Put The Hurt On’em Babeyyy

I hate being sensitive to my senses. whaddya mean that I can't focus on the task at hand because of a random floral scent???? I'm gonna bite you.

somebody's grandma tried to be slick by saying that I looked like I'm in middle school, and rather than absorbing her life source to maintain my youthly hue, I giggled at her statement and went on with my day #growth

I love when studs give me pet names. yes, I am your Babylove, and not another soul shall refer to me as such.

[to the same cadence as Death Yon] AH-AHM. BIEN.

I need a dick to cry on. I mean- I need a shoulder to cum on. I mean- I need you to talk me through my tears…while I cum your dick. I MEAN-

“do you like movies?” I would be open to the concept of getting zip-tied onto a piece of furniture and forced to binge films for hours on end. only if *you* want that though. but again I’m **so** open minded.

you have to remember to eat your emotions before they decide to eat you. and sometimes, your emotions will come in the form of rib bones dressed with fatty chunks of sweet, thick meat, and you’ll get to work off all those hours (or days, even) of untapped, carnal frustration

I'm gonna jump into the shower before it warms up rq and then we're gonna see how my feelings feel afterwards.