Men Are The Worst

don’t like that

i want a cage.

i think about it all the time. i want a cozy cage in the corner of His room with soft blankets and fairy lights and my teddy and when He tells me to go to my room we both know that’s where i’ll go. i want a dark cage tucked away in His closet where it’s all pitch black besides the little flashing red light from the camera He may or may not be watching while i lie there as curled up as i can be with my ankles and wrists chained to the cages bars, completely unaware of how much time is passing. i want a small cold cage in His garage or in the back yard, all cold and exposed to natures elements, forced to be uncomfortable in the small space for as long as He chooses to leave me out there, comforted by knowing that He’s enjoying the warmth and coziness inside.

i really really want a cage, i think about it all the time🩵

i have been SO stressed recently. someone come turn my mind off?

🥺🥺

what if you go to the doctor w/ your dom, bc you just ache down there so much that it can’t be normal. and awkwardly you stutter this out to the doctor as your dom sits in silence in the examination room, a mild look of amusement in their eyes.

and the doctor opens their mouth and asks, “how long has it been since you’ve orgasmed?”

“w-what?” you stutter out, already feeling the tips of your ears burn with humiliation.

the doctor’s eyes flick to the collar around your neck, to the confident stance of your dom. “how long has it been since you’ve let them cum?” the doctor asks casually.

your dom is entirely unfazed. “months,” they reply casually “but i edge them a few times a week.”

your thighs brush together, seeking sensation just thinking about it. the doctor tsks and places a hand on your inner thigh and spreads your legs. again, you burn red and your dom shoots a casual glance towards you.

“your sub needs an orgasm,” the doctor states professionally, snapping gloves on and spreading your thighs. “may I?” they ask your dom instead of you. your dom nods.

“this is highly professional,” the doctor tells you. “there’s nothing wrong with me touching you like this. this is all business,” they coo, slipping their fingers into you.

they make a pouty face, mocking you. “you trust me, don’t you?”

you nod, almost lost in the haze of horniness and subspace.

“I would never do anything to hurt you, you know this!” they tell you in a patronizing tone. all you do is spread your thighs wider. and then they laugh. “god, you’re already horny. what a little slut,” they mock.

desperate and sensitive, you buck your hips into their palm with a whine.

your dom tsks. “slap them. they can’t move their hips.”

you feel the rubber gloves of the doctors other hand squeezing your face, peering at you curiously, tilting your chin from side to side, tugging at your mouth. the warmth of their fingers leaves your face as they drop their hand, then bring it up again to slap you. hard. but you stay silent.

“awww, they liked it,” the doctor hums, returning to their place between your legs.

“so tell me,” the doctor states, casually, continuing to stroke you, “what did the patient do that was so bad that they couldn’t cum for months?”

you whine, embarrassed that they’re talking about you like you’re not there.

“they masturbated and then lied to me about it,” your dom hums. “but I suppose their punishment is over,” they shrug, watching with a glint in their eye as the doctor finger-fucks you.

“what a good little toy,” the doctor smiles wickedly at you, wrinkling their nose. “I’ve got to get myself one of these.” they add another finger, and you yowl - it feels like they’re stretching you out. fuck, you think to yourself.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” you sob out, digging your fingers into the examination table. you glance at your dom for permission, and they nod, so you fall apart with a desperate scream.

the doctor snaps off their gloves with a small smile, and leaves you there on the table - spread out and panting, still dripping, makeup running down your face with tears.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a while - in case there’s anything else you want to check up on,” the doctor winks at your dom before walking out.

real people being partially closeted or ambiguous about their own sexuality while making Gay Art is not queerbaiting

daydreaming about

promise rings 🥰🥰

day collars 🥹🥰☺️☺️

..good shit.

“nice blog”

thank you im really good at clicking reblog

Sometimes, when we’re laying in bed together, I pull his hand up to my throat. He knows what I’m asking and will grab my throat and squeeze, disrupting my ability to breathe easily and letting pressure build in my chest. It’s never hard enough to make me worry or safeword but builds gradually to just enough to serve as a casual reminder that I’m his to hurt and torment.

Sometimes, I just need that reassurance. It makes me feel safe.

domination outside of the bedroom is so fucking hot

pick out my clothes for me. tell me i can’t eat something because i’ve had too much sugar today. give me a bedtime. i don’t wanna be in control of a single thing in my life, dumb babies like me need someone else to take control, that’s just how it works!

jellycats fossilly dinosaurs in small/mini :)