suckerloverb

[suckerloverb]

🥺💕older pics but I've noticed people asking for weights attached to tits 🥰 enjoyyy

[suckerloverb]

🥺💕🥺💕also thank you everyone for 1000+ followers!! That's amazing

[suckerloverb]

you want to fuck me so bad it makes me look stupid. it-- it makes me so stup-- so bad it makes me horn-- you, uh.. did you drug me? i,, i think i loeve youo,,

[suckerloverb]

Moo moo 🥰💓💕💓🥺

[suckerloverb]

You are your TITS

You are your TITS

You are your TITS

[suckerloverb]

Pretty little doll

[suckerloverb]

I think I might have outgrown this bra 🥰

[suckerloverb]

dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb...

[suckerloverb]

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 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.

[suckerloverb]

Felt like a photoshoot ✨️

[suckerloverb]

🥺🥺

[suckerloverb]

I have a complaint - I don’t have a cameraman to get the perfect shots of my ass for you guys 😩😢

Who’s going to be my hero and offer to come capture all my angles? Repost as your official application 😏

[suckerloverb]

Sooooo why are your handprints not on this ass yet? It’s a crime 😩 Repost if you agree

[suckerloverb]

Thot, Er, Thought-Interface BetterU!

You didn't hate the way you looked, but who didn't have something they would fix if they had the chance? After opting into the Thought-Interface BetterU program, you had that chance!

You returned home and activated the implant in your head, seeing the interface in your vision. It was surprisingly intuitive, opening new options when you thought about them and letting you customize with another simple thought.

You almost didn't believe it, so you thought small. [Hair] was one of the first options available, and you always thought your dishwater blonde hair was drab, so why not try...

Hair: Red

You watched in the mirror as your hair shifted like your hue sliders were moving, deepening into a rich, vibrant red. It was perfect, but did it match your dark eyes?

Eyes: Gray-Blue

That was quick! This was so responsive! But those were such tame changes. Shifting your stormy eyes down further, you always thought your lips were too thin, and—

Lips: Slightly Plump, Heart-Shaped

Well, that tingled! Your lips filled out until they looked perfectly kissable. You want a nice tiny build to go with this pretty face, but you can't help thinking of things that could use a little more plumpness and shape, too. You turned and looked over her shoulder, thinking...

Build: Petite Butt: Full, Round

Your rather unimpressive ass expanded out, each cheek round and prominent. You were thinking about more of a bubble butt, but you could adjust that. At least you weren't so flat; now that you had the option, that was the furthest thing you wanted to be.

Breasts: E, Natural

"Wait, wait, what?" That wasn't what you were thinking! You gasped as your chest warmed up and filled with fatty tissue, straining against your thin white top! At this rate, what good were your clothes??

Wardrobe: Bikinis & Lingerie

Wait, how was that even a feature?? Your clothes melted away, leaving behind a flimsy bikini barely containing your new curves. These tits looked monstrous and mismatched on your petite build!

Build: Hourglass

Well, maybe you walked into that one, feeling your midsection soften and your hips widen as your tight frame thickened up a bit to balance you out. It was time to rein this in. Maybe the problem is just you getting stressed out and thinking too much too fast, right?

Personality: Relaxed, Unbothered, Bubbly IQ: 60

What was that?? You understood what that meant and that made you... peaceful? Calm? That wasn't right, was it? You giggled, unfazed by the soft popping feelings in your head. What did you understand again? Apparently not much, though your titties in that mirror were, like, SO big? An E? You weren't good with letters, but there were bigger ones, right?

Bre-ERROR Tits: J, Natural

Right, like J!

When your partner came home, they were confused, concerned, and (despite their best efforts, aroused.) They asked if they should call someone to reverse what happened now that you were too dumb to properly control your menu. You just giggled. "Psh, I'm just the better me! And the best me is the me that gets you way horny!"

Hair: Curly Bob Tits: M, Fake Lips: Bimbo Big IQ: 45 Libido: Extreme Job: Bimbo Housewife

You blinked, oblivious about why your spouse was ogling you like a sex object. You didn't feel the silicone blowing up your already massive bust, or the way your lips were too big to close all the way. You didn't even notice as you dumbed down even further into the bimbo housewife of their unspoken fantasies!

Did they forget what you were there for? That was funny since they were the smart one.

You smiled and jiggled a little for them as a reminder. "Does honey want horny bimbo wifey time?"

As it turned out, they were fine with this Better U!

[suckerloverb]

Good Girls are lyk totally fun to be besties with!

DM me fellow bambis *giggles*

PC: @misstranci

[suckerloverb]

hehe this dolls corset training isa going so well.

its time for a smaller corset too!

the back closes completely now 🤭🩷

Bambi will have sucbhhhh a tiny waist by end of the year 💖🩷💖

[suckerloverb]

girls shud just be quiet and grope their tits whenever they need to feel useful . . . dumbing down feels

so guddddd k omgosh hehe