I'd prefer to be blocked if you really don't like something about what I'll share here. Please do remember it's a blog for my perverted fantasies and not something I'd be practicing irl without prior consent.
❌No minors!❌ And I'll block ageless blogs.
Yo (⊍◔ꈊ◔⊎)ﾂ* ੈ♡‧₊˚* you can call me Mutt, puppy, just dude or any masculine nickname cuz I don't have a name
•Strictly bottom sub, any mood except that is as rare as the red moon•
I'm a 21yr old trans guy from Siberia, I could be bilingual with how pretty I can beg in both languages✨. I like other trans guys a lot, and dominant people in general make me wet. Single, but still poly.
I'm very open to interaction, but if you wish to dm me for horny purposes you can. It's my side blog though I may sometimes flash my main in follows. But otherwise I'll interact only through this one with my beloved freaks.
•I don't appear here very often either but I won't mind being given a reason to be more active•
Oh my god I just need a boy falling apart under me while I fuck and jerk him off, I need him to cry for me because it feels so good. I'll do whatever it takes to make him feel so good he forgets to be embarrassed or shy and just takes it and begs for more
Earlier today I made this flag, which was well received on my other social media, so I'm taking it here.
This is a flag for pornography destigmatization. Pornography, both making and engaging with, needs to be accepted as a part of life.
It should not be equated to abusive media, because there's lots of porn that has been made ethically - you can choose individual creators or even fictional art. It should not be treated like some kind of a corrupting substance, it doesn't have any properties that would make it different from masturbating to your fantasies or engaging with some other form of entertainment media. It should not be pushed out of the public spaces, out of mainstream sites.
Pornography and freedom to get involved with it needs to be protected.
Visual symbolism: the center shape is a reference to a video tape. Green heart is for non romantic sexuality destigmatization. Pink stripe above is to emphasize porn creation as a marginalized genders' rights issue, purple stripe below - marginalized orientations'.
For some reason people keep thinking of me as intimidating irl. Bro I literally called you "dahling" while wearing a striped shirt and knee length shorts how tf are you taking me seriously.
Date idea: You, me, the moon to howl at. And a 10km night walk that we are totally prepared for
- @pupshoard
That's a damn good idea pup, I love a long night walk! I have a trip just like that planned next week, maybe you should come and we can play in the dark. Gonna be a full moon on the 28th, plenty of light to look at your handsome face.
Would you keep quiet for me so we don't bother any other campers? Or maybe partway through our walk I could take you in the woods and you could be nice and loud to deter the predators.
I should. I should come and play with you in the dark. And while keeping quiet, or being loud, are both pretty easy to me, what I really would like more is to hear you.
Have you ever had a play fight with another pup in dirt? It's really fun, especially when the fight turns into grinding on the cold ground. I'd love to feel you out of breath, pulling you by the hips onto myself. Wouldn't it be nice to let yourself howl on the full moon while I'm biting into your neck and shoulders, trying my best to fuck you trough our clothes? I think that would be nice
Peeling off the broken breastplate of a stoic knight who only fights and never speaks, just to realize there’s nothing in there. Not metaphorically—the armor is literally empty. It doesn’t appear to affect him. If the armor stays mostly in the shape of a knight, he just gets back up to keep fighting. But with the chest plate off he just sits there, equally impervious to curiosity as I reach up into the cavity where his body might’ve gone. Stubbornly, no answers are found anywhere in there.
So I forge him a new breastplate and on the inside, because I know he has plenty of room, I put a little pocket. Not big enough to hold anything functional of course. Just a little extra piece to see what he’ll do with it.
He comes back next time with some grievous injury to his nothing, presumably from the massive shredded gash across his thigh plates. He sits and waits. I fix it for him. He is still nothing in there. I decide to add a drawing on the inside, of the type of beast I imagine could rend metal into scraps with a single blow. He puts it back on. He no longer moves as if he is injured.
Over time the interior of the knight becomes decorated with whatever odds and ends I could think to attach to the inside of a guy who’s got room to carry it. What really gets me is that he never removes any of it. Never requests a change. Not even when I installed a curtain rod for a small tapestry, or a bud vase to carry roses for his beloved, or an accordion folder for letters. He didn’t say a word for any of the many, many drawings of mythical beasts that now fight forever inside of his shell.
There are plenty of other forges. I’m not entirely sure why he keeps coming back here anyway. We’re pretty popular, but he could get his armor fixed a lot quicker (and with fewer ridiculous modifications) literally anywhere else. I asked him if I could get a look at his nothing again. He flipped up his visor and nodded his head so I could take a look. It was the same as it had been, filled with drawings and trinkets and weird little fixtures I’d put in there. I asked if he was annoyed by it, or liked it, or felt anything at all, but he literally only ever says nothing, so I’m not sure why I asked.
There’s not much room left in his nothing now. When he comes back for repairs I’ve had to fix my own foolish additions. Some of these pieces are intricate and irritating to repair, but I fix them anyway. It feels wrong to take any of it away from him now, even though I’ve been rudely encroaching on his nothingness to the point where it’s barely even there. How he squeezes his nothing back into a body so full, I’ll never understand. But it’s a game to me now, finding a spot not yet filled and putting something there. A dark part of me wonders if he ever gets filled up completely, if whatever sorcery holds the nothing-knight together may break, and it will all clatter unceremoniously to the floor.
When he hands me his breastplate yet again, it is so shockingly disfigured that I wonder if being made of nothing has somehow kept him alive. No ordinary knight could sustain such injuries. So I fix it. And he waits, unmoving, in a quiet corner of the forge. It’s like he’s watching, even though I know the reading glasses I put inside his helmet were just for fun. I’m careful to put it all back exactly the way it was when he last left. There’s no room to add more this time.
He examines the breastplate, and pauses before putting it back on, like he’s looking for something. Is he worried about the fit? But it suits him just as it always did. He calmly points to a little space, about an inch, between a miniature shelf and one of many pockets. There’s nothing there. I ask him what’s wrong, and again he points. It’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him, and it’s barely anything at all. I take it to mean he wants something there.
I spend some time engraving a little snail in the gap. He watches, as much as nothing can watch. When I’m finished he holds the breastplate, but he doesn’t put it on right away. I ask him if something’s still wrong. He says nothing, and puts it on. I tell him I can’t add anything else. Even if he could ask, there’s no room left.
Next time he comes back, there’s nothing wrong with his armor—he lets me check to make sure. I ask him what he’s doing here. Out from one of many pockets, he retrieves a tiny rusted knife. It’s in miserable condition, barely worth saving. I tell him I could make him a nice new one, but I’ll fix it if he likes. He puts it away and reaches around to find something else, a needle and thread. Better condition, but I’m not a sewist and I tell him as much. He puts them away. He then retrieves a little twisted piece of wax paper. I open it. It’s candy. I ask if I can eat it. He says nothing. I eat it. It’s flavored with cinnamon. I’m surprised he let me take it.
He keeps bringing me candy now. His armor is the most laborious to repair out of every client my forge serves, but it’s my own fault so I can’t complain. Sometimes he keeps me company while I work. I wonder if he is trying to tell me something when he hands me mints. I wonder again at the lemon lozenges. He stares at me when I eat, as much as nothing can stare.
One day he brings me a little jar of honey. I thank him, I tell him I’ll save it for dinner. He watches me work, he puts his repaired armor back on, and he stays. My shift passes slowly, and when I finally pack up to leave it’s dark outside. He follows me out of the forge. I ask him where he’s going. He points to the jar in my hand. I ask him if he wants to watch me eat it. He says nothing, but the nothing-knight clearly wants something, so I open the lid and dunk my finger in the honey. I try not to get any on my chin. He stands there, inches away, watching me try to consume this jar of honey without a utensil. It tastes like clovers. About half the jar is left when I’ve finally had enough of pretending to be a bear, but he doesn’t move to leave.
I ask if he’s going to follow me home. He says nothing. I tell him he can if he wants to. Again, nothing. I start walking, and he follows at my side. I know he’s not going to say anything ever, so I fill the silence. I tell him I’m grateful for the sweets, I tell him about how his various components are made, I tell him I’ve never met anyone made of nothing before. I tell him it’s a rare opportunity for a smith to work so much on the inside of something. He says nothing. I tell him again how much I like the candy.
It occurs to me that maybe filling me with sugar is as close as he can get to filling someone else’s empty armor with trinkets. I’m not sure if that’s really why he does it. I tell him I don’t have room to be filled with anything on the inside, not like him. I’m not a container for much besides food. He offers me another piece of candy. Maybe he likes containing something, the way I like to feel full. Maybe it’s nothing at all.
—
I didn’t edit this even a little bit. Thanks for reading!
i know people feel weird about saying 'nonbinary people are nonbinary' because it's grammatically clumsy at first glance and hit the "and nonbinary people are valid" instead because that isn't but also nonbinary people are nonbinary. pretty essentially. trans men are men, trans women are women, and nonbinary people are nonbinary. and they aren't (universally) 'too powerful to be contained by the gender binary', they aren't (universally) 'creatures', they aren't (universally) 'incomprehensible'. why would you feel weird about saying 'nonbinary' when it fulfills the same purpose as these other phrases?
Howl that echoes between panel'ki @pupshoard - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
