#the fact that they’re BOTH wearing collars and holding each others leashes. because they’re BOTH manipulating each other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagineaworlds · 3 years

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Bunny and Baby -- Poly!BAU Team

(Edited version for a broader audience. You can check out the full version on @hotch-and-bunny)

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, Ma’am kink, Daddy kink, dirty talk, restraints (handcuffs), collaring, leashes, edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, degradation, mild choking, pegging, impregnation/breeding kink, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.

Pairing: Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x BAU Team.

Dynamic (in order of superiority): Sir!Dom!Aaron Hotchner, Ma’am!Dom!Elle Greenaway, Mistress!Dom!Emily Prentiss, Daddy!Dom!Derek Morgan, switch!Reader (sub in this plot), bunny!sub!Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 7645

Criminal Minds Discord Server

We had been returning from a case in Louisiana, everyone sitting comfortably in their own seats on the jet. Hotch and I were beside each other— I was pressed between him and the window— Morgan was across from us, Emily and Elle were across the aisle and a row back, and Spencer was laying on the couch. Rossi hadn’t come with us because he had a family emergency. Emily and Elle were the only ones talking while the rest of us were quietly working on our own things; but Spencer was just half asleep on the couch, trying to catch up on some rest. He told us before we boarded that he had another headache that kept him up all night, and we all scolded him for not coming to one of us and seeking help because we always knew what to do to help him. He insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, though. While I didn’t entirely believe him, we all decided to let him rest during the flight.

It wasn’t until there was a bit of turbulence that made me grab onto Hotch’s arm that things got… interesting. The thing was, when it came to Aaron Hotchner, the slightest touch could set him off, and he would get mean because he saw even the simplest of shoulder bumps as a bratty act that needed to be punished. I always had to be careful around him because of that. But I forgot. The plane jumped in the air, my stomach dropped, and before I knew it, I was squeezing his bicep to ground myself as some kind of reminder that I wasn’t going to die or something.

When the turbulence passed, I tore my hand away from Hotch, keeping in mind that I had to keep my hands to myself, but it was too late. He was staring at me. I swallowed hard and tried to go back to my book that Spencer had recommended, which was his attempt to win his favor with me after he pissed me off one day and I wanted to punish him. He was lucky that I wasn’t as mean as Hotch and Emily. Unfortunately for me, however, that meant I was completely fucked because Hotch was still sitting there, staring at me, likely asking himself how I could dare to touch him without permission, even when it was for something as innocent as it had been. I finally dared to look up at him. He was frowning.

“Sir—” I tried to explain myself quietly so that the others couldn’t hear, but he shook his head, silently telling me to stop. I fell silent and gulped.

Hotch, without saying anything, looked back down at the iPad that was sitting on the table in front of him as he was going through emails, scoping out new cases to take on; but what he did after that was somewhat unexpected. His hand closest to me drifted between my thighs. I adjusted in my seat, trying to fix my posture to be “smooth” so that no one else would notice. No one looked up. Hotch continued with his plan, forcing his hand between my thighs, spreading my legs open to give him access to what was beneath my skirt. I should have known that wearing a skirt on the jet was only going to get me in trouble, but with the case having just ended, and with Spencer’s headaches, my attire had been the last thing on my mind. To Hotch, however, it seemed to be the only thing on his mind.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered to me. I was surprised Morgan didn’t hear him.

When I nodded, Hotch pressed his index and middle fingers against my panties, finding the sensitive nub that was my clit, hiding behind my labia and the clitoral hood. He was too far. I needed him to press harder to actually feel his fingers, to actually get me to the edge rather than just get needy for him— but my desperation for him and what was about to come was undeniable when he slid his fingers down to hover over my core, discovering a wet spot that was slowly forming. Hotch snickered to himself. I knew that he was probably thinking to himself something along the lines of how he had only just touched me and I was already wet, proving to him that I was always thinking about having one of them— if not all of them— fuck me.

Hotch moved back up to my clit, and he pressed hard enough that I could feel him, but not enough to actually give me everything I wanted. Slowly, he started rubbing circles over my panties. A quiet sigh left my lips as I leaned back in my seat, moved my hips forward to give him better access, and I screwed my eyes shut. There was no doubt that if Morgan happened to look up, he would know exactly what was happening.

As Hotch’s fingers started moving faster, I rolled my hips eagerly to make his pace in an attempt to speed up my orgasm, but he pulled away somewhat and slowed down until I stopped moving and waited politely for him to make another move. He went back to what he was doing suddenly. I tensed and tried my very best to hold still this time while also biting my lip to keep myself from moaning. But I was so close again. So, so close. I just wanted to cum for him.

“Sir, please,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Please, may I cum?”

“Ask Mistress first.”

My eyes widened and I looked at him, but he was still reading his emails, so I looked over at Emily. She was still casually talking to Elle without a single clue as to what a mess I was while sitting next to Hotch. I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t beg like that randomly when they were all doing their own things. So, Hotch shrugged because he didn’t care one way or the other. If I wasn’t going to ask, he wasn’t going to let me cum, and for him, that was fun and it didn’t matter. But to me, it mattered. His fingers kept rolling over my clit again and again, and it was getting unbearable, it was getting torturous. So, I dared to give in.

I let out an audible moan while leaning forward to grab onto the table to hold my orgasm back, and I croaked, “Mistress—” Everyone stopped what they were doing to look over at me. There I was, clearly falling apart as Hotch’s arm was suspiciously moving in the direction that led just between my thighs. Emily was staring at me. “Mistress, please, may I cum?”

Her mouth fell agape in shock when she realized what it was that Hotch was doing and why I was asking. She looked between me and Hotch. “Have they been good?” she asked him.

“No,” he said nonchalantly.

“Then, no, you may not cum, slut,” she said to me.

I whimpered and increased my grip on the table until my knuckles were turning white. “Please! I’m not going to last!”

“You cum, you get punished,” Morgan said.

“Fuck…” I tried wiggling away from Hotch, but it was useless since I was trapped in the seat next to the window. “Please…” I was breathless now. “Please… I can’t…”

“And what are you doing?” Elle questioned roughly, squinting at Spencer, scolding him for something I couldn’t see.

Spencer floundered and stuttered from the couch. “I— Um. Nothing, Ma’am. I’m sorry. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Fuck—” I moved my hips around again with Hotch’s fingers as my orgasm suddenly washed through me, a shiver running down my spine as my toes curled in my shoes, my thighs shook against the leather seat, and my walls clenched around nothing. “Shit.” Hotch slowed his movements as I came down from my high. My eyes quickly scanned the interior of the jet, catching how they were all scowling at me, unpleased with how I had cum without any of their permission. My heart sank in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“First, Spence starts touching himself without permission,” Elle began as she stood from her seat and started approaching the couch. I sat up a bit in my seat so that I could look over my shoulder to see Spencer sitting up somewhat now, an erection straining his pants, a small wet spot on the front from his pre-cum. “Then, you cum without our permission.” She ran her fingers through Spencer’s hair, then once she was far enough in, she curled her grip, roughly pulling at his curls to make him sit up all the way. “And the two of you still had the audacity to say that you’re sorry. I don’t think they’re actually sorry; do you, Morgan?”

“No,” he answered, also disappointed in us.

“We didn’t train brats,” she hissed, pulling at Spencer’s hair again, making him whimper.

“His headache, Elle—” Emily warned quickly.

Elle froze when she remembered, and she tried removing her grip from Spencer, suddenly aware of how she might have hurt him in her fit of anger. “I’m sorry, Spence—”

But he cut her off by gently taking her wrist and leading her touch back to his hair, encouraging to pull again. “It’s gone.”

“Don’t lie, bunny.”

“I’m not, Ma’am.”

She smirked and tugged again, bringing him to his knees. “Then the two of you have no excuse for misbehaving. Their punishment, Morgan.”

Hotch slid out of his seat and moved to the back of the jet where Emily was still sitting so that there was enough room for Morgan to stand at the same time as I did, knowing that it was better than him grabbing onto my hair, too. When we were both in the aisle, my back close to Elle’s, Morgan caught me off guard by pinching my chin roughly in between his thumb and his other four fingers. I pouted my eyes at him. I was trying to silently beg for mercy, but, of course, it didn’t work.

In fact, it made him chuckle. “Princess, you did this to yourself.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry… Please… I didn’t mean to cum.”

“Then, you should have held it like good girls do.”

“Their punishment, Derek,” Hotch reminded.

Morgan rolled his eyes because he already knew what he was doing and he hated that Hotch thought he needed to be babysat while Domming me, even though he didn’t. Morgan and I had done plenty of scenes together. As the only switch in our relationship, it was easy for me to go visit one of them when I needed to be Dommed, whereas I would go to Spencer if I needed to Dom. Each of them were unique Doms, though, and I would seek them out separately, depending on what I needed. I mean, I lived with Hotch, but he could be cruel, and sometimes, I didn’t need that. Out of all of us, Morgan was the kindest. His punishments were never harsh, and playing with him was always easy, compared to with Emily or Elle, who were on the same wavelength, both masters at torturing me with edges, ruins, forced orgasms. When I needed something light, I went to Morgan. When I needed to be completely out of control, not a single thought in my head, I went to Emily or Elle— usually both at the same time. With Hotch, he was everything that Morgan, Emily, and Elle were, but he was also the one who gave me the harshest punishments. Nipple clamps that he tugged on, floggers, plugs, being tied up and left there for an hour while he was gone, cockwarming me until he came and I didn’t. But Morgan was the one that had dictated my punishment. For cumming, he got to decide what they were going to do with me, which gave me a little bit of hope that it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

I did so without hesitation, and he spun me around so that he could cuff my hands together. I had a good view of Spencer and Elle now. He was on his knees in front of her, the two of them watching each other carefully— probably because she was trying to decide if he was lying about his headaches or not, and he was trying to gauge how bad his punishment would be. But she was just playing with his hair. We all loved to do that. I mean, Spencer loved it, too, which was why he did it, and it was the easiest way to ease him in and out of sub space. When I would Dom him, our sessions were usually the same. I’d go to his house to find him kneeling by the door, waiting patiently for me while wearing his cute little collar that we all picked out for him, and then he’d cook dinner for me. Sometimes, if he had been bratty, I’d sit in the living room, using him to balance platters in his hands that held my wine glass, any snacks I had, and sometimes even a book or two. If he ever dropped them, I’d punish him. If not, I’d reward him. For rewards, we’d go to his bedroom where I’d worship his cock, but never getting him close enough to the edge to actually make it 100% pleasant. I liked watching him squirm. Even when he had his best days, he knew that I wasn’t going to immediately let him cum because my favorite part about being his Dom was controlling his orgasms. As for punishments, that usually came with tying him up, flogging him sometimes, ruining his poor, little orgasms to make him whimper pathetically, and overstimulating him. I fucking loved the sounds he made during sex. Usually, I could pry them out of him with just a simple praise, but they were always so sweet when I had him tied to his bed, a plug in his ass, and I was riding every single drop out of him, never stopping even after he came inside of me.

His hair, though… One rough tug at his hair and he was immediately our bunny. For aftercare, his favorite thing was cuddling while we played with his curls. Brushing his hair, curling his strands around our fingers, gently massaging his scalp, all of those things prevented him from sub dropping, and it reassured him that he was safe with us, that we loved him, that he was going to be okay. I loved his hair. In fact, I was obsessed with it. Watching as Elle played with it and he nuzzled against her with a hypnotized, submissive smile on his face, I felt myself lighten up, too.

“Come here, bunny,” Morgan beckoned Spencer over to us. After Elle released him, he crawled around her and stopped just in front of me. “Take their skirt off.” Spencer did as he was told, reaching up for my waistband, quickly pulling my skirt down to my ankles. I helped him by stepping out of them. “Not their panties,” he warned when Spencer moved for those, too. Spencer dropped his hands to his lap. “Can you see how wet Sir made them? The mess they made from breaking the rules?”

Spencer nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Don’t be like them.”

“Spence, where’s your collar?” Elle asked, already digging through his bag that she retrieved from one of the overhead bins. I heard another one open behind me and Morgan, probably something that Hotch or Emily were looking for. “Nevermind.” She found Spencer’s collar and leash in his go-bag and brought it over to us. “Presentation.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Spencer looked up somewhat so that Elle could see where she was positioning the collar over his Adam’s apple, and then he looked down and moved his long hair out of the way so that she could clasp it together.

“Presentation,” Morgan whispered in my ear. So, that was what the other overhead bin had been. Hotch had probably gone digging for my collar, too.

The rule with me and Spencer was that we weren’t allowed to wear our collars in public because the whole point of kink was that all parties were consenting adults at all times. If someone wasn’t consenting to the scene, it had to stop immediately. The thing with wearing an obvious O-collar out and about was that the general public couldn’t consent to viewing it. Yes, it looked like a choker if you were oblivious, but it still wasn’t fair. And we didn’t like to draw attention to ourselves, anyhow. So, Spencer and I could never wear our collars in public, but we always had to bring them in our go-bags in case a situation like this arose where we were at the hotel and needed to submit, or, yes, even on the jet. This had only happened once before, though, to be fair.

When Morgan finished clasping my collar around my neck, he pushed me to my knees, my face even with Spencer’s. His breath was hot on my nose, our lips so close I could nearly taste him, but Elle tugged on his leash, pulling him back, and Morgan tugged on mine, pulling me back. We both whimpered at the feeling. “You don’t get to touch each other,” Morgan hissed. “In fact, Y/N, you don’t get to touch anyone at all.” My eyes widened and I looked up at Elle, almost as if I could read the look on her face to see how the rest of them were feeling behind me.

She was smirking. “Bunny’s so hard…” Elle teased, pulling on Spencer’s leash to have him lean back against her thighs. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted.

“You’re lucky that you only palmed yourself without permission. If you would have done anything worse, we’d be making your punishment no-touch, like Y/N. What do you say to us for sparing you that torture?”

“Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

“Let’s move them to the front,” Morgan told Elle so that she could pull Spencer onto the couch to give him room to make me crawl towards the front of the jet where no one would bother me. “Go on,” he encouraged. I started crawling, and when I made it where he wanted me, he had me turn around so that I was facing the entirety of the team. “Now, you get to sit here and watch.”

“Daddy?” I questioned, unsure of what he meant.

“And not talk.” He crouched and kissed me gently. “This is what you get for breaking the rules.”

“It’s useless to keep apologizing; isn’t it?” Around Morgan, I could talk to him like that, which was a little more casual than most scenes called for, but with the others, I could never say anything like that. Morgan understood, though. He nodded and kissed me again. “Give me a toy, at least. Edge me, ruin me— Anything.”

“No.” He stood back up.

Elle had Spencer’s pants on the ground now, and Emily had moved to the couch to peel his shirt off. As Morgan approached them, Hotch moved closer, too. I watched as the four of them dedicated their entire attention to Spencer, kissing his jawline, nibbling on his earlobe, running their thumbs over his sensitive nipples, and Elle worked her hand down under his briefs. I rolled my hips around for friction against my soaked panties when I heard Spencer let out a breathless moan just before Hotch kissed him to shut him up.

“Don’t let him edge,” Emily warned as Elle continued to play with Spencer inside of his underwear.

“Aw,” Elle cooed with false sympathy against his cheekbone, “is bunny already close?”

He nodded eagerly while pulling away from his kiss with Hotch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair to make you ask Mistress for permission the same way Y/N had to.”

He turned his head to look up at Emily. “Please, Mistress?” He sounded just as desperate and pathetic as I had. “May I cum?”

“You touched without permission, though, bunny,” she said to him. He shook his head, knowing that was her answer without saying what she actually meant. “I know that listening to Y/N beg was overwhelming for you…”

She dragged her nails down his chest, making his chest tense up. I saw the way his little stomach sucked in, and I whimpered again. I wanted that to be me touching him. I loved the little tummy he had now since we had helped him get over his addiction since Mexico. He was so healthy now, which meant eating well, something we regulated, and it gave him a cute, healthy, tummy that showed when he was wearing his belts with a button down shirt. I loved praising that part of him. Sometimes, it was obvious how self-conscious it could make him, but when we let him know how much we loved it and how proud we were of his progress since Mexico, he would love it, too.

Spencer bucked up when Elle pulled her hand out of his underwear, leaving him hanging on the edge. Hotch grabbed Spencer’s hips and pushed him back down onto the couch with a huff, probably still angry about me, but now it was worse since Spencer was acting up. I saw Spencer’s cock twitch helplessly behind the constraints of his clothes. He was trying to reach for someone’s hand again, but Morgan collected his wrists together and took Elle’s handcuffs, using them to restrain Spencer the same way I was restrained.

“Please,” he pleaded. “Something. Anything. Please.”

“My bag, Hotch,” Emily muttered, focusing on getting Spencer out of his underwear now. He let out a sigh of relief when his cock bounced freely against his stomach. Hotch scrambled to Emily’s go-bag at the back of the plane and started digging in it for something. “The red one—”

“I know,” he grumbled. “I know.”

He pulled out three things, holding them up long enough for me to inspect from where I was kneeling on the opposite side of the jet. The red strap on that Emily loved to fuck Spence with, a bottle of lube to help him take her easier, and the worst part… Honestly, I didn’t know what was worse, what I was enduring or what torture was awaiting Spencer with the last toy Hotch retrieved. I didn’t even realize Emily carried it around with her. How did she even think to bring such a thing? I mean, I understood the red strap and the lube, but… that? I almost felt bad for Spencer. At least I got to cum earlier, even though I wasn’t supposed to, but it seemed like they didn’t want Spencer to cum at all. I felt sorry for him. If I wasn’t so far into sub space, I probably would’ve snickered with the rest of them, thinking about all of the wicked ways I could have tortured him with it, but… No, I couldn’t while we were both being punished.

“If you want to touch so bad,” Hotch said while returning to the couch, “then we’ll touch.” Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the last toy. “But we won’t let you cum.”

He struggled against his Doms’ holds as Hotch knelt down to begin the tedious process of sliding the tight metal cock ring over Spencer’s length. Spencer cursed at the feelings. I had no doubts that the ring was cold to the touch— which was an unbearable feeling for him— and it was probably so tight on him… When it reached his base, it kept all of the blood right where it needed to be to ensure he stayed hard. And then Hotch grabbed the string version of the cock ring, which was entirely adjustable, so he slid it over Spencer’s balls and tightened it. Spencer cried out.

“Sir—” Spencer moaned pleasantly as Hotch suddenly dipped down and wrapped his lips around Spencer’s cock. “Thank you, Sir.”

Emily came over to torture me. She pulled at my leash, choking me, tugging my head back somewhat. “Keep your eyes on Spence.”

My gaze was narrowed down my cheeks and my nose so that I could watch as Hotch slowly licked his tongue around Spencer’s sensitive tip that was still leaking pre-cum. I knew he tasted good. I knew that he was probably a leaking, pathetic mess, and Hotch was enjoying every second of torturing him; and I wished that it were me instead of Hotch.

Without warning, Emily pressed her index finger against my clit, making me jolt.

“Fuck!”

Emily snickered and started rubbing my clit faster.

“Mistress, I’m close. Please.”

“No.” She kissed the tip of my nose before pulling her touch away. I leaned forward to regain her touch, but she was already walking away. “Lemme fuck him,” she told Hotch, wiping some of the sweat off of Spencer’s forehead.

“I want to warm him up first,” Elle said eagerly. Hotch released Spencer from his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. “Turn him over.”

Morgan and Emily worked together to get Spencer on his knees on the floor, and they pressed his chest against the couch. Emily tugged at his leash to keep him distracted when he looked over at me with a painful, silent plea for help— help which I couldn’t give. He accepted his fate, closing his eyes as he waited for the next step.

“Let me hold him,” I begged. “Please. I’ll serve you all while I do it!”

Elle squirted some of the lube onto her index and middle fingers before rubbing them up and down Spencer’s slit. He tensed up. “Fine,” she said, still concentrating on him. “Come here.”

Morgan sat on the couch, his thigh just beside Spencer’s head so that we couldn’t make eye contact from where I was anymore. I started crawling towards all of them, letting Morgan pick up my leash when I was close enough so that he could tug me forward. He spread his legs so that I was sitting between his knees. “Suck,” he commanded, beginning to take his pants off.

I took the moment with nothing to do as an opportunity to finally turn my head to look at Spencer who still had his cheek pressed against the couch. I leaned down and kissed him. He perked up and started kissing me back. Just as it got more intense, the two of us fighting for dominance in our kiss, I felt him suddenly back down when Elle slid her fingers into his tight hole, causing him to moan against my lips. Our hands were still trapped behind our backs, so I couldn’t hold him steady to encourage him to keep kissing me, I couldn’t tangle my hands in his hair, and I couldn’t even reach to hold his hands as they struggled in his cuffs.

“Baby girl,” Morgan called, waiting for me.

“Stop ignoring him,” Hotch hissed, pushing my panties to the side and sliding his thumb into me. “Shit.” He sounded so turned on. “Fuck, baby.”

“You and bunny,” Elle chuckled. “The two of you can never hold it together. Pathetic.”

Spencer and I moaned happily in response to the degradation.

Morgan, now completely impatient, held my head between his palms, tore me away from Spencer, then turned my gaze before pushing my mouth onto his cock. He kept moving me until I gagged. I felt Spencer rut against the couch when Elle must have curled her fingers against his prostate or something, and I followed suit when I felt Hotch replace his short thumb with his long cock. I thought I was supposed to be facing punishment— Not that I was arguing. Even if I could talk, I wouldn’t have brought it up, because at least I finally got him. He always felt so good. He was so long, but not as thick as Morgan, not that it mattered. Both of them knew how to please me, and that was what mattered more than anything.

“Jesus, baby girl,” Morgan moaned, throwing his head back.

“He’s ready,” Elle said. Spencer whimpered when there was a loss of contact between them after she pulled out of him and stepped away, giving Emily room to kneel behind him and line up her cock with his ass. “Are you going to be good for us, bunny? No cumming?”

Spencer whined. “I don’t know, Ma’am.”

“Promise or we won’t fuck you.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he insisted quickly, realizing his mistake. “I won’t cum. I promise.”

“Good boy.”

Suddenly, he was pushed forward when Emily roughly thrust into him. I pulled my mouth off Morgan long enough for me to catch my breath and moan as Hotch continued fucking me softly to torture me, and I looked over to see Emily showing no remorse with Spencer. Poor thing. Elle had stretched him, and Emily took a second to let him adjust, but now he was ruined. Absolutely destroyed. He was going to be wobbling on our way off the jet when we would land, I just knew it.

“I didn’t say you could stop, slut,” Morgan growled, grabbing me by the hair this time to make sure that I wouldn’t move away from him this time. I groaned as I took all of him in my mouth again. Just as he willed it, I bobbed my head up and down, my jaw slack, my tongue flat, my throat open to stop the gagging because he was using me as a hole and nothing else, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Hotch pissed me off suddenly by reaching under me to grab my breasts through my shirt, making me roll my hips eagerly against him. “So greedy.” He thrust roughly into me in an attempt to warn me off of acting out again, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to cum. I had to cum. I needed some kind of relief. “Don’t you fucking dare—” He pulled out of me when he felt me tighten around him. “Brat.” He spanked me hard. “Elle.”

“I thought you understood that we didn’t train brats, baby,” Elle said, backing Hotch up. She teased her cleaned and re-lubed fingers at my ass now while Hotch realigned with my pussy. “You and bunny don’t get to cum.”

I moaned around Derek’s length as Elle and Hotch both thrusted into me simultaneously. He gave me every single inch he had to offer, making sure I felt just how big he was, the way he could reach deep places inside of me that made my knees weak every time. As for Elle, her approach had been a bit slower so that she could be safe. When her fingers were moving in me, she only put them in about half way before gently pulling them out and pushing them back in, this time all the way to the bottom knuckle, and then she curled her fingers. Morgan held me steady as I moaned around him again. The three of them working together to fill each of my holes was… I mean, they had all filled me further before, but this just felt so different… so good…

“Mmm—” Morgan bucked his hips up so that he could fuck my face harder. “I’m gonna cum.” He panted as his fingers gripped my hair harder. He let out a grunt as his whole body tensed, his orgasm finally hitting him like a train. As his cum spilled into my mouth, I used his hesitancy as a chance to finally move my tongue around, stimulating his shaft, making him twitch and squirm a bit more, and I hummed happily around him to make it even worse. They were torturing me, the least I could do was slyly return the favor. “Shit, baby!” He pulled me off before I could continue overstimulating. “Fuck.” His thumb caressed my cheek lovingly for a second. “Go on. Swallow.” I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take anything more. I was so full, I felt like I was going to explode. He furrowed his brows. “Swallow, slut.” I kept shaking my head, and I tried to escape Elle and Hotch so that I could find somewhere to spit, but they held my hips still while Morgan grabbed my face. “Swallow.”

I searched his eyes for a moment, quickly realizing that he wasn’t going to release me until I did as he asked. Even if the jet landed and we were supposed to be getting off, probably to head back to mine and Hotch’s place to finish all of this, Morgan was going to sit there with me until I swallowed. I had no choice. While keeping my gaze even with his, I slowly swallowed the load he gave me. When I was done, I opened my mouth to prove my success, and he finally let go of me while grinning.

“Was that so hard?” he teased.

“Mistress,” Spencer moaned, his voice muffled somewhat, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Morgan and I looked away from each other to investigate what was happening, and it was just as our attention was brought to him that we saw Spencer slump as he gave up. Emily was still fucking him, don’t get me worng, but his poor, red, needy cock was leaking, begging for the cock rings to be taken off so that he could ejaculate— and he just couldn’t take the denial anymore. He couldn’t take being on the brink constantly. Holding his posture for her so that he could fuck his ass, keeping his head turned so that we could hear his pathetic noises, all of that meant nothing to him now. They had finally broken him.

“It hurts,” he complained.

“Color,” she whispered, brushing his curls back so that she could lean over his back and start kissing his neck lovingly.

“Green, but I can’t… I can’t… I’m gonna—”

“The two of you and not being able to hold it today,” Elle scolded, moving her fingers faster inside of my ass. “It’s like we need to teach you guys how to behave again and work on your stamina.”

Spencer and I quickly exchanged a worried glance. We hadn’t done stamina in so long. This was close, sure, but actual stamina training with Elle was the worst— especially if Hotch were there. They liked to tie me and Spencer up so that couldn’t move a single muscle, and then they’d press a vibrator against my clit while Spencer got the fleshlight. For hours, we would have to lay there, edging again and again as Hotch and Elle turned on my vibrator and started fucking the fleshlight over Spencer’s cock, and then they’d stop when we were close enough. It was torture. They purposefully gave us hard edges. The longer we went, the more rewards we earned for the week, but if we came, they ruined our orgasms before painfully continuing, and all of it was for the sake of increasing our stamina during sex and teaching us how to hold back our orgasms until we had permission. It worked after a while. Spencer was a lot worse at it than I was, but we finally got the hang of it, and the two of us were pretty good about holding out until we had proper permission; but there was just something about the atmosphere of being on the jet compared to being at someone’s house or in a hotel room that had our brains melted down to nothing. I had orgasmed once without permission, and there were multiple occasions while Hotch and Elle were fucking me from behind that I felt myself getting there again— and if they weren’t so good about pulling away on time to edge me, I would have cum again without permission, regardless of the punishment. But Spencer… He was trying so hard to be their good boy. He had touched himself without permission, which he knew wasn’t allowed, so he had accepted that he wasn’t allowed to cum, but those cock rings were straining against him, practically milking him considering the way he was leaking so helplessly; and it was just too much for him. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Bunny, if you cum, we’re going to have to put you in your cage,” Emily warned.

“We should anyways,” Hotch panted from behind me.

Spencer shook his head urgently. “No. Please. I’ll be good. I- I prom… I promise.” He sighed as Emily changed her pace while fucking him. “I promise.” It sounded like he was crying now. “I promise…” Our little broken record. “I promise.” Not a single thought in that pretty head of his.

Hotch pulled out of me suddenly and he snatched away Elle’s fingers. My legs shook as my sudden, unexpected, unplanned orgasm was completely ruined. I hadn’t seen it coming. One second, I was watching Spencer fall apart, the next, I was clenching around nothing as my orgasm peaked yet I got no relief from the feeling since they had removed the stimulation when I needed it most. My clit was throbbing. I fell, just like Spencer, my cheek crashing against Morgan’s warm thigh.

“Their cuffs,” Hotch said pressingly. Morgan reached for his pants that were pooled at his ankles, and he grabbed the key from his pocket, then he handed it off to Hotch. “We’re done with you, baby girl,” he told me. I shook my head. I needed to cum. I had to… I had to cum… Geez, I felt as broken as Spencer looked. “Can you stand?” I shook my head again. “Okay…” He freed my hands and rubbed my wrists to ease the pain from every time I struggled against the metal bondings. “How bad is it?” he asked, taking my leash and gently tugging, a signal that he wanted me to turn around face him. I did so. When he saw my face, he chuckled, and Elle followed shortly, the two of them so impressed by how broken I must have looked. I knew that my hair was a mess, my eyes and bottom lip were pouting, and my legs were still shaking. I looked ridiculous. “That bad, princess?” He stroked his cock at the sight of me.

“Fuck them again like this,” Elle encouraged seductively in his ear. “Both of them on their backs…” she said a little louder so that everyone could hear her. “Taking what we give them.”

Hotch fell in love with the idea, immediately shooing Morgan off the couch so that he could throw me onto it. I yelped as I landed on the cushions. My right thigh was just next to Spencer’s face— so close that I could feel his pants against my skin— and Hotch, Elle, and Morgan were standing just in front of me, licking their hips with lust and hunger in their eyes. Hotch was still running his grip up and down his length at the sight of me.

“Look at the mess we made, bunny.” Morgan reached over and pulled at Spencer’s hair, pulling him upright so that his back was pressed flush against Emily’s chest as she used the new angle to fuck him harder and deeper. Spencer’s engorged penis twitched at the sight of me. My panties were soaked with a mixture of my wetness and cum. “Don’t they look so stupid?”

Spencer nodded while screwing his shut in response to Emily’s cock hitting a new spot inside of him. “Yes, Daddy. They look so good.”

I rolled my hips around, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My whole body was on fire, and I just needed someone to touch me again. I needed to touch Spencer, which was the worst part, because I knew that they wouldn’t let me, and even if I could, a single touch was going to set him off, and I would’ve felt bad if they ruined him, too.

“You want me, baby?” Hotch teased, gliding his thumbs over my hard nipples through my shirt.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“You want me to breed you?”

I let out a shaky breath before gulping and nodding. “Yes, Sir.”

He stopped fucking with me and he instead went back to stroking his cock. “I know you want to cum, baby,” he cooed, “but you can’t… Rules are rules.” He started fucking his fist faster. “Good girls get to cum.” His breath was ragged now. “You weren’t good.”

Elle grabbed his face and turned him so that they were suddenly kissing, and he pushed his hand past her pants and panties so that he could press a finger directly against her clit. They moaned together.

“I’m going to cum,” Spencer warned. Morgan was holding his leash taut, forcing Spencer to keep his back against Emily’s chest while she moaned into his neck and left a hundred different hickies. “Please. Please, Mistress.”

“No.”

“I can’t hold it.” He was leaking onto my knee now, that was how close together we were.

“I said, no. You cum, you get caged.”

“Fuck—” What Emily said did the opposite of what she had intended. Instead of deterring him from cumming, the threat of being locked up in a cock cage enticed Spencer, tipping him over the edge that he needed so badly. “I’m cumming!”

Just as his dick started twitching, Elle jumped into action, quickly grabbing my hips and turning me so that Spencer was lined up between my legs, and she pushed my panties to the side. Emily fucked harshly into Spencer as he started cumming. The force of her action jolted Spencer forward, putting his tip directly at my entrance. We both moaned at the feeling. I needed him, and it seemed he needed me, because when he felt how wet I was, his weak, repressed load slowly poured into me. He had tried to hold back. I could tell with how sad his orgasm was and how he was whimpering that he didn’t want to cum. He wanted to be good for them. But Emily fucking him, Morgan trying to choke him with the collar, the cock rings squeezing his penis and swollen balls, and my torture that he was witnessing was all too stimulating to every single one of his senses. He had to cum the same way I had to cum earlier when they denied my orgasm.

Emily stopped fucking him to make sure that the orgasm was shorter and to ensure that he didn’t go any further into me than necessary. They wanted his cum to be inside of me, but that was it. They didn’t want either of us to enjoy it.

Without warning, Hotch grabbed my hips away from Elle, putting me back where I was so that I was facing him, and he thrust into me suddenly, cumming within an instant, too. “Fuck…”

He came much harder than Spencer had because he wanted to give me everything, to fulfill the breeding kink we had. All I felt was the stretch and the warmth of his semen, though, because he refused to thrust to help ride out his high since it would have inevitably pleased me, too, and that wasn’t the point. He wanted me to be full and to get nothing out of it.

When he caught his breath, he pulled out of me slowly. I whined at the loss. “Did you learn a valuable lesson?” he questioned.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Which was?”

“No cumming without permission. Ever. Under any circumstances. My orgasms don’t belong to me.”

“Good girl. Go clean yourself up in the bathroom then come back for water, a snack, and play with Spencer’s hair.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

I melted at the praise. “Really, Sir? Even though I broke a thousand rules?”

“Even then. You did good.”

Emily got the cuffs off Spencer, and he immediately went to pry off the cock rings, but Morgan slapped his hands away. Spencer stared at me as Morgan started gently pulling off the metal one around his shaft. “Daddy,” he hissed, his eyes clenching shut. Emily and Elle were running their fingers through Spencer’s hair already to help him calm down. “Fuck,” he gasped when it was off. “Thank you.” He then prepared himself as Morgan went to release the tie that was around Spencer’s balls. When the pressure was gone, Spencer slumped, falling somewhat, and we all reached forward to catch him. “Thank you.” Hotch kissed Spencer’s temple and pulled him onto his lap on the couch. “I’m sorry for cumming without permission.”

“We’ll call it even, bunny,” Morgan said, referencing how I had done the same thing. “You and baby did so well.”

Elle grabbed the lotion from Spencer’s bag that he used for aftercare, and she started massaging it between his cheeks as Hotch continued to hold him. “You, too,” she told me while still tending to Spence. I went to sit down, but Emily beat me to it, taking the only spot left beside Hotch, and she patted her hands on her lap. I laid over her the same way Spencer was on Hotch. Our faces were close again.

“May we?” Spencer begged.

“Yes,” Morgan answered.

Just as Elle started using her other hand to massage some lotion onto my ass, Spencer and I started kissing. He tasted so good. It was comforting rather than erotic, and I felt myself slowly easing out of sub space in a way that didn’t let me drop. I hoped that he was okay, too.

I ran my fingers through his curls. “I love you, Spence.”

He kissed me harder before mumbling, “I love you, too.”

----

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc @Braty-angel

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yanderenightmare · 3 years

Note

Hi I have no idea if requests are open, but how would our yandere boys (of your choosing) react when their come home to their pets wearing their hero/villain outfits? I know many of them would be amused, but I feel since they're each a different type of yandere they'd have a various dark thoughts.

yandere ! BNHA thirsts

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, profanity, dumbification, condescension, degradation, FLUFF, obsession

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

She looks like a little ninja in that mask. She wasn’t able to put any of the other things on because of the sheer size of them compared to her. She wouldn’t really ever call herself petite, given she’s a clumsy mess, but standing next to Bakugo, it’s safe to say she felt like a mouse next to a bear. And though she was standing in his great big boots, swimming in them, the mask was the only thing that fit. Resulting in her standing there, in her underwear, in his massive black heavy combat-boots and his menacing black mask.

Scratch the first note. She looked, briefly, like a ninja in that mask, but as she noticed him lurking in the threshold of the door, she made the mistake of trying to jump like the skittish bunny she is, her feet caught in the trap of his shoes and tripping before she could catch herself, all graceless and clumsy and not at all like any ninja. No worries though, seeing how Katsuki’s quick on his feet, she was never even close to hitting the floor before she was hugged tightly to his chest.

He’s amused, it’s the first thing she notices, that great big sun-swallowing grin stretched on his face, the gleaming glint in his eyes, so bright she’s forced to giggle in her unbalanced yet secured embrace. She looks like a little rookie sidekick, in desperate need to learn a thing or two from him, or an amateur cat-burglar who thought she could poach one or two things from him, caught red-handed, trapped. He can already feel his dick perking, twitching in his sweats, growing warm and heavy just at the sight of her stupid giddy smile. She’s only wearing his fucking mask, but holy fuck, why does she have to be so fucking cute all the goddamn time?

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

She doesn’t often think about how much bigger Keigo is than her. Sure, she knows it, he’s bigger, taller, stronger, faster, but they’re not facts he opts to make abundantly clear. Keigo is like a child more often than not, he’s ridiculous, pouty, petty, always pulling pranks, cracking jokes through sarcasm and a sly smile, where other times he’s just a horny spaz. He’s not really one to exert dominance, not really a personality that screams alpha. Yet, as she treads on his suede flight jacket, she realizes just how small she is in comparison to his lean frame.

They were fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped around her to dry, Keigo still in front of the mirror fixing his hair to look neatly disheveled, but as she stepped out, leaving Keigo to his vain antics in the bathroom, she caught eye of something that would be way more comfortable than her towel. The fur was stupid soft, and warm, and smelt so undeniably like Keigo, and felt really nice against her sensitive ripe raw skin after having been taken by her wild animal in the shower for hours.

She was so lost with her eyes closed, holding onto the feeling of the softness wrapped around her to even notice Keigo leaning in the threshold of the bathroom-door. His deep chuckle brought her back to reality fast enough though. Drowsy blissed eyes looking to his amused ones, smile stretched into a toothy smirk at the sight of her cuddling with his hero-jacket. She shouldn’t be surprised to find herself tackled to the bed. He had a towel wrapped around his torso, but it fell to the ground in the tackle, naked body pressed against her nude frame, warm flesh and the softness of the fur, his darling giggling at his absurdity as he peppers kisses down the valley between her breasts.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Seeing her in that bunny-mask alone is enough to spark an obsession, no mind to the boots and gloves. The hero-costume is supposed to act disarming to the public, given how bunnies are a sign of good-luck and seem cuddly and cute and not at all like they could have your skin and flesh ripped from your bones with the mere flick of a wrist. But his darling is just that, isn’t she? A harmless little ball of sweet precious softness. This brittle breakable dainty little thing, flimsy and frail and feeble and all his. Safe to say he fucked her stupid that night, had her seated on his lap, hopping up and down the length of his cock like a precious little bunny for hours.

He doesn’t care much for the rest of the outfit, but he does take it upon himself to buy a series of other bunny-inspired accessories. Cute ears in all shapes, both large and pointy, and short and strutting, as well as long floppy ones. She looks so precious, what with that adorable fluffy pompom tail behind her, so chaste and innocent looking despite the sheer lace and mesh of the lingerie, leaving all her tender bits on display for him. Especially cute with those fluffy handcuffs around her wrists, and that slightly anxious look on her face as he completes the outfit with a collar around her throat and a leash trailing to his hand.

His little pet, she looks like such a playboy picture, placed so perfectly on his bed, large pillows placed around her, other bunnies in the form of stuffed animals, such a pristine cotton-flavored pastel-hued paradise, all for him to destroy with those hands of his and those teeth and that dirty depraved mind.

CHISAKI KAI – OVERHAUL

He doesn’t usually appreciate being made fun of, but when his darling clasped on his plague-mask, opting to intimidate him with the most calculating stare she could manage, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. And when she drummed her white-gloved-fingers up his chest, climbing to sit in his lap, eyes still holding his gaze with a witch’s spell, her voice the most ominous rust she could muster, telling him how she could destroy him with one mere measly touch, mocking him so much so he didn’t need to see under the mask to know how wide she’s smirking, he’s livid with thrill, only barely holding himself together, hanging onto every single movement she made.

He hadn’t known he was such a narcissist, but he had to admit seeing his darling in his moss-green bomber-jacket, large enough to reach under her ass, hiding her body like a tease with indigo-fur splayed thickly around her shoulders and up around her ears, nestling her head that had his mask protruding like a bird-beak out towards him, that tantalizing look in her eyes, it was turning him on, madly so, he could barely sit down as her hands, clad in his surgical gloves, danced up to undo the zipper to the jacket in one agonizingly slow movement, only to reveal she wasn’t wearing anything but his white tie. He was about to lose it.

He pounces, like a vulture, mask thrown to some unknown corner of the room, her body pressed firmly into the mattress, tie used as a collar and leash as he presses his firm lips into her pillowy ones, kissing with desperation, with hunger, with need. Hands so harsh in their worship, grabbing onto her, pushing her knees apart, granting access to the tempel between her legs, where he can plant even more kisses.

AIZAWA SHOTA - ERASURHEAD

He’s seen her tangled up in his scarf more times than he’s seen her with clothes on, but as a capture-weapon it’s been unwillingly and meant to immobilize and secure her more than comfort her. Most times she’d whine when being handicapped by the tight bondage, looking like a kitten who’s managed to tangle herself up in a ball of yarn, but now she’s wrapping it around her naked body like a blanket, cuddling with the tresses, head sunken inside the nest laid thickly around her shoulders, hanging off and falling around her bare arms and breasts.

It reminds him of Halloween. A poor attempt at trying to look scary, wrapping herself in like a mummy, or trying to pass as some wraith, or as though having bandaged cuts and bruises, meant to look so scary but not at all able to hide how she’s simply a small adorable little soft cuddly kitten, incapable of achieving anything remotely scary-looking. He scoffs and grins as he looks down at her, needing to touch what ridiculous display she’s conjured and intertwined herself in.

She threw her head back with a strange smile on her face, trying to imitate him, stopping him in his pursuit of grabbing her as he had to slap his face with a groan, a smile forcing itself up on his own face at the feel of his heart warming, throbbing, in his chest, butterflies causing a ruckus in his stomach. How he wished he could digest those feelings, stomach acid melting the wings of those bothersome insects. He doesn’t have the time for such pleasantries, but his darling doesn’t seem to mind being a distraction whatsoever. She should know... there are consequences for being such a little tease.

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aot-brainrot · 3 years

Text

Bunny and Baby ~ Poly!BAU Team

(Full version for a smaller audience. You can check out the edited version on @imagineaworlds)

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, Ma’am kink, Daddy kink, dirty talk, restraints (handcuffs), collaring, leashes, edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, bladder control, degradation, mild choking, control, pegging, impregnation/breeding kink, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.

Pairing: Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x BAU Team.

Dynamic (in order of superiority): Sir!Dom!Aaron Hotchner, Ma’am!Dom!Elle Greenaway, Mistress!Dom!Emily Prentiss, Daddy!Dom!Derek Morgan, switch!Reader (sub in this plot), bunny!sub!Spencer Reid.

Word Count: 9700

Criminal Minds Discord Server

“Sir—” I tried to explain myself quietly so that the others couldn’t hear, but he shook his head, silently telling me to stop. I fell silent and gulped.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered to me. I was surprised Morgan didn’t hear him.

“Sir, please,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Please, may I cum?”

“Ask Mistress first.”

Her mouth fell agape in shock when she realized what it was that Hotch was doing and why I was asking. She looked between me and Hotch. “Have they been good?” she asked him.

“No,” he said nonchalantly.

“Then, no, you may not cum, slut,” she said to me.

I whimpered and increased my grip on the table until my knuckles were turning white. “Please! I’m not going to last!”

“You cum, you get punished,” Morgan said.

“Fuck…” I tried wiggling away from Hotch, but it was useless since I was trapped in the seat next to the window. “Please…” I was breathless now. “Please… I can’t…”

“And what are you doing?” Elle questioned roughly, squinting at Spencer, scolding him for something I couldn’t see.

Spencer floundered and stuttered from the couch. “I— Um. Nothing, Ma’am. I’m sorry. It was nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“No,” he answered, also disappointed in us.

“We didn’t train brats,” she hissed, pulling at Spencer’s hair again, making him whimper.

“His headache, Elle—” Emily warned quickly.

Elle froze when she remembered, and she tried removing her grip from Spencer, suddenly aware of how she might have hurt him in her fit of anger. “I’m sorry, Spence—”

But he cut her off by gently taking her wrist and leading her touch back to his hair, encouraging to pull again. “It’s gone.”

“Don’t lie, bunny.”

“I’m not, Ma’am.”

She smirked and tugged again, bringing him to his knees. “Then the two of you have no excuse for misbehaving. Their punishment, Morgan.”

In fact, it made him chuckle. “Princess, you did this to yourself.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry… Please… I didn’t mean to cum.”

“Then, you should have held it like good girls do.”

“Their punishment, Derek,” Hotch reminded.

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

Spencer nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Don’t be like them.”

“Presentation,” Morgan whispered in my ear. So, that was what the other overhead bin had been. Hotch had probably gone digging for my collar, too.

My eyes widened even further. “Wait. No. Please—” I struggled against the cuffs, wiggling around on the ground as I made a desperate attempt to free myself with no such luck. I knew what was coming. I hated it. I didn’t want them to have the satisfaction of watching me struggle uncomfortably later while they laughed at me. I didn’t— “Mistress, please,” I begged as Emily sat in Hotch’s seat so that she was right beside me. “Please, anything else.”

“Color, baby girl,” she said calmly. She wasn’t as frustrated as the others, I could tell. That was the nice thing about her. As wicked as she could be, her emotions were usually opposite to Elle’s. When Elle was mad, Emily was calm. When Emily was mad, Elle was… well, she was still mad, but she made an attempt to restrain herself.

I pouted. “Green.”

“Then, open your mouth.” She held my jaw as I opened up and tilted my head back somewhat, waiting as she unscrewed the cap of the water bottle in her hands. She had one with her, but Hotch was setting two more down next to his iPad on the table. “Tap Morgan’s leg for Colors.” I felt Morgan press his shin against my back so that my fingers were near his ankles in case I needed to have them slow down or stop.

Emily started slowly pouring the water into my mouth. When I couldn’t hold anymore, she stopped, giving me a chance to swallow. And then she did it again. We kept going until the entire bottle was finished, and even then, she grabbed the next bottle, unscrewed the cap, and started pouring. It was half way through the bottle when I started to feel it. The uncomfortable feeling in my stomach that told me that I was going to have to pee soon, and I whimpered, tapping Morgan’s ankle to tell them that I needed them to slow down.

Emily stopped pouring. “What is it, princess?” she asked.

“I’m already there…” I shamefully admitted.

“Full?”

I shook my head.

“Then, keep going.”

I reluctantly opened my mouth again and let Emily continue her work, getting to the end of the second bottle before she decided that I had enough. They were going to save the last bottle. Certainly, there were more in the fridge where the bar was at the back of the jet, but they would grab them as needed. For now, two was enough, later, they would give me a third, and when it got really bad, they would grab more if they had to. I didn’t want the third one, though. I already had to go, and because of it, I could feel myself actually getting wet again, a sign that I was going to be miserable for my entire punishment.

The point of making me drink was that the feeling of being full aroused me the same way it would if I were filled with Hotch or Morgan’s cocks, or Emily or Elle’s straps. It was the same build that came with needing to orgasm. They controlled my orgasms the same way they controlled… well, when I could go. They made me hold my orgasms the same way they made me hold this— and both were painful to keep back. I was fortunate, however, unlike Spencer, to know that I had never actually released without permission, in front of them, or during a scene at all. Spencer, on the other hand… The poor thing. He could never hold it when Morgan would grab his hips and slide inside of him. The pressure on his prostate and his bladder was always just too much.

Eventually, they’d let me go, but they’d wait long enough until I was squirming. I mean, they weren’t going to hurt me. Since Morgan had chosen this as my punishment, they were all going to have to keep an eye on me to make sure I wasn’t actually in pain because this could be a dangerous punishment if not properly handled; but I trusted them. If they weren’t going to let me cum, they at least had to let me pee— which felt just as good as letting go of my orgasms.

“Bunny’s so hard…” Elle teased, pulling on Spencer’s leash to have him lean back against her thighs. “Did it turn you on to watch Mistress make princess drink?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted.

“You’re lucky that you only palmed yourself without permission. If you would have done anything worse, we’d be making you drink, too. What do you say to us for sparing you that torture?”

“Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

“Let’s move them to the front,” Morgan told Elle so that she could pull Spencer onto the couch to give him room to make me crawl towards the front of the jet where no one would bother me. I whimpered when I felt how full I was while on all fours. I already hated it. “Go on,” he encouraged. I started crawling, and when I made it where he wanted me, he had me turn around so that I was facing the entirety of the team. “Now, you get to sit here and watch.”

“Daddy?” I questioned, unsure of what he meant.

“And not talk.” He crouched and kissed me gently. “This is what you get for breaking the rules.”

“No.” He stood back up.

“Don’t let him edge,” Emily warned as Elle continued to play with Spencer inside of his underwear.

“Aw,” Elle cooed with false sympathy against his cheekbone, “is bunny already close?”

He nodded eagerly while pulling away from his kiss with Hotch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well, I think it’s only fair to make you ask Mistress for permission the same way Y/N had to.”

He turned his head to look up at Emily. “Please, Mistress?” He sounded just as desperate and pathetic as I had. “May I cum?”

“Please,” he pleaded. “Something. Anything. Please.”

“I know,” he grumbled. “I know.”

He pulled out three things, holding them up long enough for me to inspect from where I was kneeling on the opposite side of the jet. The red strap on that Emily loved to fuck Spence with, a bottle of lube to help him take her easier, and the worst part… Honestly, I didn’t know what was worse, what I was enduring while my bladder got worse or what torture was awaiting Spencer with the last toy Hotch retrieved. I didn’t even realize Emily carried it around with her. How did she even think to bring such a thing? I mean, I understood the red strap and the lube, but… that? I almost felt bad for Spencer. At least I got to cum earlier, even though I wasn’t supposed to, and I was going to get a chance to go to the bathroom after all of this, so I’d have two releases, but it seemed like they didn’t want Spencer to cum at all. I felt sorry for him. If I wasn’t so far into sub space, I probably would’ve snickered with the rest of them, thinking about all of the wicked ways I could have tortured him with it, but… No, I couldn’t while we were both being punished.

“If you want to touch so bad,” Hotch said while returning to the couch, “then we’ll touch.” Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the last toy. “But we won’t let you cum.”

I felt my stomach fill out a bit more. I tried sitting back on my feet to relieve the tight feeling that being upright or tilting forward caused, but Morgan caught my movement out of the corner of his eye, and he glared over at me. I knew what he was going to say before he could even open his mouth. “Daddy, I can’t.”

“I don’t care. Sit up.”

I adjusted, my panties rubbing flat against my clit, the waistband of said panties moving just under my stomach, making me feel the sweet torture of my full bladder being teased. I moaned, “Fuck…”

“Does it feel good?”

I shook my head. “Please, just let me go pee real quick. I’ll come back and sit here quietly like a good girl.”

“The next bottle, Em.”

I cried, “No!” The more I struggled against the cuffs, I felt my bladder swell, making the urge to pee worse. “Please!”

“Sir—” Spencer moaned pleasantly as Hotch suddenly dipped down and wrapped his lips around Spencer’s cock. “Thank you, Sir.”

Emily came over with the last bottle of water. “We won’t make you hold it much longer,” she whispered as she unscrewed the cap. Subconsciously, I already knew what she told me because it wasn’t safe to hold it back much longer, but hearing it from her was still a relief that made me sigh gratefully. “Open.” I tilted my head up and opened my mouth. “Keep your eyes on Spence.” My gaze was narrowed down my cheeks and my nose so that I could watch as Hotch slowly licked his tongue around Spencer’s sensitive tip that was still leaking pre-cum. I knew he tasted good. I knew that he was probably a leaking, pathetic mess, and Hotch was enjoying every second of torturing him; and I wished that it were me instead of Hotch, but I couldn’t do anything about it as Emily started making me drink. “Swallow.” I closed my mouth and slowly drank everything she had poured. “Breathe,” she cooed when she caught me panting afterwards. “You’re okay.”

I immediately felt my bladder swell again. “Mistress, I can’t take it anymore…”

“You’ve done more before.”

“Alone with Sir, yes. I’ve never been overwhelmed like this before.”

“Open again.”

I did so. When she was done pouring, I swallowed again. It was getting even worse now. “I can’t—” Without warning, Emily pressed her index finger against my clit, making me jolt. “Fuck!” The stimulation was enough for my body to relax just enough for long enough that I let go for a moment. I caught myself just as it happened. “No, no, no, no—” Emily snickered and started rubbing my clit faster. I was so embarrassed by what had just happened, even though it could have been much worse, but all of that embarrassment was clouded by the fact that it felt so good to be touched after Morgan gave me the impression that none of them were going to touch me for the rest of the flight. “Mistress, I’m close.” Because of my full bladder, the truth was, the urge to pee mixed with the urge to cum, which only quickened my edge. “Please.”

“No.” She kissed the tip of my nose before pulling her touch away. I leaned forward to regain her touch, but she was already walking away, and I cried again as I felt my entirely full bladder swell my belly. “Lemme fuck him,” she told Hotch, wiping some of the sweat off of Spencer’s forehead.

“I want to warm him up first,” Elle said eagerly. Hotch released Spencer from his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. “Turn him over.”

“Let me hold him,” I begged. “Please. I’ll serve you all while I do it!”

Elle squirted some of the lube onto her index and middle fingers before rubbing them up and down Spencer’s slit. He tensed up. “Fine,” she said, still concentrating on him. “Come here.”

“Baby girl,” Morgan called, waiting for me.

“Stop ignoring him,” Hotch hissed, pushing my panties to the side and sliding his thumb into me, pressing directly towards my bladder. I screamed in pain against Spencer when I felt myself let go a bit more. “Shit.” He sounded so turned on. “Fuck, baby.”

“You and bunny,” Elle chuckled. “The two of you can never hold it together. Pathetic.”

Spencer and I moaned happily in response to the degradation.

Morgan, now completely impatient, held my head between his palms, tore me away from Spencer, then turned my gaze before pushing my mouth onto his cock. He kept moving me until I gagged. I felt Spencer rut against the couch when Elle must have curled her fingers against his prostate or something, and I followed suit when I felt Hotch replace his short thumb with his long cock. I thought I was supposed to be facing punishment— Not that I was arguing. Even if I could talk, I wouldn’t have brought it up, because as painful as my bladder felt, at least I finally got him. He always felt so good. He was so long, but not as thick as Morgan, not that it mattered. Both of them knew how to please me, and that was what mattered more than anything.

“Jesus, baby girl,” Morgan moaned, throwing his head back.

Spencer whined. “I don’t know, Ma’am.”

“Promise or we won’t fuck you.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he insisted quickly, realizing his mistake. “I won’t cum. I promise.”

“Good boy.”

Hotch pissed me off suddenly by reaching under me to grab my breasts through my shirt, and when I thought that his intentions were pleasant, he threw me for a loop by caressing my inflated stomach. He chuckled. “So full…” He massaged the sensitive part of my torso where my bladder was, making me roll my hips eagerly against him. “And so greedy.” He thrust roughly into me in an attempt to warn me off of acting out again, but I couldn’t help it. The need to pee was too similar to the need to cum, the two feelings were blended together now, so when he teased my stomach, I wanted to cum. I had to cum. I needed some kind of relief. “Don’t you fucking dare—” He pulled out of me when he felt me tighten around him. “Brat.” He spanked me hard. “Elle.”

“Was that so hard?” he teased.

“Mistress,” Spencer moaned, his voice muffled somewhat, “I can’t take it anymore.”

“It hurts,” he complained.

“Color,” she whispered, brushing his curls back so that she could lean over his back and start kissing his neck lovingly.

“Green, but I can’t… I can’t… I’m gonna—”

“Bunny, if you cum, we’re going to have to put you in your cage,” Emily warned.

“We should anyways,” Hotch panted from behind me.

Spencer shook his head urgently. ��No. Please. I’ll be good. I- I prom… I promise.” He sighed as Emily changed her pace while fucking him. “I promise.” It sounded like he was crying now. “I promise…” Our little broken record. “I promise.” Not a single thought in that pretty head of his.

Hotch pulled out of me suddenly and he snatched away Elle’s fingers. My legs shook as my sudden, unexpected, unplanned orgasm was completely ruined. I hadn’t seen it coming. One second, I was watching Spencer fall apart, the next, I was clenching around nothing as my orgasm peaked yet I got no relief from the feeling since they had removed the stimulation when I needed it most. My clit was throbbing. I felt myself leak just a bit more, my bladder warming up at the feeling. I fell, just like Spencer, my cheek crashing against Morgan’s warm thigh.

“Their cuffs,” Hotch said pressingly. Morgan reached for his pants that were pooled at his ankles, and he grabbed the key from his pocket, then he handed it off to Hotch. “We’re done with you, baby girl,” he told me. I shook my head. I needed to cum. I had to… I had to cum… Geez, I felt as broken as Spencer looked. “Can you stand?” I shook my head again. “Okay…” He freed my hands and rubbed my wrists to ease the pain from every time I struggled against the metal bondings. “How bad is it?” he asked, taking my leash and gently tugging, a signal that he wanted me to turn around face him. I did so. When he saw my face, he chuckled, and Elle followed shortly, the two of them so impressed by how broken I must have looked. I knew that my hair was a mess, my eyes and bottom lip were pouting, my legs were still shaking, and I was so bloated. I looked ridiculous. “That bad, princess?” He stroked his cock at the sight of me.

“Fuck them again like this,” Elle encouraged seductively in his ear. “Both of them on their backs…” she said a little louder so that everyone could hear her. “Taking what we give them.”

Spencer nodded while screwing his shut in response to Emily’s cock hitting a new spot inside of him. “Yes, Daddy. They look so good.”

I rolled my hips around, butterflies fluttering in my stomach— or maybe that was the urge to pee just getting worse. Regardless, though, my whole body was on fire, and I just needed someone to touch me again. I needed to touch Spencer, which was the worst part, because I knew that they wouldn’t let me, and even if I could, a single touch was going to set him off, and I would’ve felt bad if they ruined him, too.

“You want me, baby?” Hotch teased, gliding his thumbs over my hard nipples through my shirt.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“You want me to breed you?”

I let out a shaky breath before gulping and nodding. “Yes, Sir.”

“You wanna be fuller than you are now, huh?” His hands worked their way down to my stomach where he started massaging his thumbs in, finding my bladder without any problems. “So fucking full. It’s gotta be uncomfortable, baby, I know… But you did this to yourself.”

“Sir—” I tried moving away from him in an attempt to make him stop teasing my bladder, but I couldn’t escape. “I won’t hold it if you keep doing that.”

I didn’t want to be like Spence. As much as I loved him, I didn’t want to share his embarrassment of peeing myself like he had. The first time it happened, we were all together for Elle’s birthday. Spencer had been acting up during dinner, touching her when he wasn’t supposed to, speaking out of turn, giving me lip when I told him to be careful. We weren’t having it. When we got to Elle’s place, he complained that he had to pee before we started, but Hotch pinned him to the wall with a large hand around his throat, making Spencer’s eyes widen as he started apologizing profusely. Hotch didn’t let him go. For being a brat at dinner, the consensus was that we were going to take turns fucking him and cumming inside of him while he had to hold it. He hated it. He was already bloated from dinner, but when we fucked into him, we could see our cocks through his tummy as we were thrusting in and out of him. As I said before, it was always when Morgan finally got to fuck him that Spencer let go. It was something about the girth I was pretty sure, because out of him, Hotch, and the straps Em, Elle, and I had, Morgan was the thickest, which meant that he always stretched me and Spencer, so it was no surprise that Spencer immediately let go when it happened. He cried at the humiliation. He couldn’t believe he had done that while we were all watching— and what was worse to him was that we liked it. We liked that it degraded him.And even worse than that was that he liked it. It made him hard, and when Hotch started to jerk him off, it wasn’t long until he was begging to cum. I was the one who took mercy on him. I gave him permission before the others could argue, and Spencer immediately fell apart.

I didn’t want to be the one who felt Hotch fill me up and I couldn’t help but let go, and they would laugh at me. I could tell how embarrassed I’d be. Hotch seemed to take mercy on me the same way I had with Spencer back then. He stopped fucking with me when I was practically in tears, and he instead went back to stroking his cock.

“I know you want to cum, baby,” he cooed, “but you can’t… Rules are rules.” He started fucking his fist faster. “Good girls get to cum.” His breath was ragged now. “You weren’t good.”

“No.”

“I can’t hold it.” He was leaking onto my knee now, that was how close together we were.

“I said, no. You cum, you get caged.”

Without warning, Hotch grabbed my hips away from Elle, putting me back where I was so that I was facing him, and he thrust into me suddenly, cumming within an instant, too. “Fuck…”

When he caught his breath, he pulled out of me slowly. I whined at the loss. “You can go now.”

My eyes widened for a second as I registered what he said, but once I dawned on me, I didn’t hesitate. Despite my still weak legs, I pushed myself off the couch and I ran straight for the small bathroom at the back of the jet. I held onto the counter in front of me as I finally released everything that had been building. It felt just as good as an orgasm, if I were being honest. Holding it like that, being teased and denied by my Doms like that… It was just as painful as being edged, but getting to release was just as rewarding as an orgasm.

The door opened suddenly to reveal Hotch standing there, fully clothed, his arms crossed over his chest. I tried hiding myself by clasping my hands together over my crotch. “Did you learn a valuable lesson?”

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Which was?”

“No cumming without permission. Ever. Under any circumstances. My orgasms don’t belong to me.” I felt another wave of liquid pressing against my weak bladder, but I tried my best to hold it back since he was still standing there.

“Next time, I will make you go in front of them. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Clean yourself up then come back for water—”

“Sir—”

“Not for that,” he said with a chuckle. “Water, a snack, and play with Spencer’s hair.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m proud of you, baby.”

I melted at the praise. “Really, Sir? Even though I broke a thousand rules?”

“Even then. You did good.” He closed the door again and walked off, giving me the chance to release again.

When I was finished, I stood and cleaned myself, using the washcloths under the sink to clean up between my thighs. Usually, one of them would have helped, but the jet was too small, and the bathroom was only big enough for one person. I had to do this part on my own. When I was washed and dried, however, I made my way back into the main cabin, finding Emily racing to get the cuffs off Spencer. The second he was free, he immediately went to pry off the cock rings, but Morgan slapped his hands away. Spencer stared at me as Morgan started gently pulling off the metal one around his shaft. “Daddy,” he hissed, his eyes clenching shut. Emily and Elle were running their fingers through Spencer’s hair already to help him calm down. “Fuck,” he gasped when it was off. “Thank you.” He then prepared himself as Morgan went to release the tie that was around Spencer’s balls. When the pressure was gone, Spencer slumped, falling somewhat, and we all reached forward to catch him. “Thank you.” Hotch kissed Spencer’s temple and pulled him onto his lap on the couch. “I’m sorry for cumming without permission.”

“We’ll call it even, bunny,” Morgan said, referencing how I had done the same thing. “You and baby did so well.”

“May we?” Spencer begged.

“Yes,” Morgan answered.

I ran my fingers through his curls. “I love you, Spence.”

He kissed me harder before mumbling, “I love you, too.”

#mine #fanfic #hotch #elle #emily #morgan #reader #spencer #sub!spencer #sub!reader

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stickynotestoletters · 3 years

Text

Yandere BNHA Boys pt 2

Okay, this is a continuation of the first yandere ones I did because I wrote that in basically a night and was too tired to do more, I'm probably gonna post some after for the pro heroes and villains if I have time, I might finish those on the weekend then post it.

This is just a bunch of headcanons I have about the boys in BNHA and what they’d be like as yanderes. Only the really fluffy or good things about them listed here. Neither of these works are a good depictions of a real yandere and make sure to be careful to identify yandere traits in real people around you. It’s a very dangerous world and stay safe!

sorry if you were waiting for me to come out with these and I literally took forever lol, link to the first one is here. It's basically just me comforting myself with the sweet things that I think they would do as yanderes.

Warnings: Brainwashing, blood, gore, death, trans headcanons, body dysmorphia, nonbinary they/he Sero, they/them pronouns + nonbinary headcanons for Tokoyami, he/they nonbinary headcanons with Shinsou, a little NSFW because if I don't specify then they are aged up (around 20-25 is where I imagine the timeline that they actually captured you and have a hero carrier going for them already), manipulation, regular yandere things, kinda just turns into dumbass horknee headcanons at some point after Shinsou (sorry lmfao), objectification

Sero Hanata

so basically the first time they saw you they immediately wanted to come up to you

they love to give you back hugs because once you stop trying to fight them he's gonna be so honored you finally trust him

Big time slut [non-derogetory] for you

Likes to have an apartment that's high up, probably a secured penthouse with lots of windows

If you're afraid of heights they will get a ground bed for you two, they would also vibe with a low hanging hammock if you allow it

they really really like just putting you on a custom made leash, not inherently in a sexual way just in general likes to have it look like that with their tape on you at all times

they really really like it when you come to them for hugs and comfort

If you're a trans reader, if you want a binder he will get you one as soon as you ask, cried when you told him about it.

they cried way more than you though...

Was very accepting as an nb person as well

they custom made you a tape binder of his

Kinda as a joke but high key felt like they were gonna combust at the thought of you wearing that for them

Takes you to pride but you cannot speak

only takes you to pride after they are 1000% sure that you're not gonna speak to anyone but them

Takes you to it as a part of their float because they'd been invited onto the Hero Float

You are in a costume that's exactly like his, helmet and everything, you aren't allowed to be looked at

After that though, it's gonna be your choice to go or not to go

they trust you a little more after you run away from some assholes though and after that sometimes lets you take your helmet off during pride, you have to give them a lot of kisses though

When/if you ever consider any type of surgery he is 110% on board

they demand that you have to have it performed by someone who has done this a million times before, trusts no one else

If there's a way for you to go through it without the surgery they're excited but he's more excited if there is surgery because they love the idea of you being so cuddly and clinging to them for their comfort

Tokoyami Fumikage

haha they're in love with you

like, intensely in love with you the moment they first meet you

Dark shadow thinks you're adorable but says nothing more about their obsession with you

when you met them before UA they absolutely cannot handle being around you in a 10-foot radius

Eventually, though they do try and become a friend of yours

After that, it's a hop on the manipulation train, my dude

they basically make you see them as your savior from a mean uncaring world

they love talking to you about things that make you happy and loving you in little ways

hugs, hand holding, a lot of time it's just a little peck (haha) on the cheek

they love living with you though, like really love it

they like baking and making dinner for you

but especially baking

like really, baking

the manipulation they use makes it seem like everything is okay when you only talk to them so that's what you do and to you, it seems so much better than anything you could do

they haven't come out to you by the time you come out to them so your trans journey really helps them figure things like that out as well

The first time you explain that gender is a made-up construct they're like "yeah......isn't that how everyone feels? Like, not a gender????" we love this for them

you both kind of heal each other through this process

they like seeing you when you're most comfortable so they get you as many binders as you need

also gets you a custom binder like Sero but with feather designs, not like stupid printable patterns but something that is soft and the softness isn't feathers it's regular fluffy cloth

idk I'm not a designer that's why I gave up and became a writer lmao

they also get you a compression corset because they're emo

if there is surgery it takes a lot of time to convince them

they don't ever want you to regret anything they helped you with so it takes a lot of long-winded conversations about it

there was a lot of nervousness on their part because (this is just my headcanon) they were almost convinced to get surgery to construct their face to look human-like

they had a lot of their family tell them that, because of the way they looked, they had less of a chance to become a hero, they were immensely traumatized by this and thus wants to make absolutely sure you were okay with this

but when they finally find themself comforted by you about it it happens quickly and in the safest way you could possibly imagine

Shinso Hitoshi

Shinsou didn't want to approach you at all, he was so scared you'd run away or tell him he's a villain

they always thought that they weren't good enough for you

he loved you but you needed to say hi first

and you did

so he whisked you away

they like to just brainwash you into tasting certain types of food when you're craving them instead of just getting you food

he likes to talk to you in a voice like he would talk to a kitten, not like husky or anything sexy, but something cute and adorable

especially when you're brainwashed and can't say anything to him

He likes to give you lots of soft stuff like I'm talking pillows upon pillows and squishmallows

once he gets his own house they get it in a place that's more comforting in the dark than in the light

they really like the dark and outdoorsy vibe anyway so if they choose a place somewhere in the forest to keep you what's the added bonus if no one can hear you scream?

a little bit of spice; he has this whole a/b/o fantasy (idk it's his vibes that he'd read that fanfic and stuff lmao) and kinda treats you like you were an omega

sometimes if you guys do have sex they'll brainwash you to act like an omega or once he's more experienced with bodily manipulation involving their quirk they'll make you do all of the......omega things

when you come out to them, if you're trans, they're definitely gonna not care

like if you need comfort and stuff about it they will not make a big deal about it

he legit is like "okay .....can I still fuck you or?????"

HE JUST GIVES OFF REALLY HORKNEE VIBES OKAY?????

definitely brainwashes you into not feeling dysphoric anymore though

like loves it when you come up all sad to him and uncomfy just to ask them to brainwash you

he melts over you cuddling them after those times though

if you want surgery they're gonna make sure that it's between him and the doctors that y'all are there

like no one knows you're there, completely off radius, in and out like nothing (he's basically a cryptid in the woods by the time you guys have the surgery, so they wanna make sure no one questions it)

Monoma Neito

bold of you to assume that man can express literally anything when he wants to just sit you on his lap and look at your pretty face

love at first sight taken literally but not in a shallow way

he loves just having you around him

kinda treats you as an accessory at times, talks like you're a purse or something and people don't really comment but it's really freaking them out sometimes when you don't speak up on it

likes to say he's the only one to understand you cause he's afraid you'd leave him

a hardcore fan of collars though

definitely has lots of jewelry that represents him even though you don't go out he still loves the idea of it

big time cook

loves providing for you, never lets you do a damn thing other than watching pre-approved cartoons and hobbies

absolute fucking disaster about hugging you

always has to be touching you

he thinks you're so fucking gorgeous and body worships you even out of the bedroom

if you're trans he will definitely be weird about it at first

he's just diet transphobic

he's not denying it but sometimes he's like "Are you sure???" and stuff

he clears this up with the help of you being pissed enough to not eat or talk to him until he apologizes

he then educates himself on it and comes to the conclusion that he was in fact being an asshole

talks to you about binders and stuff like that

doesn't really believe in surgery, he would never allow you to do that just because it would be too painful for him to see you go through

he instead literally searches the whole fucking globe for a person with a body-altering quirk to make sure you don't get hurt

he seeks out homophobes, transphobes, and other dumbasses on the regular just to kill them like literally it just started out for your approval but now it's just for fun

Anyway, the villain one (if I do it) will probably become just horknee brain rot cause I am a slut. Request some stuff and I'll try to put up some works if y'all want ig.

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 3 years

Note

Can u do headcanons (swf and nfws) for underbite x scowl?

I....holy shit, anon? You got some big meat for a brain, what the fuck?

SFW!!;

Scowl and Underbite at first didn't get along, mainly from Underbite’s end. He thought Scowl swinging his weight like he owned the place was HIS thing (he ate Nuon City, case you didn’t know), and Scowl didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t wreck shit without him hogging the spot light.

But then Scowl finally revealed that he knows Underbite. The only fuck in this bitch that knows that he ATE Nuon City. That was enough of a stroke of his ego to get them to being fucking BROS.

Scowl is California dumbfuck, while Underbite is southern dipshit. Together, they make negative two braincells.

They’re CONSTANTLY fighting with one another, but like, physically. You leave them alone long enough, you’ll find them playing like big, dumb, oversized puppies. It’d be cuter if it didn’t topple buildings during.

They also have drink offs. Both have mad alcohol tolerance, but Scowl pretty much always wins.

They WILL find an excuse to carry the other. It will happen, you cannot stop this.

Underbite maybe able to eat a lot more, but Scowl can eat a bigger variety of food. This dude can, and WILL eat a plastic bag if he gets bored enough.

Underbite is prone to tummy aches, so after Scowl calls him a giant pussy, he rubs his tum for him. Sometimes Underbite fakes it so he does it anyway.

They both like to feel up their muscles. Like “bro you’re so ripped dude” “But YOU’RE so swoll bro???” its so goddamn stupid.

They like sunbathing. When they tuckered themselves out, you will see them out in the sun, taking a nap and cuddling like puppies. You’ll even see Scowl’s tail around Underbite during.

Scowl thinks Underbite’s wagging tail is so cute. Underbite doesn’t like it when he comments on it, but Scowl thinks his embarrassment is so cute. He’ll even call him cute in front of everyone if he has to.

They aren’t afraid to let anyone know they’re dating each other. underbite often calls him his mech, and Scowl fully uses ‘boyfriend’ quite freely.

NSFW!!;

Them fucking is....a lot. You WILL hear it, something WILL break, and it will not stop for a WHILE.

It isn’t that they’re kinky. It’s the fact that they just like causing a ruckus. They laugh, they throw each other around, they bump into stuff. All of it is stupid, wreckless foreplay.

Underbite bottoms most of the time. He just likes the idea of being taken care of (and doing less work), and Scowll likes holding him down, so it works. More often than not, they do it doggy style.

They love some good, drunk fucking. If you don’t take them out of the room, Underbite WILL get fucked on the pool table. It HAS happened before.

Sometimes Scowl just doesn’t want to move. When he’s in that rare, lazy mood, Underbite eats that pussy like no one’s business. Scowl is the better spike sucker though.

Lots of dirty talk. They prefer stuff like ‘big boy’ and ‘dipshit’. It’s honestly kinda cute tbh. Like, if you ignore the loud, caveman like grunting from the both of them, they’re a cute couple.

They both like smearing overload’s in each other’s faces. They are NOT clean when they fuck, and that’s how they like it.

They have cute collars for one another when they do it. Scowl wears it because he thinks he looks fine, but Underbite wears it for his leash. Tbh this is as kinky as they get.

They will spank each other’s ass as often as possible. During missions, in front of the pack, fuck it, asses need slappin.

Underbite is surprisingly more of a valve user, while Scowl prefers using his spike. Makes it perfect for when Underbite just wants something to ride while Scowl looks at some dirty mags.

After a good, firm fucking, you wouldn’t believe how tender they are after. Total cuddle bugs.

#asks #lemon #scowl #underbite #i #have a new ship

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butitprobablyis · 3 years

Text

Interview with a swinger

The Interviewee: A woman in her late twenties. Thin. Attractive. Brown Eyes.

Q: Had you ever been to an orgy before?

Woman: No.

Q: Why did you want to go?

Woman: My boyfriend was into trying it out.

Q: It was his idea?

Woman: Yeah.

Q: You had never been interested before?

Woman: No, I’ve always been sort of curious.

Q: So you must have known a little about them?

Woman: My girlfriends in college told me about them. There are places, you know? They don’t advertise them. It’s like, you have to know somebody who knows somebody. If you’re a guy, it’s harder to get in. I mean, you have to come with a girl. If you’re a girl though, they let you in. It’s like, they don’t even charge you anything.

Q: Why is that?

Woman: ‘Cause girls – we’re like money, you know what I mean? It’s like, how can a guy have too many wives in a harem? We’re totally made to be fucked, right? Like, come on! You can be on top, you can tell yourself you’re fucking the guy, but the jizz always goes inside you. It’s the way we’re made. The more of us are there are to fuck, the better these places look.

Q: So you went with your boyfriend?

Woman: We swung first.

Q: What was that like? Let’s talk about that.

Woman: My boyfriend’s boss from his summer job had a place and invited us.

Q: A place?

Woman: A house.

Q: So he was older?

Woman: Yeah, he was older, mid-thirties, maybe even older. And married, of course.

Q: So you guys hung out after work?

Woman: Yeah. His boss was totally into me. You can tell when guys are into you, especially older guys. We were all good friends.

Q: How old were you?

Woman: 23.

Q: Was it just the four of you?

Woman: Yeah.

Q: What happened?

Woman: I was horny all day, in class, thinking about it. There’d be days when I knew I was going to fuck my boyfriend, but this was different. All day you know a guy’s going to be fucking you – a stranger essentialy. His cock is going to be inside you, fucking you, and I was wet. I got into this space, you know, where I started imagining my boyfriend’s boss was giving his wife to my boyfriend so he could fuck me. I mean, even though that’s totally not what it was about, but it sort of was too? The men were trading their women. It was mercantile. I got into this space where I was like objectifying myself!

Here I was, you know, in law school. I was going to be a professional. I was smart, magna cum laude but tonight I was (imagining it all) going to be on my knees, bent over, with a man’s cock filling me from behind. It’s like I we can’t escape our biology. No matter what else I achieve in life, a woman’s biology is to be on her hands and knees, naked, wet, clawing, grunting, arching her back, offering her pussy so that some man jizzes in her womb at just the right moment. That’s why I’m here, right? That’s why women have pussies. [She laughs.] So, anyway, that’s my kink. Totally my kink. I’m a feminist, but I’m like discovering this about myself – my kink.

Q: I’ve heard that from other women.

Woman: It’s totally biological. It gets fierce. It’s like a craving. I know women who totally refuse to admit that’s what it is. That time of the month comes around and without even thinking about it you’re looking at guys who totally turned you off the week before. You want to be fucked. You don’t want “love making” [air quotes] – you want to be fucked, hard, and permanently, You know what I mean? Your body wants a baby inside – wants the hard cock right there. [She squirms and laughs.] Sorry. I’m going to need a minute. Now I’m all hot.

Q: So you’re saying women are turned on by pregnancy?

Women: It’s my kink, ok? I mean, I shouldn’t generalize.

Q: You just did.

Women: There’s some corner of my sexual psyche that wants to be objectified and used. I think there are a lot more women like that, but won’t say it. You can’t. You don’t really want to be treated that way. You just want that possessiveness, that feeling you get from a guy, like there’s nothing on the motherfucking earth that matters as much as you, coming inside you. It’s insane, right? – but I totally get off on that.

Q: So what was it like?

Woman: My boyfriend and I had a leash and collar we used to play around with. I made him put it on me. I put on a tube skirt and a blazer. I didn’t wear any panties.

Q: Because of what it symbolized?

Woman: We showed up at his boss’s house after dark. His wife came to the door. My heart was beating like crazy. She takes me by the hand [she laughs] and I must have looked terrified, like some sort of sacrificial lamb. She doesn’t let go of my hand. She’s totally all over me. She asks me if I want anything to drink. We’re in this beautiful kitchen, marble counter top and brushed metal appliances, and there are cute little hors d'oeuvres on the counter. Everything is clean. There’s nothing skanky about it and I really appreciated that because, you know, it’s one thing to imagine it and another to actually be doing it. It’s surreal, at first, when you do this stuff, it’s like you go into shock. You feel like you’re not really there, just watching a 3-D movie and, what the fuck, what am I doing in the movie? Like, you forget how to act.

Q: How did it make you feel?

Woman: Like a grownup. I mean, there’s that intense realization. Wow. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m going to fuck and be fucked. I can do what I want. If I want another man’s cock in me I can do it. It’s my life – my experience.

Q: Then what?

Woman: So we just small talk at first. The guys are standing together, drinking beer, and pretty soon they’re both staring at us, staring at our boobs, like men do, at the shapes our bodies make. They’re not hiding anything, and it’s kind of a turn on. They want us. We’re, like, the reason they’re there. We’re the women. It’s hot. She’s seen the leash. She gives me a nodding smile. She totally gets it. You know? I could tell. She’s into it. She pulls the leash so that she pulls my lips to hers. She starts kissing me. I had this girlfriend when I was in college so I’m not put off by anything like that. She’s kissing me, holding my leash in one hand, running the fingers of her other hand over my breasts (not as big as hers) and over my hips and legs. The guys start moving toward us but she says ‘uh-uh’ and shakes her head. OK, so I should describe this. We’re both sitting on bar stools, at an island, facing each other. The guys are leaning on the island and watching us.

She licks my ear and pinches my nipples. I’ve got my hands on her knees. She’s wearing a skirt, so they’re bare. She whispers: ‘My husband is going to fuck you.’ The way she says that almost makes me squirt. She runs her hand up between my knees and touches my cunt. ‘Oh, good girl!’ she whispers. ‘So wet, and no underwear. My husband has a thing for young girls. He’s been wanting to fuck you for such a long time. I’ll take care of your boyfriend and you be a good girl.’

Pretty soon I’m panting, shaking too. I’m hot. She stops fingering me and pulls the top of my tube skirt down over my breasts, like she was unwrapping me, showing me off to her husband. She pushes up the hem of the tube skirt until I can just feel the air on the crack of my ass. Then she’s pulling me down until I’m on my knees. I start to go on my hands but she pulls me upright by the leash.

“What do you think?” she asks her husband.

My mouth is open. My breasts are heaving. I’m looking up at him. There’s a psychological thing that goes on. We’d hung out before. Sometimes we had talked. He’d ask me about school, what I was studying, where I was from, politics – but it was always as equals. That’s just the way you talk to people. I mean, I know guys are always checking women out, women do it too, but it’s like we sort of make ourselves forget that we’re talking to a man or woman. We’re still equal but we’re not.

Q: What do you mean?

Woman: I went into that space I fantasized about. That fact that I’m in law school that fact that we talked politics and argued about religion, doesn’t matter. I’m a girl for him to fuck and that’s all I am. His cock is already out, like he’s showing it to me, like he’s showing me what our relationship is now. His wife hands him my leash and it’s like she’s giving me to him. I’m so lightheaded I could fall over. He’s not going to talk to me. We are and aren’t equals. He’s looking at me like he’s always wanted to. He’s going to fuck me. He takes the leash and guides my mouth onto his cock, like he was saying: This is what I’ve always thought about you. And there’s something totally feminine about being on your knees and sucking a man’s cock. It’s like there’s a switch that goes off inside me. It’s like my brain shuts off. (You always hear that about guys, but it’s true for women too.) It’s like dancing, and the men take the lead. We’re programmed that way. I’m in that biological role I was telling you about. Once his cock is in my mouth, it’s like I’m totally the female. I’ve submitted. That’s where I belong. I’ve acknowledged that I’m the female – his cock is in my mouth. I’m just there for his cock.

Q: What about your boyfriend?

Woman: It was super hot knowing that he was watching me, watching me take another man’s cock in my mouth and serve another man. And I loved how his shape was different and his cock tasted different. Yeah. See? I’m a woman.

Q: So it was just you and your boyfriend’s boss putting on a show.

Woman: No, my boyfriend was getting his cock sucked. Guys are like that, you know? I think women like it too. It’s like this dance we use to establish our roles and sexes. Men stand up and we get on our knees and start out by sucking their cocks. It’s like, when we suck their cocks, we’re showing them that’s how we submit to them. We submit to our biological role. We’re ready to be fucked.

Q: Really? I sort of associate that thinking with men.

Woman: Don’t get me wrong. It’s just my kink. Some women say sucking a man’s cock is like claiming him. It’s like saying: You’re mine. It’s taking control. A man is totally helpless when you suck him. He’ll do anything – like a boy. Yeah, you feel my lips? My mouth? It’s my body. Don’t you forget it. Look at me when I suck your cock. Worship me. And it’s like you’re tasting them. You’re getting to know them. You’re going to make them groan. You’re going to make them want you and only you.

Q: What happened next?

Woman: He fucked me.

Q: Just like that?

Woman: We went to their living room. It was really beautiful in there. Everything about their house is beautiful. I just have to say – I just want to say for any couple thinking of swinging – I just want to say: Clean. Your. House! I mean, what the fuck? Wash the windows, windex the countertops, brush your toilets, fold your clothes and make your fucking bed. If you swing at a house and the house is all dirty, dusty and skanky, like I’m not supposed to think you’re not just as skanky? Like a really want to have sex with you? And take a shower. Soap your cock and your ass.

Q: Have you ever been in a house like that?

Woman: Not to swing. We were at a couple’s house and they invited us, but I was totally turned off by the cleanliness of their house. We didn’t do it.

Q: So they took you to the living room.

Woman: And he took me from behind. I made me crawl there on my hands and knees as he pulled me by the leash. At that moment I was just this girl on a leash being led to the living room for her fuck. Our relationship had totally changed. He was going to just ram me from behind.

Q: You like repeating that phrase.

Woman: That’s totally my kink. It’s freeing, you know? Fuck, put a leash on me and it changes me. I just turn myself over. It’s like I don’t need to have an orgasm. Just completely turning myself over to a man, being his female, being his fuck, is the orgasm. Just being a woman is an orgasm. You know what I mean? Being Yin. Totally giving yourself up to your femininity in the presence of a man. It frees his masculine energy. It’s powerful. You totally become the focus of it.

Q: So he fucked you from behind?

Woman: It’s my favorite position. It’s feral. It’s just one more thing that feeds into my kink. It’s like the ultimate acknowledgment of our sexuality. I don’t know – I guess I prefer that position when it’s not my boyfriend. It’s like you’re telling the man: This isn’t love making. I don’t want to see you. I just want your cock. I want you fuck me. I need to be fucked.

Q: So how did it end?

Woman: I was screaming. It was wild. He just kept fucking me. My boyfriend comes really fast. He gets hard again, but his boss (and knowing it used to be his boss was a turn on too) just kept fucking me and pulling back on the leash so that I was, like, dizzy.

Q: That wasn’t scary?

Woman: No, I put my hands behind, like I was reaching for him, so it would make the collar tighter.

Q: But you could breathe.

Woman: When I came, I looked right at my boyfriend.

Q: What did he think?

Woman: He said I had this look on my face, like I was apologizing, then my eyes rolled and I just started jerking. I was totally limp when he let me slowly down, by the leash. My hands were palm up, almost at my ankles, my cheek was on the floor and my ass was up. I waited. We had already agreed before we started.

Q: Agreed?

Woman: Yeah, about condoms and stuff. I was on the pill and we were all monogamous. [She laughs.] Well, you know what I mean. Not monogamous. We were careful about who we slept with. We didn’t go to orgies and fuck complete strangers. We were monogamous swingers.

Q: So what did you agree to?

Woman: I was totally limp. My pussy was still lifted behind me, still filled by his cock, and all I could do was stare blankly. So his wife, she’s spooning with my boyfriend, reaches over and starts stroking my hair. ‘She’s so sweet,’ she says. ‘She’s lovely. What a pretty girl.’ She turns my head so that we’re looking at each other. ‘Your eyes are beautiful. I want to see them when my husband fills your flat little belly with his sperm.’ Then he’s thrusting again and I’m moaning like I was in pain. ‘Do it, honey,’ she says to her husband. ‘She’s ready. She’s yours. She’s old enough. Take her.’ He holds my hip and pulls me back against him so hard that I lift my head off the floor and whine. He’s spurting inside me and it feels so good. He’s deep. I mean, he’s bigger than my boyfriend so I feel it differently, like I’m going to come again but I don’t. When he lets go of me I just fall flat on my belly, legs spread out, his come pooling on the floor between my thighs.

Q: And your boyfriend was OK with this?

Woman: You know, that was the most amazing thing about the experience. I was surprised. I wasn’t jealous, and he wasn’t either, because the whole time we were sharing the experience. I was always aware of him and he was always aware me. It was like we were still making love to each other. [She smiles.] But when we got home, he was a bull. It was like he had to fuck all of his boss’s come out of me. He couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom. He put me on my back, spread my legs, knees up, and fucked me right there on the entry room floor. He wouldn’t let me move until I had come on his cock and he had filled me.

Q: He was possessive.

Woman: [She smiles.] It’s become the best part of swinging. We laugh about it.

Q: So you had a good experience.

Woman: Yeah, I had a great experience. And I guess I was lucky.

Q: Are you and your boyfriend still together.

Woman: Yes. We’re married.

Q: Do you still swing?

Woman: We’re not looking for new couples, if that’s what you’re asking.

Q: And you’re a lawyer?

Woman: I’m a state prosecutor. [She smiles.] Who likes to be fucked from behind.

Q: You probably don’t talk about that in your feminist circles.

Woman: No. I do. I mean, not specifics but feminism isn’t monolithic. It means giving women the freedom to be who they want to be, not what men or other women tell them to be, right? I don’t like pornography but I’m not going to tell a woman she should somehow be ashamed of herself. You know, show me a country where there’s no pornography and I’ll show you a country will women are second class citizens, where women have no freedom.

Q: So, do you have any other advice?

Woman: Swinging can be fun and healthy, but you have to know your relationship. If you go into swinging and you’re keeping secrets, if you’re not both totally open and committed, then that’s when things go wrong. Swinging isn’t cheating. Swinging isn’t betrayal. Swinging doesn’t negate your wedding vows. Swinging is just another way to express your love for each other while sharing it with another couple who are also in love and in a committed relationship. If any of those elements are missing, swinging isn’t going to work. Somebody is going to get hurt.

#stolen #smut

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purplesunrisefanfic · 4 years

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Sub!Abby/Dom!Nora Headcannons

Warnings:

Warning for lifestyle BDSM and sexually explicit content. There’s swearing and some use of a sexist slur (but only between two women for kinky name-calling reasons.) Body piercing and the strain of working as medic are mentioned. So are sub/Dom drop. There is some switching. Also, I do get increasingly gooey and hurt/comfort near the end.

Some of these got sexied up by @pinkchubbiebunnie in her post on this subject so they may look familiar ❤️

As usual no read more because the Tumblr app and Timblr mobile site SUCK. Apologies.

Now let’s get kinky:

Abby is envy about how Nora can always seem so cool and confident while she is just dripping mess so often.

Even more so because Nora can just naturally and breezily go from talking to Abby normally to talking like she owns her (coz she does) and back again as other people enter and leave earshot while Abby is always unsubtly clearing her throat whenever someone walks in.

In fact, she’s so scared she’ll accidentally call Nora Sir in front of someone else one day that she has literally planned exactly how she will make it out to be a joke just in case she needs to save face.

Abby envies this even more because she knows that Nora isn’t any less prone to feeling insecure or having lapses in confidence than she is, she’s just way better at hiding it.

Even when she really wants to fight back or be a brat, Abby just physically cannot, like her muscles just melt or rebel at even the idea of defying Nora because they know who they belong to.

Abby sometimes tries to avoid getting patched up by Nora especially if it’s not in private bc she knows she’ll be in trouble if there’s any signs she was reckless.

She feels torn about that though because even while she’s getting the look of “You know what a bad girl you’ve been and you know you are gonna pay for it” she still feels so soothed by Nora’s touch.

But Abby’s efforts to control who treats her make no difference anyhow because Nora knows exactly what she’s up to even though she doesn’t let on. Nora only lets Abby get patched up by someone else if Abby’s injuries are way minor.

The other medics figure that’s just a regular protective gf thing, which it totally is as well but it’s also about being possessive over who might be involved in any lasting/permanent marks on what’s hers.

Being in control with Abby soothes some of Nora’s work-related traumas. Her opinion as a medic is held in high regard for the most part but some soldiers are just too stubborn with medical advice. It can be pretty rough on Nora when she knows a patient of hers isn’t going to listen, no matter what she says, and will go back out too early and sometimes wind up returning dead or dying. So it’s really soothing that when it comes to the person she loves most in the world, she doesn’t have these worries.

Nora makes Abby do menial manual things quite a lot, she’s actually ambivalent about making Abby do this kinda stuff, or at least she would be ambivalent about it if it wasn’t so blatant that Abby loves just being treated like her grunt muscle.

They’re actually pretty much the same intelligence-wise, but Abby simps for how much medical and hospital logistics knowledge Nora has and just has warm fuzzies getting to be her trained pet taking orders and knowing there’s well-planned logistics but not knowing herself what they are. It’s like the opposite of being a soldier and needing to be observant, she can just be switched-off eye candy trusting in someone else.

Needless to say, Nora loves said eye candy. Abby doesn’t get to wear too much in their apartment unless it’s really cold.

She’d never admit it, but Nora low-key wants Abby to call her Daddy and hates that with what happened to Jerry she can’t ever see herself risking bringing that up with Abby.

She resents that even more bc she (correctly) feels sure that Abby would’ve absolutely loved that.

Abby can always tell, even in a busy place, whether it’s Nora or someone else snapping their fingers.

When Nora snaps her fingers, the rest of the world disappears. Like instant subspace, Abby could be next to clicker and forget all about it instant.

Nora gives the subtlest, carefully considered hints of underlying affection while seemingly objectifying Abby and it’s just exactly what her pet beefcake needs to feel that undercurrent of love while she gets off on being used.

Abby spends that much time on her knees that she sometimes forgets that Nora isn’t actually taller than her.

And not just on her knees eating Nora out (though she does that a lot) but just generally kneeling like a good girl for Sir.

Abby would physically drool over the idea of wearing a collar 24/7 if she thought about it for too long. Nora would physically drool if she looked at Abby wearing a collar for too long.

Abby is free to masturbate alone when she wants to but she’s not allowed to orgasm from it. She’s never broken that rule and she’d actually be upset if she somehow did come with Nora’s permission.

She worries it might be a little messed-up to feel this way but Nora really enjoys knowing that she’s only partner that has made Abby orgasm. Sorry not sorry Owen, you did not seem good in bed.

Abby ends up being such a good girl that Nora decides to start giving her regular maintenance punishments because Abby doesn’t like to go too long without one.

Nora is near constantly torn between how much she enjoys Abby fingers inside her versus how much she enjoys seeing the intense pining when she doesn’t let Abby do that for a while.

That’s Nora’s favourite problem to have.

Remember the Abby’s hair + rope bondage fantasy? Yeah, Nora is a pro at that.

Nora uses Abby’s braid like a leash, and tells Abby that wherever she is, anytime her hair is braided then she’s basically wearing her leash.

Abby tries so hard not to think about that on patrol, but if there isn’t any actual danger to keep her busy, she sometimes can’t help but think about it.

Abby keeps an eye out for suitable jewellery, and if she ever found some she would love for Nora to pierce her navel or one of her nipples.

When Nora gets Dom-drop Abby carries Nora in her arms so she can hold her tight and feel her strength while she tells her how much she loves her and loves their relationship. Nora feels kinda weightless with the way Abby holds her and it’s so reassuring.

When Abby gets sub-drop Nora wraps herself around Abby from behind, skin-to-skin, and leans her face in next to Abby’s. She strokes her neck and whispers praise.

They don’t switch often because they’re pretty full-on lifestyle but when they have a kind of switchy playtime sometimes where Abby gets to run riot with all her brute force strength, picking Nora up, pining her down, manhandling her. She undresses her roughly then mocks Nora for “thinking you’re always in charge when the truth is I could take you down in an instant,” then picks her up by her shoulders and holds her there so her arms and legs dangle in the air, just wanting to prove that she’s powerless. Abby enjoys getting her own back by embarrassing Nora for once, and she likes to hold their faces very close so she can spot the slight changes in the hue of her skin when she makes Nora blush. “You thought you could hide your blushes from me? I know you too well for that, darling. That pretty face of yours can’t keep any secrets from me. No more than the rest of your body. I don’t even need to look or touch to know that you’ll dripping wet for me by now. That little sting of shame burning your cheeks always makes you a needy little bitch, doesn’t it?”

When they’re having those switchy scenes, Nora gets off on denial. No-one is really sure if it’s a power play that intensifies Abby’s status as (temporary) Dom because she edges and torments Nora but never lets her come, or whether it’s actually the opposite, intensifying their background dynamic because in that respect Abby gets a lot less power when she plays Dom.

Either way, Nora finishes up blissfully satisfied about her lack of satisfaction. Even more so because the next time they play, Nora back as Dom and Abby back remembering that all the muscles in the world won’t stop her from being Nora’s little bitch, she’ll make Abby plead to be allowed to give Sir an orgasm.

Abby begs harder than she ever does for her own orgasms.

A fact with makes Nora feel like a goddess, whilst also being so much fun to rub Abby’s nose in.

“Aww listen to little Abby beg just to please me. She likes to think she’s so strong with all that time in the gym. But no amount of time keeping up that facade will change the reality, Abigail. Deep down, you’re no big, strong brute, just a helpless little girl. My helpless ickle pet, so desperate for approval you’d do anything to please me, wouldn’t you?”

Abby melts then admits Nora is right.

Then Nora tells Abby only one of them of them gets to come tonight and makes Abby decide who it is.

She always chooses Nora.

And never regrets it.

And in amongst all kink of it, that makes Nora feel so nurtured.

Fair warning: this is where it becomes obvious that FEELINGS are my ultimate kink onto which all other kinks collapse...

Yeah, there’s that intense thing where it’s like the way a sub can adore you and nurtures you that makes it so much easier to be strong and tough than it would otherwise be, and dealing with everything in that world and all the injuries Nora and having to be strong with all the horrors, it’s like it’s easier for Nora to be strong in all the ways she needs to just to live that life.

They like doing little things to look after each other because they both know the feeling where they are assumed to be super tough and don’t need to be nurtured but ofc they need and deserve softness.

This ship makes me wish I had the words to explain how all the kinky stuff is low-key so soft imo.

Abby doesn’t get into much trouble but one way she sometimes does is being too much of an overprotective gf when other people are involved.

Oh and Dom or not, Nora is still little spoon and sleeps 1000% better for it.

Hope y’all liked these. AMA (esp anything kinky) about Abby/Nora or Abby/Ellie or other ships I ship because I have the feels.

#abby anderson #nora harris #abby x nora #my hcs #cw #a.s.s. shipping taskforce

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kpop-ruined-my-social-life · 4 years

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Taeyong NS*W Alphabet

Gonna put this under the cut cause I know some of yall wanna get to some other writings or something + these can get super long with all the gaps

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Big on aftercare but you share the responsibility, esp if he is super tired after

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Loves his arms and hands, honestly he is fine choking you if you want him to but just know he isn’t going to do it hard because it low key scares him when you gasp for breath. On you he loves your collarbones, marks them all the time and kisses them, likes giving you shoulder massages for this reason

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Clean, wears a condom and if he cums on you he wipes it away almost immediately

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to try pet play, ears and collar and maybe even the leash but that is really it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None really, but he knows what he thinks he’ll like you know what I mean?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Likes being able to see each other’s face so you can tell if something is going wrong, he doesn’t want to hurt you and doesn’t want to go over any boundaries even if you have a safeword he is just a sweet boy so

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

When trying something new or a new toy or something that can be funny, like him holding a small vib and trying to figure out how to turn it on or if it is dead or something makes you both crack up, one time he lost the cuffs to your handcuffs and he had to break the middle so you could help him look, turns out it was literally on the bed side table just behind a cup

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Honestly doesn’t groom that much but that is because he doesn’t grow a lot of hear there, it is a bit thick but def isn't that long so he doesn’t think he needs to that often

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Pretty intimate but because he is new to it he is also just sometimes super awkward

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Maybe 3 times a week at most, 1 a week at least

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

If he is in dom space he wants to tie you up and do anything and everything you’ll let him. If he is in sub space make him feel used but not abused.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Mainly the bedroom but you have done it in a dressing room a few times before or after shows

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Literally random, he is still in that phase of random things turning him on even if they shouldn’t or wouldn’t most of the time even though he is a bit older and out of his teenage years

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As soon as he senses too much pain he is s o f t he doesn’t want to hurt you or be hurt too much so it just wont come up

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Likes both giving and receiving alike doesn’t matter to him

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Changes, if it is a quickie or he is in hard dom space then def rough and fast if soft dom and taking time then slow and sweet wants to make you feel loved

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn’t prefer them but def is not opposed to them either

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He would risk everything except too much pain and/or getting caught he just doesn’t like the thought of hurting you or him and doesn’t want someone else to ever see him or you like that because that is only for the two of you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Decent but he only goes like one round of both foreplay and sex every time you guys do it, can go more if you want but most of the time he is just too tired

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Down to try anything, doesn’t really want to try pegging or like cock cages or something but def will use simple toys quiet often

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Tease? Him? He would nneeeevvveerrrr? Nah he is the biggest tease. Even when he doesn’t realize it he is teasing proven fact

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud whines but low and quiet groans and moans, sometimes whimpers but only when he cums and sometimes he gasps when something feels super super good and breaths super heavy no matter what

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Loves mutual masturbation, esp if you guys are like watching a movie or something and just slipping a hand down the other’s pants. He doesn’t know why but it is just the best

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Pretty average, prob like 6-6.5in, below average thickness but he learns how to make up for his shortcomings super fast

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high but can hold off until it is literally painful. Maybe 4 times a week minimum, if he is holding off 1-2 times a week, at most like 1 a day or even more

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty much right after everything is over he is turned over facing you or laying on his stomach and off to dream land

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years

Text

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter XI

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA+18

Overall Warning: Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.

Chapter Warning: Character devolving.Graphic sex. Torture. Rape Necrophilia. Heavy trigger warnings!

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other. Boys will be boys…

A/N: This chapter might be a hard read, but it's supposed to be because Hvitserk is devolving. It's hard to explain without giving too much of the story away, but trust me, there's a reason for this. I hope I did a good job showing the struggle within the character.

Chapter XI

I don't remember this ever being so stressful. Maybe it's because we've never taken two of them before. Well, we’ve had two in the same night, but never two at the same time.

I thought it was logistically impossible, but Ivar had everything planned to the letter. He's brilliant – a tactical genius. Just being able to think of every move before it happens, all of the calculated risks, even the reactions…if I could have his looks, charisma, and his brains? I’d be the total package.

Even though every part of the plan worked perfectly, there’s still something nagging at me. All of this feels off. Of course, Ives says it’s because I’m just a creature of habit, but I think it’s more than that. We’re doing all kinds of stuff that we have never done before. We’re breaking rules, making shit up…

I’m all for him being spontaneous, but for the first time since we were kids, I can’t read him. Normally, we’re on the same page when it comes to this. We know what the other is thinking by a look or a head nod – but right now? I don’t know what the hell is going on.

He came up with this plan and didn’t tell me about it. He just did shit. Naturally, it worked out; it’s Ivar. But, he just did it...without me.

He said he didn’t want to burden me with the details, that I’ve been so stressed lately, that he just wanted me to sit back and enjoy. I know and trust that he would never do anything to hurt me, and that he always has my best interests in mind, but it’s a little scary not being able to be inside his head.

It’s empty when I can’t feel him.

This bond we share, not as brothers, but as soul mates - being two life forces that are perfectly in-tuned with every aspect of each other…that feeling...he’s slipping away from me.

Now, he’s doing shit that he knows I don’t like. Take drugging them for example – I’m not into that. There’s a big difference between getting high with someone and drugging them. When we get high together, they get to pick their party favor, sit back, and enjoy the ride. It makes our night together so much more fun because we’re both in an alternate reality before anything ever gets started. It’s kinda like Star Treking through the Twilight Zone.

But when you drug a person, you’re taking away their choice. They don’t know what the fuck is going on. They’re all spacey and shit, and I can’t tell if they really want to be there with me, or if it’s the drugs talking. I need them to be able to make the choice. I need them to submit to me and not give up because they’re high.

I know I’m being a bitch about this. He was just doing the best he could to make sure we got both of them. I can’t help but to try to think that had to have been another logical way to do this.

I wonder if Ivar knows that I went inside their house last night? I bet they didn’t know that their bilco doors weren’t locked, or that Ms. Johnson never fixed that cellar entrance from that time when we got in there to get some of her pills, a few years ago. Hmm.

I was good. I didn’t touch anything; I just watched them make love. She is beautiful and the way she looks at him is enough to make me want to lick her face. Her body is amazing. I could tell that from when she was standing in the back yard, but naked? Dainty, pale skin, soft curves...she’s gentle and he was a little too rough with her, for my tastes.

His body was the direct opposite of hers. He’s got defined muscles, hard plains, tanned skin. The way he touched her, picked her up, slapped her ass...you don’t manhandle a woman as delicate as her, like that. It took everything I had not to kill him right there.

But she seemed to like it. He turned her. He destroyed a perfect, angelic being and turned her into his personal blowup doll. That’s why they had come. I have to save her, and he has to pay.

So, what other choice did we have? How else were we supposed to get them here? Drugging them was the lesser of the evils, but fuck...this?

If it was just slipping them something, I could live with that. But what the fuck am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to go through with this if I know their names and their story?

I seriously don’t think I can do this anymore. I mean, I want to. God I really, really want to. But they're like real people now.

I guess it would have been a little weird to just take them out for drinks and not ask them anything about themselves. Well, I didn't ask, not really. That guy, Bishop…what did he say his real name was? Heahmund? Like I gave a fuck. Well, he decided to tell us all about him and his beautiful wife, Aud. And because that shit for brains doesn’t like the natural lull in conversations, we had to find out all about how they just got married and moved out here.

He's from up North and she’s from the back East and apparently, they met someone in the middle, blah, blah, blah... I don’t care about their life story. But I do care that their families back home are going to miss them.

Just talking to them was weird, too. Usually, people only talk to Ivar. But them? They were talking to me, like looking at me and everything. And the way Aud’s eyes twinkled every time she said, Fitz, it was like…wow. I just wanted to keep hearing her say my name over and over again. I almost told her my whole name, just to hear what it sounds in her mouth.

I want to eat my name off her tongue. God, that would be fucking amazing.

Maybe that’s why I started getting hot and dizzy when they got up to dance, and Ivar opens the capsules and dumps the contents into their drinks. I just wanted her to say my name one more time, without being drugged.

"Now!" Ivar's voice fills the cabin and pulls me out of my head. My eyelids feel heavy as I open them. My neck doesn't start to hurt until I reposition myself in this chair. From this new position, I realize that this guy is naked and handcuffed. He’s wearing the dog collar around his neck and Ivar is holding the end of the leash in his hand, practically dragging him around the room.

But, what is that damn rattling noise? Wait, are those the leg shackles? Where the hell did they come from? I thought Ivar got rid of those things months ago.

It hurts my neck, but I still strain it to look around them until I can find Aud.

There she is, sprawled out on the mattress, her arms tied to the metal grates of the fireplace, and her legs are tied to something that Ivar has sticking out of the floor. What in the hell is that, anyway? Whatever it is it looks sturdy enough.

I must say, Ivar's been doing a lot of work fixing this place up. He must have spent a lot of time here when I was out of it before. The lights in the ceiling work…they flicker but, at least, they're on. Most of the other shit has been cleared out, too. Between cleaning up this place and taking care of me, where does he find the time to do anything for himself? I really need to do a better job of taking care of him.

Bishop’s muffled voice is weak as just before he falls over when Ivar puts the cattle prod to his chest. If only there was a way to make him understand that my brother would just as soon electrocute him for the hell of it - it would be in his best interest to just follow along.

If dude thinks it’s bad now, just keep defying, Ivar. He’ll learn.

The sound of my chair leg scratch along the floor makes Ivar’s head turn toward me. His smile splits his face in half and he offers me a wink. "Glad you decided to join us. You woke up just in time." Now that he has an audience, I know he is not going to hold back.

Truth be told, I’m a little sad about that fact. I kinda liked them, Aud & Bishop. It might have been nice to have some friends or possibly get to know some people that Thora and I could go out with as a couple or something. I’d like to hang around some regular couples to see how they do things, get some tips on how to be normal. Judging by how far things went while I was out, there doesn’t seem to be much hope for that now, though.

Oh, well. It’s not like I can do shit about it now; unless blacking out counts. That seems to be all I can do lately. That must be why I'm sitting over here in this lumpy ass chair in this corner, like a child on punishment. I don’t even really remember what happened. One minute Aud was sucking me off and her husband was calling for her. Then I was sad because his voice was breaking my heart. Next thing I know, I’m waking up here, just in time to watch my brother break my two new friends.

"You with me, brother? Come over here, you gotta see how cool this is.” Ivar's face turns from pleasant to harsh when looks back at Heahmund, "I told you to get over there and fuck her. Now! Don’t make me tell you a third time." Did I wake up on planet Quaddork? Ivar usually does the torturing, but now he’s going to use them to do it to each other?

It’s a brilliant idea, but shit if I don’t feel bad about it.

My legs are wobbly, but I make my way over to the mattress and I swear Aud's eyes remind of Thora's when she's afraid. Just the way she's looking at Heahmund to save her, like a kid who needs their daddy to protect them from the things that go bump in the night…fuck. Out of instinct, I kneel down and touch her bare her foot. Even if I can't help her, I just want her to know that I'm here.

She's so scared, but I want her to know that she doesn’t have to be scared of me, “It's okay Thora. I'm not going to hurt you." I need to find her clothes. Her body is on display. Every man in this room, including me, can see her entire naked body. This isn’t right. She needs to be covered up, at least part of her, at all times. When she’s naked, she becomes the parts and the reaction I need and not the woman that I want. She can't be like that. Especially not here and definitely not around my little brother.

"If you don't fuck her, he will." Ivar's voice is harsh causing the tears to run faster from her eyes. "They think I'm fucking around, Serk. Why don’t you show Bishop, here, how it's done?"

I love Thora and I make love to her all the time. But not like this and I won’t do it in front of him. I have to keep something separate, something for myself. "Ivar, please. Keep Thora out of this."

"Aud." Ivar has the leash wound tightly in his hand as he kneels beside me. He strokes my hair and whispers in my ear. "Her name is, Aud."

I nod my head, "Right." That is her name, Aud.

Fuck Aud. She's not Thora. My hand trails her leg and when I reach her hip I hear a scuffle behind me. Bishop is trying to get at me. I guess Ivar’s trying to stop this from happening. I don't know how he managers it, but somehow he’s gotten the larger man on the ground and when he nods his head, I know what he wants me to do. I cover her body with my own and before anything happens, I remove the ball gag from her mouth. "It'll be over soon. I promise."

"Please help me, Fitz?" Her whisper makes my heart skip a beat. I stroke her hair back and focus on her face as she sobs her request. She's so pretty. So innocent. Ivar doesn't understand, we have to protect the innocent ones.

"It's okay, Thora.” I close my eyes as I kiss her forehead. “I'm here.” My thumbs trace the side of her face and I wedge my hips in between her legs.

I just need to look at her for a moment. I want to take in all of this innocence before I possess it.

I hear screaming behind me and it makes me turn around. My brother looks satisfied, he must have gotten his way from the man in the collar. "If you want him to stop, you know what you have to do." He gives the leash some slack before yanking it down forcing the man to kneel on the mattress. Holding his hand out to me, Ivar motions for me to come to him, "You'll have her soon, Serky. Let her husband have a turn."

As soon as her body is exposed again, I realize she's not Thora. She doesn't look like her; her body is not like Thora's. She's laid out and waiting for another man. Thora would never do something like this whore in front of me. Instead, she would be putting up a fight, trying to keep what we have sacred. She wouldn't betray me and lay with someone else.

"Heahmund?" She cries as he says muffled words into the bend of her neck, slowly positioning himself on top of her. He's taking his time, trying his best to stall. Little does he know, he’s just going to piss Ivar off more. I can't take my eyes off of them. All this human interaction is marvelous. "Just do what he says and he'll let us go," her words come out weak and choppy as she tries to reassure him.

"No, he won't," Ivar laughs at my statement. He’s squeezing my shoulders and cracking the fuck up like I just told the joke of the fucking century. I have to admit, his laughter is making me start to giggle, "He's never gonna let you go."

She turns those hopeful eyes towards me and suddenly it’s not funny anymore. "But, you can, right, Fitz?” Why is she nodding at me? Does she want me to agree with her? “I promise we won’t say anything. Please, help me?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ivar's boot come down on Bishop's hip. "I gave you an order, slave," his voice is so calm and even that it scares me. I know that tone – this is the calm before the storm. If this guy doesn’t get his shit together, Ivar’s going to get angry.

I don’t even know to describe what it looks like when Ivar’s angry. That time a few weeks ago, when he had a tantrum because he wanted to go out is nothing compared to when he loses control. It’s like his eyes cloud over to this shade of blue that’s not known to man, and his normally electrifying smile makes him look psychotic. That’s why I usually go into another room when Ivar works. I love to see him happy, but I hate watching him become a monster.

For my little brother to be such a beautiful man, his monster is so ugly. I hate the way it twists his face and how it sucks all the good out of him. It’s like he just becomes a black void, that can only destroy. I know it sounds crazy, but when Ivar’s monster takes control, he’s so ugly because he forgets he loves me.

Judging from the slow transformation in his features, I’d say Bishop’s only got a few minutes to get his shit together before Ivar starts turning, "Just fuck her, like you hate her." I don't know why I'm trying to help him. Maybe it's because I know what he's feeling. I know damn well what I'd be feeling if it was me and Thora.

Bishop pleads with her eyes and she permits him to hurt her. He's slow about it. He's trying to make it as pleasurable as possible, considering. He shouldn’t deviate from the script, just do what the fuck he’s been told. Oh well, I tried to help him. He's not listening to my advice, that’s just too bad for them. Any and everything Ivar does to them now will be on his head. All he had to do was follow the rules. Just let Ivar be in control without trying to be the hero. Now it's his ass. Literally.

Without warning, Ivar shoves the cattle prod into him, causing him to push violently into Aud, making her scream. I can’t stop laughing at the fact that Ivar's going to shock him from the inside until he gets his desired reaction.

"I said fuck her." He sends another shock to help coax him along. It’s not until the husband is behaving like a good boy, does Ivar pat floor next to him for me to join him.

I trust that Ivar knows what he’s doing. I’m sure that he wants me beside him, getting a front-row view because there’s a lesson here that I need to learn. I’m just too tired and confused to concentrate on it. My mind keeps wandering and I can’t seem to stay fully in this moment.

As soon as my head lands on his lap, his strong fingers gently rub my scalp. It’s almost enough to make me want to go back to sleep. Only, I can’t stop watching this man fuck his wife with so much force because he's afraid to have me do it. I don’t know if I’m enjoying this. It’s a little too fucked up, even for me.

"Punch her." I didn’t even realize how heavy my lids were until Ivar’s voice broke my concentration. He’s just saying the first thing that jumps in his head, now. I can tell by that boyish chuckle of his. Sending another shock to Bishop makes him react like a trained monkey. Each time he sends a charge, Aud gets another punch to her face. Each punch she gets, makes Ivar laugh. Every laugh from him, makes me wrap my arms around his waist tighter, and smile.

I can't tell who's crying harder, him or her...poor things.

Ivar's entire body shakes under my head as he laughs, but he never stops massaging my scalp. It’s the weirdest, most comforting sensation. I wonder if it feels like that for him, too. "Good dog. Now, choke her." His Pavlovian response technique seems to be working because he doesn’t even need to shock this guy into playing out his fantasy.

Without any more guidance than just Ivar’s words, a large hand wraps around his wife’s throat, but he’s not applying any pressure. “That’s not hard enough to choke somebody,” Did I just say that? I was thinking about it, but why did the words come out of my mouth? I don’t want him to hurt her. I like her. I have to protect her. If anything, I want to hurt him for hurting her. But, maybe this was his way of trying to keep her safe. Maybe by not choking her, he thought he was appeasing my brother and protecting his wife.

The only problem with his plan is Ivar knows it’s not hard enough to cut off her oxygen supply. "I'm sick of repeating myself to you, dog. You will learn to do what I say." This time when he shocks him, he doesn't let off of the button. He sends the shock waves throughout Bishop’s body in a way that makes the muscles in his hand stiffen, locking around Aud's throat.

Those eyes. All of that innocence seeping out of those eyes with each tear that rolls down her pretty face. She was so beautiful. So angelic. Now she's nothing. Those large eyes are fixed in my direction, staring lifelessly at me, begging me to help her. "Thora?" I reach my hand forward but she doesn't respond.

"You see what he did, Hvitserk? He killed Thora." Ivar's voice is soothing as he tries to console me through my grief. All the loving and coddling in the world can’t fill this empty void suddenly growing inside me. I know what I need to do. This man was twice her size and he raped and strangled this beautiful, innocent creature.

He is evil. "You thought he was your friend, Serk. But now Thora's dead because of him. He needs to be punished."

I stand to my feet in one swift motion and I kick him in the ribs. I watched him kill her. All she wanted was for him to protect her, but he was too weak to do that. Well, I’m not weak.

He is going to pay for failing her.

The cattle prod lands with a crash across the room and I'm inside of him faster than he can recover from it. "You like raping women? Do you like how it feels?" I pound into him ignoring his cries. My weight, on his back, lands him on top of her and he gently shakes her body to try to wake her up. "She's dead, fucker! This is your fault! Why didn't you just fucking listen?" I grunt my words because I'm so angry. How could he let that happen on his watch? He didn't deserve her.

The leash is wrapped so tightly around my hand that the blood no longer circulating in it. With each thrust, I pull back on it until I start to hear the bones in his neck crack under the pressure. He can't die soon enough.

"That's it, Hvitserk. Just like that." Ivar coos from behind me, his lips gently grazing my neck. I know that panting sound he makes when he’s jerking off. When I look over at him, I feel myself smile at the sight of his hand vigorously stroking his cock. The harder he jerks, the harder I thrust. It's like we're finally in sync again, pumping rhythmically with each other.

I didn't understand what he was trying to show me before, but now I do. People like Bishop, the strong ones, they deserve this. They are ones that the world bows to because they're charismatic and exude a presence that people like me don't have; they deserve to be taught a lesson. Ivar has shown me that I'm stronger than I think and that it's my job to let the rest of the world know my strength.

It has nothing to do with the act; this all about power. No matter how many muscles Aud’s husband has or how tough he thinks he is, I'm more powerful than him. She should have known that, too. She should have chosen me to be with, not him. They made the wrong choice by overlooking me. Now they have no choice, I'm the last thing they'll ever see.

Bishop's lifeless body lies limp in the corner until Ivar decides what he's going to do with him. Right now, he sees fit to just stare at him while smokin a joint and listening to music. I, on the other hand, can't get enough of Aud. I don't understand how I could confuse her with Thora before.

Maybe it was something I took before I left the house or maybe it was the helpless, innocent way she looked at me. Whatever it was, I’ve never met someone that could blur everything around me like that. For the briefest moment, I couldn't tell what was real and what was just in my head. Right now, though, being inside her now, I know the truth.

She feels just as soft and just amazing as I thought she would. She didn't see me before, but now she does. I've shown her more care and love that fucking coward she married ever could.

It’s because I need her to see that I can take of her that I can’t stop indulging in her. It’s almost like I need to show her that I’m worthy of the gifts that she's given me. She helped me get back my confidence.

She showed me how to find my strength, and she gave me back my power.

My new neighbor, Aud, saved me.

I want her to feel how much I appreciate everything she's done for me. Every time I cum, I'm hard again, just thinking about what freedom feels like. If I could figure out a way to consume her so she would never leave me, I would…I just don’t want this feeling to ever go away. I've already licked her; tasted her; bit her; cut her and loved her. What other way is there to make her a part of me?

She drove the hunger away. It's not just fed, it's gone. She did that for me. She gave me a chance to have a normal life.

Aud sacrificed herself to cure me. I will forever be in her debt.

Kissing her mouth hungrily, I turn her head to have her eyes focus on me. "Thank you." When I roll on my back to look up at the ceiling, I notice Ivar's smiling face looking down at me. "Did you have fun tonight?”

I look at the hole at the ceiling before cutting my eyes back at him. Rubbing my bare chest I start to laugh, "Ives, tonight was fucking awesome!” Gently placing a hand on Aud’s thigh, I give it a light squeeze, “Thanks, brother. I needed that.”

“Of course,” he says, winking his eye at me, “I will always be my brother’s keeper.”

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loveeveryoneincludingfictional · 3 years

Text

The gory fanfic I talked about (part one)

My Behaviour reform/cult camp aU (it’s from a DnD session and originally was sort of a more magic based place but I decided to abandon magic for this because it wasn’t a well done element and was used so rarely it’s literally better I make this without it at all) I wasn’t sure about publishing this until someone told me to show her off so here she comes. So like triggers for violence and shit, kinda the vague cultish themes and also the angst—oh fuck the angst. Also sorry for slightly short first chapter, I know it’s just 4K words and not to the meat yet but something came up and the eventful chapter needs editing because basically I got so sick I could pretty much sleep, try to live and sleep.

You probably get updates faster if you read this on Archive of our own since it’s my main platform but yeah, I’ll continue to update both. Already slightly gory but not quite.

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Chapter one: Preaching on the old camp grounds.

If he had a choice on this matter, he would’ve probably simply said no way and walked off without a second thought for the matter. He would’ve scoffed at the idea of joining a camp full of people who would probably have violent tendencies and hurt him or be just batshit insane—hell he is scoffing at it now. He’s a guy who just happens to be coming here because of ‘behavioural reform’ since his college councillor decided to suggest it—turns out skipping a lot in high school leads you to being a monitored case when you’re in college, who knew, and then they send you to a summer camp because your parents decided that will work.

But really, Clay has nothing to worry about, he can’t complain in a productive way so he should just be capable of holding his chin high and looking at the positives—such as the fact the scenery is beautiful, a lake opening side camp sounds like a daydream. A tiny bit of therapy here and there for a few months, avoiding everybody who has worse issues than him, easy. He can just play in the water by himself and maybe he can chat up a girl and get himself a girlfriend—he has been meaning to have one of those. Or hell, maybe he’ll just make good friends, who fucking knows. He should be excited, not everyone he meets is going to be a fucking sociopath.

The camp worker greets him, shakes his hand, he calls himself Sparkles (vaguely weird but Clay is literally wearing a mask to cover his face for reasons he has never liked mentioning, so a nickname isn’t the weird thing. It is written on the guys t-shirt, blue with the camp logo with a name sticker on his left breast—however that’s written with a Z, Spanklez, Clay can only assume it to be a writing error or the dude’s handwriting being unclear.)

He explains himself as the captain of Clay’s wing, Clay only slightly laughing at the idea of sparkles wearing an eyepatch with an eye missing or something, pacing up and down a corridor screaming out various pirate like sentences—captain sparkles huh? Or Sparklez, captain sparklez, as the name sticker says.

“I’ll show you your dorm, you’re in the left wing, we’ve got to find Da—TDM somewhere. He should be taking your phone and all that.”

“TDM?” Clay questions, turning his head to the right to drive his confusion in, “Is that like an acronym? what does TDM even stand for?”

“Not quite sure,” Sparkles/z speaks, grabbing Clay’s bag and walking him towards the dorm, “There’s three other guys in already, you were the last to arrive. There’s two more dorms in the left wing, they’re full ones, don’t mind them too much. Then the right wing has another three. If you’re wondering, the girls are in the other building over there, you’re not allowed to go there.”

‘Because murder or because sex?’ is his immediate question, keeping it inside himself with the assumption it is to say no sex—this is supposed to be a camp with high values after all and teen pregnancy probably isn’t something they are exactly looking forward to. Is murder a lighter value? No? But it is more acceptable for a behaviour therapy camp to say ‘oh sociopath’ than ‘oh they fucked’

“You’ve got a room with Sapnap, Techno and Wilbur. Nice boys. If you hear anything weird from them, report it to me or Stampy.”

“Why is Wilbur the only one with a normal name here?” Clay questions, confused beyond anything else. Okay maybe his mask is weird but why are the campers having weird nicknames just like the captains or councilors or whatever the fuck they are—like is this just a thing?

“They give everyone nicknames, I’m sure they’ll give you one soon too. It’s like—you’re supposed to call each other your new names. It’s something like a rebirth to have a new name, a new beginning. Wilbur isn’t Wilbur’s name either, it just ended up being his nickname.”

He supposes that makes sense, also makes sense why he hasn’t called him Clay yet. He supposes that may be a good idea, he isn’t sure about it, it doesn’t feel like a horrible idea to have nicknames for any purposes but especially for improved behaviour and shit? But then again, he assumes he’s one of the less insane kids so Clay seems like it would fit anyway.

The door opens and he steps in, noting of everybody inside the dorm and making quick profiles.

There’s a guy with pink, dyed, hair sat on the floor. The guy seems sort of unfocused on what he seemed to be doing, doodling on a piece of paper, instead inspecting the pencil and finally facing up to look up at him only to go back to his pencil staring a moment later with disinterest.

A guy with black hair is laying across a bed, holding a paper ball in his hand after just having thrown it to himself. His eyes are hyper focused on him, as if the mask is intriguing to him or maybe just him as a person, his smile reserved but friendly. It screams hesitance but at the same time a confidence, like he’s hiding a confidence behind a box. He doesn’t look like he wants to kill him but he does stay looking at him uncomfortably long, even after Clay’s eyes trail elsewhere.

Then there’s a last guy, a giant in his own right, sitting on the table with a guitar in his hands. The boy is horridly attractive, brown eyes and large hands seemingly in the middle of playing the guitar. He’s a straight dude but he just thinks he is notably normal and attractive looking, his eyes almost warm but not quite there with this slight edge to them. They don’t look at him for long, instead looking over to Sparkles (or it’s with a Z, he doesn’t fucking know) with that name warmness.

“Here’s the new boy, doesn’t have a name yet. I have to go give these to TDM and talk to Tubbo. Make the guy feel welcome, okay?”

And before Clay can comment on anything just said, the door has closed and the guitar man is extending his hand with a warm smile and Clay takes it, shaking hands.

“I’m Wilbur, my whole nickname is Wilbur Soot but you can take the Soot out. The one on the floor is Technoblade, call him Techno, and then the guy staring is Sapnap.”

“Hey, I’m—.”

“You’re not supposed to give real names,” Wilbur explains after slamming his hand on Clay’s mouth, “that can get you in big trouble here, new guy. You should be getting it soon.”

“Honestly this reminds me of holes,” Clay speaks, Techno turning his head towards him at the mention of a book in such a casual context—especially one you would read for a high school project, “Next I learn we have to dig holes as manual labour without water and two of us escape onto a mountain to get away from that shit.”

“They were talking about doing that actually,” Wilbur speaks with a shrug, sitting on the desk and straightening his legs across it, “Like doing tasks so we don’t have ‘harmful energy’.”

“Sounds like absolute stupidity to me,” Techno speaks, “I can murder and cook the same day, the meat may taste a bit weird but nobody said I couldn’t. I wouldn’t, not unless I have a reason, but I technically could kill someone and burn off all the evidence and serve the victim up with some spicy potatoes, a family recipe.”

“I mean maybe it isn’t that bad,” Clay speaks, attempting to be positive even with his eyes slightly avoiding techno for a moment with the fact he has a plan to get away with murder yeah this is what he was expecting, “Sparkles seems like a nice man and at least we aren’t being leashed and collared here.”

“Bet you’d like that,” Sapnap speaks, finally taking his eyes off him with a small smile as if he got what he was looking for—it’s almost scary, he feels like asking if Sapnap gave him a good score based on what he saw. Sure a mask is unusual but to have the other stare at him so unreadably makes his highly uncomfortable.

“What’s with the mask, Smiley?”

“Techno! That’s insensitive!”

“It’s just a question, Wilbur.”

“It isn’t just a question! That might be personal!”

“So? I can ask, nobody is demanding he answers me. Including me, I’m not demanding for him to answer me.”

“But it’s still a bad question, Techno!”

“How?”

“Something happened to it,” Clay speaks to the arguing duo, having all three faces turn towards him in a way that almost leaves his head with whiplash just witnessing it, “I’d rather not go into detail.”

“Show it.”

“TECHNO!”

“I doubt it’s like burned off or something! Bet he’s just got some light tiny scars across it.”

He almost flinches because yeah chemical burn isn’t too far off burned off. His face has a huge, ragged, previously festering, chemical burn. It used to discharge this yellow shit when he went into the cold and he used to have to bandage it and feel it drip through it. It would fucking drip through his bandage, bleed through it until he had to wash the fucking mask. It’s not a pretty fucking face and even when he can see Techno’s scarred hands playing with a pencil in his boredom, it does nothing but make him feel like those hands would cover his eyes looking at him. Sure, line after line swiping each other on his hands. Those hands look hard with use and like there’s more white scarred skin than pale skin his face matches with—his hands look like they were made to dodge sharp objects and suffer the consequences of it. If those scars were Techno’s face, he could feel comfortable with the idea of showing his face. They could be on equally disfigured grounds.

Honestly, it gives him slight jealousy issues to see the other three—not that they were ugly in college when he went in person. Some of them were prettier than Wilbur actually, supermodel lookers with Florida tans and freckles and fuck a few of them had a head of pure sunkissed golden locks and the deepest blue eyes with a grey storm crossing across in a way that almost divided their eyes into two colours. Some of his classmates were attractive and damn aware of it but something about being in a camp where people are supposed to look like they have issues, since they’re supposed to have issues, kills him. He can’t quite understand why he expected to be at least average when his lower left jaw to his lower cheek is bubbling like a second mouth. The way Techno’s hands are still attractive and the second most disgusting thing in the room makes him want to scream because what the fuck. He can be so fucking confident but he was supposed to fit in here. And here he stands with his stupid mask on with a healing chemical splash and scars running down his face.

“Can we talk about something else?” Clay asks in almost a whisper, getting a nod from Wilbur and a ‘sorry’ from Techno in return. He appreciates it. “So how long have you been here?”

“Six days, Techno’s been here seven. Came here with a kid, he was scared as shit so I helped him out but he’s not in this dorm so,” Wilbur explains, Techno giving him a nod.

“Three,” Sapnap speaks, lifting up three fingers with his pinky thumb and middle finger in the air, “I had to finish things since I start college after this bullshit, I was supposed to come the same day as Wilbur originally.”

“Why are you even here? You don’t look particularly troubled—excluding you techno, you look like you fought god in your underwear with an umbrella during a thunderstorm.”

“Arson,” the black haired answers so casually it almost makes Clay think he said something else until he registers that the younger boy said arson, as in lighting shit on fire, and not something like weed… then again maybe the dude also smokes weed, he looks like a stoner for no better words. He looks relaxed and has a fucking ninja ass band in his hair—it’s so clear he’s a fucking stoner that if he is not he will drop out of college.

“Sparkles asked me to get you,” speaks someone from the door, strong british accent with brown hair and goggles on his head, “It’s time for the evening meal and he wanted to make sure Dream is coming.”

“Who?” Clay questions, looking between the three who all look at him—oh he’s Dream, Clay is Dream. That’s such a girly name, what the fuck, Techno at least sounds like a guy. Or maybe Dream because he’s so incredibly dreamy—ha he wishes, he’s just not all that. Maybe his body is but his face needs a fucking transplant, maybe when he’s a best selling author he will have the money to look like a model. God he can only hope.

He doesn’t really speak at all, Sapnap grabbing his hand and dragging him towards a building on the other side of the camp opening before he washes his hands in the line of sinks—Dream deciding to do the same, tailing the black haired boy until they sit at a long table (one of two long tables, he doesn’t really bother looking over though, he doesn’t want to look in case he aggravates someone as tall as Wilbur or an another arsonist.)

“New guy?” Someone asks, another fucking Brit why is everyone fucking British what the fuck is happening—he’s met three Americans and three Brits and that’s not normal odds when he’s in fucking America—if he’s in America it should be at least ten to one of American accents but everyone is fucking British as fuck, “I’m George.”

“He’s Dream,” Sapnap speaks for him, Dream nodding. He doesn’t mind having his introduction done by his dorm mate when there’s people he is fucking scared of all around the table. He isn’t easy to scare but again, arson, he’s here because he skipped school and there’s an arsonist at the same table so the kind of people there may be, honestly, scares him. Also, to be fair, he’s honestly not sure he’s quite used to being called ‘Dream’ under such short notice. He shakes from his thoughts as Techno takes a seat on the other side of him, reaching for water across the table until someone huffs and hands it to him, a ‘thanks Philza’ leaving his dorm mate's mouth. He doesn’t really bother with looking at the guy.

“New guy,” speaks an unmistakable New York accent, Dream still sort of not looking. This is a lot of people with issues and considering the most—or second most polite person here is here because of fucking ARSON, he doesn’t really wanna know what a more aggressive sounding is here for, “NEW GUY YOU ‘MURICAN?”

“Schlatt—,” Wilbur speaks, letting out a long huff before he turns his head to the other boy, “Yes, he’s American.”

“Shush, you little Brit, go drink your tea. I was talking to the mask here.”

“Yeah, I’m American,” Dream speaks after a moment of staring from all around him, still not particularly interested in looking over at anybody, “I’m assuming you’re a New Yorker.”

“Born and raised in Montana, moved there later. You’re kinda tan, what’s your opinion on gay people? Weed?” Schlatt questions, Dream finding almost comfort in the way he’s blunt, just for a moment. It’s weird, he doesn’t know why, it’s so slight it doesn’t help him but he assumes he likes when people are blunt and straight, maybe it’s just endearing.

“W-What?” He questions, in slight amusement. He almost looks over. He’s so close. He’s within a hair of looking over and talking to him face to face but something stupid stops him—actually what stops him is the mask but.

“I’m getting your state. Christian?” Schlatt questions, taking a sip of water. He’s still uneasy, maybe because the directness is different from Technos (something that gave him an illegal amount of familiarity easily, his directness was awkward while Schlatt has this almost regal straightness, almost like it's more ‘no bullshit’ than awkward. It’s like a knife where Techno’s different in a punch way—punching can be friendly, stabbing really isn’t) but his unease is so different with someone who seems to be blunt and jokey with him than anyone else there just looking at him.

“Yeah. I guess. I haven’t been to church in a while but I think I’m in the papers? My parents are Christians,” Dream speaks with a shrug, looking around for a moment—why come for an evening meal so early if there’s not going to be an evening meal? That’s kinda weird.

“Gulf state?” goes Schlatt’s next question, Dream hesitating a moment before giving his response in case it’s revealing too much. He assumes they could find his state easy if they asked the workers anyway so he is honest,

“Yeah.”

“If you were from Alabama, you would keep up with Church more than that. You look inbred though, good reason to wear the mask if you have a Habsburg chin. Though that would show through, maybe incest eyes?”

Dream almost feels offended, laughing it off before speaking to make sure Schlatt doesn’t actually think he is inbred, “My parents are not related, I promise.”

Schlatt takes a moment to think, the silence making Dream the same uneasy he was before. It’s more overwhelming, it feels like he is being judged. Until Schlatt speaks, “You like alligators?”

He’s so glad to hear something before thinking, shrugging, “Yeah, I guess, they’re pretty cool.”

“Florida man,” Someone voices, kind of like a frat boy with an accent. It has the feel of a spanish telenovela playboy, obviously faked or at least made more aggressive for a joke.

He nods, finally looking around himself through not really taking note of anyone. Well he does take note of the short guy in front of himself, wearing a blue shirt and smiling as he grabs Dream’s glass, pouring in some water and putting it back down. He says a thank you, getting a slight salute and a ‘no problem’ before a bell loudly rings and grabs both their attention, along with everyone else.

The girl on stage says to thank the Gods for the day and the food before grabbing their food—Dream mumbles the prayer, stumbling through by listening to how Techno is saying it, low voice right next to him making it easier for him to at least get it 70% right with a few skipped words. He doesn’t necessarily understand what they are doing this for, the guy in front of him seems to express his emotions with the roll of his eyes upon finishing. Guy seems pretty fucking cool.

With that thought, Sapnap grabs his hand and pulls him towards the kitchen or whatever you call that, the guy who sat in front of him jogging up to them,

“Sapnap, how come you’re taking the new guy? Planning to shag him?”

“You know I only want to kiss you, Gogy.”

“My name is George. George. Like the king.”

“You’re far from a king, Gogy, you know you shouldn’t be using your real name here.”

“Bullshit, Gogy is close enough to George you should just use my actual name. Whole no name thing is fucking weird.”

“Gogy, annoying you makes me want to refuse calling you your name even more.”

“You’re a fucking wanker, you know?”

“Ah, it’s a Brit innit?”

“Low fucking blow, man.”

“I can blow you.”

“You’re like barely out of high school, no thank you.”

“Oh c’mon now boys, this is not rough house time,” Dream speaks after the argument has gone on for a while, half heartedly getting in between—it seems like a friendly argument and he could easily take on George with Sapnap and probably Sapnap if George really pulled his weight.

It’s all fairly comfortable laughter and jokes from there until George has walked them to their dorm and pointed out his own—the familiarity is strange so immediately, especially to an arsonist and one that is not even hiding the fact he’s an arsonist—like at all, he actively jokes about lighting things on fire.

“Sleep well,” George speaks with a smile, opening an another dorm door, his dorm, with ‘Tubbo’ and ‘Eret‘ written on the door—along with another name, one that makes dream almost lose his shit—Nutpig, poor thing.

They make it into their dorm, Techno and Wilbur sitting on the table with a third boy, this one blond with blue eyes and seemingly caught up in talking about things that he seems interested in. Techno looks over to them, as if daring them to say something about it—or perhaps just Dream, Sapnap seems used to it and just sits on his bed.

“Dream, you sleep on top of me right?”

“I—what?” Dream asks, shocked. That’s a proposition and a half for the first night.

“The top bunk,” Sapnap speaks with a laugh, clearly knowing how his words could be taken out of context.

“That was on purpose,” Dream says accusingly, looking at the top of the bed wondering if it’s high enough for his fear of heights to be triggered by how high up he is.

“Or we could,” Sapnap speaks, sitting down on his bed dramatically, making grabby hands with a big boisterous grin that clearly says ‘I’m joking’, “cuddle. C’mere, I’m lonely.”

“The—I, face, y’know,” Dream explains, suddenly grateful for the upper bunk, “you don’t—it’s—I don’t sleep with a mask on! C’mon now, that would be so uncomfortable.”

“You could trust me and take it off?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Turn the lights off so I get cuddles!”

“You won’t get cuddles anyway! But yes, please turn off the lights so I can take the mask off.”

“Okay,” Wilbur speaks, grabbing the unknown boy by the hand with a small smile, “lets go to sleep, Tommy.”

“He can take mine,” Techno speaks almost immediately. It’s almost affectionate sounding, it comes so close to not being numb and monotone.

Dream almost questions if the boy is staying with them tonight or if it’ll even be the full night before Techno shoots him another dangerous look—they look protective of the boy, clearly so, this is probably the boy Wilbur mentioned earlier talking about arriving with someone. He doesn’t bother saying anything about the fact the blond boy climbs up to the top bunk.

It takes a second to adjust to the lack of light, he can tell bodies but not who’s bodies based on more than location. He takes his mask off, climbing up with it in hand and sniffing it. It doesn’t smell like he has opened anything, it smells clean, and he just lays down.

He has a hard time getting sleep, settling on watching Technos body at the table writing something until he can see from the corner of his eyes how Wilbur is wide awake, standing up and walking around the room until Techno turns back and whispers to him, expecting everyone to be asleep. This time he genuinely sounds worried.

“Wilbur. Wilbur. You’re okay. You’re not sick man, breathe, you can breathe. You won’t die if you sleep, okay? I promise.”

“Easy for you to say that—you don’t know if something is wrong with me.”

“Wilbur you yourself told me this is you overthinking, that you’re healthy. Breathe man, you’re not thinking straight. Do you need me to sleep with you again?”

“Please.”

When they’re on Wilbur’s bed is when Dream finally starts getting sleepy enough to go to sleep, facing the wall just in case.

#fanfiction #dream team #au #gonna post to AO3 too #he’ll lose an eye soon i promise

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dvp95 · 5 years

Text

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 7

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e (eventually)

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 5,009 for this chapter (30,147 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

quick question are you home

I am! Not for long tho. What's up?

Dan swears under his breath and hits the call button on his mobile, looking out the window so he doesn't have to feel the Uber driver's judgemental eyes on him.

"Hey!" Phil answers, bright and happy and god Dan is glad he's doing this.

"Hi," says Dan. He can't help the warmth in his own voice, the barely-suppressed enthusiasm at simply hearing Phil for the second time today. "Sorry I went radio silent for like an hour. I was actually on a plane."

There's a sound like a cupboard door closing, followed by the telltale pouring of either cereal or dog food. With Phil, it really could go either way.

"On a plane?" Phil asks. "Thought you were staying another night."

"I was supposed to," says Dan. His heart is pounding. He is only ten minutes from Phil's front door, if Phil wants him.

"Are you doing a bunk?" Phil laughs, the sound of it warming Dan from his ears to his toes. "Where did you go? Surely saying my name on the radio wasn't so awful that you had to flee the country?"

"It was," says Dan, barking a laugh of his own. "But, no, I'm... back in London. I'm practically round the corner, actually, if you wanna... grab dinner? Or something?"

What feels like an entire minute of silence follows Dan's awkward suggestion, but it's probably more like five seconds. It's enough time for his palms to start sweating, in any case. He's about to laugh and say 'gotcha!' and act like this was all a grand joke before going to a hotel to cry, when Phil responds.

"Oh, Dan," he says, apologetic, and Dan wonders how much he'd have to tip his Uber driver to plunge them both into the Thames.

"Sorry, it's stupid," says Dan. "I wasn't even -"

Phil interrupts him. "It's not stupid, don't be an idiot, I want to see you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," says Phil, "but I have dinner plans with my family. Mum and dad are flying out of Heathrow tomorrow for holiday and wanted to see us before they leave."

"Oh," Dan says again. He doesn't really see why that's an issue. Sure, they won't be able to Talk with a capital T or anything, but he still wants to see Phil so badly that it's going to give him a stomach ache. "Well, I can - I mean, if that's not too weird for you or whatever, I'd - if you want -"

"Are you going to finish one of those sentences?"

"Fuck off." Dan takes a deep, steadying breath. "What I'm saying is that I wouldn't mind meeting your family. Or I could just hang out with Thor until you get back, or whatever."

Another beat of silence, this one longer. Finally, Phil says, "You want to meet my family?", in such a skeptical tone of voice that Dan is offended despite not, in fact, being certain about it at all.

"Well, shit, I don't have to," says Dan, miffed. "You met mine, though."

"I met your coworkers, Dan."

"Yeah, and they're practically my family."

"This is literally my family," says Phil. He exhales, sounding for all the world like he's pinching his nose between his finger and thumb like an overdramatic librarian. "Dan, are you going to be a fucking brat if I say no?"

"Not if you don't really want me there," Dan mumbles. He's a little taken aback by how okay he is with Phil calling him a fucking brat. It hits him right on an edge of shame that could tumble way too easily into arousal if he were to let it.

Phil sighs again. "No, that's not it. I want you there. You wanna drop your stuff off at my place?"

"Yeah," Dan says sheepishly. "I'm almost there, just coming from the airport."

When Dan pulls up to the kerb outside the familiar row of narrow buildings, he sees Phil waiting for him with this resigned, amused sort of smile and his hands in his pockets. He's wearing a plaid shirt and a denim jacket with ripped jeans, looking for all the world like he's stepped out of a 90s grunge band.

He comes over to help Dan with his bags, laughing a bit. "You really came right here, huh? Hi."

"Told you I did," says Dan. On impulse, he wraps an arm around Phil's shoulders in a half-hug. He can smell Phil's cologne so strongly where his nose presses against Phil's neck, and it makes his head spin a bit. "Hi yourself."

It takes all of Dan's self control not to just kiss Phil here on the pavement in front of god and everyone, drag him downstairs by the lapels and make him forget everything that isn't Dan's name. It's very, very tempting, but Dan knows how much Phil loves his parents, how little they get to see each other, so. He pulls away from the hug without doing anything stupid and meets Phil's eyes with a little smile.

"Jaime and Patrick still in Dublin?" Phil asks, leading the way into his home and down the stairs.

The fact that his back is to Dan helps the ease of answering. "Yeah. I came back early because," he says, then pauses. "I missed London."

Phil grins over his shoulder as he gets the flat's door open. "London missed you."

Dan smiles back, wide and open. He's got no reason to hold back now. They don't have time to talk before they leave - Dan doesn't think he'll be able to go anywhere once he's allowed to put his hands on Phil - but that doesn't mean Dan can't already be obvious about why he's here.

The apartment is dimly lit tonight, all the candles blown out in anticipation of Phil leaving for a couple of hours and only a string of fairy lights and one lamp turned on.

Dan's luggage gets dropped unceremoniously in the entry, because both of them are suddenly busy with a very excited dog zooming around their ankles and threatening to trip them up. Dan laughs and sinks to the floor, letting Thor jump up on him and lick his face. He ends up flat on his back, again, giggling helplessly while Thor wiggles around on his chest.

"Why do you rile him up?" Phil asks, doing a very admirable job of sounding exasperated. His soft expression tells Dan how he's really feeling.

"He's cute," says Dan. He noses at one of Thor's ears. "And soft. And I like him."

"Seems like he feels the same way about you," says Phil.

"We're best friends, aren't we, Thor?" Dan coos, sitting up enough to shift Thor's weight to his lap. It's easier to give him pats like this. "Yes we are! We are! You're the cutest dog in the world!"

"That's true," says Phil. He crouches down beside them and scratches behind Thor's ear. His eyes meet Dan's, and they both smile.

This is exactly the kind of domestic fantasy Dan has decided to embrace. He holds himself back from leaning in for a kiss, but only because he knows they have places to be. It's nice to know that if he did lean forward, Phil would let him. He likes that calm certainty.

"Are we going somewhere nice?" Dan thinks to ask. "Should I change?"

"Nowhere fancy," says Phil. He reaches out and tugs at one of Dan's hoodie strings. "But maybe a different top layer, there."

"I don't want to dig through my shit," Dan says, totally aware of how obvious he's being. Whatever, Phil was worse about stealing his sweatpants. "Have you got something I could borrow?"

Phil rolls his eyes like he sees right through Dan and tugs at the other string, just to be a dick. "Yeah, alright, borrow. Sure. So if I can't find it next week, that's a coincidence?"

"I'm not responsible for you losing shit, mate."

"Fuck off," Phil says warmly. He stands up, wincing as his knees make a funny crick of a noise. "I'll be right back, but then we're leaving, okay? I don't want to be late. Get your puppy cuddles in now."

Dan grins down at Thor and gives him softer pats with both hands, trying to calm him down a bit. His fluffy fur is so soft and his ears are perked up so happily that Dan might actually start crying. He loves dogs, generally, and he loves this dog, specifically.

Kind of like how he likes London, generally, and this apartment, specifically. How he's into guys, generally. Phil, specifically.

Thor does calm down fairly easily once Dan stops matching his high energy. He rests his chin on Dan's thigh, half on Dan's lap and half on the floor, and just hangs out there until Phil comes back from the bedroom area of his flat. He's holding another denim jacket, something Dan doesn't even own but apparently Phil has several of.

"It's just from Topman," Phil says, grinning down at Dan and Thor. "But it's the only black jacket I've got that isn't, like, a blazer. Would you prefer a blazer?"

Dan snorts. "Absolutely not."

It hurts him a bit to dislodge Thor and stand up, but Thor happily trots back to his bed and starts gnawing on one of his toys. Phil grins wider and hands over the jacket, which isn't even black. It's a dark grey, distressed, and the collar is fuzzy. Dan is going to steal this for sure.

Dan tugs his hoodie off over his head and tosses it at Phil. He laughs at the affronted look on Phil's face.

"I'm not your butler," Phil says. He hangs the hoodie up next to Thor's leash, anyway. Dan likes the look of it there. "Are you ready? I'll get a car."

The jacket fits Dan well enough. When he glances at himself in the mirror by the door, he decides that he likes the way it looks on him, too. It doesn't smell like Phil, just some generic detergent, but Dan still likes it anyway. Besides, his Yeezy t-shirt still has the faint scent of Phil clinging desperately to it. Dan wonders what it would be like to live in a world where all his clothes smelled like Phil in some capacity.

"Yeah," he says, still looking at the easy way he fits in this jacket, this flat. "I'm ready."

"Did you warn your family that I'm coming?" Dan asks, coming to a sudden stop before they reach the door of the restaurant and taking Phil's wrist so he stops, too. If he's going to be a surprise tagalong, he ought to know.

Phil blinks, then smiles. "I texted them, yeah."

"And they're, like," says Dan, chewing on his lower lip, "okay with it?"

A quick, reassuring squeeze of Dan's hand before Phil pulls his own hand back. Dan imagines that he is all too aware that they're out on the pavement on a rather busy street. He likes to think that Phil would hold his hand properly if they were somewhere more private and comfortable.

"They're okay with it," Phil assures him. "You'll probably hate how okay with it they are once they start interrogating you."

"They're gonna interrogate me?"

"Probably, I don't really know." Phil stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks away from Dan, into the window of the restaurant. "I've never brought someone to meet them before."

Dan's heart skips a beat. Phil is so carefully not looking at him, his profile lit by the evening sun and streetlights, and Dan can't remember him ever needing to break eye contact to say something. Phil has been the calm, confident one since they met.

Maybe this means something to Phil that Dan hadn't considered. He swallows hard. "Hey. If this is - weird, or whatever, I don't need to be here."

"It's not weird to me," says Phil. "I'm happy to bring you, I just really didn't expect it from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dan asks.

Inviting himself to a family dinner just so he could spend more time with Phil was a bit cheeky of him, sure, but Dan doesn't know what the issue is, if Phil doesn't think it's weird.

Phil laughs softly, his eyes flickering back to Dan just for a moment. "You just keep... surprising me. You want me to tag you on Instagram, you want me to hang out with your friends, you want to meet my family. It's just not what I expected, I guess, since I know you're not, like, out."

"I - what?" Dan bleats, his blood rushing to his ears and making it harder to hear the surrounding din of London.

"It's fine," says Phil, misinterpreting the question. "I don't mind taking things slow, but we've been on, like, three and a half dates and you haven't kissed me, but you wanted to come tonight. You can see where I got surprised."

As soon as the initial shock settles, it hits Dan all at once: Phil thinks they've been dating this entire time. He thinks Dan wants to meet his parents as someone who he's been casually seeing, not as a friend who's been gathering the courage to push himself into something less platonic.

Dan has to bite back some hysterical laughter. Phil probably thinks he's the most frigid guy in the fucking world.

He's glad that Phil isn't looking at him, doesn't have to see the shellshocked confusion and inappropriate amusement that he knows is being broadcast across his face.

"Three and a half?" Dan repeats. His voice sounds far too high to his own ears.

"I don't really count drinking with your coworkers as a date," Phil laughs. He turns back to Dan, and Dan uses every ounce of his training to bring his expression back to something less telling. "No need to look so worried. My family's nice."

Dan is sure they are. He considers fleeing for half a second before he remembers that he wants to be with Phil.

He doesn't think this is a conversation that needs to happen on the pavement while people are waiting for them inside, so. He'll let Phil take the lead on the conversation and summon all the acting chops he has to make Phil's parents like him. Then, when they're alone again, Dan will be honest about the misunderstanding.

On the bright side, he can absolutely pitch this concept to a Netflix producer as an oblivious lesbian romantic comedy. He's just annoyed at himself for making him live it.

This is ridiculous. He is in a ridiculous situation right now. Before he follows Phil inside, he texts Jaime a quick, ok so im in a romcom after all and in a shocking twist of events im also very very stupid.

WHAT DID YOU DO

Dan doesn't reply, because he has to get into role now as someone who totally knew that the coffee and the Chinese food and the hungover vegging out were Dates.

Phil's parents do seem nice, which is something of a relief. His mum is a tiny whirlwind of cheer, giving Phil a hug and a few kisses to his pink face before she turns to Dan and exclaims, "You must be Daniel!"

She hugs him, too. It's an odd sensation for Dan, but he awkwardly pats her on the back. "Yeah, uh, hi. Sorry for crashing your party."

"Nonsense," she says, with such feeling that Dan actually believes her.

"Dan, these are my parents," Phil says unnecessarily, sliding into the booth across from a quiet man with Phil's smile. "Kath and Nigel."

"Nice to meet you, Dan," Nigel says, taking the name cue from Phil. He shakes Dan's hand when he sits down next to Phil. It makes Dan a little emotional, seeing these people genuinely pleased to meet him, even though he's a man.

"Daniel, sir," Dan corrects him politely. He gives Phil a sidelong look. "Only this one calls me Dan."

Phil just shrugs, looking a little smug.

"Your brother should be here soon," Kath says, looking over the drink menu. "Any idea if he's bringing Cornelia? I have a scarf to give back to her."

"You could always just give it to Martyn," Phil suggests. They both laugh.

"Yeah, alright, love, if I want it to get lost on the way."

Dan bites his lip and looks at his own menu. Phil is so comfortable with his parents in a way that he doesn't know if he could ever be with his own. Even if he were to let them into his life and they were to accept him for it, he thinks it might be too late for them to really bond.

Now's not the time for this crisis on top of the one he's already having, though. He tunes back into the conversation, which is still on the whereabouts of Phil's brother.

Nigel notices him looking up from the table and gives him a smile that's all Phil, reassuring and a little sheepish. "So, Daniel, tell us about yourself. Phil hasn't told us anything but your name."

"Must be ashamed of us," Kath sniffles, overdramatic, and Dan decides he likes her.

"I'm just not that interesting," Dan laughs.

A little scoff comes from beside Dan. "Shut up," says Phil. "Dad, Dan is one of the stars of that Netflix show Heatwave. He's just being modest."

"Oh, yes," says Nigel, a spark of recognition going off. "It's been in our list for a while, hasn't it, dear?"

"It has," Kath agrees. She beams at Dan in a way that radiates pride, and he almost can't look at her. It's too sincere, too open. He wants to hide away from it. "That's lovely, Daniel, you must work very hard."

Luckily, Dan is saved from having to think of something appropriate to say instead of just crying on her shoulder by the arrival of a lanky man.

"Budge up," he tells Dan. He's got the same air of familiarity that Kath had, that Phil had back when they met. It occurs to Dan that he's been chalking that up to Phil's media training, and the real answer may just be that this is the way he was raised to act. He already feels more comfortable here than he has at a table of his own family members for many, many years.

Dan scoots over, closer to Phil. Their thighs press together through their tight jeans, and Dan wonders if Phil can feel the heat radiating off him in waves. He kind of expects Phil to shuffle along the bench, too, but he stays where he is.

"Manners," Kath scolds as he folds himself into the booth beside Dan.

"Oh, right," says Martyn. He grins and offers a hand for Dan to shake. He has a loose grip, like he doesn't care to make a specific impression. Dan likes that, so used to too-firm handshakes and weird manly pats on the back from the people he interacts with at work. "Alright, mate?"

"Alright," says Dan. "I'm Daniel. You must be Martyn, unless you're Cornelia and another tall man is joining us."

"Don't think we can fit another around this table," Martyn says easily. "Nah, Corn's at home. She's feeling a bit ill, sends her love." The last part is directed to Kath and Nigel, who nod in eerie synchronicity.

"I'll have to give her scarf back on our way back," says Kath.

Their waitress arrives then, and Dan finds it entertaining to watch as three Lesters subtly compete to make her laugh while she takes everybody's drink order. He catches Nigel's eye and they exchange a small grin. Dan has never considered himself particularly quiet - he's more like the local class clown, no matter how old he gets - but he's content to sit back and let Phil and Martyn argue around him while Kath asks the waitress about her day.

She looks almost prepared for it when she turns to Dan, so he dimples up at her and says, "I like your nail polish."

"Thank you," she says, still smiling but looking more and more like she wishes she'd given this table to someone else. Dan takes pity on her, doesn't try to drag out the joke longer like he normally would.

"Wish I could pull off that colour," he adds, his heart pounding even though Phil's family probably won't judge him for it. "And, uh, I'll have a mojito, if that's okay?"

"If that's okay?" Phil murmurs into Dan's ear, making him shiver.

"Shut up," Dan whispers back, stepping on Phil's foot under the table. Phil kicks him back lightly.

"Absolutely vile," Martyn says in the sort of easy tone that comes from chirping people you love. He doesn't sound at all like he means it. Dan's shoulders tense anyway. Phil's grin flickers, like he notices.

"Shut up, Mar," Phil suggests, mildly enough that his parents can't reprimand him for it if they were the type to.

Martyn shrugs and starts talking to his mum about something that Dan can't follow, so he doesn't try to. Now that nobody is paying attention to them, Dan drops his hand to Phil's knee and squeezes. It's a thank you and a reassurance that he's fine, all in one.

With a small smile curling at the corners of his lips, Phil puts a hand over Dan's and leaves it there. His palm has got a very slight chill to it, like Phil is somehow cold despite being pressed against Dan in the corner of a booth.

They're practically holding hands. Dan turns his own hand over and links their fingers together in a fit of desire to say that he is holding Phil's hand. Dan is holding a man's hand under a table in public, with that man's family chatting around them, and his heart is fucking pounding like he's trying to run a marathon. He hopes his palm isn't sweaty.

If it is, Phil shows no inclinations of pulling his hand back anyway.

As the evening goes on, Dan finds himself relaxing more and more. The Lesters are warm and funny people to be around, talking over each other comfortably and doing their best to include Dan in jokes. The food is good, too, which is always a core part of Dan's happiness.

But the fact that Phil hasn't let go of his hand this whole time is really what's making Dan feel at peace. Their dominant hands are free to eat with, so they just... don't pull away.

Dan has a silly thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he always wants to eat on Phil's left. The mental image of them trying to be pressed this close together on their dominant sides, elbows knocking while they try to eat, is enough to make Dan swallow a giggle.

Phil's family don't ask him too many questions, but Dan finds himself offering the information anyway. He finds that he wants to impress them, make them think that maybe he's good enough for their son.

"I went to uni in Manchester," he says when Nigel says he misses the city sometimes. "I - didn't finish, I moved to Chicago."

"That's quite a long way to move," says Kath. "Whatever drew you there, love?"

For a moment, Dan thinks about lying. Surely Phil's parents would like him more if he was responsible, followed a job or even a relationship to America, but Phil is looking at him so curiously that he has to tell them the truth.

"I wanted to pursue acting in America," says Dan. "And a friend in Chicago said I could stay in their spare room. Then they rented out the spare room before I got there and neglected to tell me, and I ended up couchsurfing for a bit until I could afford to go to L.A., which sucked."

"That's impressive, actually," Martyn says around a mouthful of pasta.

"Manners," Kath scolds again, reaching across the table to swat lightly at Martyn's wrist. She gives Dan a warm smile. "He's right, Daniel, that was very brave of you."

It hadn't felt brave or impressive while it was happening. Dan's early twenties had felt like he was constantly on the edge of a cliff and he was just trying to dig his nails in and pull himself up. The long bouts of depression didn't make it any easier, since Dan would end up isolating himself, not showing up to work, or doing stupid shit just to feel something.

Things didn't change for him in an instant. He didn't find overnight fame or anything like that. After years of staying on that cliff with small parts and long nights, he got lucky with a Netflix gig three years ago.

Still, he supposes it sounds impressive to people who don't know the full story, and it's certainly something to be proud of in any case. Broke on a stranger's sofa in a foreign country to doing a worldwide press tour in less than a decade isn't something Dan takes for granted.

Dan shrugs instead of voicing his internal thoughts, smiling a little. "I miss Manchester too, sometimes, and I was only there for a year. I can't imagine how y'all feel."

"We do miss it occasionally," Nigel says. "But we like where we are now, don't we, dear?"

"Oh, it's perfect for us," says Kath, beaming at him with such obvious affection that it makes Dan's heart clench. He can't remember his mum ever looking at his dad like that. "And so beautiful, too! You should see it in the winter, Daniel."

"The Isle of Man, right?" Dan asks for clarification, and he smiles when the table agrees in a chaotic overlap of each other.

"Mum's right, it's really pretty in the winter," says Phil. "I never want to leave after Christmas."

Martyn snorts. "Sure, it's the Manx views, not the mince pies."

"It can be both!"

"What do you do for Christmas, love?" Kath asks, and Dan startles a bit at the question. He's quiet for a beat too long, maybe, because Phil squeezes his hand and responds for him.

"Mum," he says, almost sounding embarrassed, "it's been two weeks, stop trying to invite him to holidays."

"Just thought I'd ask, Philip," says Kath. She's just as cheerful as she was at the beginning of the night, and Dan thinks her smile actually grows when he starts blushing. "It's not like you've ever introduced us to a boy before, we thought it must be rather serious."

Honestly, Dan would love it to be serious. But it hasn't even been the two weeks Phil thinks it's been. They aren't on the same page at all right now. Dan feels confident they'll get there, but he doesn't want Phil to feel put on the spot now.

He rubs his thumb over the back of Phil's hand in a comforting gesture and grins sheepishly. "Ah, that's my bad, Kath. I'm only in town til Sunday and didn't want to miss a minute, to be honest."

"Where d'you live?" Martyn asks, beautifully giving Dan an out from the Christmas topic.

"Atlanta," Phil answers for him. Dan wonders if Phil has always sounded so wistful when he says the name of Dan's city. The city that doesn't feel like home.

Martyn whistles low, through his teeth, and sympathetically says, "That sucks." It's that, more than anything, that makes Dan physically feel the ache of the Atlantic that's going to be between them. He leans a bit closer into Phil, like that'll help fill the gap that isn't there yet.

It does suck. Dan has finally figured out what he wants and who he wants it with, but his job is four thousand miles away.

Still, he knows what he wants. He knows that Phil, clearly, wants it too. That's a first step.

Dan is feeling warm and loose from the cocktails he'd had with dinner and the easy acceptance of Phil's family. He sways into Phil's personal space on the pavement while Phil waves down a taxi and murmurs, "We gotta talk when we get to your place."

"Okay," Phil says, slow. His brow is furrowed in confusion or anxiety or some combination of the two, and Dan longs to reach out and smooth the lines with his thumb.

He does remember where they are, though, and keeps his hands firmly in the pockets of his borrowed jacket.

The ride back to Phil's isn't very long, but it is quiet. Phil looks out his window the whole time, and Dan looks at Phil. He's so beautiful, it makes Dan's head spin that he could ever want the same thing as Dan.

Phil's family seemed to think Dan would be sticking around, in any case. Kath and Martyn both gave him hugs goodbye after they finished with Phil, and Nigel had squeezed his shoulder tightly in lieu of one. Dan can't believe how welcoming they were to the first man their son had ever brought home.

This certainty of how he feels, how he wants his life to go, is making Dan a bit stupid with bravery. He pulls out his phone and sends some very impulsive texts.

To Jaime, he says, nothing major im just stupid! we'll talk abt it when ur here. To his agent, he says, if HW is ending can we look for work that's in the uk? we should hear back from the producers soon. To his mum, he says, There's something I need to tell you and I don't know if you'll still want me to come over on Saturday. It's a long story, but. Basically I'm gay.

Dan's heart is in his throat. He turns off his phone before anyone can respond, refocusing on Phil's profile.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #dnp fic #can't breathe when you touch my sleeve #words words words

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saessenach · 7 years

Text

think of me

Here’s to you, @elnabu this is the fic that accompanies the shitty sketches i did back for ur bday, woman. I hope you like it xD

On an unrelated note, please tell me what you think of this, y'all (yes me and puns oops)

oh and I *am* in fact working on requests. this has been sitting in my phone for so long i just had to finish it xD

“Kiss me.”

Cassian cannot hope to have heard her right.

“Kiss me,” she repeats, breathless, her heart in her throat.

They’re dancing at Rita’s, pressed together in a mass of people, the rage, the passion, the heat burning in her. Nesta twirls and hops, jumps and pushes against him; they’re glued to each other, her back against his front, and he doesn’t dare put his hands anywhere but on her waist, not until she tells him to.

Cassian can scarcely believe he hears her right, maybe his hearing finally failed him after 500 years, well as he is into his old age, like Feyre and Elain sometimes joke.

But no, he’s heard correctly, so he fists his hands in the silk of Nesta’s skirt, if only to not grab her and twist her to face him.

It’s far too tempting, the thought, so he distracts himself, quite poorly, at that, by humming in her ear.

“Say that again, love,” he whispers to the shell of her ear, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. It’s slightly damp with sweat, dark golden strands sticking to her forehead and neck; there’s one plastered to her cheekbone, so he raises a hand from its place on her hips, dragging it through the folds of material, feeling for a heartbeat the skin exposed by her dress, right around her ribs.

Cassian fights the urge to let his hand wander underneath her top, even if, splayed on her ribcage as his fingers are, their tips graze the rough edge of something made of lace. He doesn’t allow himself too much time to ponder that, though, vaguely recalling that they were in a public space, that they were only two figures in a mass of fae and demi-fae and humans.

So his hand continues its path, passing the delicious slope of her collar bones and the curve of her neck, barely a touch of his fingers on her heated skin enough to make her sway back into him and let her head rest back against his chest. Finally, he brings that hand along the rounded and delicate line of her jaw, reaching the hair glued to her face and combing it away with his fingers.

That’s when her eyes, closed up until now, blink and open, the stormy blue in them is clouded in a way that makes Cassian’s blood leave his brain. Immediately.

A dainty hand, fine-boned under the sun kissed skin comes up to cup his jaw, her fingers shorter than his, her nails barely long enough to scratch properly.

“I believe you heard me just right,” the whisper comes past her lips, rosy and fresh. She looks up at him through her lashes, darkened with kohl, which makes the blue of her eyes stand out even more. She looks ethereal, a being from another world, with her barely parted lips, freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and her chest heaving as she moves her hips against his.

Mother take him.

He anchors one hand in her skirt, pulling her flush against him while the other one finds purchase underneath the flimsy silk wrapped around her torso, he fingers the lace beneath it, then slips his knuckles underneath, feeling for her breast bone.

Nesta arches her back like a cat and presses herself more firmly against him. Gods, how they fit. A moan escapes her as Cassian traces circles around her bellybutton.

“You don’t want me to kiss you right here, love,” he rasps in her ear. A delicate snort is his answer, her hand reaching back and fisting in his hair.

She cranes her neck to look at him, and he swears to each and every deity he knows, the lust and the haze clouding her eyes will be the death of him. “Here?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t want you to kiss me here.” A smirk.

“I want you to kiss me everywhere.”

Cassian is fairly certain he has died.

His arms wrap around her waist, holding her tight, and he buries his nose in the nook where her neck meets her shoulder. The music in the background rises louder, a sinuous drumbeat accompanied with horns and fiddles. He feels her undulating and shifting in time with it, little gasps marking the rhythm.

They are just two bodies in a small hall full to the brim, and Cassian can’t help but think that even so, they are both oddly hidden and vividly exposed all at the same time. He spots an exit through the golden haze of her hair.

Her hands come to rest over his, and warmth floods his body, starting where her fingertips dance on his skin, tracing the tattoos and the scars on his forearms, and it reaches the tips of his toes, the roots of his hair.

It is too much, too much and not enough all at the same time and it takes all of the self control Cassian never believed he had to not throw her over his shoulder and fly through the tavern’s ceiling. A tiny voice in the back of his mind whispers that flying through Rita’s ceiling isn’t necessarily the best idea he’s ever had, but really, with Nesta’s arse pressed against his groin and her locked into his arms, her full mouth turned to his, close enough to share breath, Cassian can’t really think of much else.

Her hooded gaze, the icy blue of a frozen lake, meets his, and she whispers, “Well then?”

He grins, his lips hovering over hers, and he feels the way she arches for him, the way she reaches out and it all makes the curl of his lips turn feral. Pulling away slightly, chuckling breathlessly at the way she snarls at him half-heartedly.

“Not here, love,” he evades her mouth, pressing a kiss to the skin of her neck, his hand rising beneath the silk of her top, “not here,” he moans in her ear.

He grinds against her back, and Nesta arches against the hardness she feels, and she lets the back of her head rest on his shoulder and moans for him and she is trying to kill him. “Then take me home.”

Cassian nods, finally disentangling from her, but still, he keeps her close while trying to find a way through the bustling crowd. No one notices the glint in his eyes, no one notices the sheen of sweat on her midriff and neck, the flush disappearing from her shoulders underneath the embroidered silk wrapped and bound around her torso.

It is a fine thing, to sneak off from the drunken mess of bodies and reach the night air. Shouts and laughter and songs still dance across the streets of Velaris, its light and darkness seeping into Cassian’s blood as he wraps his fingers around Nesta’s. There is a headiness, a queer sort of allure to the night, it is something that makes the heat in his belly coil and snap with every move, and although Velaris is an entity in itself, always has been and will forever be, Cassian very much doubts it has anything to do with it.

More with Nesta, more with her, wild and wanting and free. He looks at her from the corner of his eye, her hair shines in the charmed streetlight, the grey drapes of silk making her eyes stand out, an impossible shade of greyish blue, and Mother save him, these eyes are looking his way and there is such desire in them that it nearly floors Cassian.

Her small hand tightens around his as they walk, “I’m not having second thoughts,” she says resolutely, her voice raspy in the chill of the night. Gooseflesh is errupting on her skin and the fine hairs on the back of his neck and arms all stand at the certainty in her voice. He opens his mouth, unsure of what to answer, but

“Are you?”

His head shoots up at that, gaze boring into hers and Cassian feels his restraint like a leash around his throat, “No,” is the definite answer, no, there is little in the world he wants more than he does Nesta, more than he wants this furious human girl turned immortal, but he also knows that there isn’t much he can give her, there is nothing but himself and how could that ever be enough-

Small hands fist in his doublet, and he startles out of his thoughts to find Nesta looking up at him, frowning spectacularly.

“Stop that,” she orders, resolute in all her splendour.

“Stop what?” he counters.

“You know exactly what,” she begins, exhaling, “Stop with the forlorn glances and look me in the eye!” there is an edge to her voice, it sounds like it’s almost breaking, almost pleading. He lets the small hand underneath his chin raise his face, fingers finding purchase against his cheeks, the rasp on them, the strands of hair falling out of his hair tie.

What he finds makes his heart constrict in his throat. Nesta’s eyes are shining with something unfathomable, something he does not allow himself to look at, until she takes his face and cups his head and forces him to meet her.

“I am not here for anyone else,” says Nesta, and his heart thunders in his ears. “I am here for you. I am here because I want you, and because I’ve wanted you until I felt I was going insane, and you,” she punctuates, raising her eyebrows, as a smile threatens to curl her lips upwards, “you have been a pain in my arse.”

Indignation rumbles in his belly, quenching a tiny bit of the want that erupted inside of him, and he fists his hands in the folds of her skirt, bringing her hips closer.

“I have been a pain in your arse?!” an impish smile almost making its way on his face. “Don’t you think you’re a bit of a pot calling the kettle black, Nesta, love?”

“No.”

A raised eyebrow, his wings flapping as if to challenge her.

“Maybe a little,” she concedes. “Not my point,” she looks up at him and huffs in exasperation. “Stop damn well distracting me, I am trying to say something here and you’re not helping me, and so help me Mother, if I have to beat it into your thick skull that you are worth wanting, I will and then-”

His mouth is on hers, his heart is in his throat, and he pulls her to him finally, finally, finally, acquiesceing to her request.

His lips are soft and sweet and demanding and a rush seeps in Nesta. Nesta who had come tonight, feeling naked and foreign, wearing clothes belonging to a culture she didn’t yet feel quite a part of, no matter that her very being sang when the winds howled, when the stars danced, when fire burned bright, when everything in her whispered immortal, immortal, immortal.

So tonight, she said, she’ll be leaving the doubts and the madness behind, she will let herself go, if only for once.

Until she had seen him, that is, and really, if she was meant to be free tonight, free of her constraints, free of her fears, free of everything, she might as well take what she wanted, because so much longing is bad for one, and she has burned for him for so, so long.

And even now she burns, she is a flame alive in his arms, and she had not known what she was asking for, had not known what it was like to be wanted and to belong to someone the way Cassian does. The way he can give himsel so naturally, damn the consequences.

He does something to her mouth, it must be some sort of ridiculous magic, because every press of those full lips against her, every little scratch of those rugged cheeks against hers makes her squirm, makes her rub her thighs together in search of some sort of friction and it should scare her, the way he makes her lose her head.

But it does not, because she trusts Cassian, she trusts him in a way she does not quite understand, but is steeped in the hours upon hours of darkness and hatred and resentment out of which they’d coaxed each other and Nesta does not know how she came to understand how his mind works. How fucked in the head he must be, because who could possibly see her as salvation, she could never save anyone, ever.

And then came this idiot, this hulking monster of a man, lost in ways she couldn’t quite wrap her head around, but she only knew that his touch made the anger and madness go away and his voice and his eyes, heavens, his eyes.

He is ruthless and rough, his arms are snaking around her and she is lightheaded and nearly gone.

She reaches up on impulse and tightens her hands in his hair. For a moment, she is afraid she pulled too hard, that she hurt him somehow, but then this sound reaches her ears, this deep rumbling sound comes out of his mouth and reverbrates so deep in her bones, and she wants more, she craves more.

She thrusts her hips to his, and he chuckles, breaking their kiss and resting his forehead to hers, half-lidden eyes dark enough to swallow the night whole.

“Not here, love,” he breathes against her bruised lips.

“It’s never here with you,” she answers, letting her hands caress the sides of his throat, his chest underneath the open collar of his doublet, his sides.

“If there weren’t for the odd chance that some grandmother would come feed the street cats at midnight,” he begins, tracing words and swirls on her bare midriff, hands gliding upwards and circling her breasts, feather soft touches riling her up even as she giggles at his absurdities, making him smile brightly, “as I said, if said grandma wouldn’t come, I’d press you against a wall,”

“What wall?” she asks against his lips, playing along, undulating her hips to the forgotten rhythm of the music inside some boisterous tavern.

“Say this one,” her back meets cool brick and paint, and the chill would be too much, except he is there, his arms rest on either side of her head, his head bowed almost to level with hers and Nesta forgets what it means to be cold.

“And what would you do?” she raises her face invitingly, something inside her roaring to be let out, and she writhes against him until he blocks her hips with his, and she bites her lip to keep in the sounds threatening to come out.

“I would,” he begins, taking a moment to let himself breathe. She has no such luxury, she cannot gasp, she cannot do anything but burn, “I would start by touching you here,” a hand slides against her bare middle, and never has a simple touch made her gasp like that, “I would find all these tiny places, Nesta, places where all it takes is one finger, one little bit of skin to make you moan.”

As if in answer, the heat between her legs throbs, and for all that it’s impossible for him to know, he chuckles and slides one of his thighs, muscular and lean like the rest of him, between her knees and it rises, rises, rises, until it reaches there and Nesta finally has the friction she so wanted.

“That is such a place, sweetheart.” he suckles at the skin on her throat, “but there are many, many more.”

“And I intend to find them all, every single last one of them, so that I can drive you insane with pleasure.”

Her hands in his doublet are pulling him back to her, back on her, when a shrill noise echoes on the empty paved street, and they both look.

“Well, fuck.”

A merry band of party-goers is stumbling across their drunken feet, unaware of them huddled together in the shadowy niche of a pink painted building, and Cassian is equally unimpressed and exasperated as he looks back at Nesta, and presses a quick kiss to her mouth. She is almost ashamed of the way she chases his lips. “How about we leave here, hmm?” he says, looking into her eyes.

The heat in them is almost unbearable, the way only ice can be hot, or rather, cold enough to burn him alive. Her nod is certain, and he grins, alive with the desire in his veins, and the night sky calling to him, so he gathers her in his arms, murmurs a soft “hold on tight” and kisses the skin behind her ear before spreading his wings and shooting into the sky.

A loud yelp near his ear. Nesta has flown with him before, but never at night, and never with her arms and legs closed around him like so.

He feels the weight of her breasts pressed against his chest, and he reminds himself that there are only a couple of layers between them, and gods, it is heaven to feel her, unbound by her corsets and hoops and all the useless things humans have invented.

He feels the tips of her breasts through the silk, pleasantly hardened, and it makes it hard to concentrate on navigating the air currents on the night wind.

He thanks whatever gods are listening when he catches a glimpse of the House of Wind. It is empty tonight, since it’s his turn to watch over Velaris this month. Nesta having come with him only made coming home an even sweeter ordeal.

Speaking of sweet things, the way Nesta eases onto her feet is adorable, her toes are likely digging into the ground, and he swears to himself he’ll take her out flying more often, but until then, it’s enough that he sees her half glowing in the dim firelight, flushed and panting, her freckles standing out against her pale skin.

“Well?” she asks, having somewhat caught her breath.

Cassian takes one of her hands and tries to pour his soul into her shining eyes. He raises it to his face and presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist, the gesture intimate enough to rob Nesta of breath.

“Lead the way.”

She throws a half smile his way, then laces her fingers with his and leads him along the cozy corridors. She places his hand on her waist, and where skin meets skin, there is a spark inside of her. Even if he is aware of it, Cassian only smirks in that insufferable way and traces her ribs, his touch building up something inside her.

They walk and walk, fingers forming languid paths on each other’s skin - Nesta’s lower back is a victim of his caresses, but she also takes care to trace the patterns of his tattoos, all swirling around sinew and muscle. By the time they reach Cassian’s chamber, they are both breathing more heavily than they should and he is pinning her to the door, tangling his fingers in her damp hair and slanting his mouth to hers.

She opens her mouth in a wordless gasp and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue against hers and explore the roof of her mouth.

His hands keep touching her everywhere. Down her back, underneath her top, between her shoulder blades, down the slope of her waist, palming her arse and bringing her closer.

Nesta parts her thighs, allowing him to slide between them. The movement is sweet and heavy, her hips rolling in a sinuous dance, until he can’t stand it any longer.

He nips her lower lip, rich and red, and starts pulling her voluminous skirts upwards until he manages to get through to the skin of her legs, fresh and smooth, the flesh soft and pliant. Her head arches back against the door, hitting it slightly, as his calloused fingers rise higher and higher.

However, instead of reaching the spot between her legs, the one that caused her such pleasure and relief, Cassian’s fingers dig in the the back of her thighs, lifting her up and aligning them. She feels his hardness against her thigh and bucks against it, causing a strangled, broken sound to melt off his beautiful lips.

The House of Wind is empty but for them and the soft breeze brushes past them from the open window, a cool balm on their heated skin. Nesta looks at him through her kohl-darkened lashes, feeling as if she were boiling and burning from the inside out. Their gazes meet, and the heady golden gleam in his dark eyes is enough to make her breath hitch.

He presses open mouthed kisses to her jaw, slow and sweet and he nips down her throat. He murmurs sweet nothings to her pulse, glides his hips against her with purpose, and it works, gods, it works, she is flushed and wrecked and gone, and she moans his name in his ear, and “inside, Cassian, let’s-let’s go inside”

How she manages to string words together is beyond her, but Nesta does, and she melts a little on the inside when she feels him pant into her shoulder, warm air tickling her, making her eyes roll into the back of her head and heat gather in her belly.

Cassian wants, Cassian wants like he has never wanted before, and it is a conscious effort he has to do, to not fuck the woman he loves against a thrice damned door, idiotic fool he is. He shifts her weight on this hips, on his other arm, just so he can reach and fumble with the doorknob, finally, finally opening the damn thing and kicking it shut behind him.

Nesta curls around him, a sweet and sinful weight, all grey silks and shining hair, her tongue in his mouth and her naked thighs wrapped around his hips, mindful of his wings.

They finally reach the bed, and Cassian sits down, allowing for her knees to hit the soft mattress. It is not the first time she is in his bed, but it is the first when she is panting and wet and flushed with lust.

“May-may I?” he asks against her lips and her fingers tangle in his hair, and he lays a hand across her back, brushing the embroidered silk that is wrapped around her torso. He feels her breasts, hardened even at the faintest touch from him and it is too much, far too much for his poor heart to take.

“Yes,” she mutters to the skin of his neck, “yes,” she whispers breathlessly as she bites him and Cassian moans loudly, pressing kisses to her warm skin.

It is all Cassian has waited for, and he fists a hand in her hair and palms her breast through the silk. Soft pants escape her bruised lips as her hips shift against his, driving him half insane with want and Cassian swallows those sound, takes them from her and hides them in his heart, because never was there a sound so lovely, one so heartbreakingly sweet.

Her tongue meets his at the entrance of her mouth, and she makes up for the lack of experience through sheer bull-headed desire. She will not wilt in his arms, she will not be putty, she will take him as he has taken her heart, Nesta decides, because fair is fair and he has no right to make her tremble like that.

So she grounds her her hips against his, pressing against him until she feels the breath catch in his throat. Nesta tugs at the laces of his vest, traces the tattoos and scars swirling on his skin, his good luck charms and the reminders of his defeats, all permanently etched into his very being.

He throws his vest somewhere in the back of his room, leaving his skin gloriously bare under her touch, and he kicks off his boots. Cassian whirls them around, bows his head and trails kisses down her neck, the slope of her shoulder, willfully ignoring her breasts, which earns him a disgruntled moan from her, then pressing his open mouth to her bare midriff.

His hands snake underneath her skirts, finding the tiny clasps and delicate bows that hold them together, and tugs them apart, letting the material pool around her.

A wet kiss to her inner thigh, then his mouth flush between her legs, as she wraps them around his broad shoulders. The first touch of his tongue through her smallclothes sends her back arching off the bed and the infuriating man chuckles. He pushes her hips back against the bed, and gods, the sight of him, wings aflutter and hair wild, eyes dark as they glimpse up at her from between her legs, it nearly undoes Nesta.

He rakes his fingers across the skin of her thighs, finally, mercifully taking her smallclothes off and kissing her. Nesta’s eyes roll into the back of her head and she is weightless, lost, there is only the pleasure he brings her, the imprint of calloused hands, warm and loving, on her belly and hips and leg, there is only the memory of him, etched forever on the backs of her eyelids.

This is what Nesta will dream of, this is what she will think back on, the heat inside them both, consuming and binding.

She fists her hands in his dark curls, feels the brush of his wings against her own skin as her toes curl. He wraps his lips around her, uses his fingers, his tongue, whatever damned magic the gods have bestowed upon him, and it all comes to this moment of pleasure so intense, it nearly becomes pain.

Nesta is flushed and breathing hard, completely at ease with her nakedness as she falls back into the pillows. She closes her eyes, resting, and she feels silent, easy, simple caresses on her body.

A finger skimming across the edge of her top. Nesta had felt awfully exposed when she had first put it on, but now even the slightest of silk feels constricting, and so she wordlessly allows Cassian to free the tiny buttons that hold it together, breathing deeply when he finally takes it off her.

He traces kisses upwards the length of her body, soft and hard all at once, and Cassian still feels drunk on the taste of her, he still wants to listen to her moans again and again.

Her breasts are soft, filling his palms, the rosy nipples already turned dark under his earlier ministrations. He lets a finger circle the puckered flesh, a knuckle brush against it, teasing the moans out of Nesta. Gods. His heart beats wildly in his chest, a strange sort of reverence choking him, making it hard for the air to reach his lungs.

Cassian kisses the underside of her breast, nipping slightly at it. Her fingers comb through his hair, the bite of her nails making the heat in his belly flare. He has been painfully hard for some time, with only the thought of her, her hips and mouth and lips and breasts, the warmth of her, the way only ice can be warm.

It is her eyes again, they are what nearly drive him to the brink of madness, an icy midmorning sky and they are closer and closer and closer

She anchors herself to him, has been pulling at him, at his shoulders and hair and hips, until they are nose to nose, and he can count her freckles and her lashes and the colours she takes when flushing.

Nesta smiles upwards at him, and it is both innocent and wild, triumphant and sweet and Cassian is struck breathless.

Their mouths meet, the headiness of this kiss so vastly different than any other before. There is no rush, there is nothing hurried between them, it is only want and molten passion, the kind that burns slowest and brightest all at once.

She wraps her legs around him, ankles cross at the small of his back. And Nesta nearly trembles, not in fear, necessarily, but in anticipation. It eats away at her, it consumes her whole and she feels him at her entrance, smooth and strong and she holds him close, because she wants this, she has wanted him for too long.

Her heart beats wildly in her chest as he enters her, slowly, carefully, and she feels him holding back, allowing her to adjust. There is some pain. Or rather, discomfort, an alien, foreign sort of feeling. Nesta battles it with all her might, but then the pull of his lips carries her away.

She looks up, and realises he is talking to her, whispering on and on in a tone that makes her melt.

Nesta has never wanted empty platitudes, hollow flattery or sweet nothings laid at her feet. Yet she craves the warm, raw quality of his voice, she craves his warmth as she buries her nose in the rough underside of his jaw, in the nook of his neck, right above his pulse. She kisses it, drunk on the sound and feel and taste of his heartbeat, the ends of his hair tickling her nose.

“Move,” she whispers, holding onto him with everything she has, “move, move, move”

He does, gods, he does, and the pain ebbs away with each thrust, becoming mild and strange and nearly nonexistent, just a sense of being that washes through her.

Then Cassian raises himself on an elbow, mindful of her hair, caresses a hand down the side of her face, with such heartbreaking gentleness, that a shiver runs down Nesta’s spine.

He holds her gaze, gods, his eyes both quite and mad with a glint of magic and she loves it, she loves the way he looks at her, the way she can see into her very soul.

She wonders if he can do the same and finds that she does not mind it.

His hand floats down the side of her neck, quiet and certain. And his mouth follows, igniting something deep inside her.

Cassian’s wings, beautiful and scarred with silvery lines, flare above them, and she stops to look at them. His fingers brush against her breast, making her breath hitch, he traces the curve of her waist, the dip in her navel, the flare of her hips. Down her belly, and soft, slow, right to the place where they are joined.

“Look at me, love,” and Nesta cannot fight the urge. The pads of his fingers, roughened by years and years and years of fighting, press against something in her, and instantly, she feels the moan building inside of her, the heat starting anew.

His smile, the slight turn of his full mouth, the crinkle on the edge of his eyes, it fills her heart, and when they move again, the discomfort is almost gone, and the feeling that remained is almost too much to bear.

It is a continuous change, the slow ebb of their bodies, restraint and release, craving and taking and Nesta loses herself in it.

Again, she feels herself get closer and closer, her pleasure building up, and she feels herself tighten around him and gods, Cassian is looking at her, his eyes gleam almost golden in the low light, they are what keeps her from falling into this unknown abyss and she hangs on tight to them, to him, and

“Nesta, Nesta, Nesta”

the mantra of her name on those beautiful lips, and the way he seems quite as gone ad she is, it is the final push she needed, and she takes his mouth and she falls apart under him.

He holds onto her thighs, they are locked around him and he is increasingly frantic, peppering her with kisses, tracing adorations in her flesh and she wraps herself whole around him, closing him into herself and not letting go and

“Come, love, come, Cassian, come, come, come”

and there is almost pain on his face, the abandon and want and gods, it is love, it is love and Nesta laughs and cries at the same time when she realises that, he loves her and she will not let him go, not ever, and he comes with a sound so fragile, so vulnerable, that her heart constricts.

He is hers and she will hold him close. He is hers and she will keep him safe.

Cassian falls on the pillow beside her, careful not to crush her. It is a pleasant weight, them two together on the crumpled sheets and Nesta smiles at him, sated and full and tired.

He moves a hand, brushing the damp hair out of her forehead, and his heart hurts, it is too full, and oh. She has ddimples good gods, she has dimples and a savagely innocent smile, and Cassian hopes to hell and back that he has not hurt her.

He thought he would die, the moment he felt her break around him, the way her maidenhead tore and he has harmed too many people, it has cost so many so much, the last time he had allowed himself to be this selfish, and the fear is gnawing at him again. It grows, this dread, deep in his stomach, because there are things he has done, and burdens he can, and will, bear until the end of time, but harming this girl, this precious, angry, wonderful girl is not something he could do and live with himself afterwards.

There is a hand on his face, a cool, pleasant hand, soft and gentle. His eyes rise to her, her hooded eyes, her tangled hair, her red mouth.

“Come here, Cassian.”

He does, reflexively, following the amber tone of her voice, clear and certain.

Her hand traces the side of his jaw, unshaved for a few days, her nails scratch his skin and she tilts his chin up, pressing a kiss to his yet open mouth.

It is neither chaste nor wanton, neither regretful nor frantic. It is strange and instead of the farewell Cassian expected, it is a new greeting.

She smiles at him when she falls back against the pillow, and the heart stops in his chest.

“I love you,” she whispers, soft like a dream. It boggles the mind, the fragility she allows in that admission. Cassian is not worthy of it.

But the lie cannot stand, the truth in him cannot remain hidden after that.

“As do I you,” he says, and it is for the first time, that he actually feels naked before her, small and wicked and awful and afraid.

Yet her eyes light up with something he is not brave enough to face because she cannot love him, not - “stop that.

"I was going to make a joke, you silly man. I cannot do that if you beat yourself over things that are not your fault,” she winks conspiratorially and hugs herself close to him.

“And what would you I rather do, lady?” he smiles down at her.

“Hm,” she ponders, purring at the endearment, until she decides on “you tell me a joke.”

He sighs content in her hair, tangled and damp, the weight in his chest dissipating some, and wraps his arms round her.

Cassian presses his lips to her cheek, tracing a line to the shell of her ear, and whispers his answer, “we both need a bath, love”.

The tremor down her spine is instantly countered by her snort.

“Funny.”

“I am not joking,” he challenges, an eyebrow rising at her.

“Neither am I getting out of this bed.”

Resolve is settled deep in her voice, a playful tone making it sweeter. Cassian snakes his arms around her frame before she can protest.

Nesta yelps as he jumps out of bed, her in tow. Her hold onto his shoulders is strong enough to bruise, but he does not object, of the shit eating grin on his lips is to be trusted.

She beats a hand against his back,

“Why, you little-”

Cassian flares his wings behind them, like a cat would stretch its back, and, with his smirk in place, kisses her on the nose, effectively interrupting her.

“Hush now, love,” he says, kissing away her amused frown. “Let us instead find the closest bathtub.” Her snort only belies the sardonic smile on Nesta’s face, because yes, she needs a bath, and yes, it is not quite so unpleasant, being carried around like a queen, when she still feels a bit sore, and more than a bit lazy.

She prays there are no servants around the house this late at night, though, because neither she, nor Cassian bothered with anything to cover themselves up.

#my stuff #acotar #acomaf #acowar #nessian #smut #oops

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kathydsalters31 · 4 years

Text

Why I Use a Head Collar for Dogs– Halti or Gentle Leader

Hey there, I’m Barbara! I’m a professional pet pedestrian as well as I love using a head collar for pets!

I was first introduced to head collars in 2012 and also have been utilizing them DAILY since, both on my very own dogs as well as on my customer canines.

They’ve been a complete game changer for me as far as walks are concerned since they transform most pullers right into well-behaved pups on chain.

What is a head collar for dogs?

Indeed, like I simply briefly mentioned, a head collar is a mild no-pull tool. It’s specifically what its name suggests– a collar that a pet dog uses around his head.

That Mutt Ace with his Gentle Leader(he’s not pleased )It includes a(sometimes padded)noseband that loopholes around his nose and also a neck band that closes behind his ears. The ring attachment under the pet’s chin is for the leash the pet is walked on. Think of it as a doggie version of a horse halter! Some head collars have an additional safety attribute in the type of a strap that clips to the pet’s routine collar. If the neck band opens for whatever factor, the pet dog can’t simply remove due to the fact that the leash is still affixed to the regular collar.

There are several different brand names of head collars. Both best known ones are

Halti as well as Gentle Leader. My pet dog

Wally with his head collar Halti I directly favor the Halti over the

Gentle Leader because it features a larger noseband that’s padded. In my opinion, that’s a much better choice since a normal, thin noseband can create chafing on a dog’s nose and also under the eyes. A padded noseband is less likely to do this. Just how does a head collar for canines work? The head collar assists me take care of the pet I’m walking by

regulating the dog’s head. When I need the canine to re-focus instead of area in on an additional pet, individual, or canine, I just guide the pet’s head far from the distraction. Because of the mild pressure the collar puts on the

pet dog’s neck as well as muzzle, their head goes into the direction I want it to take

, and also the body adheres to immediately. Remy with his Gentle Leader It’s fantastic to use as a tool when you’re teaching your pet respectful leash strolling skills and also do not want him to draw. Some individuals only utilize a head collar

as a transitioning tool and stop utilizing it when their pet dog has actually understood the polite leashed stroll. That’s not how I use it! I directly use it every day although my pup Wally is currently extremely well acted on his chain. That’s since he’s one of those dogs that walk flawlessly fine until they get distracted by something like a pet cat or

a loose dog. He goes nuts and also begins leaping about as well as desires to get to whatever it is that’s causing him to respond this way when that happens. It’s for those minutes that I pick to utilize the head collar on a daily basis.

I want to be in control of my canine whatsoever times as well as I wish to be able to redirect him from such an upsetting scenario. The same principle puts on the several different client dogs I’m walking. I’m liable for those canines while they’re in my treatment, as well as head collars give comfort for me.

< iframe title= "How To Use A Gentle Leader Head Collar-Professional Dog Training Tips" width="1200" height="675"src= "https://www.youtube.com/embed/JW_KVUgIozY?feature=oembed"frameborder= "0"enable="accelerometer; autoplay

; encrypted-media

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“allowfullscreen > Who should use a head collar for dogs? People that can benefit from making use of head collars on pet dogs are those that do not desire canines to draw or otherwise are mischievous while they’re on a leash. In a nutshell, any person

that handles canines often, like: Dog walkers Pet dog owners Veterinarians Groomers Rescue personnel Anyone who manages a canine who draws hard, lunges or leaps Head collars stop dogs that draw or otherwise misbehave from breaking down when they’re leashed. The best instance for this is one of my clients, young German Shorthaired Pointer Whiskey that pulls a number. In fact that’s an exaggeration. He draws like a freight train, and that’s although he’s a rather little rep of his type.

He’s likewise a searching type, however his target drive isn’t extremely solid. So that’s not what’s giving me a tough time. It’s his leash walking skills that are merely poor, and also he has an excess amount of energy whenever I see him.

I’ve tried walking him on different collars to limit his drawing, however the only one that helps him is a head collar. It was a 5 min struggle to place it on him the really very first time I brought it over, however it was a prompt video game changer! Currently he’s used to wearing it, as well as his pulling is very convenient when I walk him.

German Shorthaired Pointer Whiskey putting on among my head collars That being stated, head collars are also fantastic to use on pets that stroll nicely on chain, however who have a strong prey drive that just begins sometimes. That would certainly hold true with my very own pet, Wally!

Head collars for individuals that deal with pet dogs with solid prey drives

Wally is a

Feist. That’s a squirrel searching type. Like I claimed earlier, he goes nuts whenever he sees a feline or a squirrel. Now, he’s found out to walk very nicely on a leash. That’s with or without his head collar at this point, and also particularly whenever he wears his doggie backpack.

His strong victim drive in the direction of tiny, rapid moving animals is the reason why I still stroll him on his head collar. It enables me to continue to be in control at all times and to redirect him (essentially), including those when he would love to start a chase!

Visualize you’re strolling your otherwise mannerly Viszla when he wants as well as finds a pet cat to begin a high speed pursuit! Wouldn’t it be nice not to need to bother with your arm being taken out of its socket?! It would be much harder controlling your hunting puppy on a routine collar than if he wore a head collar, I assure that! That’s specifically what inspires me for strolling Wally on a head collar.

Pros of head collars for pet dogs

Baby Remy in his Gentle Leader So as I’ve started mentioning, head collars have a great deal of advantages, such as: 1. Protect against pet dogs from drawing A head collar for canines is a very mild means of controlling your dog when he’s leashed. It’s a remarkable device for mentor respectful chain walking abilities. 2. Head collars are wonderful for responsive pets

It’s equally reliable to handle reactive pet dogs, no matter what or that they’re reacting to. This could be other pets, people, kids, or little pets like pet cats, squirrels, and bunnies.

3. Excellent option to prong collars, choke collars, as well as slip collars

Many people don’t know exactly how to effectively make use of those collars as well as create damage to their pet dog’s throat area as a consequence. That’s a whole lot much less most likely with head collars, which make them a more mild training/walking device.

4. Makes it simple to walk several dogs together

Head collars make it a breeze to stroll numerous pets with each other. That’s especially true if they’re large and also strong, and tend of drawing.

5. It’s cost effective

A head collar prices between $10 and $45, depending on different styles and designs. The ones with a higher rate point are made of leather or have reflective sewing. A lot of pet dog stores lug them, and also they’re also readily available online.

My dog Wally with his natural leather head

collar 6. Is available in various dimensions Head collars are generally available in little, tool, large, and also additional large sizes. My 38 lb puppy Wally uses either tiny or medium sized ones, depending upon the specific manufacturer. My Boxer blends Missy as well as Buzz weighed 50 pound as well as 75 pound, and they put on a tool as well as a plus size head collar, respectively.

Cons of head collars

Certainly there are a few disadvantages of head collars also, although the pros outweigh the cons in my point of view:

1. Take some obtaining utilized to

The majority of pets do not appreciate wearing the head collar initially, and some will also put up a fight trying to get it off. That’s why it’s vital to carefully present it, ideally with smelly treats or food and in mix with a stroll and/or a vehicle flight. It’s just as vital to keep using them to ensure that the dog can begin obtaining utilized to them.

2. Some people error head collars for muzzles It’s

primarily annoying since those individuals assume the pet dog is dangerous. A head collar is nowhere close to being a muzzle since it doesn’t limit the pet’s mouth at all. A pet who wears a head collar can still open his mouth to consume alcohol, consume, get playthings, pant and also bark!

My veterinarian is a solid supporter of head collars as well as constantly tries her finest to talk about it to any individual that has trouble walking their pets. Last time I spoke to her she mentioned just how a person thought her dog was aggressive when she walked him on his head collar. Yes, it’s mainly annoying when it’s incorrect for something it’s not.

3. They can snag the pet dog’s head around

If somebody doesn’t understand how to effectively utilize the head collar on their dog, they can create them pain by jerking their head around. Instead, it’s crucial to delicately reroute the pet dog’s head. The body will instantly comply with.

4. They’re not a great fit for some pet dogs

They don’t work well for brief snouted, brachycephalic canine types like Boxers, Pugs, Bulldogs and Chihuahuas. Nonetheless, my Boxer MIXES had no trouble using them since their snouts weren’t as brief as those of a pure-blooded Boxer.

Walking my Boxer blends Missy & Buzz on their head collars Where I utilize a head collar with my own canine When we’re out on hikes or walks, the most noticeable use of Wally’s head collar is. Because we walk every single day, Wally uses his head collar daily also.

Wally using his head collar on a walk Yet I also utilize it when we

bike together to make sure that he does not pull me off the bike

if he sees a squirrel or a feline. My pet dog Wally with his head collar and backpack on a bike trip Another time when I see to it that Wally wears his head collar is when we go to the veterinarian’s or into a pet-friendly shop.

Wally at a family pet retail store with his head collar Currently we would certainly like to hear from you! Now it’s your turn! Have you used a head collar to walk your canine? Do you have any kind of additional guidance?

If you have any kind of concerns, let us recognize in the comments!

Barbara Rivers creates on a regular basis for That Mutt.

She is a blogger, raw feeder and pet dog pedestrian as well as maintains the

blog site K9s Over Coffee. Relevant articles: Best training collar for extreme pullers (That Mutt)

Prong collar vs. Gentle Leader (That Mutt)

Easy Walk harness testimonial (Puppy in Training blog)

source http://www.luckydogsolutions.com/why-i-use-a-head-collar-for-dogs-halti-or-gentle-leader/

from Lucky Dog Solutions https://luckydogsolutions.blogspot.com/2020/07/why-i-use-head-collar-for-dogs-halti-or.html

0 notes

barryswamsleyaz · 4 years

Text

Why I Use a Head Collar for Dogs– Halti or Gentle Leader

Hey there, I’m Barbara! I’m a professional pet pedestrian as well as I love using a head collar for pets!

I was first introduced to head collars in 2012 and also have been utilizing them DAILY since, both on my very own dogs as well as on my customer canines.

They’ve been a complete game changer for me as far as walks are concerned since they transform most pullers right into well-behaved pups on chain.

What is a head collar for dogs?

Indeed, like I simply briefly mentioned, a head collar is a mild no-pull tool. It’s specifically what its name suggests– a collar that a pet dog uses around his head.

There are several different brand names of head collars. Both best known ones are

Halti as well as Gentle Leader. My pet dog Wally with his head collar Halti I directly favor the Halti over the

pet dog’s neck as well as muzzle, their head goes into the direction I want it to take

< iframe title= “How To Use A Gentle Leader Head Collar-Professional Dog Training Tips” width=“1200” height=“675"src= "https://www.youtube.com/embed/JW_KVUgIozY?feature=oembed"frameborder= "0"enable="accelerometer; autoplay

; encrypted-media

; gyroscope

; picture-in-picture

Head collars for individuals that deal with pet dogs with solid prey drives

Wally is a Feist. That’s a squirrel searching type. Like I claimed earlier, he goes nuts whenever he sees a feline or a squirrel. Now, he’s found out to walk very nicely on a leash. That’s with or without his head collar at this point, and also particularly whenever he wears his doggie backpack.

Pros of head collars for pet dogs

It’s equally reliable to handle reactive pet dogs, no matter what or that they’re reacting to. This could be other pets, people, kids, or little pets like pet cats, squirrels, and bunnies.

3. Excellent option to prong collars, choke collars, as well as slip collars

4. Makes it simple to walk several dogs together

Head collars make it a breeze to stroll numerous pets with each other. That’s especially true if they’re large and also strong, and tend of drawing.

5. It’s cost effective

My dog Wally with his natural leather head

Cons of head collars

Certainly there are a few disadvantages of head collars also, although the pros outweigh the cons in my point of view:

1. Take some obtaining utilized to

2. Some people error head collars for muzzles It’s

3. They can snag the pet dog’s head around

4. They’re not a great fit for some pet dogs

Wally using his head collar on a walk Yet I also utilize it when we bike together to make sure that he does not pull me off the bike

If you have any kind of concerns, let us recognize in the comments!

Barbara Rivers creates on a regular basis for That Mutt.

She is a blogger, raw feeder and pet dog pedestrian as well as maintains the

blog site K9s Over Coffee. Relevant articles: Best training collar for extreme pullers (That Mutt)

Prong collar vs. Gentle Leader (That Mutt) Easy Walk harness testimonial (Puppy in Training blog)

from Lucky Dog Solutions http://www.luckydogsolutions.com/why-i-use-a-head-collar-for-dogs-halti-or-gentle-leader/

from Lucky Dog Solutions https://luckydogsolutions.tumblr.com/post/624506750064803840

0 notes

luckydogsolutions · 4 years

Text

Why I Use a Head Collar for Dogs– Halti or Gentle Leader

Hey there, I’m Barbara! I’m a professional pet pedestrian as well as I love using a head collar for pets!

I was first introduced to head collars in 2012 and also have been utilizing them DAILY since, both on my very own dogs as well as on my customer canines.

They’ve been a complete game changer for me as far as walks are concerned since they transform most pullers right into well-behaved pups on chain.

What is a head collar for dogs?

Indeed, like I simply briefly mentioned, a head collar is a mild no-pull tool. It’s specifically what its name suggests– a collar that a pet dog uses around his head.

There are several different brand names of head collars. Both best known ones are

Halti as well as Gentle Leader. My pet dog Wally with his head collar Halti I directly favor the Halti over the

pet dog’s neck as well as muzzle, their head goes into the direction I want it to take

; encrypted-media

; gyroscope

; picture-in-picture

Head collars for individuals that deal with pet dogs with solid prey drives

Pros of head collars for pet dogs

It’s equally reliable to handle reactive pet dogs, no matter what or that they’re reacting to. This could be other pets, people, kids, or little pets like pet cats, squirrels, and bunnies.

3. Excellent option to prong collars, choke collars, as well as slip collars

4. Makes it simple to walk several dogs together

Head collars make it a breeze to stroll numerous pets with each other. That’s especially true if they’re large and also strong, and tend of drawing.

5. It’s cost effective

My dog Wally with his natural leather head

Cons of head collars

Certainly there are a few disadvantages of head collars also, although the pros outweigh the cons in my point of view:

1. Take some obtaining utilized to

2. Some people error head collars for muzzles It’s

3. They can snag the pet dog’s head around

4. They’re not a great fit for some pet dogs

Wally using his head collar on a walk Yet I also utilize it when we bike together to make sure that he does not pull me off the bike

If you have any kind of concerns, let us recognize in the comments!

Barbara Rivers creates on a regular basis for That Mutt.

She is a blogger, raw feeder and pet dog pedestrian as well as maintains the

blog site K9s Over Coffee. Relevant articles: Best training collar for extreme pullers (That Mutt)

Prong collar vs. Gentle Leader (That Mutt) Easy Walk harness testimonial (Puppy in Training blog)

from Lucky Dog Solutions http://www.luckydogsolutions.com/why-i-use-a-head-collar-for-dogs-halti-or-gentle-leader/

0 notes