpet]

doesn't it just feel so much easier to give in? isn't it so much nicer to just obey? isn't your mind so tired of thinking? its so much easier to be a dumb dumb. 💞

being a bimbo is so much easier 💞

isn't it? 💞

[yourprettiestpet]

craving that kind of sex that leaves you sore for days, if not weeks... wanna wake up in the morning with cum leaking out of my holes and my skin covered in hickies, bite marks, rope burns, and bruises. abuse is love, and i desperately need to feel loved 💕

[yourprettiestpet]

hemp or jute, please 💕✨️

Aww, you're so sweet! What type of rope do you want to be tied up with in my basement?

[yourprettiestpet]

some of you guys are freaks :/ *reblogs*