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butyouvealwaysbeenthecaretaker · 3 years

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There's something I'm trying to put into words,

about the discomfort of straight women who are very into slash and yaoi. It's been bothering me in a quiet way for a while, and then over the weekend it exploded, and I'm trying to pick my way through pain constructively.

There's a couple of things.

~*~

Point zero is that desire is good, actually, and so is fantasy. Keep this in mind, we'll come back to it.

~*~

The first thing is shame. People who are choosing to approach their own desire from the side, not willing to recognise their own bodies or vocalise their desire in their own voice, or think about sex in which their bodies participate. People who are too afraid to work on their own liberation, so take yours.

After all, feminist sexual writing is a whole genre and tradition. The only reason why queer men's liberation feels appealing to these women is that they have nothing at stake in it: it's fantasy, it's safe, it's nothing to do with or about them.

For actual queer men, the process of liberationary sex writing is - of course - mortifying; or there is a stage of mortification and pain one experiences in approaching it. It is not, and never will be, your safe space; that's why you're trying to transform it into one.

~*~

The second thing is privacy. I'd wake up and log on and there would be a full-flown gigglefest about sex in slash, and not being able to quite put my finger on how to say - this is making me feel bad and weird. And in retrospect, this picks up on point 1. Whose bodies are we sexualising in this space. I want to go back and start a conversation about how I prefer girl-on-top and how people who read missionary fic are gross, and hey when you read Barbie/Ken fic, do you see them mostly doing it doggy style?

Because I think that would make-it-real, for these women to feel their own bodies are at stake and being scrutinised in the conversation.

Making my morning coffee, I wonder what kinds of sexual relationships these women have, and if they know that "gay missionary" isn't this abstract concept that appears in fanfiction but a kind of sex they have all the right anatomy to experience for themselves. I suspect they would not like that, and that also the purpose of these conversations is specifically so that nobody envisages them having sex, or being sexual beings.

~*~

The third is experience.

A. thinks that it's a problem that teenagers watch gay porn. (A. wrote her dissertation on gay porn.) A has never had her rights removed on the basis that the world must be made "safe for children".

B thinks there's too much gross stuff in fanfic and it should be banned. B has never experienced fanfic archives removing LGBT material under the aegis of child-protection and removing what is "gross". B has never experienced a reasonable-sounding expansion of anti-kink laws being used in the vaccum where anti-gay laws once stood, the way they disproportionately target queer porn, or are used to harass sex workers, or arrest queer people.

C thinks that anyone who has a gross fantasy, is a hair-trigger away from actually hurting somebody. C is cisgender, and will never be arrested in a bathroom or have her body regarded as inherently a gross sexual fetish. C does not date women, and has never come to learn that a fist may be more easy to take than a kiss, when you are made to feel disgusting for desiring love. C is also asexual - the shame associated with having a sexual expression of any kind is not on her radar. C does not experience gender dysphoria, and had to wrestle with the downright odd things you brain does to manage a libido and an incoherent body all at once. C has never dated someone who survived the peak of AIDS, and has formed intimate connections between blood and sex and death, forged by decades of homophobic media and law. C. cannot tolerate the concept of erotic horror because she has never been made to experience her own body and desires as horrifying.

All these women spend all their free time making stories about imaginary gay and crossdressing men, talking about drag race, and sylvester.

This is not dissonant to them. As we have said, these women see queer man culture as a a place of safety - an escape from patriarchy and their own discomfort. They are unable to comprehend queer expression as a thing that is not safe.

They are very certain that they can tell the difference between a sexual expression that is gross and nongross; and hurting the gross is therefore OK, because punishing perverts will never be co-opted in their soft-focus world of tender coffeshop AUs and gentle longing and having the right kind of gay sex that is photogenic for women to consume.

~*~ A corollary: these things are not for you. What if we defined queer media - one of many possible definitions - as a thing that excludes. Their defining quality is a conversation between queer artist and queer listener, drawn from the conversations the artist had with their friends and lovers, or conversations with the world which anyone within the wall will find familiar.

I am suddenly, humbling-ly and viscerally aware of where the *don’t like white people who like ballroom culture* people are coming from

~*~

The fourth thing is that broader conversation about women with privilege (whiteness, class, straightness), being unable to consider that their behaviour could ever be dangerous or destructive.

Their own narrative of sexual victimhood and shame is central in their own hearts, and they are incapable of adopting an intersectional perspective which adds nuance to their experiences.

~*~

And the fifth is how much they hate you when you try and bring actual queer politics into their fragile world.

Simultaneously asking, on the one hand - could we make this space safe for work again, so it feels a little less like it does now? and being howled at, as if that's an outrageous restriction on their right to talk about pornography.

And on the other, if we are to be a porn conversation place, can we try and rethink the judgemental "anyone who likes weird sex is a threat" attitudes that come up over, and over, and over again.

Needless to say, the needle for "this man is a sexual predator" fired in under 30 seconds and, shortly after demanding I leave the community I established, nobody has spoken to me since.

~*~

There's a particular soreness, I think, of being around people who want to casually chat about drag and feel like Born This Way is theirs and want to PM you about their dissertation on gay porn studios of the 1970s and stan the Marquis de Sade

but cannot take the reality of being around queer people or their lives.

An ugliness, a grossness, a grossness that compounds the passively "being treated like a sexual object" into an active bar on having sexual subjectivity. A be seen but not heard of the bedroom: be seen, a Bowie-chiselled Velour-glamoured Cowley-sparkling Velvet Goldmine vision;

but not heard, as in, don't ever cross that line into talking about real sex in our fantasies (even when our fantasies are your real sex), and don't ever make us consider that our words have weight.

I'm spending time in a little world with women who like Interview with a Vampire, the Company of Wolves, David Lynch and the Marquis de fucking Sade, and who are so fragile around their own fears of desire that they cannot tolerate someone saying - it's fine to be into stuff, and not be ashamed.

This odd middle space, where on the one hand I am comfortable in spaces which are sexually silent - where the horror and challenge of my body and life never come up; and on the other, I am comfortable in spaces which are radically sexually open, in which no-one need feel afraid or judged.

These women, on the other hand, want something else: this desire to talk about sex billowing out of them, irrepressably, but also to use that freedom to box other sexualities down tight - to judge, to shame, to define themselves coyly by describing others as disgusting, to feel that urge spilling into view only to publically run away from it and demand others do the same.

Erotica, without wanking. Desiring men, without women. Thinking about the sex lives of your toy dolls, but not being into that weird stuff. Fantasies, with no bodies. Male sexuality, with no actual men in it.

~*~

I am the last of three queer people who has left that community; and still, I imagine, the "define our own sexuality in coded ways by judging things we are not as gross, and creating in the gaps around our own bodies and desires a world of gay men who are like I wish to be" conversations are going on; but unobserved by any actual queers who might break the fantasy.

And reader, I liked these people. I'm heartbroken.

#longreads #responses welcome but reblog with care #I have this lovely little note I was sent last week from one of them saying how much they appreciated the work I'd put in to making such a n #nice community #The bedroom politics tag #the feminism tag

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foolscapper · 3 years

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Spn prompt! I have a HUGE love of incoherent/delirious Sam and panicking/worried Dean, whether it's head injury, curse, blood loss, or dangerously high fever 👉👈

Your wish is my command! It ended up... longer than anticipated... but here you are! Unbeta’d, we die like men. This is weechesters and involves a kid being hurt, so if that’s something that’d bother anyone, feel free to skip over this!

(Posted to Archiveofourown as well.)

Sylvester Sharpe turned from the beat up Ford truck he'd parked on the corner of A Street and Cotton Circle after a voice coolly demanded his attention. The boy that met his critical stare was about half his age — youthful, maybe somewhere between sixteen or eighteen: dirty-blonde hair; strange old necklace; a charcoal black Led Zeppelin T-shirt, darker with sweat around a neckline littered with holes that implied he really loved that goddam shirt. Sylvester furrowed his brow, put out his cigarette on the lip of a truck bed full of trash and beer bottles and stolen shit he'd been selling to good buddies who know a thing or two about loose lips getting busted, and squinted at the boy like he were pea-sized.

"What?" Sylvester said, the clipped sound one of impatience.

"I said," the freckled boy replied back, terse, "Do they call you 'Sly' around here?"

Sylvester snorted, loose-limbed and careless and ready to move on to the nearest liquor store to get a new pack of Marlboros. He turned toward his open truck door to move along. He said, "Yeah, I'm Sly."

The kid lunged, and they were on ground in a few seconds flat.

An old man in an ivy cap walking his dog watched as the teenager started to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.

**************** **************** **************** ****************

You don't mess around when it comes to concussions. Concussions are traumatic brain injuries — sometimes it doesn't feel like that, because you think "oh, well, they just shook some screws loose; they just have some stars circling around their head, and they'll be fine in a few hours". But real life ain't cartoons.

If there's one thing you could give their old man credit for, it was that he never undervalued a trip to the ER when it came to the safekeeping of his son's brains. Dean had a concussion before, himself. Just before he turned fifteen; got thrown into a wall by a ghost before returning back to their hotel room and vomiting his guts out in a toilet not even worth pissing in. Sam had been about eleven, casting the kindest and most worried shadow over the hunch of Dean's back, rubbing his shoulders and nervously parroting Dad about how he absolutely shouldn't go to sleep, no matter how much he slurred he wanted to.

Dad looked up the nearest ER and drove him down.

The nurses had to stand there with their mouths in a thin, concerned line while Dean rambled on and on about how he'd caught a Chupacabra in a giant net once in Texas and ganked a vampire last week in Pasadena. And, of course, Dean also asked where Sam was — over and over and over and over — until Sam had to lean forward in his waiting room chair and wave at him, a constant reminder that he hasn't been left behind anywhere. Sam had tired lines around his mouth, then, and worry in his eyes that had been overcast with exhaustion. That's one of the few things Dean could remember about that night. Just thinking, 'Man, Sammy, why you look so tired?'

If he hadn't been so fucking concussed, the answer'd be obvious.

**************** **************** **************** ****************

Stuck in some half-dead town in Nevada in the summer of '95, Dean was more than a little restless; Dad had left them to go wipe a vampire nest a few small towns south, and apparently Dean hadn't been "big britches" enough to handle a hunt of that scope yet. Which was total horseshit, because he was sixteen; he could outdrink any old chump at the bar and he'd gotten a kill list so long that it rivaled a suburban mom's grocery list.

They settled into an apartment with no furniture save for a two-seated couch and some mattresses — and exactly two months worth of rent covered with no plans to renew — but at least it also had a television with a few channels, too. Sweating from the heat, he traded the urge to hunt with the privilege of kicking up his feet and watching The People's Court. School had ended an hour or so before, but Sammy'd stayed behind for some extracurricular club he'd been practically vibrating to join, and Dean had no plans to shoot it down while Dad wasn't around to comment on it.

There was a small struggle at the front door to unlock it, and Dean listened with a quirked eyebrow.

"You forget how human hands work, Stuart Little?"

The door creaked open a fraction in response, and then stayed that way for a moment. Through the sliver of open air, Dean heard a small sob that made his stomach fall through the couch, and as he swung himself up onto his feet Sam walked through the door and nearly right into him — it was easy to see why, because his right eye was completely swollen shut, purpled and shiny. Dry blood clung under his nose and matted one side of his head, and he swayed on his feet when Dean's hands jolted out to grab his shoulders. The kid's backpack was nowhere to be seen. Probably dropped and abandoned.

"Sam. Sammy." His hand reached to touch, and he found the bloody, clumped hair hid a lump the size of a golf ball, split and oozing. The kid shuddered with pain, and tears continued to leak down one side of his face. The fear mutates and splits off, leaving a new, fresh wave of emotion: fury. This isn't a monster. These aren't claw marks or some bruise caused by a furious ghost. Some punk-ass kids must have jumped him at the school and left him like this. And his brother walked all the way back here like that. He would even bet they aren't Sam's age. Sam wouldn't have let them do this without a hell of a fight.

He could barely stop the snarl of his lips, the cold calmness. "... Sam, who did this?"

"I don't..." Sam licked his lips, looking around like he wasn't sure where he was. Garbled words took time to form with a tied tongue. Dean could bet if he peeled the other eye open, the pupils would be mismatched in size. "I don't remember. I'm... I don't know. Dean."

The fury had to wait. He moved to walk Sam to the couch, planted him there and squeezed his brother's shoulder; another cold wave of outrage washed over him when Sam winced in pain, like something was hurt there, too. "It's okay. It's okay, little brother, just don't move. I'm going to clean you up, and we're gonna — get you to the urgent care. You hear me? It'll only take a minute."

He got the first aid from the bare kitchen cabinet, dug around for all the things he'd been familiar grabbing any time Dad had gotten his bell rang. He fumbled with the supplies with all the grace Sam had opening the front door. Uttered a sorry before he carefully pressed the gel icepack to Sam's eye. The other eye locked onto him, red and wet, glazed with delirium.

"Dean," Sam wept, and Dean had to focus hard to make out what he was saying: "Dean, I think I'm dead... I tried to find help, but nobody — nobody stopped... I think they can't see me. I think I'm a ghost."

Jesus. Yeah, the kid was concussed. Bad.

"No way. Not my little brother. Never gonna let that happen." His smile was strained as he grabbed Sam's wrist and raised the hand to the boy's own face. "Ghosts aren't big on crying, right? The salt would burn like a bitch."

"Dean..."

"Yeah?"

"My ears're weird... Sounds weird," he admitted weakly, like he'd done something wrong.

"It's okay, dude. You're concussed."

"... Oh." Sam sat for a moment. Looked around the small, unlived space. The People's Court was moving into a commercial. "Dean... Don' tell Dad. Don't tellem I messed up."

Dean pressed a palm to Sam's chest, his thumb gently rubbing the hill of his collarbone to soothe him. Usually about now they'd be wrestling over some stupid fight, or he'd be getting him into a headlock to test his reflexes, or Sam'd be throwing pencils at him for interrupting his train of thought at the kitchen table.

"You didn't mess anything up. I promise." It was a Herculean effort to keep his hands soft and caring, because all they wanted to do now was rip someone to pieces. He was gonna. As soon as Sam was good, he was gonna split his knuckles knocking someone's teeth out. He was gonna paint the dirt with it. Gonna blacken both eyes and bleed both nostrils and break a few things in someone's body.

... But only after making sure Sammy'd be alright.

Sam was missing a backpack and about forty bucks in money he'd earned from mowing lawns for the balding, dorky librarian living across the street. That same librarian ushered the boys into the back seat of her Sedan and made a beeline for the nearest ER. With Sam leaning against him, his knobby elbow jutting into his ribs, Dean answered a question nervously asked from the driver's seat.

"I don't know who did it. But I'm real good at hunting down whatever I got to."

**************** **************** **************** ****************

There was a gratifying sound of Sylvester's skull hitting the side of his own truck after Dean threw him into it headlong. Storming forward, he doesn't hesitate to pick Sly back up by his flannel jacket to do it all over again. "Taking from the grown-ups not good enough for you?! You think you can fucking steal from kids, huh?! Think you can beat up some kid a third your size, huh?! You fuck—"

Wheezing, Sylvester tried to drag himself up into the driver's seat of his truck, a feeble effort to escape his punishments. A small crowd from a barbershop across the street formed, but kept their distance — older ladies mostly who knew better than to put their hands between a dog fight. Dean ignored them to grab Sylvester by the front of his collar and hoist him a foot up from the seat he'd slumped on. Their faces were inches apart, so that he could look into hazel eyes seeing red. "If I ever see you again, I'mma kill you. Do you understand? Do I make myself clear? I'll sleep like a baby after."

Sylvester didn't reply, but he did moan in pain, and Dean considered that an answer. He dropped him and stepped over his heaving chest with dust-stained boots to retrieve a backpack out of the truck bed. Then he reached into the man's jean pocket with swelling knuckles, digging more than forty dollars out of the billfold he finds there and shoving the wad into his own pocket. Then he chucked the rest of the wallet across the unleased dirt field.

"Go fuck yourself," Dean said finally, and left just as he'd come.

**************** **************** **************** ****************

Dean and Sam could barely fit on the apartment's couch together, legs crammed together under a quilted blanket while the television had cast an ever-changing glow over them. Sam's face was still a mess of Dean's least favorite colors, but now he could see both of his eyes, and that helped loosen the knot in his stomach. John had been called from the ER, told the story from front to back, and he filled the teenager with grim vindication when he complimented Dean's recent successful hunt.

The verdict: a 24-hour observation in the hospital, during which John Winchester strode in to keep vigilant watch over Dean as he kept vigilant watch over Sam; he hadn't stopped watching him since they'd gotten home after, either. Dean could hear his father's snores through the door into the one bedroom. Who knows when the last time Dad slept had been; he'd come straight back from the end of the destroyed vamp nest, no pitstops.

"... Dean?" Sam asked after him, wearily. If he had a nickel for every time the boy said it today, he'd be a millionaire. But there was an awareness in Sam's eyes this time that had been frighteningly missing earlier, as he stared at him from across the short couch. In the ER, it had taken a lot of coaxing and promising that Sam wasn't as dead as he'd thought he was, and now Dean was very confident he finally believed it a day late and a dollar short.

"Yeah?"

"Your hands."

He glanced down at the bruised, scraped up knuckles, and just shook his head at the sight of Sam's apprehension; he hadn't told Sam exactly what happened, but his brother was smart. Smarter than most people who came and went in their lives. Smarter than Dean had ever felt he could be. He sighed as he flexed his hands. "Don't worry. I'm not going to jail for murder or anything. Just... rest, okay?"

Sam's chin sunk into the blanket. Not appeased, but relenting.

The battered kid mumbled, "You're the one who looks tired," then he smiled in that way that made Dean regret his bleeding heart. Dean's mouth opened for a moment, then closed. He played it off as best he could, but the rough emotion in the way he glanced aside and rubbed a hand down his mouth was hardly subliminal. "Yeah, well. Sometimes worrying too much is exhausting, dude."

Sam bit his lip. "I'll try not to worry you as much, then."

Dean reached out, patted the bony knee near his.

"... I might have to hold you to that."

But really? He would never.

#spn #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #weechesters #preseries #spn prompts #spn fanfic #hurt!sam #hurt/comfort #warning for injured child!!!

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dom-bastiansmythe · 3 years

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Trial Claim Request Form:

Dominant Name: Sebastian Alexander Smythe ( @dom-bastiansmythe )

Submissive Name: Elliot Gabriel Anderson ( @elliottanderson-gabriel )

Dominant Point Level: 4

Submissive Point Level: 5

Dates of Trial Claim: From April 12th to May 12th

Addressed To: @miss-sue-sylvester & @headmaster-shue

Rules for submissive:

One day a week Elliot will be allowed to scene with someone who isn't his Dominant. Said scene, and likely partner should be run with the Dominant first and at length, explaining all points. The likely partner must be made aware of Elliot's safeword and use it at the right moment so it needed, as well as they will need to talk to the Dominant directly to ask him for his permission.

Should Elliot want to go into town with someone who isn't his Dominant, he will ask his permission at first, as well as the person who would be going with him will talk to the Dominant first and let him known of where they will be going, and the most likely time they would be returning.

Elliot will be addressing all Dominants and Switches respectfully and using the appropiate title. Should he fail in doing that it will be cause for punishment.

Elliot will maintain a high level in his studies, as well as in his sporting competitions, should there be any. None would be neglected for the sake of the other. If the Dominant receives any complain on behalf of his teachers or coaches it will be ground for punishment.

Elliot will have his own room at the Dominant's apartment, and he will be allowed to fix it at his own liking, as long as he mantains everything in an orderly fashion. He will be allowed to sleep with the Dominant in the same bed, but should the Dominant ask him to sleep in his own room for whatever reason he will do so without any hesitation. Also, the Dominant will enter Elliot's room without previous warning to make sure his rules are been obeyed.

In addition to be in charge of keeping his private room in order, Elliot will be in charge of the maintanence of the apartment as a whole, as well as making breakfast every day, leaving the rest of the meals open for any of them to take care of.

Curfew is 9 o'clock pm. Should Elliot fail said time it will be ground for punishment.

Elliot's full school schedule will be run by the Dominant. He will leave the apartment in the morning to go to class, and he should return by noon for lunch. Then he will go to attend any other school activity scheduled, and then go back directly to the Dominant's apartment. Any change in the school schedule or actvity must be notified in time to the Dominant.

No lying or keeping secrets, both submissive and Dominant must be open to one another, no matter what.

Elliot will not be allowed to orgasm while being together with the Dom, until the exact moment when he orders him to, no matter when that moment ocurs. This rule will still apply if, or when Elliot is doing a scene with another partner who is not the Dominat.

Elliot will have to make sure to take care of himself, both phyisically and mentally. He will have to make sure to shower every day, stay clean and shaved, as well as well fed at all times. Should he feel ill in any way he will make the Dominat know so he can take the right terms of action.

STRENGHTS:

SEBASTIAN:

I have a very strong and secure character, which makes me a perfect leader, and as a result a perfect Dominant as well. I can be strong, stern, and a bit stubborn, but I also know how to listen, how to care for someone who may be in need, and in the particular case of Elliot I always make sure he knows I care deeply about him, and let him know that I can be both harsh, but also kind when needed. I come from a family when I was taught that subs were made simply to satisfy us at every whim, and yes, for the longest time I did believe that was the case. But since I reconnected with Elliot I learned to see beyond all of that and saw the errors of my ways, and I know now that I can be a much better Dominant for him, and with him, and I know that we will continue to grow together in the times ahead.

ELLIOT:

I'm a dedicate person whether it be to my swimming or to those in my own life, I make sure to dedicate my time appropriately to anything in my life. Which benefits my dominant as then he knows that he has my undivided attention when I'm with him.

I'm comfortable with being the submissive in the claim, I've been leaning towards the submissive mark for a while and since being with my dominant I have really come into my element with it and ready to be the submissive he deserves.

WEAKNESSES:

SEBASTIAN:

I honestly am still waiting for the ball to drop, and for Elliot to realize what a huge mistake he has made in wanting me to claim him. I have struggled for along time with a deep, now buried dark side of me, that I really don't care to let back out any time soon, since every time that has happened it's caused nothing but trouble. And honestly, some things that Elliot has done recently made it peek its ugly head a little. I see red when I get angry, and I tend not seeing the havoc that causes when it happens. It's a dali struggle, and as much as I try to keep it buried, I fear that might cause us to haveserious issues in the future. I don't want anything to jepradize our relationship though, and I will do whatever is necessary to prevent that from happening.

ELLIOT:

I forget to check things with my dominant that I should, which upsets him when I explain what I've done. Which I have tried working on, but it's a habit I am still trying to break.

I tend to need reassurance from my dominant that we're okay, I've had people leave since I came here that I got really close too and whilst my dominant is aware of my issue. It's something I try to work on personally so that I can be better.

#trial claim application #c:elliot #trial claim

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thesmythethatswitches · 4 years

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Trial Claim Application

Dominant Name: Lucas Smythe

Submissive Name: Layla Schuester

Dominant Point Level: 1040

Submissive Point Level: 1040

Dates of Trial Claim: 16th July - 15th August

Rules for submissive:

Layla is to wear a collar or symbol of our trial claim at all times.

Layla is to use appropriate and agreed upon titles (Sir, Master or Mon Amour)

Layla is to be respectful to all other people at the school as her behaviour reflects back on me.

If Layla has any problems with either myself or another person, she must report them to me.

If and when necessary, a safeword must always be used.

No lying and no keeping secrets.

Layla must have permission to orgasm.

Layla must return back to the room by 10pm every evening unless permission is gained.

Layla may have sexual contact with other Dominant's or Switches but this must be reported back to me and permission must be sort beforehand.

Orgasms can only be had with prior permission.

Unless told otherwise, Layla must wear lingerie around the suite.

Layla will sleep in bed with myself at night unless being punished.

Layla needs to drop me a text or a message if planning to spend longer then two hours with other people unless it is her family.

Layla will ensure that she does not make plans for Tuesday nights as that is when we will be doing scenes together.

Each week, by Monday, Layla must submit an idea of something she would like to incorporate into the scene.

Layla must keep the suite clean and tidy.

Unless otherwise asked, Layla must prepare and serve all meals. If Layla has permission to be with someone, she does not need to prepare a meal. Layla may eat with me at the table once meals are ready.

Rewards: Orgasms, Ice cream, gifts, outings, a scene of your choice, I take over the cooking or cleaning for the day.

Punishments: Spankings, denial, phone taken away, privacy or freedom taken away, more chores, remedial tasks such as writing lines

Strengths:(Both parties submit separate answers):

Lucas: Although I am a switch, I was taught how to be a dominant as I always knew that was the way I wanted to go so I feel my skills as a dominant are high and I've studied everything from a dominant point if view. I'm honest about how I am feeling and have spoken to Layla if I have any insecurities about things, making sure I keep communication between the two of us open and transparent. As far as I am concerned, Laylas strength is her heart and compassion she shows for everything, no matter the mark.

Layla: My strengths...having to list them aloud feels like bragging. I’m comfortable with my mark and enjoy obeying Lucas as my Dom. I’ve been here at school for about a year and before that I traveled and learned skills like farming and homesteading and cooking that will let me serve well. I’m a good cook and have a positive outlook on life. Lucas’s strengths lay in the fact that he’s such a good person. I’ve never met someone who cares and strives to succeed like him. He’s kind and smart and our personalities and sexual needs mesh. In all our scenes, he’s been a wonderful Dom, leading with a steady and confident hand.

Weaknesses: (Both parties submit separate answers):

Lucas: My weakness is that I care a little too much and it means I get worried and anxious about things very quickly. I try and combat this with the open communication. I would also say that my limited experience as a submissive means I haven't truly explored my mark but, with the limited experience that I have, I know that I am a submissive. I think Laylas weakness is that she tries to impress everyone and sometimes means she takes in too much.

Layla: My weaknesses are that I sometimes try to push past anything bad without spending a lot of time considering it. I’ve been told I seem like a Stepford Sub, but I think of it as being positive...only now I worry that I’m not deep enough. I want to make friends with everyone and make them happy. If Lucas has a weakness, it’s that he wants to be the best dom and is scared that he’ll let me down.

@laylaschuester @headmaster-shue @miss-sue-sylvester

#trial claim #trial claim application #[red haired princess]

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chocoholicannanymous · 4 years

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If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) pt XI

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI, pt VII, part VIII, part IX and part X.

Kurt's experience with show choirs and preparation is limited to the rumors about Vocal Adrenaline, and practicing like mad for months, and being part of the New Directions, and not practicing at all.

The thing about being part of a group that does prepare for competitions more than a couple of weeks – which, truth be told, is a sometimes too generous amount of time for Mr Schue – is that you have the time to both prepare properly and have fun. Having made the decision to sing Michael Jackson the Warblers go all out on deciding which songs. Everyone gets to pick songs they think should be part of the setlist, and get to perform it as they please. Solos, duets, group numbers... They have it all.

And the best part is that each song actually is a contender.

It's the best part of the New Directions, with the parts Kurt hated taken away. It's glorious.

It's also everything the Warblers hadn't been for him the year before.

He claps until his hands burn when Jeff does an impressive imitation of MJ's dancing and laughs himself silly when Rob goes Weird Al in full costume. When David, Thad, Peter and Trent join him for 'Man in the Mirror' he's warm with happiness. And getting to see Trent moon-walk is an absolute treat – Kurt never would have guessed that he was so good at it.

And he fights back a blush when he and Sebastian sing 'Human Nature', somehow turning it into a duet that feels like more than a song. They sound amazing together, and it's a shame that they can't sing that for Regionals, but they all know it's impossible.

If part of him keep expecting Mike to pop up and show off – and that same part wants to strangle Rachel and Mr Schue for depriving him of seeing Mike dancing to Michael – well. That's for him to know and noone else to find out. And if sometimes wishes Finn was there to sing with him, especially during 'Man in the Mirror'... Well. Same goes for that..

But in the end it's fun, and amazing, and it makes him feel alive. Kurt might not as bad as Rachel, but out of everyone in Glee he was probably the one who understood it the best when she claimed she needed applause to live. Nothing else feels quite like performing, and Kurt's not willing to be without that.

(That's why he never complained about the useless weekly themes and assignments Mr Schue used to pull out of thin air. Because they allowed him to perform.)

As the Christmas break draws close they've got their setlist ready though, and everyone's got a good feeling about it.

Something Kurt doesn't have a good feeling about however is Sebastian. He's been looking more and more pensive the close to break they get, and it's obvious he's thinking hard on something. On one hand, people are allowed secrets. On the other, Sebastian has been looking at Kurt while doing a lot of his thinking, so chances are it involves him.

That means Sebastian gets two weeks to hopefully get over whatever it is. If he's still brooding after that he's going to have to talk to Kurt or get dragged to the student counselor's office.

“Do I have to talk about it?”

The pout on Sebastian's face is definitely not cute, and Kurt's definitely not affected at all. Really. So instead of giving in he gives Sebastian his third best “bitch, please” look and waits.

“Fine, fine. You know, life was a hell of a lot easier when I didn't care about people.”

“Cute. Really. Good job on making yourself sound like a sociopath. Except we both know that's not true. Now, cough it up. What's wrong?!

“You're going back to Lima for the break. What's not wrong? No, really. You've told me how you've been treated there, about the bullying, and the abuse, and the harassment, and I'm supposed to feel good about you spending the better part of three weeks there?

“And yeah, I know you can avoid going out, but there's also the fact that the reason you're here this time is that your so-called friends were taking part in the harassment. You've said yourself that it was most likely one of them that caused you to almost get suspended. And unlike those jocks these are people with access to your home. Even if you don't invite them, they're your stepbrother's team. How the hell am I supposed to think you're going to be safe there?”

The words come faster and faster, and Kurt can't hear Sebastian's breathing pick up, and the anxiety is almost catching.

“I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Yeah, but will you? Because from what I can tell, you haven't exactly done that in the past.” Which, true, but. “And I know you miss your family, but the thought of you being in Lima is leaving a really bad taste in my mouth.”

“Calm down, please. Look, I understand. I do. From your point of view I guess I've done a pretty good impression of a doormat. As for the general bullying, there are reasons I haven't done as much as I maybe should have. Possibly not great reasons, but still.

“As for the Glee kids... I'm not going to let them walk all over me. Yes, they've been my team, and my friends, and I've let that influence me in the past. But I'm not going to let that happen again. If they are willing to apologize, and listen instead of accusing, then fine. I'll give them a chance. If not, then I'm done.

“High school is going to be over in less than six months. I have every intention of going to New York after graduation. Chances are I will never see most of them again – maybe not even between now and then. Thus I have very little reason to let high school drama and high school relationships dictate how I live my life. The only one who's ever even mentioned New York is Rachel, and while I'd rather not have to deal with her again, it's a big city. I'll be perfectly capable sharing it with her.”

It takes the better part of an hour to calm Sebastian down, and even after that he admits to having an urge to stuff Kurt into his bag and bring him along for Christmas break – and yes, he's perfectly aware of how insane that sounds. Kurt just shakes his head, smiles and doesn't let on to how part of him would love to spend his break following Sebastian through Europe.

The first day of break Kurt and Finn spend hours singing along to karaoke videos of MJ songs, just enjoying themselves, and singing together in a way that they've never really taken the time to do before. It's amazing, and Kurt never wants that feeling of togetherness to go away again.

Of course that's when the downside to coming home over Christmas break shows itself, in the shape of Rachel Berry. When she slips into his room, clearly using the fact that Finn’s out for a bit, Kurt sighs and promises himself he's not going to let Sebastian know how right he was about what'd happen.

He's not, he tells himself, going to give Rachel the satisfaction of getting to him. Instead he's going to give her five minutes, and then kick her out. Politely.

He manages to hold on to that conviction for about three minutes before he's had it with once again being told he's a cheat and being lectured on “driving poor Blaine away”.

“Shut up.

“My boyfriend left. He didn't break up with me, or anything, he just disappeared. One day he was there, and the next he was just gone. And instead of being there for me, instead of being my friend and helping me, what did you do? You punished me for it.

“He fucking ghosted me, and then you made me pay for it.

“So tell me Rachel, when you rigged the election, did you do it with the intention of getting me into trouble or did you decide on that afterwards?”

Her face is priceless, and under different circumstances Kurt'd laugh. This is no laughing matter though.

“Oh, you didn't think you got away with it, did you? Because let me tell you, you are nowhere near good enough of an actress for that. It was obvious you knew more than you were saying, and that you didn't actually believe I'd done it myself. Didn't exactly take a genius to figure it out from there.”

“I am an amazing actress!”

“That's what you're focusing on? Really?” Only, Kurt realized, of course she is. Nothing's ever mattered more to Rachel than her supposed star-dom.

“Eh, what am I saying, of course you are. To do anything else would mean you'd have to care more about someone else than about yourself for once. And we all know that's not how Rachel Berry operates, don't we?”

To himself Kurt can admit that he's being a bit too harsh. Because while Rachel does tend to put herself first most of the time there have been instances where she's been selfless and caring. They never really last though, is the thing.

The truth is that Rachel is more like Sue Sylvester than either of them would ever care to admit.

“You ruined Kurt's election? You're the one that almost got him suspended? What, how, why? Who the fuck even are you?”

And oh, Finn's back.

Damn.

#chocoholic fics #kurt fic #kurt hummel #a wild sebastian appears #sebastian smythe #in 2020 we finish our wips #scraps and snippets #if the spit hits the fan

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abunchofbooloney · 4 years

Photo

(<PREV)

“Um... What? I’m sorry, I don’t get the point of this...”

“...”

Shrewd floated in silence for what seemed like ages, staring through Booloney with a concentrated rage. As the seconds ticked by, the Boo felt a sense of dread slowly climb up his back.

Just what was this ghost trying to get at? This Sneaker wasn’t familiar to him at all!

“It’s just a Sneaker... That’s it.”

Upon hearing this, Samson looked offended, flinching back and withdrawing a bit. Had what Booloney said really struck such a chord? Was he really supposed to remember her?

“Of course, my mistake...” Shrewd growled. “You are far too self-centered to even remember those you have hurt.”

He turned to face the canister, leering in through the window.

“After all, you were just following orders! Why should you be expected to take the blame or retain any of your crimes? ‘Let’s subject the ghosts to experiments on the crystals! See what happens! Surely there WON’T be any negative side-effects!!”

He slammed his hand against the side of the canister, making it shake. Booloney bounced around in shock a bit, before catching himself.

Crystals? Experiments? Wh...

Then he remembered.

When they had taken over Evershade, the curious crystals found in the mines had piqued his curiosity. Eager to be of some assistance to his king, Booloney suggested using them in some way. How interesting that the ghosts of the valley had a reaction to them--After some time in a crystal, they grew much stronger!

Of course, even though the ghosts had been under King Boo’s control at the time, that didn’t mean they were willing participants...

“I...” Booloney tried to speak, but his voice died quickly in his throat.

“Now you remember.” Was all Shrewd said in response, turning away. He floated over to Samson and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Samson is one of a few who haven’t managed to recover from their heightened state. These individuals are prone to surges in their power. Painful to the ghost and destructive to their surroundings, you see. All because of your choice.”

Booloney remained quiet, eyes slowly dropping to the floor of the canister. He had really done something so horrible... But... It was to help King Boo! Who cared about the state of other ghosts?

Booloney did.

Even if King Boo expressed distaste towards the other ghosts in their previous haunts, Booloney still felt like they could be allies. After all, they were all dead...

“I’m sorry...” He choked out. “If I had known that would have happened, I wouldn’t have--”

“BUT YOU DIDN’T KNOW.” Shrewd screeched, bolting to the side of the canister again. “AND AS IF YOU’RE ONE TO CLAIM YOU’D DO OTHERWISE. BLINDLY FOLLOWING THAT MANIC KING TO NO END.”

“Sylvester, back off.” Samson said from her spot. “You’ve got him captured. No sense in further berating him.”

Shrewd glanced at her, brow furrowing in frustration. It was in that moment Booloney realized Shrewd was quite similar to King Boo: fiercely protective of his subjects. A shame things had to happen the way they did...

“I will talk with the other Possessors to figure out what a suitable punishment would be for you.” Shrewd then said, moving from the canister once more. “But for now, I’ll let you stew in your guilt.”

The other ghosts left the room, and soon it was just Booloney, trapped in the canister.

This wasn’t going to end well...

#story #unwelcome guests #shrewd possessor #booloney #samson #((sorry if things look kinda Wonky sdfdsfg))#((this is what happens when you don't draw ghosts for three months!!!!!))#long post

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dommateolopez · 5 years

Text

exit interview 7.18.19

WHO: Will Schuester, Sue Sylvester, Jamie Beiste, Nick Duval and Mateo Lopez ( @headmaster-shue @miss-sue-sylvester @jamie-beiste @submissivelynick )

WHEN: 7.18.19, noon.

WHAT: Jamie, Mateo and Nick discuss the trial claim with the Headmasters.

Will was getting himself ready while Sue quipped at their assistant about something assinine before sitting behind his desk. "Please send Mr. Duval in," he said and gave a smile as Nick appeared. "Please take a seat, Mr. Duval, we will only take up a minute of your time. But since this claim would equal a double claim, we find it important to get the opinions of everyone. So, with that said, from your perspective, how do you feel the trial went?"

Nick gave both of his guys a hug before heading into the office. He sat gingerly on one of the free chairs, his back rigid. He chewed lightly on his lip while Mr. Schue spoke. "I think it went really well, Sir," he said immediately. "I mean... there were some hiccups, but Mr. Mateo and Mr. Jamie handled them really well. There was, um, a punishment at one point, and I think that actually helped them work through some things afterward. I can't really think of anything that would make me happier than if Mr. Mateo were able to officially claim Mr. Jamie."

"I see," Will hummed, making his notes. "And what did it help them to work through?"

"Just sort of... their relationship, Sir?" Nick said lamely. He clasped his hands together tightly in his lap. "I think... um, Mr. Jamie has trouble letting go completely sometimes, and giving up control is a big part of being a sub. That whole situation helped them both establish their roles more firmly and get their expectations in alignment and stuff."

"Interesting," he hummed again, more notes, "and how did you feel? While their trial was going on? What was your role during that time?"

Nick took a breath to calm himself down before responding. He didn't want to mess this up for them. "It was the best month ever, Sir," he said with a soft voice. "The three of us... we're meant to be together. I still had the same rules and responsibilities as when it was just me and Mr. Mateo, and I got one-on-one time with him, and so did Mr. Jamie, and Mr. Jamie and I had time just the two of us too... and then all three of us did stuff together, too. We all just want what's best for the others, Sir."

Will nodded along, looking down over his questions, which seemed to have been answered. "So, Mr. Lopez claiming Mr. Beiste is something you still want?"

Nick nodded immediately, knowing that this was a question he definitely couldn't mess up the answer to at all. "Yes, Sir," he said, more confident than he'd been throughout the rest of the interview. "Absolutely. I can't think of anything I want more than having both of them in my life forever."

"Alright then. That is all we will be needing from you. Please send in Mr. Lopez."

“Thank you, Sir,” Nick said, giving first Will a nod and then Sue. “Miss.” He swallowed as he stood up and made his way back out of the office. He wrapped his arms tightly around his Dom when he saw him. “I think it went okay, Sir,” he said softly before pulling back. “It’s your turn now.”

"Mr. Lopez," Sue cheered as the Dom entered. "Back again. Sit. How are you feeling?"

He let out a breath, squeezing Jamie’s hand before going inside the office and settling in front of the Heads. “Hello Headmaster, Headmistress. Feeling a bit nervous, but it’s to be expected, right?” He said with a small smile.

“I suppose, yes. But you know what to expect here,” she said shuffling through some papers. “Nick said you guys had a few hiccups as he put it. Care to explain these hiccups and how you and Mr. Beiste worked through them?”

"Well... Jamie found himself in a situation unexpectedly that escalated quickly and almost resulted in a punishment from another student, and it... didn't occur to Jamie that he couldn't be punished by another student while he had my collar on," Mateo explained. "We had a discussion about it and he was punished for his oversight, as he's usually not that careless with his words. We have smoothed over the issue and I don't believe it will be anything that will come up again."

Sue's eyes lit up when she heard Jaime had forgotten his rights as a claimed sub and she chuckled. "And how'd you feel about that ?Someone you're building a life with forgetting about you in their moment of stress?"

"I was not very happy with him, and he was aware. Like I said, I don't believe it'll be an issue in the future. He had a moment of misjudgment, and it's been paid for and forgiven, Miss."

" And you've truly moved on? No residual feelings of annoyance? No pain in the pit of your stomach? Nothing?"

Mateo shook his head. "No, Miss. It stung in the moment, I have to admit. But Jamie and I talked about it after his punishment, and the issue has been settled."

"Very well. And how do you think Nick would describe your current trial claim?"

He relaxed a bit once they moved off the topic. "I believe he would describe it as successful. He seems happy with our situation, and I know he loved having Jamie with us."

"Seems? You're not sure he's happy then?"

"From what I can observe and how he's been speaking and acting, I am as sure as I can be that he's happy with the situation."

Sue set her pen down and looked Mateo straight on. "Why should I approve this? I mean, you've got a strong claim with Nick, adding someone else always complicates things. Convince me."

Mateo took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. "Miss, I've come to realize that I'm meant to have two claims. I realized it during my first claim before it was dissolved. My claim with Nick is strong, it's true. But part of that foundation includes Jamie. He's been a part of our relationship for a while now, and he's as important and crucial to Nick as he is to me. We've built something strong, the three of us. I can't envision a future without both of them wearing my collars."

“I see.. and when I call Mr. Beiste in here, what will he tell me when I ask him why he wants you to claim him?”

"I imagine something along the same lines, though he'll put it much more eloquently, as he usually does. I know he feels safe and secure in our claim."

“What are your concerns with having two claims for the rest of your life, Mr. Lopez?”

He cocked his head curiously. "I don't really have any off the top of my head, Sir."

Will raised his brow, “Mr. Lopez, we are talking about have two human beings in your charge and as your responsibility for the rest of your life. And there’s not a single concern you can consider might come up in that time?”

"With all due respect, Sir, I can't think of anything outside the normal concerns for their safety and well-being. If you're thinking of concerns arising between the three of us, of friction between my subs or anything of that sort, I don't believe anything major will arise. Sure, we'll have spats, there will be bumps in the road but I'm not overly worried about those things happening. We operate best as a trio. And honestly, I'm looking forward to being responsible for both of them for the rest of my life. I can't think of anything more fulfilling than what lies ahead for me, potential hardships included."

“Mmmm” was all Will said as he noted down some notes. “Alright, well if there is nothing else, please wait outside and send in Mr. Beiste.”

"Thank you for your time. Sir, Miss," he said, nodding to both of them. As soon as he exited, a sense of dread crept into his stomach, but he put on a smile, and leaned in to kiss Jamie's cheek. "It's your turn, love."

Nick gave Jamie’s hand a squeeze when the door opened, and he let go of it and let Mateo and Jamie have their moment. Once Jamie was inside with the heads, he wrapped his arms around Mateo and rested his head on the Dom’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just wanting to be there for him right now.

Jamie let Sey guide him to the chair in the center of he room. Once settled he waited for the Heads to address him before speaking. He had felt quiet this morning, feeling all of the weight of this moment

“Mr. Beiste,” will began with a deep breath as Jamie settled down, “let’s start with how you feel the trial went.”

"Good afternoon Sir, Miss." He considered his words carefully, but that was more out of habit than out of an inability to formulate the thought. "It went very well Sir. I think it was enough of a realistic representation of how claimed life will be to educate us and challenge us. And in that realistic setting I believe my Sir, my fellow submissive and myself all thrived."

“And do you have any concerns for the future? Anything you’re unsure of or unclear of-keeping in mind that concerns do not mean we won’t approve you. Dishonesty on the other hand...”

Jamie considered himself to be honest and valued honesty, so yet again he carefully thought about his concerns. "Miss, to say I don't have concerns would be arrogant and foolish. There are things that will arise that I can't even predict. However, I think the strength of our relationship is it's flexibility within the framework of a strong foundation. There was an incident not to long ago in which I completely forgot that while in a claim even a trial claim no other student can punish me. It caused Sir Mateo great pain and myself great shame. But with a simple punishment to remind me of my place and my rules, we overcame it. Sir proved his ability to support me that day. "

“That has been mentioned. And what was the given punishment for that infraction?”

"A painful stimulus... clothes pins... were applied to my body and only removed upon successful repetition of the rules which my Sir had had the foresight to print for me in braille."

“And you feel as though that was an appropriate response to the infraction. Interesting.” Sue passes a note to Will that only he can see which reads (I’m bored ). She scribbles something else on her personal notes and looks back up to Jaime, eyes intense and staring deep into his, even though he can’t see her she “knows” he can feel her stare. “Do you want this claim with Mateo and Nick for the rest of your life?”

"I do Miss. It might not seem such a terrible thing to some, but as switch shifting into a submissive role rules are extremely important." He could feel the woman's gaze on him. He'd even swear Seyella was tending up next to him. "Of course Miss. I would not waste yours or their time if I didn't."

Will looked down at the note, trying to not react but instead rolled his eyes and crumpled it up and tossed it behind his shoulder. "So what role do you plan on playing in this claim?" will asked.

There was a sound of something... Paper?... hitting the ground in the far right corner and his head shot up unaware there was someone there, but quickly shook his head and refocused. "Most importantly I am Sir Mateo's submissive. Under his guidance I am allowed to express my Dominant side with Nick however."

"Are there rules to this? Like the amount of time you can be dominant towards Nick?"

"Nothing specific like that. We must simply obtain approval from our Sir. I think that best Headmaster so that he has as much flexibility as possible."

Will nodded and looked over at @Sue . "Well, do you have anything else?"

“No. Send the heathens back in.” She waited for the three of them to return and settle in front of the desk and then looked at Will with a sad sigh. “Well... do you want to tell them or should I? I know you don’t like breaking bad news...”

Mateo reached for both of his boys’ hands, though he had a feeling Sue was putting on a show for them. She wouldn’t give things away like that...

Nick wrapped his arm around Mateo's and clung hard to him. He was pleasantly surprised that he was allowed in here right now; he knew he'd be going absolutely crazy if he'd had to wait outside alone right now. He swallowed hard and looked between his guys and the heads, needing to hear what came next.

Will huffed and rolled his eyes, "Sue," he almost moaned in annoyance before shaking his head. "Alright. So I think we have gotten everything we need. Now, double claims are increasingly more difficult and fragile that the single claim. It is not like a sport or hobby that gets easier the more you practice. That being said, we approve this claim. Mr. Lopez, please let us know when the collar has been presented and accepted."

He blinked a few times, letting the words sink in before he let out a relieved sigh, the sound almost like a laugh. “Thank you, Headmaster, Headmistress. Thank you. I will of course let you know.” Mateo swallowed hard to reign himself in from getting too emotional in front of the Heads. “Thank you for your time. We should be... getting back to class,” he said, standing and reaching for his subs’ hands to escort them out. His subs. Officially.

Jamie hadn't known what he'd been expecting. Something more ritualistic? More severe? He couldn't quite process what happened. It had barely been more than two or three sentences and now they were approved. They were officially claimed. He stopped short outside the door and had to cover his mouth and try to just breathe. "I'm yours... officially Sir. Yours." Their were tears of both happiness and relief in his sightless eyes.

#exit interview #headmastershue #misssuesylvester #jamiebeiste #submissivelynick

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thatbeauadams · 5 years

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new territory || adeau, 8.4

WHO: Beau Adams and Adam Sylvester ( @dominantsylvester )

WHEN: Sunday, 8.4

WHAT: Adam and Beau don’t have sex (gasp) but talk about things like rules, expectations and feels are had.

Beau was still feeling the effects of the sleeping pills he and Ryan had taken, a bit tired and quiet. But thanks to the sex marathon and the shower, he was feeling all right, clean and fresh as he approached Adam’s door. He had no idea what to expect from tonight, but he was looking forward to being with the Dom anyway. Unsure, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, before kneeling before the door and knocking. Beau looked up and smiled shyly at Adam. “Hey, Sir.”

Adam didn't have a plan in the same way he did when Beau would come over for a scene. Despite how much he'd reassured Beau, Adam was feeling somewhat nervous himself. Mostly he was nervous that Beau would react badly to this, or be too uncomfortable. But as he went to answer the door, he made sure to project nothing but calm, knowing that any anxiety from him would only make Beau worry more. "Hey, beautiful," he answered, reaching down to run his fingers through Beau's hair for a moment, then holding out a hand to help him to his feet. "Come on in. Go and kneel by the couch for me, please. I've had an idea of something that I think will help you relax, and I want to talk to you about it."

The very idea of Adam wanting him, wanting to keep him, should have had him running in the other direction. Yet here he was, nervous and unsure of what was to come but unable to make himself stay away from the handsome Dom. He smiled nervously as he got to his feet, leaving his bag by the door. “Okay, Sir...” his trepidation was probably obvious, but he walked over to the couch and knelt anyway, biting the inside of his lip as he looked up to Adam. Something to help him relax? Had he acted stressed? “If its a blowjob, you’re certainly right,” Beau said, trying to get himself back into familiar territory.

Adam laughed, taking Beau's remark as a joke to try to ease his own tension. It was painfully clear how anxious the submissive was. "No, that's not it. Not that blowing me is off the table. It's just not first on the agenda." He sat on the couch in front of Beau and ran his fingers through the sub's hair, a repetitive soothing motion. "You said to me that you don't know how to behave in a a situation like this. You don't know how to be submissive outside of a scene. And that that's part of why this makes you nervous. So I've decided, if you consent of course, to give you a set of rules for the time you spend in my room. At this stage, they only apply in my suite, since I can't give you standing rules yet. And they're negotiable, of course. They're here to help guide you, not to be unpleasant."

Beau let out another laugh, trying to let off some of his tension. Why was this turning him into such a mess? "Good to know, Sir," he said, leaning into the fingers in his hair. The proposition intrigued and frightened him - though he was beginning to recognize that was usually the case when Adam suggested something like this. Someone who wanted to give him regular rules, which he had to admit was something the submissive side of him wanted. However, it felt like a commitment, like something that could be wonderful and shatter like glass with the wrong touch. He let out a few slow breaths, mulling over his response. "I... will there be punishments if I forget them at first, Sir? I wouldn't... do it on purpose or anything, obviously," he clarified hurriedly.

"Nothing bad enough to warrant worrying about. I know that having rules to remember like that is new, and having to remember them only when we're together is more difficult than remembering them all the time, so I'm not going to be unreasonable about it. You'll forget, I'll remind you gently, you'll say sorry and fix it, and that's that. If it becomes an issue, there might be punishments, but not at first. And your intentions matter, an honest mistake is always going to have a gentler correction." He moved his hand down the back of Beau's head, cupping his neck and playing with the short hairs at the base of his skull. "I want to emphasize, too, that none of these rules will go into effect without your consent. I'm not trying to limit or trap you. I'm trying to guide you. I'm trying to make you more comfortable, not less."

Without thinking, he moved to lean against Adam's legs, taking comfort in the Dom's touch. Licking his lips, Beau nodded his understanding, running over everything in his mind. This was new territory. Not even the closest thing he had to a regular Dominant had wanted to give him any kind of rules. "What... kind of rules would they be, Sir?" he asked, looking up at Adam, his nerves and curiosity shining in his dark eyes, his expression full of trust.

Adam hadn't really realized he was feeling tense as he spoke until he felt himself relax when Beau leaned against him. "Good boy," he murmured, squeezing his neck lightly, because he liked having Beau lean against him for comfort so much that he wanted to make sure to reinforce it. When Beau spoke, he could hear the tentative nervousness still in his voice, but all he saw in his expression was an openness that told Adam that he wasn't afraid. Nervous, but not afraid. He was trusting Adam to do right by him, and that spoke volumes to the Dominant. "Rules about how you're expected to behave when you're in my suite, basically. The idea is that if I've defined the rules for you, you won't have that feeling like you don't know how to be submissive without being sexual. I have ideas for them, but they're not decided yet. We have to decide them together. You're allowed to suggest rules, too. One of my ideas, for example, would be that when you're in my suite, you're expected to kneel next to me rather than sit on the furniture, unless you ask permission."

His praise and the squeeze to his neck helped Beau relax against Adam even further, the sub letting out a little sigh. One arm wrapped around Adam's leg as he leaned against him, holding the Dominant. his lips pursed in thought, perusing the idea in his head. "Would... something like... not being allowed clothes in your suite be something that would work, Sir? And would everything be... behavioral? You're not going to start asking me to do chores or anything, right?"

"That's definitely something in the same vein," Adam said with a nod. Despite Beau's hesitations, Adam was starting to feel like this was going really well, just because of how easily Beau was touching him and leaning on him. Adam loved that Beau didn't think twice about reaching towards Adam for comfort when he felt uncertain. "Only if you wanted to do chores for me," Adam said with a shrug. "We're not at a point in our relationship where I'd expect you to do more than maybe help me with dishes if we eat together. And in general, I don't need my submissive to be a service sub. I won't suddenly need you to turn into the kind of sub who wants to be a homemaker."

Well that was comforting at least. "I can definitely do dishes, Sir, I'm really very good at that." Beau smiled, his cheek resting against Adam's shin. "That's probably good, Sir. I can't cook for shit so if you were expecting me to do anything like that, you'd be nothing but disappointed," he said without thinking, not even aware that he was already thinking in longer terms - in actually, maybe being Adam's submissive one day.

Adam laughed at that and stroked Beau's hair. "Oh yes, it was your promise as a home cook that drew me to you from the beginning, and now my hopes are dashed." He grinned down at Beau. "I'd like you to help me come up with a list of rules. I really need you to be honest with me, though. Don't worry about disappointing me if you say no to something. And even if you say yes to something and then find out you hate it, I expect you to tell me so we can adjust. In fact, that's the first rule. If you find any of the rules difficult or uncomfortable at any time, you are to tell me so that we can discuss and adjust as necessary."

He snorted a laugh. "I'm sorry to ruin all of your dreams like that, Sir, but I just had to be honest," he teased. Beau shifted a little, propping his chin on Adam's knee to look up at him more easily. The first rule actually did help him relax. He was allowed to not like something - and Adam wouldn't just write him off for it. "Is there... anything in particular you'd really like to have as a rule, Sir? Aside from the furniture thing? Just so I can contribute more to the conversation since this is all... real new."

Adam laughed again and tugged lightly on Beau's hair, a playful gesture. His fingers immediately went back to gently scratching over Beau's scalp. "What I need most from you is two things, really. The first is anything that makes you nervous. Any situation you can think of where you don't know how to act. Anything confusing or uncertain. Because I can make rules to try to mitigate that. And the second is rules you think would be enjoyable to you. Like you mentioned a moment ago, being naked. I know you're not shy and you like to show off. I assume that's a rule you'd enjoy? Although I think I might amend it to say that your clothing or lack thereof is at my discretion when you're in my suite. Because there might be times I want you to be partially or fully clothed, for a lot of different reasons."

His fingers unconsciously rubbed over the back of Adam's calf. "I'm not... sure about the first part, Sir. This is all so new and... it all kind of makes me uncomfortable. Like, not knowing if I should be flirting with someone else while I'm under your orders, or if there's something you want me to do or... what I can ask for when I'm here, you know? And the naked thing, yeah, I'd like that because I like how you look at me when I'm naked. But I uh... I also like when you pick what I'm wearing so... I think I could be okay with letting you choose. Though I am curious what reasons might make you want to have me partially or fully clothed."

"Two reasons," Adam said with a little smile. "One, it isn't always about sex, and having you clothed can help steer the mood in a non-sexual direction. And two." He smirked. "You know how I feel about seeing you in tight, slutty shorts that reveal more than they cover. Sometimes clothing can be as sexy as nudity." He grinned and ruffled Beau's hair. "As for that first part, though, that's okay that you're not sure. It did make me think of a second rule, though. If at any point you encounter something specific that makes you uncertain or uncomfortable, you are to tell me and I can decide if a rule needs to be established. As to the more specific things you mentioned, I assure you that if there's something I want you to do, I will tell you. You've never known me to beat around the bush, have you? I'm perfectly comfortable giving you orders. If I haven't, it's because there's nothing else I specifically want right now. And you can ask for anything. I mean that. Anything. The worst that will happen is that I'll say no. You know how much I always talk about giving you what you need when we're in a scene. That's because I like providing for a submissive. I want to know what you want so that I can be the one to give it to you."

That made sense - though he had to admit that it would be difficult for him to not want things to go in a non-sexual direction with Adam. The second reason made him smirk. "I mean, I do know how you feel about that. I think you can still see the hickeys if you squint," Beau said, clearly pleased about the thought. A strange warmth was settling in his chest as they kept talking though. From the way Adam was speaking, the rules and parameters, the way he was reassuring him through his insecurities... no one had ever done this for him before. "So... you can be the one to give it to me," he repeated, hugging his arms tighter around Adam's leg. "I like the sound of that, Sir. A lot."

Adam moved his hand down to put his fingertips on Beau's neck, where a faint shadow was all that remained of the marks he'd left in the utility closet. He smiled at the memory and then moved his hand to cup the back of Beau's head again. Beau's response made him smile even bigger, looking down at Beau with a deep sense of affection. "Good," he murmured. "Because that's a big part of who I am as a Dominant. I'd like to give you more rules along those lines, if you're comfortable with them. Just generally if you want something, you ask me. As simple as asking if you can get a glass of water instead of just going and getting one. Asking for a kiss when you want one. Asking for permission before touching my cock. Or yours for that matter."

He shivered lightly when fingers slid over his skin where those marks had lingered for days. Marks that he kind of wanted back. Beau stowed that thought for now though, focusing on what Adam was saying. His eyes widened a little. “That’s just... while I’m here though, right?�� He needed to clarify but even though it probably came off like he didn’t want his pleasure controlled he kind of liked the thought of Adam sometimes refusing to let him have pleasure even when he wasn’t under his orders... but probably not time to bring that up. “I think I like the sound of those kinds of rules, Sir. It’s... nice. To not have to make those kinds of decisions. To trust that you can make them for me.”

"Only while you're in my suite," Adam was quick to confirm, nodding. For a second he was worried that he'd pushed too far, but then Beau said he liked it, and Adam grinned. "That's it exactly," he said, looking pleased. "You're trusting me to give you what you need. You can ask for anything, because you know that if you really need it, I'll give it to you, and if you don't really need it, I'll decide whether I want to give it to you or not. No worrying about whether you're asking for too much, or asking for something I don't want to give. If I don't want you to have it, and you don't actually need it, I'll say no. But it... it pleases me to give you things. Do you remember... after the camping trip, I told you about how having you here and keeping you safe satisfies that deep-down primal dominant urge in me to protect what is mine? That territorial urge, not just to know that you're safe, but to be the one who keeps you that way. This is the same thing. I want to give you things because it feeds that deep-down need to be the one who takes care of your needs."

As scary as this all still was, it was beginning to sound good. Like, really good. Beau licked his lips as he absorbed everything Adam was telling him. The corners of his lips turned up slightly. “I think I’m beginning to understand your Dom!logic, Sir. Even if I’m not still sure why you want to do this with me... I’m starting to understand it,” he said slowly, his slight smile lingering on his lips. “But I think the whole realizing why me thing is definitely more about me and not about you because you’re like... definitely explaining everything well and making me less uncomfortable with everything. I want to let you make those decisions and to take care of those needs for me when I’m here with you.”

Adam chuckled at the mention of his "Dom!logic" and ruffled Beau's hair affectionately. His expression went back to being more serious as Beau continued, and he nodded, and then smiled softly when he finished. "Good, I'm glad that I'm helping. Like I said, I don't want this to be a bad thing for you. This should be something that makes you feel safe and valued and free to be yourself." He paused for a moment, then tipped Beau's chin up and leaned down to kiss his lips sweetly. It wasn't sexual, just a gesture of affection. "Should we come up with more rules?"

Safe and valued. The concept seemed so foreign to him but god did it sound so nice. he ached to hope for this, that this could continue and be real - but he still couldn't let himself fall into that again. Not yet. the kiss made him shiver happily, and the smile on his lips was soft and warm as he looked up at the Dom. "Yeah. I think I'd like that. Um... this is probably going to sound like, super stupid, but could I maybe sit on your lap while we keep talking about this, Sir? Or beside you? I just... fuck, it's... I just want to be closer. If that's okay."

Adam's expression grew stern when Beau called himself stupid. This wasn't the first time he'd heard Beau say things like that, and he didn't like it, at all. "It's not stupid," he said firmly. He moved his hand to grip Beau's chin lightly, keeping him from looking away. "I told you to ask for what you want, and you did, and I'm pleased and proud that you did. Tell me that it's not stupid to ask to be closer to me, and then you can come sit in my lap."

He bit the inside of his lip when Adam took his chin in hand, and he resisted the urge to lower his eyes, instead looking up at the Dom. The concept of asking for something like this was so foreign to him - such clingy behavior had been quashed pretty early in his sexual experience when the men and women he'd been with had shied away from any contact that wasn't strictly sexual. This new intimacy was so strange, and the fact that he was allowed to want it and ask for it was even stranger. "It's not stupid to ask to be closer to you, Sir," he finally said after a moment, carefully climbing up to tuck himself onto Adam's lap, his head resting on the Dom's shoulder.

Adam knew that saying this was probably difficult for Beau, and that Adam was definitely pushing him by asking it of him, but he thought it was important. He couldn't let Beau frame his desires as something stupid, it defeated the whole purpose that Adam was trying to accomplish by making him ask for things. He wanted Beau to get to a point where he felt safe expressing what he wanted, and that he wouldn't be ridiculed. "Good boy," Adam praised, smiling warmly and opening his arms for Beau to crawl into. He held Beau close and kissed the side of his head. "I love holding you. You should never be ashamed to ask for this."

Beau let out a soft sigh as he leaned against Adam's chest, his anxiety easing a little when he heard the praise and affirmation that he wasn't the only one enjoying himself. He slid his hand over Adam's opposite shoulder, lightly sliding his fingers through the ends of his dark hair. "I didn't think I would ever need anything like this," he said after a moment of just sitting against him, enjoying the closeness. "The first time I ever... really felt and like, admitted to myself I needed this was during the... the punishment," he admitted softly.

Adam frowned softly, remembering how adamant Beau had been that he didn't need aftercare. He'd had to order Beau to let him take care of him. He'd known that it was the right decision at the time, because aftercare was a physical necessity after a punishment like that, but this confirmed it. "...What was it that made you need this?" he asked softly after a moment. He wanted to hear Beau's thought process. He wanted to understand.

He bit the inside of his lip lightly. "It... I mean, it sucked for everyone. I know it did. But everyone else had... someone. Someone to tell them it would be okay and it would be over soon and... I kept telling myself I was being pathetic and I was fine and I shouldn't need anything like that but I really did. I tried to keep the girls I was with calm, and I would have done it anyway but the Doms running my cell kept telling me to stay strong for them. Strong for the girls. They were the ones that mattered. I was just kinda there, and I would have been okay with it except for the uh... the box punishment. I got that one and it kinda fucked me up."

Adam had asked, he wanted to know all this, but it still hurt to hear. He hadn't realized most of that. He'd been preoccupied with his own room, and he hadn't known Beau all that well back then. He hadn't thought to check in on him. But as Beau spoke, Adam found himself tightening his grip around the boy. "You weren't being pathetic," he said quietly. "You were the opposite of pathetic, Beau. You deserve to be cared for as much as anyone else." He kissed Beau's forehead and then leaned his cheek against Beau's hair. "Do you want to tell my why the box was so difficult?"

He leaned further against Adam, appreciating how the Dom held him tighter. He’d been so resistant to this before, not even two months ago. Maybe he was still setting himself up for heartbreak but he couldn’t stop. “It... it took my voice, Sir. My sight. I thought I could get through it but I couldn’t see or hear, and it just... being trapped like that was terrifying. I know it was only what, an hour? It felt much longer,” he said with a shudder

"It was an hour," Adam confirmed in a barely audible voice. He only knew because the times had been specified in the punishment options. Everything had felt longer in there. His mind was going back to that place, the anger and frustration he'd felt, but now compounded by imagining Beau enduring all of that. He knew it was illogical, since he and Beau had only just met the week before the school wide, but thinking back now, he felt guilty for not messaging Beau and talking to him. Beau had felt totally alone, and Adam could have helped, and he hadn't. "I wish I could go back and take that away from you. Would it be helpful if I promise not to gag you ever? I don't play with them often anyway, but if having your voice taken from you is difficult, I'll never do that to you."

He slid both arms around Adam’s neck, pressing himself fully against the Dom. He wasn’t sure why, but he just felt the other man getting tense, and his instincts were telling him to soothe. To comfort. “Yes... if you ever... I mean, if it was something you really wanted, I could try, but it’s like choking for me, Sir. Having my voice taken is my worst fear. I know I’m annoying as shit sometimes and I talk way too much but I can’t have that taken from me.” He was doing it right now, talking too much. What was it about Adam that made him want to reveal every secret he’d ever had?

Adam pulled back a little so he could tip Beau's chin up with one hand and press a soft kiss to his lips. "I will never knowingly do something to you that would make you feel that way. Gags are a limit. We won't touch them." He kissed Beau again softly, but when he drew back his face grew stern. "Now. Do I need to make a rule about the way that you speak about yourself? Because that's twice in as many minutes you've said something derogatory about yourself."

The soft kisses and gentle reassurance eased the tension in his own shoulders, and he let out a soft breath. "thank you, Sir," he murmured. Beau frowned a little when he noticed the expression shift on Adam's face, his brows drawing together in confusion. "Am I not allowed to do that, Sir? It's not like it isn't something true. Some people just find my annoyance more charming than irritating," he said, shrugging his shoulders, his lips shifting from a frown into a hint of a cheeky smile.

Adam sighed softly, looking off at a middle distance and frowning in thought. He didn't want to tell Beau he was wrong, because Adam had no right to invalidate Beau's experiences. But there had to be a way to get him to stop talking down to himself. "I do not find you annoying," he said firmly. "Obviously I can't speak for the whole world. But I do not like it when you talk about yourself in negative terms. Because I don't like that you believe those things about yourself. I think you don't believe that you are valuable, and I hate that."

His smile and attempt to lighten the mood clearly failed, the expression fading off of his lips. He didn't say anything for a few moments, trying to gather his thoughts. This was honestly difficult for him, because his self-worth was so wrapped up in sex and submission and had been for years. His family hadn't been overly generous with praise, and the only time he'd gotten it - aside from his listeners - was when he was naked and being used. "I'll try to stop, Sir," he finally said, not sure what else he could offer Adam, because he didn't know how to explain everything without talking about the things he really didn't want to talk about.

Adam looked back at Beau again and gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Thank you," he murmured, and kissed Beau's forehead again. "I don't like that you think you're annoying, or that you're not worth people's time, because it's so contrary to how I see you. When I look at you, right here in my arms, I see a beautiful submissive with a clever mind who deserves to be cared for and cherished. When you belittle yourself... It feels to me that you're demeaning something I find incredibly valuable."

It was still so confusing, how much he wanted those words and how scared they made him at the same time. His fear of Adam ending this... whatever it was, was lessening little by little, but it was by no means gone. Beau rested his head against Adam's shoulder, fingers lightly playing with the Dom's shirt as if to distract himself from the conversation. "I guess I just don't see myself the way you do, Sir. Kind of always thought of myself as... I don't know, just another slut in the crowd or whatever."

"We can never really see ourselves the way other people do, I guess," Adam said with a note of sadness. "But you are far from another slut in the crowd. You are an exceptional slut, for one thing. And you aren't just a slut. You're so much more than that. You're sweet and generous and funny, you have your podcast, you have interests beyond sex. You're not just some slut."

His lips twisted in a sad little smile, and he nodded. It was true. Everyone was their own worst critic in the end. Beau kept twisting his fingers in Adam's shirt, the sweet things he was saying making warmth bloom in his chest, barely fringed by the icy terror he couldn't control. "Would you be okay with your claim having a career of their own, Sir?" he asked after a few moments, trying to appear casual but honestly wondering if - a big if - Adam did claim him, he would be able to continue pursuing his dream.

Adam looked down at Beau, a little surprised by the question. But he shouldn't be surprised, he knew. His own mother's sub didn't have a career, after all. "What I want most from a claim is that my submissive and I support each other in a way that neither of us feels stifled. I wouldn't want you to feel imprisoned at home. I've told you before, I don't need a service submissive who keeps house and cooks, unless that's what my submissive want."

Beau just nodded and bit the inside of his lip. He was considering still trying to learn that stuff, the whole house-sub thing was super not appealing to him but he knew it was the expected thing to some degree. But he wanted to have his own career. And the way Adam so casually said 'you' in relation to his future claim was not lost on Beau. "Just curious, Sir," he finally said, leaning against the Dom's strong chest.

#new territory #dominantsylvester

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ryansfabray · 5 years

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Soap Bubbles | Fabray Sisters

Who: Ryan Fabray & Malia Fabray ( @maliafabray )

When: Sunday 6.30.19

Where: Ryan’s Suite

What: Ryan punishes Malia as ordered by Sue Sylvester.

It was hard for Malia to not run away and hide in her tree or in her maze on campus-- both becoming her safe spots, away from everyone and everything. But that was decidedly the worst option for the two Fabrays, considering that would force Ryan to hunt Malia down and dole out a harsher punishment. So she bit the bullet and very, very slowly made her way to Ryan's suite. She couldnt bring herself to walk any faster, as she'd determined if she couldn't run, then she'd be fashionably late. When she arrived, she knocked once, then twice. Her body language said it all as she scuffed her boots against the ground, hands clasped in front of her. "So what do ya say to just skippin' this shindig and sayin' we went through with it?", was the first thing out of her mouth when Ryan opened the door.

For someone who was normally so impatient, she didn't mind that Malia took her time getting there. She was also regretting not doing the punishment sooner. She had a fantastic day with the water fight and her time with Beau, but perhaps that was what was needed before doling out a punishment to her sister. She's already packed up most of her clothes and was in her practice room packing up her sheet music when she heard the single knock at the door. She sighed and dropped what she was doing before going to let Malia in. "I wish like hell we could do that, but I'm pretty sure the head bitch has ways of knowing and I'm not really trying to chance that." The sun was already starting to set, but all of her windows were still open and the lights still off as she led Malia into the kitchen. "Let's just get it over with, hm?" She already had the tape and the bar of soap laid out by the sink and she pulled a stool over to the counter for Malia to sit in.

Malia pursed her lips, looking down at the floor as she walked through the threshold of Ryan's suite. Admittedly, she was acting very childish. But this punishment was eerily similar to some of the lighter things their father did and it took her back to that time, when all she wanted was to have the opportunity to be herself and also be loved. "Yeah." She said solemnly. "Yeah..let's just get this over with." She mumbled, shrugging off her signature leather jacket and draping it on the counter. She removed her boots and slid them neatly beneath the stool. With a deep breath, she sat on the stool and looked to Ryan expectantly. "An hour of this, right?"

The more Ryan thought about it, the more she wondered why the hell she chose a punishment that they used to receive as children. As much as she tried to pull away, there were always some remnants from the man who shaped her childhood, especially when it came to the art pf punishments. The punishments always fit the crime in the Fabray household, or at least that's what Daddy dearest always said. "Yeah an hour." Ryan waited patiently as Malia readied herself, handing her a paper towel before she even reached for the soap. "Wipe all the spit from your mouth first to keep the soap from being activated too soon. Then put the soap in your mouth." Once she handed Malia the soap, she cut off a piece of tape and waited for Malia to start the clock.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah" She grumbled, taking the paper towel from her hands and did as she was told-- but not without a grimace. This process was too familiar and it made her sick to her stomach already, just thinking about the taste of soap. Of all things, why did the other have to pick this? It was a small punishment sure, but it was always the small things that got to Malia. Pain she could always deal with but this bordered on psychological with the connection it had with Russell. Malia swallowed thickly and balled up the papertowel, pushing those thoughts out of her head. There was no way Ryan was doing this with the intent of all those thoughts. "Aight.' She murmured, picking up the soap and slipping it in her mouth. The taste was awful, just like she remembered.

This was so unsettling. Ryan hated everything about this but if she learned anything about situations like this, she needed to be strong and sure for Malia. Or at least steady. She kept her eyes on Malia's face and her own facial expression neutral, which was hard when the look of discomfort was so evident on her sister's face. As soon as the bar was in her mouth, Ryan placed the piece of tape over her mouth and stepped back a bit, crossing her arms. Maybe Malia wouldn't gag and this would be the worst of it. Maybe.

Malia was thankful for the steeled, practiced look on Ryan's face. It made it easier for her to attempt to be strong about this, even if she was a bit sulky. She couldn't hold Ryan's gaze, though. and looked down, letting the bar just sit in her mouth for a moment as she fought off the sick feeling in her stomach. The moment didn't last long and she gagged, her hands coming up to her mouth instinctively, even though there was tape there.

It was inevitable, Ryan just wasn't expecting it so soon. Still, her expression was unwavering as she picked up the cane she'd borrowed from Nate from where it leaned against the counter. It was obvious she was hoping they wouldn't need it considering it was on the opposite side of her kitchen. "Each gag is a hit from the cane. Put your feet out, make them straight and stiff," she instructed before hitting her once on the bottom of the right foot. "If you want to bend over to see of that helps with the gagging, be my guest." Ryan backed up to lean against the counter once again, leaving Malia to decide how she was going to proceed.

A noise of discomfort came from the back of Malia's throat after she stuck her feet out, pointing them upwards and then they were hit on the bottom. It didnt hurt all that much but it was a strange feeling, for sure. With a groan that sounded more like a growl and a crinkle between her brows, she hunched over and her short hair fell to curtain her face. She took the opportunity to take a deep breath through her nose. But as a little bit of time went on, the soap was starting to activate, coating her tongue with that distinct nasty taste. And then she made the mistaken of swallowing out of instinct and it shuffled the soap in her mouth. She gagged again, and again, and again, her eyes welling up in tears automatically. When she got a hold of her gagging, she brought her hands up to roughly rub at her eyes before narrowing her eyes at the other girl expectedly.

When her eyes weren't on Malia, they were on the clock on the wall, counting down the slowest hour she's ever experienced in her life. It seemed as though the hunching over was helping, at least for a little bit, but then it all went from 0 to 60 in a few seconds and Ryan needed to physically stop herself from jumping forward to help her sister. She sighed helplessly and tore another paper towel off from the roll and handed it to Malia for her tears. Ryan didn't actually count the gags, so she just opted to hit each foot once. It felt like an eternity, but only twenty five minutes had passed. She rubbed the girl's back, but kept her face neutral. "Half way there, Malia."

Malia begrudgingly used the paper towel to wipe her tears, another noise of discomfort coming from her throat when her feet were hit again. She flexed her toes, hoping to make the sting go away fast somehow. And when she felt the other's hand on her back, she couldnt help but shift away slightly, as best she could in a stool. She was pissed and that much was evident. Within the next thirty minutes, she gagged a few more times whenever she reflexively swallowed and her face contorted more in a cross between disgust and anger. And when she was inevitably with the cane, she took her licks with a huff out of her nose, making sure not to look at Ryan, not even to glare at her.

Ryan took the hint and while it stung knowing that Malia was actually pissed at her, she didn't let it show. She was good at that. At hiding her feelings. She hid the hurt at her sister pulling away and the anger at being pulled into this situation in the first place, just so they could get through this. The empathy she had for her sister was gone for the moment and she just focused on getting through the punishment as best they could. Ryan watched Malia from the counter opposite her and used the cane the few more times Malia gagged on the soap. The second half of the hour went by a little faster than the first but the timer still didn't go off soon enough. She placed a small bucket in front of Malia to take as she pulled the tape off. "Time's up." Ryan tried to say as little as possible. "Rinse your mouth until all the soap is gone and there's mouthwash to get rid of the taste." She stepped back a bit. "The choice for you to stay or go is still yours, let me know what it is once you're done here." Then with that, she moved back to continue packing up her room, anything to keep her mind busy for the moment.

In the end, Malia does choose to leave, though not on awful terms with Ryan. She’s quiet and withdrawn– and makes her way to the hedgemaze to get her mind right again. Or at least put herself under the illusion that her mind is right.

#malia #para: malia #para: soap bubbles

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olliexsmythe · 5 years

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Christmas Eve || OLITON

WHO: Oliver Smythe and Quinnton Sylvester ( @q-sylvester )

WHEN: December 24th 2018

WHERE: Quinnton’s suite

NOTES: Upon returning from Christmas drinks, Oliver and Quinnton decide they don’t need to return to separate bedrooms.

Oliver

When Quinnton has contacted him, he’d had to do a double take. They hadn’t spoken all that much and the little they had told him the Sylvester Dominant was not someone he wanted to voluntarily spend time with. However making the most of his newfound freedom had been enough to entice him. He’d been so bogged down lately, so caught in his head about Sebastian and Caelan and Kurt, that a night of too many drinks and too loud music seemed like the perfect idea. When curfew had started to approach, he was reluctant to leave, contemplating how far he could run before anyone realised he was gone. He didn’t run. Instead, he sat in the back of the cab, trying to sober up enough that he could walk without falling. ‘I needed this Quinnton.’ He announced, bringing his hand down against the other’s thigh. ‘Fuck me, you have no idea how much I missed this. That campus is fucking stifling.’

Quinnton

He was beyond thankful that there was someone who didn't have plans that night. He was sure Steven was with JJ, and he wasn't sure about others, but he needed to get off that damn campus, he needed to get drunk, and he needed to get laid. He hated this time of year, so the fact he could get out just in time to forget it was perfect. Ollie was cute, probably fun... so this was great. The night had been perfect... exactly what he needed. He looked over at him and smiled, "yeah, me too. Campus is the worst... I've never been stuck in one place like this for so long. I was going stir-crazy. Plus, sexy santa kept buying us candy cane shots... win win."

Oliver

‘I didn’t know I needed candy cane shots until he kept them coming.’ He laughed, unconsciously leaning in closer to his side. When the car stopped, he leaned forward and paid the driver before he climbed out of the car, over Quinnton’s lap. In his drunken mind, that seemed like the only logical way to exit. ‘I think this is where we have to part ways.’ He grinned, steadying himself. ‘My room is that way; your apartment is that way.’ He pointed in the appropriate direction as he spoke. ‘Let’s do this again. Any time.’

Quinnton

"Right? They're so good!" He smiled, thinking about it, he still tasted like them. He chuckled while Ollie crawled over him, then got out after him, thanking the driver. "Mmm, we have to part ways, hm?" He reached out for Ollie's hand, "or... you come and crash in my room tonight, and we celebrate this ridiculous holiday in a much more fun way than the general populous does."

Oliver

His hand fit easily into the other’s and he turned to look at him. Obviously, he was attractive and he hadn’t actually had sex since he’d arrived. The offer was tempting. ‘I’m not interested in any of your ridiculous Dominant, BDSM whips and chains bullshit. The second you pull something like that, I’m out.’ He warned him, making no move to pull away from him. If Quinnton could agree to that, he had no problem with falling into bed and fucking his problems away temporarily.

Quinnton

"All I want to do is make out and fuck someone. I am so tired of being Dominant al lthe time. It's like... Mom's here, so I have to be the perfect Dom son for her. And yeah, I take it seriously, but I don't care. I just want a boyfriend, to fuck. Is that so hard?" He sighed, pulling Ollie right to him, looking into his eyes, "you're gorgeous, and have an amazing ass... that I want to bury my face in."

Oliver

Now that he knew were he stood, he touched him more freely. Even in his drunken state, he was careful to toe an invisible line to avoid a ridiculous ‘punishment’. ‘My ass is pretty amazing.’ He agreed, slowly dragging his hand down Quinnton’s chest. He stopped short of palming him through his pants. ‘A night of fucking I can definitely do. Lead the way gorgeous.’

Quinnton

"It's phenomenal... are you kidding. The things I want to do to that ass...." He growled a bit, looking over the other, biting his bottom lip. "Mmm, sounds great." He turned and pulled him off towards the Dom dorms, "so... you strictly a bottom?"

Oliver

He couldn’t stop a cocky grin from falling into place; there was something nice about being wanted like this. Yes, Sebastian obviously wanted him this way too but that required too much thinking. Quinnton didn’t require any thinking at all; he was attractive and he’d agreed no BDSM required. Oliver didn’t need to hear any more than that. ‘Strictly a bottom?’ He questioned with a laugh. ‘Fuck no. I’m nothing if not versatile.’ He answered. ‘I try not to restrict myself any more than I already am. I assume that’s what you want tonight. For me to bottom?’

Quinnton

"Uh... well, I generally don't bottom for people I'm not dating. It's been a really really long time since I bottomed... I'm pretty much a strict top." He sighed, continuing back towards his dorm, "but, not going to lie... the craving to just ... give in, and be fucked, and for once not be the one 'in charge', is really really appealing right now."

Oliver

When they came to a stop outside the other’s door, Oliver rested his fingers against his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. ‘So just don’t think about it okay?’ He said softly. ‘I don’t care what way we do the horizontal tango so let’s just see what happens.’ He could almost see the exhaustion playing out on Quinnton’s face and he hoped the teasing, the playful words would help him relax.

Quinnton

Quinnton smiled, and kissed him back, hummings oftly against Ollie's lips. "Mmm... that... actually sounds really amazing. It's been so much.. think think think, Dom dom dom..." he s hook his head, moving to unlock the door. "Thanks, Ollie... for being so great. I couldn't be alone tonight." He pulled the other inside, and pulled him into a needy kiss.

Oliver

Oliver liked kissing. There was an intimacy to it he often felt went forgotten because it was only a lead-up to sex. Quinnton was a good kisser and he contemplated the fact that he could potentially be very happy to just make out. However, he can feel his skin start to heat up, and he remembers just how long it’s been. He kissed him back with a renewed vigour and kicked the door shut behind them.

Quinnton

Quinn’s hands slid into Ollie’s hair, kissing him deeper. It felt amazing... possibly because he was a bit drunk and stoned, but also because it had been a while since he just gave in like this, nothing about anything else but how it felt. “I want you...” he moaned against the other, “fuck me.”

Oliver

He pulled back and flicked his tongue over his lips. He hadn’t expected Quinnton to want to bottom; that was an exciting development. The people here were often so bogged down on labelling themselves; Dominant, submissive, top, bottom and more often than not, the Dominants refused to be anything but a top. As though taking it up the ass would change the mark on their arm. His fingers worked at unbuttoning the other’s pants and as soon as he could, he was slipping his hand underneath the offending material to palm against his length. ‘Well that all the remains to be decided is whether I’m going to fuck you here or if you want to go to the bedroom.’

Quinnton

Quinnton groaned softly, his hips bucking up into Oliver’s hand. He thought for a moment, “I want to fuck all over this dorm. Everywhere. I want to feel you for a week... I just want out of my head, and to just... fuck. All night long.” He leaned up and kissed him again, moaning, hand gripping the other’s hair.

Oliver

There was a small, smug voice in the back of his head that crowed with delight in knowing he could fuck Quinnton all night; that delighted in the idea of Quinnton fucking some whimpering little submissive while his ass was still tender. He kept his hand against his crotch, kept palming him through the thin fabric of his underwear. He braced one hand against his chest and lightly pushed him backwards; an action he hoped wordlessly indicated he wanted to go to the bedroom. ‘You know, if you want to feel me for a week, you just have to ask.’ He teased. He pulled back from the kiss and reluctantly withdrew his hand so he could start to unbutton his shirt. ‘Fuck, you’re gorgeous.’ He breathed, leaning in to kiss every inch of his chest as it was exposed.

Quinnton

Quinnton was ... just allowing himself to give into something. He needed to get out of his head, and why not let it be Ollie? He groaned, rutting against Ollie, "I... definitely want to feel you for a week." That sounded... almost perfect. "He tilted his head up, humming softly, "Mmm... thanks, baby... so are youu. So fucking gorgeous..."

Oliver

He pushed his shirt back off his shoulders, and allowed his hands to slide of his toned torso. The baby threw him; he normally wasn’t a fan of pet names. He found them a little silly but perhaps the alcohol made him a little more receptive and it pulled a smile from his lips. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the already undone pants and looked at him with a grin. ‘Think you can control your hips?’ He asked, slowly sinking down at his knees, pulling both Quinnton’s pants and underwear with him. His cock sprung free and it was incredible. With zero hesitation, he leaned forward to close his lips around the swollen head.

Quinnton

"I... can do my best. When I'm drunk, my hips have a mind of their own." He chuckled softly, smiling at the other. He watched him drop, and groaned, "Mmm...what.... are you doing..." Quinnton gasped, his hand moving to slide down into Ollie' hair, tucking gently. "Ohh... fuck, your mouth feels so incredible.. holy shit.."

Oliver

Oliver loved oral sex; and if he had to choose to give or receive, he’d opt to give every time. People gave the best reactions to oral sex and he loved the way a person would fall apart under the attention. He pressed his hand up into Quinnton’s hand; encouraging him to keep playing with his hair as he parted his lips a little more and slowly swallowed around his thick length. The way his lips stretched was nothing short of pleasurable and he mowed a point of giving a low groan as the tip of his cock nudged the back of his throat. He held him there for a few seconds before pulling back. Keeping his eyes looking up at the other, he found a rhythm; bobbing eagerly and using his tongue expertly.

Quinnton

Q's head fell back against the wall, his hand tugged a bit more on Ollie's hair. It had been so long since he'd had a blowjob while drunk, he forgot just how heightened it was to fuck while buzzed. "Oh... god.... Oliver..." He purred out, trying to make himself look down and see how Oliver's mouth stretched around his cock. He was determined to watch him, at least for a little bit, "holy... fucking... shit Ollie... you're so fucking good. Don't stop."

Oliver

The encouragement did exactly what it was supposed to do. It spurred him on. He held Quinnton’s hips with a tight grip and held him at the back of his throat for longer; hollowing his cheeks to increase the pressure. The noises his mouth made as he swallowed around him were nothing short of obscene. Feeling no push back from his hips, he dropped one hand to cup and squeeze his balls lightly and pulled back enough to lap his tongue against the slit that was leaking pre-cum.

Quinnton

It took a lot of Quinnton's will-power to not fuck into Ollie's mouth, because damn , this boy was incredible at giving head. "Fucking... hell..." His breathing started to pick up, and he did what he could to stay focused on the other. He gasped when his balls were grabbed, "Ollie.... at this rate, I won't last uch longer ... jesus fuck."

Oliver

At the warning, he pulled back with a filthy sounding pop and grinned. ‘Well, I don’t want you to cum before I fuck you.’ He grinned brightly. He gave his balls a final squeeze and gracefully returned to his feet, dragging his lips against the other’s skin as he did so. He pressed against him and rolled his hips forward; the friction over the top of his clothes wasn’t nearly enough. ‘I’ll feeling really fucking overdressed.’ He breathed, before stepping back to rid himself of all the offending material. ‘Where’s your lube gorgeous?’ He asked, tossing his shirt aside.

Quinnton

Quinn whimpered a bit, "well, now that's just.... fuck. You're gonna probably need to put a cock ring on me or something, because I am so fucking horny right now..." He groaned, cock twitching, "you are so over dressed... seriously..." He looked around, thinking for a moment, "uh... Not sure if there's any near by..."

Oliver

‘Doesn’t have to be near by.’ He chuckled, shaking his head. He pushed his pants down his legs as as spoke. ‘You told me you hadn’t bottomed for a while and there’s not a chance I’m fucking you without prep. Especially now that I’ve heard what you sound like when you’re enjoying it. I think I might enjoy working you open, and taking my time to do so.’ He teased. He hesitated for only a second before he was adding his underwear to the pile of discarded clothes. ‘Point me in the right direction gorgeous and let’s move this to the bed. But more comfortable than banging against a wall don’t you think?’

Quinnton

Quinnton smiled a bit, "well aint that sweet of ya," honestly, he was horny enough that he probably wouldn;'t have cared, but would certainly regret it later on, he was sure. "Mmm...okay, well...." He looked over Oliver, biting his lip, "...bedsroom..." he grabbed Ollie's hand, and tugged him to the bedroom. He fell back onto his bed, and pulled Oliver down on top of him, into a needy, hungry kiss.

Oliver

A groan left his lips at the sudden friction and instinctively, he rocked his hips down against the Dominant’s crotch. Any words he might have said were lost against Quinnton’s lips; and he kissed him back with the same obvious passion and desire.

Quinnton

Quinnton moved his legs, and wrapped them around Oliver's waist, grinding back up against him. He kissed him deeper, whimpering with need into the kiss, hands sliding into the other's hair. "You're so fucking hot.." He pressed against him, nibbling on Ollie's bottom lip.

Oliver

He braces himself on one hand and allowed his eyes to fall closed. Kissing was incredible before the other’s legs tightened around his waist; that only heightened the whole experience. The whimper went straight to his cock and had him thrusting his hips as he sought relief he wasn’t getting. ‘What position do you like Q?’ He asked, whispering against his lips as he continued to pepper kisses against him.

Quinnton

It felt... natural, and ... wonderful to be like this again. Having sex where marks didn't exist, kinks didn't come into play, it was just that; sex. Passionate, fun, hot sex. He hummed, "Mmm....this one... honestly. Close, able to kiss, and look at each other... I like intimacy when fucking, honestly..."

Oliver

‘Your wish, my command.’ He winked. He was a fan of this position too for the same reasons Quinnton gave. Doggy was another favourite but there was nothing quite like being able to see everything play out on your partner’s face. His free hand gave the Dominant’s thigh a squeeze. ‘You’re going to have to let me up. I don’t know if we can reach everything from here.’ He chuckled.

Quinnton

Quinnton frowned, and released Oliver from his thighs, looking up at him, "such a shame, I like keeping you right here." He pulled him down into another needy kiss, "mine...." He got a bit possessive, especially when he was just being Quinnton the person , instead of Quinnton the Dom. "It's in the bedside drawer..."

Oliver

He couldn’t even protest the possessive pronoun because their lips were almost immediately crushed together again; by the time he could speak, it didn’t bother him so much. He leaned over and fished in the drawer for lube and a condom before positioning himself between Quinnton’s legs. He grabbed a pillow. ‘Lift up.’ He instructed, tapping his hips before sliding the pillow underneath. He pushed his legs apart, leaving him open and exposed; the sight alone pulled a moan from his lips. He uncapped the lube and allowed it to drizzle over his balls, down his taint and dripped it generously over his hole. ‘Make sure you talk to me gorgeous. I want to hear everything.’ He grinned, slowly starting to tease his balls. He squeezed them in one hand while the fingers of the other started to tease against his hole. He held his gaze as he slowly pressed one long digit inside him. ‘You’re so fucking tight.’

Quinnton

Quinnton was feeling overly affectionate and needy, which was a combiation of things. He wanted to keep kissing Ollie, touching him, and wanted to keep him close. He watched the other move, and lifted his hips as instructed, and just let the other move him where he wanted. "I can't remember the last time I was in this position..." He gasped softly, the lube cold, "ooh.... fuck..." His cock twitched again, back arching up a bit. A sharp gasp passed his lips, his ass clenching around his finger, "Mhmmmm.... could probably milk the cum out of your cock..."

Oliver

Slowly, he was coming round to the idea that he didn’t have to second guess everything Quinnton said. The other really didn’t want this to be about anything they’d learned in class. ‘I’m sure I’ll remember you in this position.’ He teased, slowly starting to move his finger. ‘You’re so fucking gorgeous like this Q.’ He complimented, eyes roaming over his body. He curled his finger, starting to work him open and he watched the way it played out on his face. ‘Is that what you’re gonna do? Squeeze and clench to milk my cock until I have no choice but to spill inside you hm?’

Quinnton

This was the most relaxed he’d been in weeks, and it felt amazing. “I hope so... I do love to be remembered.” He winked, before gasping again, gripping onto the bed, “it’s all for you, Ollie...” he clenched around his finger again; his cock dripping, nipples hard around the piercings. He moaned loudly as the other spoke, “Fuck yes... that is exactly what I want.”

Oliver

He added a second finger; slowly easing it in alongside the first. The fact the he felt this incredible around his fingers only made him imagine how much better he would feel around his long neglected cock. He leaned in with every press of his fingers, trying to get deeper. He scissored then open; groaning at the resistance to stretch. ‘I can’t wait to compare how tight you are now with how stretched and loose you’re gonna be when I’m finished fucking you.’ He grinned, tweaking a pierced nipple with his free hand.

Quinnton

His breath hitched, he gripped the bed, and his back arched up. He pushed his hips down, wanting more, really cursing himself for having waited so long between moments like this. “F-fuck... I’m gonna be... a mess... I can assure you...”

Oliver

‘I think I’m a little enamoured with the idea of you being a whimpering, needy mess for me.’ He confided in him, leaning down to brush his lips against his ear. He sped up his thrusts slightly, and before he could second guess it, added a third finger. ‘I wish you could see what I see.’ He grinned, settling back on his knees. ‘Your hole stretching to take my fingers, and my cock is fucking gorgeous Q.’

Quinnton

“Yeah I bet... “ shivers ran down his spine, and he was really unable to react. He gasped again, even louder, “oh fuck! Oliver!” He gasped and painted, gripping onto the bed tigger, “maybe you should take a picture... or a video.” He was only... half joking. “Fuck... feels so good. Please don’t stop.”

Oliver

He moved faster now; fucking his fingers into him with a more determined purpose. His patience was wearing thin and he desperately wanted to fuck the other properly. He couldn’t go nearly as hard as he would have liked. ‘I have no intention for stopping gorgeous’ he promised. He forced his fingers to stretch apart and groaned loudly at the sight it presented him with. ‘Tell me what you want Q; so you want me to keep working you open or are you ready to take my cock?’ He didn’t slow his pace in the slightest as he spoke. He pressed his fingers deeper, feeling every inch of him as he waited for an answer.

Quinnton

The faster he went, the louder Q’s moans got; the more needy he became. He wanted so much more. “Mmm fuck... yes... yes!” He was sure he could easily cum like this, he was so close... he could barely think. He looked up at the other, “fuck me with your thick cock, Ollie! Fill me!!”

Oliver

His hand was messy with lube but he managed to open the foil square. He pinched the tip and rolled it down over his length, groaning at the contact. He’d long been neglecting the length bobbing between his legs and any kind of touch felt amplified. Quinnton looked incredible; legs spread, face flushed and shiny with sweat. He could only imagine his face looked quite similar. He gripped the base of his cock and shuffled to position himself between between Q’s legs, and guided the head of his cock to nudge against the other’s hole. ‘You’re so fucking gorgeous.’ He breathed, hands finding a grip on his hips. He rolled his hips forward slowly; he was impatient but he wanted to drag this out. He wanted Quinnton to feel every inch of his cock as it stretched him in ways his fingers couldn’t.

Ouinnton

While he already missed the fingers inside him, he knew what was next, and he was far more eager than he ever expected he could be. He looked up to watch Oliver, licking his lips, keeping his legs apart, and just.. waiting for him. He groaned as he felt the stretch, back arching, "oh... fuck.... Ollie..." He clenched around his cock a bit as it went in, "you're so big..."

Oliver

He kept pressing forward, squeezing his hips until he was fully sheathed inside him. He was hot and tight and entirely too inviting. He allowed himself to collapse down on top of him, giving him time to adjust. His fingers played absently with a pieced nipple, tugging and twisting at the bud as he left lazy, messy kisses against his neck and shoulder. ‘You feel so good Q. So fucking tight around my cock.’ He groaned, pressing his face against his skin. ‘You look so good taking it.’

Quinnton

Quinnton couldn't remember the last time he was this full... he honestly couldn't. It was an adjustment, and he groaned as Oliver pushed into him, but smiled, letting his legs wrap around the other once again. His head tilted back, "mmm... fuck.. Ollie... you feel amazing..." He clenched around him a few times, legs tightened around his hips, "fuck me... please "

Oliver

‘I promised you your wish, my command didn’t I?’ He whispered against his lips as he caught them in a hard, greedy kiss. He pulled his hips back and began to thrust into him. He build up his speed gradually and the room was filled with the ever so satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin. He panted between kisses, sucking at Quinnton’s lower lip, nipping at the sensitive skin with light bites. ‘If only you could see yourself. See how good you look taking my cock.’

Quinnton

Quinnton's breath hitched into the kiss, moaning against his lips as he was fucked into. The sensation was incredible, something he'd have to remember to not put off for another six months. His legs tightened around the other, cock bouncing between their bodies, the sounds making him moan even louder. "Feels so good... fucking hell.... So full... don't stop..."

Oliver

Oliver could only respond by speeding up his hips. With every thrust, he pushed deeper inside him. He was insatiable; he literally couldn’t get enough of the other man and his hips seemed to constantly be chasing for more. Garbled moans fell from his lips every time Quinnton clenched around his cock and he could already feel a tightness growing in the pit of his stomach. With one hand, he reached between them and closed his fingers around Q’s cock. The first time wasn’t the time to work out if he could make him cum untouched.

Quinnton

Quinnton was amazed that he was actually able to last as long as he was. Ollie felt so good, and he probably could have cum any time he wanted right now... but he was trying not to. He continued to clench around the other, hips bucking up when he felt that hand around his own cock, “mmm... fuck... Ollie... you don’t... have to... I’m already close...”

Oliver

As soon as he knew he didn’t have to touch him, he stopped. As nice as touching him was, it was even better to know he could make him fall apart without ever touching his cock. He changed his angle slightly and rolled his hips forward, fucking deep into his ass. He could feel his own orgasm building but that wasn’t his focus; he wouldn’t let himself cum until he heard Quinnton shouting his name. He knew he’d likely end up bruised with the strength behind every thrust; his hips ached with every slap against the other. ‘Fuck Q —‘ He panted, catching his lips in another kiss.

Quinnton

Quinnton was practically on cloud 9 at this point; he was moaning and writhing, his cock dripping onto his abs. He watched the other, and attempted to clench his ass around Ollie’s cock as he pounded into him. “Mmm fuck... Ollie... don’t stop...” he groaned, before being kissed. He brought a hand up to the other’s hair, gripping it, kissing him deeply. “I’m gonna cum...”

Oliver

He had no intention of stopping. He kept up a pace that was now almost frantic. He felt his stomach tightening; he was teetering on the edge of his own orgasm and it took a great deal of self-control to hold off. ‘Cum for me gorgeous.’ He grunted, rolling his hips hard. ‘I want to hear you scream.’ He groaned, his chest heaving.

Quinnton

Quinnton was panting heavily, groaning, amazed that he had managed to hold off as long as he did; orgasm control wasn't something he possessed. "Fuck.. I'm... almost there, baby..." He gripped onto the other, raking his nails down his arms, before cumming, very hard, " OLIVER! "

Oliver

Watching him come undone was more satisfying than his own orgasm which made it easier to hold it off a little I get so he could properly fuck him through the pleasure washing over him. When it become impossible to hold back anymore, his hips stuttered in their rhythm and Quinnton’s name left his lips in a low groan before he half-collapsed on top of him. ‘Holy fuck.’ He breathed, turning his face to mouth against his neck. ‘Fuck, you’re amazing.’

Quinnton

Q was panting, a smile on his face. It had been... so long since he’d cum like that, without his cock touched, he’d actually forgotten how good it felt. “Look... whose talking. Fucking hell, I might need to let you fuck me a lot more often, Ollie...” he smiled, and pulled the other into a hungry kiss.

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itshummelswitch · 4 years

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KURILEY | Little Talks.

WHEN: May 20th, 2020

WHERE: Riley Hummel’s house.

WHO: Riley & Kurt Hummel | @rilcyhummel

EVENT: Kurt has age regressed into little space after his punishment with Gavin Sawyer to keep from experiencing a drop but experiences an anxiety attack instead. Riley handles it.

This was shaping up to be an interesting week. Between the kink convention that blew into town and their second step-sister showing up Riley wasn’t sure which way was up. He’d stayed up most of the night catching up with the two girls. All the while wearing the black hoodie that Kurt had requested for part of his aftercare. In fact, he was still wearing it as he pulled into Gavin’s driveway. He killed the engine and stepped out of the car, making his way up to the front door and gave three sharp knocks before stepping back and waiting for his brother to be returned to him. Anxiety settling in his chest at what kind of condition he was going to be in.

Re-dressed in his outfit of the red tank top, sweats, and red shoes, Kurt has his arms folded as of hoping to make himself as small as possible when Gavin opens the door to personally see that he's handed over to Riley. His eyes are trained obediently on the floor until he's given the okay to move in towards Riley. He still feels shaky and weak, but he's managing well enough. While usually he may have thrown his arms around his brother, he moves in next to him instead head still down while chewing on his bottom lip. Only with Gavin shutting the door does Kurt reach out, curling his fingers on the sleeve of Riley's hoodie wordlessly.

He gives one look at Kurt and knows where his headspace is. This was the one he slipped into when things got to be too much. The feeling of his brother’s fingers on his arm was enough to have his caregiver headspace clicking into place and he guides the other to the car. Helping him settle into the seat, taking the hoodie off and putting it on his submissive before strapping him in and snapping the door shut. Climbing in himself and backing them out of the driveway. “We’re gonna go back home and take a nap okay, Little Prince? You look like you need it.” His voice is softer than normal. "And then we're gonna go play at the convention center."

Kurt is still quiet as he lets Riley guide him to the car. His eyes still trained at the ground until he's sliding into the firing seat and accepting the hoodie. The comforting scent of Riley's cologne overwhelms him and he already feels better. Pulling the hood itself up to over the mess that was his hair, he scoots closer to Riley in the adjoined seat. "Whatever you say, Daddy...you know best." Kurt offers, voice soft, pulling his knees up on the seat to hug against his chest.

Riley wraps an arm around Kurt’s shoulders for the rest of the ride. Turning to press a kiss to his temple when they park in his garage. “Breakfast first. Because I swear I heard your tummy growl just now.” He amends, scooping Kurt up and carrying him into the house. Placing him gently down on his bed before moving to go fix a quick breakfast. “You need to eat all of this and then you need to take a nap.” He says, placing the tray over his lap and taking the spot next to him on the bed. “I’ll be right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Still silent, Kurt clings to Riley for the rest of the drive and curls up easily in his Dominant's arms to be carried in without a fuss. He was still processing what had happened, how he could've agreed with what Gavin had told him. Believed it. But here he was. As he's set down on the comfortable bed, he takes to removing his shoes and pants first before settling down amongst the pillows. He missed Gavin already and part of him felt sick for it. Glassy eyes find Riley when he returns with the food tray, forcing himself to sit back up. He's stiff and sore all over, but he doesn't argue. He is hungry. He knows he is. His stomach jumps and growls at the sight and smell of food. "Thank you, Daddy." Kurt whispers softly, leaning into his side while picking at the plate of food in front of him. He's starving but his appetite just isn't there. "I'm sorry I've made your life difficult, Daddy. I've been very bad. I've caused you grief, stress, and all the bad emotions that I don't want you to feel ever again." A few tears squeeze out. He's too tired to fight them. "I'm a submissive. I should act as such to make my Daddy proud of me. Not make him mad." His shoulders shake, covering his hands with the sleeves of the hoodie as he brings them up to hide his face, finally letting himself break down and sob. Something he didn't let himself do at Gavin's.

Riley raised an eyebrow at Kurt’s picking. He knew for a fact that the other was hungry. It was written all over him. He was just about to grab the fork from him and force the food down his throat when the tears started to fall. “I’m gonna stop this pity party right now. You’re allowed to cry. But don’t you dare for a second think you’re the main cause of my stress here. Because it’s not true.” It was a contributing factor at times but he wasn’t going to let that fact cause his brother to spiral further. “You make me proud, Little Prince. On a daily basis. You’re always my perfect submissive. Understand?”

Kurt inhales shakily through his hands, his body leaning more into Riley as he legs himself just break down. "But you're always so stressed. Thea told me how you're taking on too much. I'm contributing to that. I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm so sorry." He's starting to hyperventilate, curling further his brother, though the angle is awkward as he has a lap full of food. "I made you so mad. I didn't represent your name as my Dominant to Master. An I'm such a disapp—" he cuts himself off, because he can't finish as his breathing gets heavy. The hyperventilating turning into a panic attack which he hadn't been expecting.

“You didn’t cause this. I swear. It was Madame Sylvester who caused this. Dominants who didn’t do anything other than fuck did this to me. Not you.” He leaves out the death of Rochelle. And the fact that he kept reliving the last interaction they had. Because this wasn’t the time or place for that. Riley moves the tray to the foot of the bed in order to be able to pull Kurt into his lap. Holding him against his chest. “Shhhh. Kurt. Breathe. You’re not a disappointment. Stop it.” He didn’t miss the title he gave Gavin. But didn’t press him on that either.

He's moving as if he was a light rag doll into Riley's lap. His breathing only picking up, as he drops his hands to grip at his brother's shirt, pressing as close as he can. He can hear Riley through his hyperventilating, but only barely. He couldn't stop. He couldn't breathe. Everything around him was wrong and he was to blame. Having to hide his face further in the crook of the others neck, shaking. "N...no, I am. I'm a fake. A phony. I can't do it anymore. I...want to hel...help you. I have...have to be."

Riley could see that simply holding him and trying to soothe him wasn’t working. He was far too broken for their normal dynamic. So he wrapped an arm around his brother and moved them to the space beside the bed. Placing Kurt down gently on his knees and forcing eye contact by holding his chin. “Take a breath, little one. Take a breath for Daddy.”

#[ baby penguin para ]#[ ship | you jump i jump remember ]

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