#or that dog always does this when he’s wearing a leash

[cuneiformkey]

I am constantly thinking about that scene from where the Reshi build their communities on the backs of the gigantic Tai-na greatshells who they also worship as greatshell gods. The Reshi only go to war “when the god decides” by attacking another greatshell — and I love the solidarity with their giant turtle home.

A Reshi Prayer: Our Greatshell, who art here beneath us, Tai-na be thy name. Thy soul be one, Thy will be done, on shell as it is at sea. Give us this day our daily fish, and anyone who trespasses against Thee is gonna have to deal with us because we will fuck them up!

We should replace our current system of “war to steal resources”, and change to “let our turtles decide.”

[amazinglyashy]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a prompt where the reader is out at night with the LIs, wearing a pretty outfit, a man just approaches her and rudely asks “how much for a bj?” How would they react/protect her from such a creep?

(Sorry, for my English, I hope it made sense haha🤞🏼)

Very Minor N/SFW Warning!! This one really made me laugh because this has happened to me before, and the situation mostly pans out with my own partner having to yank me away to avoid having to post bail on me later in the evening. Remember to leash your dogs kids! Thank you for the request!! <3

LaDS men when you get catcalled/propositioned on the street

Xavier -

He's apologizing profusely to you because the ensuing bloodspray from how hard he punched the guy in the nose got on your dress and he genuinely feels awful about it.

There is not much to it, besides he acted embarrassingly quickly, to the point you wonder to yourself if he's just been silently waiting for this moment to come.

He's used to going out with you for drinks or evening dates- it's one of the more common ways for the two of you to hang out aside from spending the evening in one of your apartments with the other. Juggling work and clocking out with social activities would also mean walking late at night, to go to a movie or even on a snack run.

So needless to say, he has in fact, been mentally preparing himself for something like this to happen.

He can't help it.

He doesn't ever want to see you disrespected- he doesn't care the context. Work, family, friends-

And now, what, a stranger asking you for sexual favors?

You wait calmly with him while he speaks to the officers about what happened, trying to contain your giggles at how sheepishly he looks at the ground, his face still painted with the most adorable anger.

Zayne -

Quickly, he's pushed you behind himself and holding eye contact with the guy. It doesn't matter if he's drunk, or perfectly sober, Zayne won't excuse someone saying such a ridiculous thing to you.

He has his usual air of politeness and manners, but the bite in his voice is more than apparent, even to someone who doesn't know him. Dressed as nicely as he is with the air he carries around him, it's a weird experience for those who don't know how protective Zayne can get.

He will tell the man to give you an apology and back off, or there will be consequences.

You know what those consequences are, and despite feeling smug about how protective Zayne is, you're trying to grab his arm and stop him, to no avail.

If the creep tries to reach for you, Zayne will back up into you to force you back gently, and the man will quickly realize that he can't reach forward anymore-

Even as Zayne walks away with you, the ice is still creeping up the man's body. Slow enough, but still moving.

Hopefully an OTTO calls for help in time. Hypothermia at night would suck.

Rafayel -

He's immediately between you and the guy, hand long since dropped your own as he crosses his arms and stares the guy down.

If you hadn't known him so long, you would expect him to fire off a tirade of insults and comments at the guy- but you know Rafayel. You know him well.

He tells the guy to back off, in the most simple of terms as he glare is enough to set the man alight- and Rafayel's evol does just that when the guy doesn't seem to back down- lighting up the shoulders of his clothing and causing him to flay around screaming, as Rafayel pulls you to keep walking.

The amount of tasteful compliments on your attire rise, and you know he's doing it to keep you from internalizing the earlier interaction and stop dressing how you want.

He doesn't need some random freak to keep you from expressing yourself how you want to. Of course, he'll always find you attractive, and the little outfit you're wearing is doing numbers to him, but that's not his focus here at all.

He wants you to feel comfortable, confident-

And he'll do everything in his power to make sure you always do.

Sylus -

I am not entirely sure the man who's asking you has finished his sentence before he's slammed once against a nearby building and then released.

Sylus makes no motion to indicate that it was his doing, continuing to walk along with you to wherever the two of you had been going in the first place-

But you knew.

You had seen his stupid red mist envelope him.

For a second, you'd been scared that he was going to kill the guy- and while you knew someone who was comfortable saying such a thing to someone needed to be put in their place, 'murder' was not at all the same as 'putting someone in their place'.

No, he was just slightly- sort of- broken.

Just a bit.

Sylus won't react much, he may give a passing comment about the man, but otherwise, he's back to complimenting you or conversing with you about whatever subject you two had been discussing prior to the creep showing up.

"Sorry, sweetie. I know you don't like bugs. I tried to handle it as... efficiently, as possible."

[noxcheshire]

We do not see enough of de-aged Danny being adopted outside of Bruce and Jason, and maybe like, a small handful of Dick and one Cass.

But I have not seen enough Tim Drake.

LET THAT BOY BE A PARENT.

Let Danny crawl up a roof, through alleys, and under shadows because he wants to either help himself when he returned to his correct age by copying their moves, or just because they are a little cool. Let baby Danny be found by Red Robin who immediately does a full 180 back over to land in front of a little toddler wearing an astronaut onesie.

A little toddler trying to squirrel his way through the roofs opening to escape and failing.

Let Red Robin feel the tilting reality of baby Danny willing to fight him and lying to his face even while trying to whisk away with some stray bat-weapons that have been left all around Gotham.

Let Tim Drake have a small handful of Amity Park feral clawing up his suit, demanding to be held because Tim doesn’t treat him like an idiot, but a very smart toddler that wants attention.

Let Tim Drake have a baby Danny that will try to fly away so he always must wear a baby leash, floating around Tim’s head like a living balloon. If he phases through, aunties and uncles YJ will also be there to catch the stray baby playing at a dog having escaped the house.

Let Tim Drake buy baby clothes and sew in various trackers with Danny eating his way through a messy apple sauce cup, ignoring the invasion of privacy because he is so used to Jazz having done the same thing when he was originally a baby the first go around.

Let Tim Drake accept the glowing greens that seep out from Danny’s fingers because that power is too much for his little body to handle. Accepting, even when the green begins to fade into walls, and objects, clothes, and skin.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader + reader is wearing a skirt and tights

toji loves eating your ass from behind. and he especially loves doing it when you're standing and he's down on his knees – extra points if you're letting him do it somewhere public and if you're wearing a skirt or a dress; the muffled squeal you let out as he turns you around and guides you to lean against the wall is like music to his ears – he hears the slap of you slotting your hand over your mouth to conceal any other sounds that might escape from your lips and he can't help but grin to himself.

he bunches the material of your skirt or your dress up enough, so he can finally get a glimpse of your underwear and the groan he lets out makes your knees weak. he presses your thighs together, his mossy green eyes set on your ass; his lips darts out to wet his lips, his head flooded with every pose he could ever possibly put you in.

you feel his fingers skim over your skin and then gasp out loud, your hand falling from your mouth when toji rips a hole in your tights. he catches your gaze over your shoulder and flashes you a wolfish grin before sinking his teeth into your plush flesh. you screw your eyes shut and bit your own lip, the feeling of his sharp teeth sending mixed flashes of both pleasure and pain through your body.

you hear voices and footsteps somewhere behind the door and you hate how much doing this in public turns you on. and what makes it even worse, is that toji isn't even fucking you – he's the one down on his knees, frothing at the mouth because he simply couldn't wait until you two get home to get a taste. he's the one begging for it, he's at your mercy.

toji grabs at your ass cheeks and pulls them apart before placing a kiss to your awaiting hole through your underwear. and then he's already yanking them to the side and shoving his face into your ass as if that's where he belongs.

he shakes his head from side to side, his tongue pressed firmly against your hole as you try to contain your mewls. subconsciously, you push your hips back towards him and the act makes toji pull away, forcing another whine out of you at the lack of contact.

"greedy little thing, hm?"

he gives your ass a slap but it's far from anything strong and loud – despite his eagerness to have you in public, he does not want anybody to find you two like this. he acts all big but he's possessive like that – he wants to keep you all to himself. it's not often he wants to be greedy but he just can't help it when it comes to you. he guards you like a dog, always at your heel and ready to obey your every command, the ridiculousness of them irrelevant in his clouded mind. you're the one in power; you're the one with the leash, tugging on his heartstrings with a steady hand.

but still, every so often he crumbles at your touch and takes the risk of being bad – when he tugged on your hand, when he led you to the quiet little room away from everybody else, he knew he was acting out on nothing but his carnal desires. and yet, you let him.

face buried between your cheeks while you grind yourself against him, using him like he's your toy – it's like a dream come true. he moans into your skin, his tongue pressed deep inside your tight hole and the vibrations that run through your body make your eyes roll back inside your head.

while keeping one hand on your thigh, kneading the flesh with his big hands, he lets the other fall to his own crotch. he's so fucking hard.

toji palms himself through his pants, hissing sharply at the friction. as you rock yourself into him, his hand starts to move in tandem with you. it's a sight to behold – toji, the big grumpy man, now desperately bucking his hips into his hand as he fucks your ass with his tongue.

not a single one of your hushed little sounds goes unnoticed by his keen ears; he listens to your gasps and your whimpers, his mind set on memorizing them all.

your orgasm hits you sooner than you'd expect; the tight knot in your tummy unravels the second toji stops playing with himself and starts pulling your hips back against his face with so much force you fear that you'll both fall over. his mouth is so, so fucking warm and you can feel his spit running all the way down your legs, and with the way he keeps groaning into you as if he's nearing his own orgasm aswell makes it impossible for you not to let go.

toji holds you there as you shake and tremble, his grip on your thighs never faltering as he laps at your hole like the starved man that he is. this time, he will go easier – he really doesn't want anybody to see you like this, not while he's pleasuring you, not after. those looks are for his eyes only. so, he pulls away with a pop and leans back to admire his masterpiece as you pant and heave against the wall.

his heart does flips in his chest when you finally turn to him with a fucked out grin on your face. his heart gives out when you trace over his cheekbone and lean down to plant a kiss to his scarred lips.

when you whisper to him.

"good boy."

[lologoinsolo]

Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Cats and Their Men Masterlist.

“Sir, I’m telling you.” You sit up a little more, “you cannot get a rabies shot from the vet.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing but also, you can believe it. “If you are worried that you have rabies then you need to go to the doctor.” You’ve repeated this so much that the man finally leaves in a huff. Well not before cussing you out for being a bitch to him. “Not shopping here anymore, my ass.” Mocking how he yelled that out before he left the store.

You take a breather when you start to get worked up. Rubbing your face like one would a cat, the smock you’re wearing is slightly wet and it’s making your skin prickle. You managed to get Jessica to let you start bathing two days ago. You figured it would be easier than working the register up front. Boy… were you wrong. The dogs are great, usually, but the pet owners or “Pet Parents” as the groomers say are not great, mostly.

Your eyes flicker over to the computer, you were making a ton of cold call to entice people to take their dogs in for bath or haircut when that guy was very insistent about needing to a rabies shot. “Can’t believe this—“ you start off but something catches your eyes. A man with a beard and a dark blue beanie is walking by holding some kitten salmon bags. A cat is walking right behind him. “Uh, sir!”

You stand up and come around to greet him. He must not’ve heard you with how he still walks. “Sir!” You yell a little louder and he pauses, turns around and looks at you. “Your cat,” you point down to the cat that’s now licking their toe beans. “They need to be leashed or in a kennel. They can’t be walking around.” It’s not safe, especially with other animals. The cat could get lost or worse! You start walking towards him, you plan on offering to help at least hold his cat for him.

He looks where you pointed and then looks at you coming up to him. “That’s not mine.”

You blink at him, your hands start to land on your hip. You’ve heard a lot of dumb things today but this is taking the cake. “Really?” You squint at him when the cat starts to rub at the man’s leg. “Sir, I understand that they are doing well by staying by you but it’s not safe—“

“Miss,” he cuts you off, he moves the kitten food to one arm, “I don’t have a cat.” He leans a little on his side, his chin tucks to his chest. There’s a spark of amusement in his deep blue eyes.

You can’t believe this. He’s holding kitten food in his hands, granted that cat isn’t a kitten but still! You take a deep breath, your patience has been running from you and you try to catch it once more. “Sir, the cat—“ just as you’re about your speech a man starts running up in your peripheral.

“Ah, there you are, love!” A familiar sound comes from the side, a dashing smile as always and slightly messed up face. “Was wondering if I’d catch you again— Sir?” Kyle turns from you and then looks slightly shocked. They know each other? “What are you?” He trails off when he sees the bag, “Oh, you’re cat sitting, I thought Johnny was gonna cat sit Bailey?” His arms cross a little, the puzzled look on his face brightens when he spots the cat doing a figure eight around the bearded man’s legs.

The man’s lips thin into a line, “Johnny’s needed, he had to head out.” Sadly, he ignores the cats affection, and then the older man looks from you to Kyle and then back to you. Something must’ve clicked in his head as his heavy brows lift just the slightest “I don’t have a cat, Miss,” he says to you, “bloke probably followed me in.” Kyle comes close and crouches, squatting right in front of the man. The cat perks up and nudges right against Kyle’s waiting hand.

“Looks like you, sir.” And the cat kinda does, there’s matching brown on the cats face, almost like a beard, and deep blue eyes, same as the man’s. “Just missing a cigar and fishing hat. Or beanie.”

“Garrick.” The older man’s voice is tight and looks on the edge of sounding like authority.

“Sir?” Kyle seems either none the wiser or is purposefully playing ignorant. He looks up with a grin, “it's fate, that’s your cat now.” He laughs and the older man looks none too happy. “Cat distribution center is at it again. Johnny will not be pleased one bit.”

“I don’t want the cat.” He looks to you and you shake your head side to side, same for your hands as you shake them in front of you.

“Sir, we can’t hold animals here.”

The man sighs long suffering like and Kyle laughs a little louder. “Face it, John,” he moves his hand down the cats back, who is now purring up a storm at all the loving, “he’s yours,” he lifts the cat's leg slightly to see the gender and the cat must think Kyle’s playing. He lets out a little noise and proceeds to curl and grip Kyle’s hand. Bunny kicking and licking at Kyle’s fingers. “Playful little guy.” Wiggling his hands some more and the cat pounces.

John, now that you know his name it’s rather suiting for him, tilts his head back with a sigh. The dark blue beanie he’s wearing scrunches slightly at the top. He mutters something under his breath about needing a smoke. Kyle continues playing with the cat and you wonder if that’s how he’s gotten more cuts on his hands and face. His kitty probably plays too roughly.

But, what are the odds that 3 men are back to back finding cats? You laugh a little and John tilts his head down towards you. Your laughter does and give him a sheepish smile, “don’t laugh now, sweetheart. You’re gonna help me with him.” His beard moves slightly as he looks none too happy. His cat really does look a little like him. Grumpy. You look to the empty grooming salon and then back at the two. Kyle has long since stood with the cat now up in his arms.

“Wonder if he’s old,” Kyle muses as he stands beside you, you in the middle of the two walls of man and muscle. “Would be a real match, eh, John?” The little nudge at age merely makes the older gent huff a laugh.

“Don’t test me, Garrick.” There’s no real bite in his words save for the twinkle in his eyes. You excuse yourself to go grab a cart for the two men, the grooming salon is as empty as can be. Jess can handle it, you think with a shrug as you walk on back. Pushing the cart and when you get close, you hear that they’re discussing names. Well, Kyle is at least.

“Could call him John Jr.” he holds up the cat a little, “beard boy, cigar, wonderer.” His names get worse and worse and you finally step in with a—

“How about Louis?” Both men look at you and you shuffle under their gaze, “that’s an old man name. I don’t really think the cat’s old though. Maybe 3 or 4 years old?”

There’s a little pause and you wonder if you should have went back to the grooming salon. “Old man name, huh?” John places the salmon kitten bag in the cart and quirks a brow to you. Kyle plops the cat down in the cart and already he’s off to sniffing the contents. “Just looks old, got a good amount of years left on him though. Ain’t that right, boy?” He moves his hand slowly to the cat. Louis purrs deeply and rubs right against his dad’s hand. Kyle says something, probably a tease, but you’re too entranced at what you see. A man that oozes strict authority, is being incredibly gentle in petting.

You really do need to work on your judgement. “Speaking of names,” you cough slightly, looking to Kyle whose’s already grabbing a nice looking cat bed. 2 to exact, his cat is definitely spoiled, “What’d you name your girl after all?”

“Oh, yeah, that…” He gives a small smile making your brows turn up. You think the worst, you really hope he didn’t give her away but you don’t know his circumstance or his home life. Just before you spiral he speaks, “don’t laugh, but her name is Marina.” You breathe a sigh of relief you didn’t know your were holding in. But you start to look downright puzzled at why he think you’d laugh. “She’s,” Kyle starts, he seems a little squirmy now, “she’s named after that lady on Sinbad… you know… the one with Eris in it and Sinbad had to—“ it starts to click.

“Oh!” Your noise alerts Louis who was making biscuits on one of the beds, “I remember that movie. Very regal sounding and I think it’s very fitting considering Marina was a bit sassy.” You loved her character in that movie. “She’ll look even cuter in that pirate costume with a name like that.”

“Thank you,” he sighs in relief, “Johnny thought it was dumb. Wanted to name her Rugrat,” he scowls, “course he was taking a piss but still.”

“Well,” you pull a face at that, “this Johnny has no idea what he’s talking about. I thought you said he was good with names?”

John’s eyes squint as he scoffs. “He can’t name shit.” He’s heard all the stupid names that the Scot has given his bombs. Cannot hear about another ‘BoomBoom’ or ‘Bigbooming’ without wanting to roll his eyes. Hard.

You laugh at this Johnny’s expense. You have a feeling that with the way this has been going… you’ll probably meet him sooner rather than later. It’s a real small world that the men you’re talking to also happens to be friend. Weird coincidences…

You end up joking back and forth with Kyle the entire time you take them around the store. Kyle’s been picking up more things for his baby and Louis is snoozing on the cat bed like the “old man” that he is. You give John the full rundown just like the two men before. He takes in your information like you’re giving him instructions on how to build a ship, very laser focused. Every time you looked away he’d follow you to keep eye contact. Your cheeks have never been warmer…

Eventually you get them both back to the grooming salon. Rather than making them go up front you use the register here to start scanning their items. Even slid them some coupons and discounts much to John’s strong disagreement. You bagged all their items and passed them both their receipts, giving Louis one last rubbing that wakes the old grump up. You quietly apologized for your transgressions and wave at the men once they take their leave. John gives a nod but Kyle waves back, you barely catch what Kyle says as they start walking away.

“…m’s gonna be back this week or next, sir?”

“This week, Gaz. Now help me load my truck.”

“Yes, sir. Johnny is gonna be livid that you have a cat now.”

[soobnny]

dating him | bang chan

❝ have i told you how beautiful you look this morning? ❞

CHAN | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin

chan as ur bf wow congratulations

it’s giving strangers to lovers if i’m being fr

u just meet on a random tuesday like nothing out of the ordinary

conversation is made and for SOME reason, chan always feels the cogs in his head stop turning when he’s talking to u

like it feels like he’s constantly on the run all the time so how come with u it’s so different

what did u do to him

well wtvr long story short, he FELL

fell hard

now he’s ur bf

ok hear me out

perk #1: unlimited supply of his hoodies

he’d love it too .. when u wear his hoodie

doesn’t even try to act upset or bothered that u’re stealing his clothes

sometimes he’s the one to even put it on ur bed so u can wear it after u shower

or when u’re coming home from the dorm and when u open ur bag .. oh! his hoodie!

“ah, i must’ve misplaced it 😅😅😅”

yeaaaaaaaaah sure

sure u misplace the hoodie in ur very pink bag instead of his black bag

u’re not very slick christopher bang

u don’t mind tho

his hoodies are always xxxxl in size and it smells like him

perk #2: u have ur own man wife

that man knows how to do everything

he can fix ur sink, build u a table, put oil on ur doorknobs so they don’t harden, can clean, like what can’t he do

have u seen hometown cha cha cha? he’s giving very Chief Hong in his skills

(minho does too but we’ll talk about him in his post)

oh, did i mention he can cook too

one of his favorite little mini dates is when u just go thru cookbooks together

and then … cook

i’m sorry this man is a sucker for domestic things like this

and cooking together means u also grocery shop together

a fun challenge he made up is where u pick up random ingredients and try to make something decent out of it

maaaaaan he’s just giving husband

anyways back to cooking

imagine him in the kitchen right

and he’s tasting something new he made

ofc u’re curious too cos wow whatever the hell he’s making smells and looks good

when you try to ask him if you can taste it, he’d KISS you

“how do you like it? 😏😏😏”

😳😳😳😳

he’s getting bold

he does strike me as shy at first in relationships

and then when u’re together for long, u’re like damn this man kinda freaky

perk #3: his dog

berry loves u

like sometimes even more than chan

(it’s bc u give her extra treats when u can)

u walk his dog together early in the morning

it’s kind of become routine

u’d just get out of bed with messy hair and still in ur pajamas while chan is perfectly ready bc he loves waking up early when he can

u don’t even care that u look like a mess

bc chan always reminds u how beautiful u are every morning

so … messy hair and pajamas … putting the leash on berry and walking outside

it’d just be quiet mostly on the walk

there’s no need for conversation with chan sometimes

chan would say he finally knows what peace means after meeting u

his favorite scene ever is coming home and finding u asleep on the couch with berry

he has a million pictures of that on ur phone

like different days, same scene

sets it as his lockscreen even

on nights u can spend together, u enjoy watching cringy christmas movies w him

cue recreating the scenes

except it’s a massive failure bc both of u just can’t stop laughing

u especially love those christmas movies one

“I DONT HAVE A TWIN WE CANT RECREATE THE PRINCESS SWITCH”

u end up just falling asleep together

ofc not without cuddling and intimate kisses

chan finds he sleeps easier bc of u

he used to always find it so difficult to fall asleep before

so how come it’s as easy as closing his eyes now

btw u two most probably have promise rings

and he most probably wears it as a necklace

and he loves hugging u from behind

chan loves being able to nuzzle his cheek on ur back and hold u

he’d probably do that thing where u’re unaware and then BAM a pair of arms around ur waist

his chin on ur shoulder

oh Wow….. wow i just made myself crazy thinking about that

he’d lean in to kiss ur neck or ur chin bc it’s closest access

and he’d just look at whatever the hell u’re doing

chan loves looking at u

does that sound creepy

he just loves observing u ok !!!!!!

esp when u’re doing something u love

his heart goes 💗💞💕💕💝💘💖💞💓💓

bc that’s his baby

he just adores u tbh

u could just be standing there and chan’s looking at u with heart eyes

anyways whatever CONGRATULATIONS

u guys will probably last forever bc he’s whipped and so in love

he’s giving me the More In Love vibe

like when he falls, he FALLS

happy 4 u

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[goodluckchamp]

PURE NICOTINE (18+)

PAIRING: Patrick Zweig x Art Donaldson x Reader  WORD COUNT: 2415 CONTENT TAGS: Smut, MMF threesome, bondage, edging, cigarette burns, sex toy, vibrator, ruined orgasm, overstimulation, light sadism, everyone is technically a switch but mostly bratty!Patrick + subtop!Art + dom!reader SUMMARY: You and Art have had enough of Patrick Zweig. Time to tie him up.

Patrick without Tashi is a problem. 

He’s always been smug, always been rowdy, but Tashi could keep him grounded. But with her away on a trip? He’s like a dog who managed to slip away from his leash— all unchecked energy and sharp teeth. 

And it’s wearing you and Art down. 

He’s the worst in the bedroom— dominant by default, with an endless stamina that leaves you both scrambling to keep up. He throws his weight around, laughing when you squirm and going harder when Art cries. It’s not that he doesn’t care, he does— he’s just excited to finally have some form of control, abusing his newfound freedom. 

God, you miss Tashi. 

Because now, you’re spread out on your and Tashi’s beds pushed together, the gaps between the mattresses barely noticeable beneath the damp sheets twisted around your legs. It still smells like Tashi against your face, her perfume something flowery and addictive. The air is thick with salt, sweat, and warmth, but the half-broken fan does nothing to cool you, stirring the heat around while you try to catch your breath. Your fingers idly trace the aching parts of your body, sticky with a mix of Art and Patrick. 

Art is worse, collapsed against the pillows, chest rising and falling rapidly as he pants. His golden hair is wet against his forehead, skin stained pink where Patrick’s fingers had dug in too hard. He barely moves with his eyes squeezed shut, except for the slow, twitchy shift of his fingertips against the sheets, like he’s trying to bring himself back to reality. 

And then there’s Patrick. 

Patrick is half-sitting against the headboard, one arm draped behind his head while the other entertains a cigarette. His body glows in the shitty, dim lighting of your room, letting the smoke curl up to the ceiling and dissipate. His hair is a mess, but he leaves it like it's all a part of the experience, looking too pleased with himself. 

His gaze flicks between you and Art, relishing his moment of glory— and when your eyes meet, he grins. 

You recognize what it means and groan. Not again. “No.” 

Patrick rolls towards you but you shove him away, hard.

“Patrick, get the fuck away from me.” 

“Come on, one more.” He practically whines at your rejection, hand crawling towards your stomach as he exhales smoke in Art’s direction. Art shivers. “You both look like you can handle one more...” 

You huff, pushing yourself up from the sheets. Art blinks at you, dazed, and you stare at him with intention— and you don’t even have to say it. He knows what to do. 

Art takes a breath to steady himself, then crawls towards Patrick. He shakily brings himself up to press his lips to Patrick’s, and Patrick grins, taking it as a sign of Victory. Not missing a beat, he grips onto the blonde curls to yank Art closer, deeper. There’s a muffled gasp at the pull and Patrick chuckles against the kiss, completely lost in it, not even realizing that you have grabbed his discarded belt from the floor. 

As you climb onto the bed again, Art shifts, straddling Patrick and pushing him onto his back. Art grabs Patrick’s hands and forces them up towards the headboard. There’s a sharp change in the way Art is kissing him now— teeth digging into his lower lip, threatening to break the skin. Patrick moans, trying to move away to touch Art— but Art is determined, locking him in his place.

Patrick falters for a moment, his cigarette slipping from his fingers and landing on his stomach. 

A choked sound escapes Patrick at the sudden contact. The hot tip of the cigarette presses against his skin and he jerks— it stings. You quickly use the time to wrap the belt around Patrick’s wrists, securing them tightly against the headboard.

“Shit—” Patrick sputters. “You— fucking—” 

Art watches smoke drift from the cigarette, almost satisfied at the way Patrick writhes beneath him. You give him grace and reach for the cigarette from his stomach, watching his muscles tense at the graze of your fingertips. Patrick lets out a sharp breath at the sight of a red mark, but you ignore his pained, almost betrayed expression.

He watches as you bring the cigarette to Art, pressing it to his pink, puffy lips. 

Art takes it without a word, locking eyes with Patrick before slowly inhaling, letting the nicotine fill his lungs. He breathes out, letting the smoke drift across Patrick’s slick skin. 

Patrick tugs against the leather restraints, like he’s testing how serious you two are with this, but there’s no way out now. You smile, pleased with the turn of events, taking a drag of the cigarette yourself. Bitter. 

“What are you gonna do to me, huh?” Patrick tries, trying to claw back some control. 

Without indulging him, you head to the drawer beside the beds, pulling out a small, unmarked cardboard box. You lift the lid, revealing a neat collection of toys, some bought by you and some gifted by Tashi. Your fingers ghost over the selection, eventually choosing a sleek black dildo.

Patrick stills at the sight of it, a nervous laugh leaving him. 

“Why do you even buy those?” A smirk. “You have me.”

“Well,” You flick on the small button and the silicone starts to pulse. You press it against your palm, letting the sensation ripple out as you lift your gaze to Patrick. “You don’t vibrate, so…” 

Patrick swallows, eyeing the silicone as if to size it up. He’s excited, you can tell, with his cock an angry shade of red and hard as a rock— totally shameless about the fact that he is.

And that’s the annoying thing about Patrick Zweig— he’s never embarrassed about what he wants and how he gets it. If you try to humiliate him, he’ll lean into it. If you make him beg, he’ll do it loudly. If you try to break him, he’ll give you a show.  

So, how do you wreck someone like Patrick? 

Art moves away to sit beside Patrick as you settle back onto the bed, kneeling between his legs. He watches you with an expected grin. Like he knows he’s still getting what he wants out of this. 

“You’re both acting like I won’t enjoy this.” 

His arms flex against the belt. His cock twitches, blatant, but you don’t give it focus yet. You press the toy against his stomach, watching Patrick hungrily move towards the vibration. You move it across his abs, following his happy trail but not quite getting to the pleasurable areas. Patrick’s breath hitches, anticipation forming from his depths as he licks his lips.   

“What do you want from me?” He’s too impatient. “You want me to beg? I’ll beg.” 

Annoyed, you push the toy on the cigarette burn and he hisses, muscles twitching at the aching sensation. 

“Mm.” He tries to shift away, body bending and rocking the bed with it— but Art’s hand snaps out, slapping his chest. Patrick lets out a surprised gasp at the sting, a red mark blooming over his pec. “Jesus Christ, Art—” 

Art ignores it, forcing another sharp slap down to the same place. This time, Patrick moans, the heat of it going straight to his groin. 

You turn the vibration up, then slowly drag it down to the tip of his cock, rubbing it against the precum beading at the slit. He drops his head back against the pillow, mouth parting open with a happy groan. You let it hum right there, just enough to give him some friction as Art moves towards you. 

He starts kissing your jaw, hand moving to touch your tits to give Patrick something to watch. Patrick bucks his hips because it’s not fair, it’s not enough— his head clouds at the smoke curling at his face and you flick the ash off the tip of the cigarette. It falls in a fine gray trail, landing against his pelvis. 

Just when Patrick feels like something is starting to form, you turn it off, taking it all away. You bring the dildo to Art, pressing it against his mouth and he obeys, letting you slide it between his lips. He coats it in his saliva, taking it deeper as you peer down at him, drawing another hit of nicotine. 

Art closes his eyes for a second, breathing through his nose as you push it down his throat. You can hear him moan softly as he works around the length, letting Patrick see it all. The toy slides in and out with a wet, rhythmic sound. 

“Cock slut,” Patrick says from the background. 

Art pulls back with a glare, letting you wipe some of his spit off his lip. You laugh at Patrick’s unearned confidence, lining the dildo up to Patrick’s entrance. 

“Finally.” He grins. “You’re gonna fuck me good.” 

Out of spite, you shove it inside him, the sudden intrusion making his body jolt. A sharp gasp tears from his chest, and he clenches around the toy, twisting at the belt around his wrist. 

You don’t give him a chance to adjust as you start the vibration again, this time at the highest setting. It slides in deep, legs bracing and abs rippling at the pulsing sensation. Meanwhile, Art squirts some lube then moves to take Patrick’s cock in his hand, watching it twitch against his touch. He starts to stroke him, up and down, at an unbearably slow speed. 

“Mmm, fuck,” Patrick pants, thrusting up towards the contact. “F-faster–” 

You twist the dildo and it hits the spot that makes him whine like a dog, his head tilting back, revealing his Adam's apple bobbing with every strained breath. You smoke as you watch Art pump Patrick up and down, going faster by the second. 

It’s not long until Patrick starts to beg.

“Keep going, I’m right there, I—” He stutters, clenching his eyes shut. “Holy— fuck—” 

“Stop.” 

Patrick’s eyes flutter open in panic. 

“Wait—” 

Art obeys immediately, and you turn off the toy as Patrick’s head tilts backwards. He thrashes in his place, as if he can somehow chase his lost orgasm. 

“Oh, come on, come on,” He babbles, turning to you with a strained smile. Like he’s amused but deeply terrified at the same time. “That’s your plan? Denial? That’s—” He cuts himself off when you start the toy again, the low buzz just enough to make his hips convulse. He huffs. “Okay. Okay.” 

You give a nod towards Art who starts again, looking at you with arousal in his eyes. You realize that his own cock is standing at the sight of Patrick’s subjugation, and you smile, leaning closer and locking lips with him as he continues to work the length.

And the two of you edge him over and over again. 

It's been, what, an hour? Maybe two?

And Patrick is a mess.

His body shifts instinctively toward any touch, seeking relief, seeking pleasure— but the moment he gets too close, you remove everything, pulling him out, forcing him to simmer in the cruel, dizzying ache of being edged to his breaking point. 

Patrick is so loud— he’s always been loud— but louder now that you’re being mean. His voice is raw and hoarse as he whines and curses between short, erratic breaths. 

But after a while, you hear no noise, except for the shallow, wrecked sounds slipping out of this throat. When you finally look at him properly after an hour of disregarding his pleas, he’s flushed all over, skin damp with sweat, lips swollen from biting down too hard. Half-lidded eyes glossy with something dangerously close to tears. His hands are slack against the restraints, body trembling with muscles twitching uncontrollable from overstimulation yet no release. 

He’s somewhere between pleasure and agony, and he has never looked prettier.  

You lean closer to him, taking out the dildo but he barely registers it, clenching around nothing. You brush your hand against his chest and he jolts, thighs contracting and breath stuttering. He’s too sensitive, too desperate, every nerve alight with the unbearable ache of being denied. 

Delicious. 

“You want to come?” You whisper against his skin. 

Patrick releases a strangled moan. He’s beyond begging now— he doesn’t have the strength. 

You tell Art to move over and glide your hand on Patrick’s cock, squeezing and tugging the way he likes it. Patrick mouths something none of you can hear as he feels his orgasm approaching. You press your fingers into his mouth and his tongue circle around them, like he’s thanking you for this, thanking you for torturing him—

With a twist of your hand, the tension snaps— the orgasm hits him like a train— and you immediately move away from him. 

“Fuck!” Patrick cries, watching his cum splatter onto his spasming muscles yet feeling no pleasure. It’s too much and not enough all at once. The contractions are practically painful as he pathetically winces, and fuck, he’s still hard. He groans. “No, no, no…” 

You look over to Art, who looks painfully turned on at the sight of Patrick. 

“Think he’s had enough?” 

Art smiles. “He looks like he can handle one more.”

“Fu-uck,” Art drawls, rutting into Patrick as the headboard slams against the wall. 

Patrick's cock hits his stomach with each thrust, squirting out precum every time Art reaches a particular spot. You place the vibrator on his tip again and he wails— finally breaking down. 

“S- So deep,” Patrick sobs as you pat his hair, wiping the sweat off his forehead while he falls apart underneath Art. “So fucking deep—” 

And Art takes that as an invitation to thrust faster, harder, giving Patrick exactly what he needs. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes in the room. Patrick lets out a broken cry, body completely surrendering to the two of you. Art slaps his hand over Patrick’s mouth, cutting off the only form of resistance he has. 

You grin, pulling out your phone. The screen glows as you frame the shot— focused on Patrick’s weak, desperate expression, with Art hovering above him, his back tenses and glistening with sweat.

Perfect.

You snap the picture, attaching a follow-up message with it. 

Attachment: 1 image Come home the kids miss you <3

And then, just for the hell of it, you take a cigarette from Patrick’s stash, lighting it up. You watch the smoke swirl through the air as you hit send.

NOTE: Cigarettes are also called fags. So. Also this is my first time writing SMUT smut so... yikes it's kind of rough, kind of wattpad, but... I'll get better !!!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Nine

He didn’t even say 'hello,' just, “you need to get some shoes on.”

Like Eddie’s being tested, right out of the gate. Eddie stares at the dog. The dog stares back. It’s sitting on it’s ass at the front door, right where Steve left it, neatly holding the end of its lead in it’s mouth like butter wouldn’t melt, tail swishing back and forth over the tiles as it slowly wags.

Eddie shoves his feet into some sneakers. Growing up they would have been the cheapest white sneaks going. Now they, to Eddie, look exactly the same as the ones he had growing up, and yet cost several thousand dollars more.

At least he didn’t pay for them. Brands are always sending him shit on the off chance he gets papped while wearing them. Chrissy used to try and nag him, right at the beginning, about brands and income and shit like that. Energy drink companies who send you product but actually it’s just a can of water for you to be seen with because no one ever actually drinks that chemical shit.

Eddie pretty quickly made his thoughts on all that bullshit known; he’s not playing their games. That was kind of the end of it.

Celebrity is weird; sending each other stuff. Eddie’s got all sort of shit that he’s not interested in.

He doesn’t care. The fluffy golden monstrosity in front of him definitely doesn’t care.

Eddie didn’t know golden retrievers could even get that big; he’s pretty sure if the thing got up on it’s back legs it would be taller than Eddie. The thing looks solid. Muscly and golden; a perfect fit for Steve.

Eddie pulls a hoodie out of the hall closet and puts that on for good measure. At least it has a hood.

“Okay, you ready?” Steve’s back from dropping his things off in whichever guest room it is that he’s claimed, “I swung by the kitchen, we definitely need to do a grocery order.” Falkor lets Steve take his leash, and Eddie follows them out the door, “anything in particular you want?”

“Overnight oats,” Eddie mumbles without thinking, “and the flat breads. The chicken, with the pomegranate.”

“Oh yeah, course, I’ll see how quick they can deliver, might be able to make that tonight.”

Eddie’s stomach grumbles, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t make any noise. Next to Steve, Falkor trots obediently, tongue waggling out of his open mouth, he keeps looking up at Steve and away again, Steve fussing him every time he does it. Telling him what a good boy he is.

At the gate, Steve puts in the code, and Falkor sits next to Steve while they wait for it to slide open far enough. That gets Falkor a treat out of the little fanny pack Steve has on, hidden under his own jacket.

Eddie could say something, but no, low hanging fruit. What kind of guy wears a fanny pack anyway? Even if it is a little one with lots of pockets, like Steve has somehow found the tactical version of a fanny pack. He was definitely a boy scout, there’s absolutely no doubt in Eddie’s mind.

“What’s with the dog?” Eddie asks as they head out. He hopes Steve isn’t expecting him to trek miles with the thing.

“He belongs to some good friends, but they’ve gone on holiday, and he couldn’t go. I said I’d take him for the week. Needed to use some PTO anyway,” Steve shrugs, “not always the best at remembering to take time off.”

Steve just...says it. He’s not having a go at Eddie or anything. He’s not, like, being any kind of way about it, Eddie’s sure, but, still, “sorry.”

“No worries, I’m going to take next week off instead, Robin and her girlfriend want me to third wheel with them to some convention over the weekend, so actually you kind of did me a favor.”

Eddie’s relieved that his selfishness hasn’t dicked Steve over; but he’s definitely not going to show it. “Convention? What kind?” They turn at the corner of the block, and Eddie hopes vaguely that means that they’re only going to do a loop and head back. He might be feeling better, but it very quickly becomes apparent how tough doing simple shit is when you’ve spent months doing no physical activity at all. At least the sun isn’t too hot right now, and Eddie’s rut is still at the itchy, vague awareness stage.

He prays to anyone who will listen that it’s more normal this time and doesn’t drag on for nearly a week.

“I don’t really know, they’re being kind of hush about all of it. All I do know is that we’re camping, they’re very excited to dress me up, and there’s going to be turkey legs.”

Eddie snorts a laugh, “Steve, that’s going to be some kind of renaissance fair.”

“Oh,” Steve frowns for a second, “hang on,” they’re at the next corner, and Steve makes Falkor sit for a second at the curb. No apparent reason that Eddie can discern, but still, the dog gets another treat and they move on. “So I might get like, a cool knights outfit or something? Maybe I’ll be defending the honor of two princesses.”

He actually sounds kind of excited about it. Which, to be honest, Eddie figures, Steve seems to be just that sort of guy. Game for anything. “More likely some sort of manservant. To carry the bags.”

“I’m far too noble,” Steve answers without missing a beat, “but I will carry their bags,” he almost immediately concedes. “So how have you been? Chrissy says you’ve been working a little?”

Eddie mentally kind of misses a step for a second, not expecting the conversation to turn to that, “yeah. Yeah- it’s. The guys are being great.”

“They’re being really nice about it all?” Steve asks, Eddie figures he’s just checking in.

“Yeah, yeah they’re great.”

“It’s infuriating?”

“I-” Eddie turns, stopping dead, “how did you know?” clearly he was not just checking in then, he’s using his magic mind powers again.

Steve shrugs, Falkor stopping at his side without having to be told, “see it all the time.”

Eddie starts walking again slowly, “what do you mean?”

“Friends and family. The people that really care, they have all sorts of funny reactions. Guilt is the big one, somehow blaming themselves for your choices. Thinking they failed somehow. Sometimes they distance themselves completely, just because it hurts to watch the person they care about suffering and they don’t know how to cope with it themselves. Anger, angry at themselves but lashing out. Honestly there’s a fucking laundry list, but just...kind of being smothering is kind of the top response,” Steve shrugs, “it’s because they care, and those feelings have got to come out somewhere, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie fiddles with his hoodie cuffs, “I think I’d prefer anger, from the guys. They’ve every right to be.”

“Uh hu, makes sense. But, like a lot of shit, that’s not your choice.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. He’d somehow forgotten Steve was an asshole, “do you not have any sympathy for me, like, at all?”

“Nah. They don’t pay me enough to get emotionally invested.”

“Oh my god you’re such a cunt.”

Steve sets out a bowl of water in the kitchen. It’s a proper dog bowl, so clearly something Eddie didn’t already have, which means Steve’s brought everything with him. That doesn’t surprise Eddie at all.

Steve snaps a picture of the dog, “proof of life.”

“Uh hu...wait, do they know he’s here?”

“They know he’s at a clients place, but no details past that.”

“Oh. I mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind if they knew.”

“I would.”

“Sure,” Eddie responds almost reflexively, sinking in on himself, he slinks out of the kitchen, going to hide in his bedroom. It’s understandable Steve’s embarrassed by him, or whatever the logic is there.

He knows Steve is in the room, hears the door and hears the pad of his feet on the carpet. Steve’s rattling around in the bathroom now, and Eddie is completely not at all surprised when he hears the bath filling up.

Eddie sighs. Considers fighting it. Decides he doesn’t have the energy. He strips in the bedroom, carelessly ditching his clothes on the floor, avoiding the sight of himself in the mirror. Too skinny. Pale. Sickly looking. Some nice tattoos, some a cheap mess.

Eddie gets into the bath, Steve doesn’t bat an eyelid at Eddie’s nudity, “groceries will be here in an hour, then I’ll make some lunch.”

He leaves the room, Eddie listens as Steve strips and remakes his bed. Potters around out there; leaves. Comes back ten minutes later, probably put on some laundry, Eddie guesses.

The bathroom is clean again already.

Eddie really should hire a cleaner, like fuck is he doing it himself, but for the first time he feels really bad about making Steve do it.

He likes the thought of Steve making the bed though; there’s an unfamiliar little rumble, right in the middle of Eddie’s chest. Just a tiny one. A little announcement of his Alpha approval at the thought of Steve building their nest, and then it’s gone again. It’s been a long time since Eddie’s body has produced a noise like that. His Alpha must be royally fucked up, considering everything Eddie’s put his body through.

Eddie’s never really been attracted to Beta’s before. It’s never been for him. Eddie naturally gravitates towards an extreme, likes the challenge of another Alpha, likes to have them folded in half and pinned under him. Likes how submissive an Omega can be.

It precedes a little flush of heat, that sound, exacerbated by the steaming bathwater. This feels more like the beginning of a rut; nothing like the half formed itchy bull shit Eddie was dealing with last time.

“Hair?” Steve appears in the doorway.

“Yeah, please.”

Eddie sinks down, glad that whatever fancy bubbles and salts Steve has filled the water with covers Eddie’s nudity and the fact that he is rock fucking hard.

The moment Steve's hands are in his hair, Eddie knows he has a problem. He has absolutely fucked up here; he should have said no.

Eddie’s Alpha is...confused. That is the only logical explanation for this. Steve has been present for a rut, if you could even call it a rut, doing all the peripheral things a mate would do. Feeding Eddie and making his bed and all that shit.

That’s all it is.

Eddie sits still and does his best not to be weird about it. Steve soaks his hair with that plastic jug he keeps pulling from no where, before going through the routine of washing, conditioning, combing, doing that funny little curl scrunch he does that Eddie’s pretty certain does fuck all for his hair.

And then the massage part.

Eddie sinks into it. Steve doesn’t miss a beat when Eddie starts rumbling again.

It’s heaven, Eddie relaxing into the hot water. Despite the steady rumble Eddie’s producing, Steve doesn’t act any different. Just takes his time, firm fingers doing stuff to Eddie’s scalp until he’s pliant and noddle like right down to his toes.

Eddie’s rumble quiets, half way between a purr and a snore.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Steve whispers so as not to disturb him, “don’t drown, paperworks fucking horrendous.”

Eddie’s hand creeps across his thigh almost without his permission the second Steve is out of the room. His cock is steel hard and hot even in the now cooling water. Eddie tries to take it slow; water does not a lubricant make. But Eddie’s wound up enough, apparently, that it doesn’t take much. With one hand Eddie massages at his burgeoning knot, and with the other he plays lazily with he head, fingertip pressure enough to draw his foreskin back all the way. He drags the velvet skin up and down the shaft slowly.

He’s done in about two minutes, come spurting and mixing with the bath water. It’s a proper orgasm, teeth clenched, spine bowed, eyes clamped shut. It drags right up from Eddie’s toes, the hand on his knot squeezing in an uncontrolled death grip. Eddie barely has his breath back before the pressure is dragging another load of come out of him.

It feels incredible. Probably the best orgasm Eddie’s had in months. Probably the only decent sober orgasm Eddie’s had in years.

He feels incredible, skin tingling, muscles alive with it. He feels like he could like, go for a run, or some crazy shit like that. Feels invigorated, like something inside him finally cleared through.

“Oh,” Eddie says out loud, finally realizing, “oh yeah.” Because he’s actually in rut. A proper one.

If this felt ridiculous before, it feels outright fucking stupid now. But still. Eddie humors Steve.

Feels like he owes him, at least a little. Falkor has some sort of toy that he’s rolling around on the grass; sometimes it dispenses a treat somehow, so Steve’s made allowances for keeping the dog occupied when they’re doing shit like this.

Eddie is full to the brim with Steve’s pomegranate chicken concoction.

So yeah, the least Eddie can do is sit criss cross applesauce on a yoga mat in the sun. Even if he does have an absolute rager of a hard on.

Steve’s not saying shit about it, which, small mercies.

“Are you willing to scent me this time?” Steve asks, apropos of nothing.

“I did actually scent you last time,” something Eddie recalls fairly graphically, and desperately tries to ignore the suddenly very wet feeling material clinging to the head of his dick.

“Yeah, after I nudged you into it, can we skip that this time-”

“Excuse you, there was no nudging-”

“Eddie,” Steve sighs, eyes still closed, still physically ignoring Eddie, “I had to pin you to get any kind of reaction-”

“You fucking bitch-” Eddie’s flabber is officially ghasted.

Steve does blink one eye open at that, “excuse you-”

“Are you telling me you tricked me with a- with a fucking back rub!” Which, looking back, that hadn’t even occurred to Eddie at the time, but hind sight is twenty twenty and...yeah. That’s kind of exactly what happened, “you sneaky fucker,” Eddie breathes out with the realization.

Steve still has his eyes shut, but he smirks a little.

Eddie has a bowl of fruit with ice cream, sauce, and sprinkles a la a small children's party.

Steve had thrust it upon him, and Eddie had taken it reflexively. He’s pretty sure the entirety of his five a day has been rammed into the bowl.

Steve sits next to him on the couch, “want to watch anything in particular?”

“Nah, don’t care.”

“Cool,” Steve flicks through Disney, which he must have logged into because Eddie is certain he does not have Disney fucking Plus.

Robin Hood, but they’re all animals. Eddie’s seen it, when he was a kid, kind of. He can’t say he really remembers it, and he finds himself watching it, eating his stupid bowl of ice cream, Falkor crashed out on the floor.

Steve takes their dishes after, “lets go for a walk.”

Falkor clearly knows that word.

“He’s not bothered at all is he, being in a new place?”

“Nah, Dustin and Sooz have put in a lot of effort training him, so they take him as many places as they can so he’s chill about stuff.”

“Huh.”

They walk for a while, Eddie only a little uncomfortable. Steve had very clearly said he was going to go and get changed and do dishes and a few other little jobs before they go, giving Eddie a ten minute grace period to frantically rub one out before they left. Eddie’s pretty sure Steve told him all that shit deliberately, since Eddie had spent half the movie trying, and failing, to stop himself rubbing scent on the couch cushions.

“Why didn’t you tell them where he is?”

Steve shrugs, randomly stopping at a curb with the dog. Sit. Wait. Treat. Then carry on.

“It’s no ones business who I work with.”

“Is that the only reason,” Eddie finds himself mumbling at the ground, feeling a little like an upset child over it still.

“Yeah. Yeah it is. Even though they’re good friends, and I really do trust them, confidentiality exists for a reason. I tell them where he is, and the next time they see me they’re going to ask how you are, totally innocent, totally just making conversation. It’s a slippery slope man, and it gets uncomfortable real quick, and that’s just a normal dude. I have at least one friend that I know is a massive fan of yours, I just don’t need it, you know?”

“Okay, yeah,” and that is fair, Eddie guesses.

“Plus...some people I work with are vulnerable, who they are and where they are...that has to stay privileged info, you know? To keep people safe. So, yeah, force of habit, I guess.”

“I...didn’t think of it like that,” and it genuinely hadn’t occurred to Eddie, that there could be risk in this, but it makes total sense now that Steve’s said it. “Sounds full on.”

“Yeah. Yeah it can be. Good though too, sometimes. When someone does good, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie’s still not a hundred percent sure he’s one of those, but he guesses he’s come far enough to be committed to giving it a go.

“Come on, this is what I’m here for.”

“Feels weird though,” it kind of does and kind of doesn’t, so that’s only a little bit of a lie. Eddie really likes the memory of Steve’s scent. What if he really, really likes it this time? This feels even riskier than the hair washing thing.

Chris’s angry words seem to echo through Eddie’s head, ‘this is not a sex thing.’ And Eddie does not want to be that guy.

It’s not like Eddie hasn’t scented Steve before, it’s just...this is deliberate now. Eddie knows if he goes for this, it’s going to be part of the routine Steve is so keen on Eddie having.

“Okay,” Steve sits up again from his position in the middle of Eddie’s clean, neat bed, “what feels weird about it?”

Fucking Steve. Here’s the problem, lets find a solution. There’s is no solution to Steve being an asshole though. “I don’t know,” Eddie gestures vaguely, moving a step back so he’s closer to the door than the bed.

“Okay, so, want to start small? I could scent your pillows and leave you to it? Beta scent should make you feel comfortable.”

Eddie dithers a little longer, “what are you going to say to Chris if I don’t?” only sounding a little pissy about it.

“Client accepting support with nesting but currently unwilling to share scent. Or something like that,” Steve shrugs, like it doesn’t matter.

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie clambers up onto the bed, trying and completely failing to make it look natural. He goes to lie a little on top of Steve, balks, rocking away again. He tries to go for just lying next to him but it feels kind of weird. One arm stretched over Steve’s middle, a hand braced on the other side of the bed, somehow, too close. Eddie shifts again.

Eddie’s fucked like, a lot of people. He’s stood on a stage in front of thousands of people. Eddie is not shy, he does not do this. He’s better than this. Steve is just one normal guy and everyone still has their clothes on.

Steve knocks Eddie’s arm out from under him and drags him down, “just do it,” Eddie face plants against Steve, body held in an uncomfortable, and an only slightly mortifying plank. “Okay, deep breath,” Eddie obeys, Steve seeming relaxed and perfectly fine with proceedings. “If this really makes you uncomfortable we can stop.”

It doesn’t though, not really, Eddie, almost involuntarily, draws a deep breath. Okay, yeah, he remembers this, and it feels like his body does too. He relaxes in a slow wave, whole body puddling half on top of Steve.

Apart from his dick which, stubbornly, is still hard as fuck despite Eddie rubbing out like, four orgasms today. Eddie takes a breath so big his whole body fills up with it, Steve's scent clean and fresh, warm and outdoorsy. Comforting.

“There you go,” Steve’s big, warm hand comes up, rubbing gentle circles on Eddie’s back, the material of Eddie’s shirt dragging a little against his sensitive skin.

Part Eleven

[werecreature-addicted]

Werewolf bf that’s really embarrassed about liking pet play. Whether that be because he tries so desperately to retain his human characteristics but still thinks wearing a collar, being called a good boy, and being forced to chew on a chew toy/muzzled is hot

Or because he has thought of himself as a wolf for most of his life, so he’s afraid to admit to getting off on being degraded and conditioned into becoming a domesticated pet to a human

Werewolf boyfriend who freezes in place when you pat his head and go "Oh good puppy," he can't tell if you're messing with him or not. Your tone isn't mocking or patronizing, but instead loving. he slowly leans into your touch and lets his tail wag. yeah, he is a good puppy.

He gets you both matching necklaces, sure his is technically a dog collar, with a lock and your necklace is just a chain with a key on the end but that's still a couple's thing!

He's a little shy bringing up his kink but you're understanding and patient. You understand that there's a difference between wanting to be treated like a dog in the bedroom and being treated as subhuman all the time.

He likes being a spoiled pet who's pampered and who gets lots of treats, not necessarily the kind of pet who gets degraded and punished.

That's easy enough for you, how could you not love spoiling such a perfect puppy? you give him lots of big heavy-duty toys to play with, and make sure to use a leash and collar for him so you two can go on walks around the living room. He likes it when you brush out his fur and file his sharp claws, it's nice being pampered and groomed like a show dog and not some mangey mutt.

He sits still for you and lets you do your work like a well-behaved boy, you ask him if he wants a treat which of course he does. It's always the same reward that he wants, he wants to bend you over the arm of the couch and mount you.

You cling to his leash helplessly trying to reign him in even a little bit as he just destroys you. It doesn't matter how hard you tug on that leash, your little body is begging for him to pound you, and he isn't going to deny you what you clearly need.

[neuvistar]

poly jingren x reader has been on my mind 4 so longgg.. ITS SO BADD. please give me more thirsts or thoughts abt poly!jingren x reader i’m lovin them rn | hint of fluff, mostly nsfw

short lil thirst ! jing yuan + blade x fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), big dick jing yuan + blade foreal, reader implied 2 be shorter in height, degrading terms (whore, slut, etc), mentions of squirting, mating press + full nelson, SIZE KINK!! SIZE KINK!!, blade’s a lil mean but it’s ok bc it’s blade!, cum cum lots of cum (sounds funny but it’s okay </3) | overall suggestive content minors do not interact

poly!jingren who would have different tolerance of your brattiness. jing yuan having the highest patience for u n blade having the least! you always run to jing yuan whenever blade talks abt punishing u n he thinks it’s soso cute :(( he’s always protecting you, nuzzling against his chest with your arms wrapped around his huge body, ur so cute! a darling you are..

jing yuan always tried dodging the idea of you wearing short skirts in public, why? you would make his dick hard, easy. but, you decided it was a good idea to wear the shortest skirt known 2 mankind one day, paying him a visit at his office. imagine this, jing yuan would be at his office doing work at his desk n all of the sudden you walk in looking all slutty, a short skirt that just barely covers your plushy thighs and ass, he would brush it off at first up until you purposely drop the pen on his desk bending down to pick it up. once you stood up, you would already be bent over his desk. that’s what you wanted, after all. “are you trying to tempt me, dove? because it sure is working.” jing yuan has zero patience whenever you’re acting like a whore in public, he would plant kisses all over your back and pound into you like there’s no tomorrow, his big dick stretching you out :(( choked moans would leave your throat, rambling on about how rough he was being with you, and that people might hear you and walk in, but he didn’t care, infact that was the last of his worries. he savoured the feeling of your tight walls pulsing around his cock, cumming inside and cumming on your panties too! i hope u’ll enjoy the stickiness between your thighs <3 (he’ll snitch to blade too abt it, what a bitch)

poly!jingren would be protective over you, even though they’re a pain to be with sometimes due to their constant arguments and disagreements, dating them does have its benefits. they would stand on either side of you, one on your left and one on your right. geez, you look so cute compared to them, it’s like you were walking around with two dogs on your leash, reading to pounce at anyone who dares speak ill of you or touches you. speaking of size.. i feel like they’d both have a size kink, you’re just so short compared to them they can’t help but fantasize about bending you over and fucking you in different positions, i feel like they both each have their favourites on that.

jing yuan loves putting you in a mating press, he likes it becuz it makes him cum quicker! not even a few thrusts and he’s already cumming inside, loving how you squirt all over his cock. he would press your knees against your chest, folding you in half almost. he would gently draw circles on your knee while the tip of his dick kisses your cervix, he’s so sweet to you though.. whispering praises in your ear. he would catch you off guard sometimes due to how sweet he was with you, not noticing how much he came, staring down at the mess he made in your cunt w cum seeping out </3

blade would absolutely love folding you in a full nelson, bro has sm strength it scares you sometimes. he would hook his arms under your knees, thrusting his hips into you. “sucha’ whore for my cock, aren’t you? you like it when i fuck you hard like this, don’t you?” mmm also also maybe if he’s feeling it, i bet bro would let jing yuan would join too, but he wouldn’t impale you with his dick like blade is, no.. he would rub his cock against your slit, placing kisses on your legs. honestly, jing yuan is your saviour atp. cuz everytime blade folds you in a full nelson, he’s always concerned that he’ll break you, so he tries telling him to ease it up a bit with you <3

poly!jingren would have god like stamina and strength, great speed n strength comes w great consequences! whether it is in a non sexual way or not, i feel like their stamina n strength would be useful in your relationship, its a lil cute since ur kinda shorter in height n they would always tower over u n help i get things from the high shelf or cabinet, it’s so cute! <33 but yet.. it’s a lil scary in bed cuz they can last so long w u and fuck you until you forget your own name, but it’ll be fine!! you can handle them!

poly!jingren both probably didn’t realize they had a size kink until they got intimate with you, it was probably the last of their worries up until one night. blade would probably notice a cute little bump on your stomach, noticing just how small you rlly are compared to them, jing yuan would too! honestly they both just love how their huge cocks slide in and out of your pussy, the bulge on your stomach going down, up, down up, over and over again! you’re just so.. cute they can’t help but stretch your little pussy out a bit.

“cmon sweetheart, you got this. you’re so cute, mhm.. you can handle more right?“

“sure she can, she’s strong girl. if shes— mmp.. squeezing around us like that, i’m sure she can handle more.”

“mm.. mhm. i can see that.” jing yuan leaned down, bringing his voice down to a whisper, “do you like it when we stretch you out with our cocks like this, baby?”

“fuck yeah she does, look at her. she’s creaming on our cocks already. s’ messy.”

poly!jingren who would both try their best to be gentle to you, sometimes it backfires but you don’t seem to mind! what’s very true about them is they both don’t want to hurt you in anyway, sure they fuck you hard enough and punish you but their intentions r never to hurt u, they would always ask you if you’re okay, even if they see the slightest hint of discomfort or pain in your face. especially jing yuan, he’s rlly rlly sweet n same goes to blade but he shows it in his own way. u know that blade doesn’t mean half of the things he says (he knows ur a slut for their cock tho but that’s besides the point) n sometimes he can get carried away but he would apologize with a simple “sorry.” and ask you if he was too rough on you, both r sweethearts yk

[mellowdisko]

Many forget that Nipton was never about Vulpes acting for his own sake. At the Fort, when you ask Caesar what the Frumentarii do, he tells you: "Infiltration, assassination, dramatic atrocities to break the spirit of the enemy..." Thats exactly what Nipton was: a dramatic atrocity, a letter that reads: "We are here. We have arrived."

It was never meant to be a lesson. The NCR does not care about morality, neither does the Legion. Nipton was a town that was destined to be destroyed not because it was a wicked place (Vulpes was lying through his teeth about the whole thing -the dead legionnaires are evidence- like thats what he does, that is literally his job!) but because it was small enough to burn without consequence, close enough for the message to be heard. Nipton wasn't a lesson. It was a spectacle, meant to be seen by the eyes of the Republic. Thats why the Courier is tasked to spread the news, they're a mailman delivering a letter.

And Vulpes? Can't say he's explicitly sadistic. A bad person? Absolutely. But not playful with his cruelty. He is just as cruel as every other legionary. The only difference is he is smarter about it, more intense.

Nipton isn’t a part of him. Nothing is. Nothing but the Legion. He does not carry the weight of that town. He does not look back to the ruins he has left behind. Nipton is no pang of remorse, no pleasure, no sin. It is merely a step forward. Proof that the Legion has entered the Bear's den, proof that its will is being done.

And we never see Vupes as he truly is. He is not a person, at least not anymore.

He wears a mask, a new face with every new encounter. In Nipton he is wearing the mask of a vexillarius, in the strip the mask of a gambler. And at the fort, he is just another legionary: red-clad and quiet, a little fox curled at the foot of his emperor's throne. He has 0 indicators of individuality, he is not a person. He's only a name, a shadow streching across the Mojave.

I do believe the only time we get a glimpse of who Vulpes truly is, is when Caesar tells his backstory. His cunning, his wit—but also his insubordination, a hint of rebellious youth. That is who I think he really is: a rebel boy, not in opposition to the Legion, but in relentless devotion to it. Someone who is willing to tear down every pillar, disobey every order just to see the flag rise higher.

Vulpes will slaughter, torture, and betray and engage in "profligate scum" activities for the benefit of his side. He is ready to serve even if it angers the Son of Mars. He doesn't ask for permission. Doesn't beg for forgiveness. He does what he must, then kneels before the blade waiting for the punishment that has never managed to come since his first trial as a decanus. And there is passion in that, a desire. To paint the desert with his nation's red, to whisper his lord's name to every ear, to tame the untamable: the idea, the dream.

At the Fort, we see him as nothing more than a docile soldier but we know that he is different, remarkable; Caesar had said it himself. Rebel boy: always ready to mangle and burn the world and himself along with it just to serve what he believes is providence.

He is "a rather intense young man," whose entire existence is a disguise. A spy so devoted to his duty that he has stripped himself of everything else. A spy, in the fine suit of a gentleman or under the hide of a coyote, tearing down his own tower of humanity as the gods he belives in look down and smile.

He is not a person. He hasn't been a person for a long time.

He is a name, a shadow, a hollowed out man. He is an animal kept at arms length, dog on a leash who does not want to be set free, a weapon, a tool. Pale hand of the Legion reaching west.

With every step through the desert, Vulpes Inculta has left a piece of himself behind, until he is left with nothing but blind faith and bloodied palms. And when you lose everything you ever had in a big bad wasteland you tend to cling onto the first bright colour you see:

Crimson—so inviting, so cruel. Like home.

[luxcuriousao3]

Continuation of this angsty Ghoap blurb.

-

And so they fall back into rhythm with each other, at least on missions. They’re as deadly and efficient as always, bantering on comms like usual. But a certain sense of wrongness lingers when they’re on base, no longer avoiding each other or even refraining from tumbling into bed together—but Ghost notices it nonetheless. Johnny isn’t constantly at Ghost’s side anymore, bothering him with his endless chatter and poorly hidden desire for attention. The look in his eyes when he does talk to Ghost is less intense, too, less painfully open and bright. More befitting of a soldier speaking with his superior. When they fuck, he no longer tries to linger in Ghost’s room, doesn’t even wait for Ghost to get a towel for him, just stands up and limps over to the toilet to grab it himself. At first, Ghost is glad—his sergeant got the message loud and clear, and didn’t even throw too much of a fit about it. They can remain in this limbo of close-but-not-too-close. Ghost doesn’t have to give this up, give Johnny up, in order to keep them both safe. And Johnny doesn’t even seem upset anymore—yeah, he’s a little more distant, but that’s a good thing. He was reaching the edges of what Ghost could tolerate anyway, and now things are back to a blessed normal.

Except that the longer it goes on, the more Ghost misses how things were before.

The silence that used to be filled with Johnny’s rambling starts to feel oppressive, the space at his side where his sergeant should always be is now glaringly empty. The grins Johnny gives him are still large but don’t look quite the same. The shine in his blue eyes has dulled just a tad, no longer so blinding that they make Ghost feel like the centre of their own tiny universe.

Ghost has no right to miss them, all the little things he’d taken for granted before. He knows that. But just like he knows he shouldn’t continue whatever it is between him and Johnny, he does so anyway.

He never says as much, of course, but the next time they fuck, Ghost doesn’t roll off of Johnny right away once he comes. He lays on top of him for a long moment, pinning him to the bed so he can’t get up and run like he’s taken to doing. Both of them are sweaty and breathing hard, and Ghost watches Johnny’s dark brows furrow in confusion as the seconds stretch on. He starts to shift underneath him, like he’s about to push Ghost off of him, out of him, and Ghost, he—

He snaps, a little bit.

That’s the only explanation for what he does next, sinking his teeth into his sergeant’s shoulder and holding on, like a dog with a bone. He wants to break Johnny’s skin, to taste blood and scar him, to tie them together in a way that no amount of distance can ever erase.

Instead, he gets an elbow to the face and a furious Scot cursing him out in something just to the left of English.

“Ye fookin’ bawbag!” Johnny shouts at Ghost, who’s nursing his bloody nose on the floor, arse naked. The other man is standing, now, one hand pressed to his shoulder, the other gesturing angrily in his direction. “Wha’s yer fash? Cannae jus’ fookin’ bite me like a bloody beast!”

Ghost stares up at Johnny, heart racing in his chest like he’s just run twenty klicks through enemy territory. His ears are ringing, Johnny’s words echoing in his mind. His sergeant is so close to the truth. Ghost is nothing but a beast, a dog on a tight leash. Price points, and Ghost attacks. It’s been that way since he was reborn in the ashes of his old life. He snaps and snarls at anyone who gets too close, wears his mask like a muzzle to keep everyone at bay. But Johnny has never feared him. Not like he should.

And now Ghost is faced with the consequences of his royally fucked up head and cold heart once again. He gives Johnny a careless shrug, getting to his feet.

“Got carried away,” he offers as a lame sort of explanation, voice thick from the blood dripping into the back of his throat. He carefully feels his nose. Not broken, but it’ll bruise like rotten fruit. “You got me good. We’re even.”

Johnny stares at him for a long moment, too many emotions flickering across his face for Ghost to name them all. But he does recognize anger—anger and hurt, and his chest tightens at that. He doesn’t want to hurt Johnny, keeps his distance so he doesn’t hurt him. Regret settles heavily in Ghost’s stomach. This is what happens when he gives in, when he allows himself to get too close. This is what he’s tried so hard to avoid.

Because Ghost doesn’t know how to love, how to be gentle or treasure someone like Johnny deserves, like Ghost knows he wants. This is the most he can give him. Not love, never love, but a violent sort of possession that could look like love, in the right lighting.

And Ghost knows his sergeant. Knows how stubbornly loyal he is, how self-sacrificing. He will never walk away, never retreat entirely. He’ll growl and snarl right back at Ghost, he’ll put up a few flimsy walls of his own—but he’ll still let Ghost hurt him.

Ghost doesn’t want to hurt him.

“Yer a real bastard, LT,” Johnny snaps, snatching his clothes and hurriedly pulling them on, not even bothering to wipe away Ghost’s come trailing down his thighs or his own staining his hairy stomach. Ghost watches him, wonders if this is it, if this is the end. Hopes it as much as he prays it's not. Can’t find the words to make it official, so he supposes he’ll have to wait and see.

But Johnny doesn’t say anything else, just leaves as quickly as he usually does, slamming the door behind him. And Ghost—

Ghost doesn’t know what that means. Can’t for the life of him figure out what he wants it to mean. Regrets leaving the choice in another’s hands, giving up control. And at the same time, relishes in the idea that he can pretend they’re still in limbo for just a little bit longer.

That he’s not ruined the one good thing he has going for him.

He’s always been a selfish bastard.

continues

[totorolaughs]

GENDER-BEND! MAKIMA HEAD-CANONS

implied grooming, gn w amab reader in mind, creepy! makima, dead dove (?), reader gets called 'pup/puppy', no beta read , mentions of forced feminization, yandere makima (?) , slight obsessive/possessive makima (?), cliff hanger(?), male! makima, gender-bend makima, he/him from makima, no pronouns for reader!

male! makima who you saw when you were with your mom walking your dog at night, his yellow eyes with their red rings within them made you feel uneasy.. male! makima who has been keeping his eyes on you ever since you both locked eyes, something about you that made him want to keep you as a pet perhaps? male! makima, who finally meets you on your way back from school. you both bumped into each-other since you weren't paying attention as you were in your own little world, “apologizes” he spoke with a soft smile. ‘he's pretty..’  you think to yourself but quickly notice his eyes, it's the same man you saw when you young, “sorry..” you mumble as you look down at your feet and quickly walk away. male! makima who watches you through your bedroom window with his creepy eyes as you complain to your parents you can't sleep since you feel paranoid of someone watching you as you sleep. male! makima who watches you grow up as time goes on, and tries to find ways to get closer to you as time goes on. male! makima gets impatient, while you're out at school one day makima slaughters both of your parents and makes it look like a devil had slaughtered them. male! makima who's overjoyed when he hears the news that you’ll be joining and becoming a devil hunter. male! makima who slowly turns into a weird type of father figure for you since he always takes care of you after your long days of patrolling.

male! makima treats you better than anyone else in the division, and you're his favorite puppy. male! makima who gets you to trust him, and finally has you in his grasp to toy with your mind. male! makima who gets oddly touchy when you both are alone in his office, he’ll ask you to sit under his desk and pets you like a dog as he does paperwork saying it helps concentrate, makima who will place you on his lap and lap warm him like a puppy. male! makima, who becomes creepier and instead of doing paperwork goes out and sees you in action killing devils, down said it causes him to get hot and bothered seeing you covered in blood and gore! male! makima doesn't trust anyone else to keep eyes on you so he does it himself after sitting at his desk pumping his cock at the thought of you. male! makima hates whenever you try to avoid him thinking he wouldn't notice his pup trying to get away from his grasp. male! makima buys you cute dresses and makes you try them on whenever you misbehave. he'll force you to wear them to fight devils, he doesn't care if you feel embarrassed, it's what you deserve.

male! makima gets overhears you have been having a secret relationship with one of the members of the division, he isnt so happy to hear that, you're his puppy and if he has to keep you on a leash he will, but first he'll have to deal with a pest.

[withlove-xixi]

— LAIOS NSFW THOUGHTS: laios x reader

ᥫ cw: nsfw, petplay, dom/sub, praise ★ laios appeals to me w the many possible sexual exploits he could be into #tbh — MINORS DNI! —

im sorry, i cant get it off my head .. he'd ... be really into petplay i think. he wouldn't be too ashamed of it too, in fact he's be pretty eager about it. he'd be on all fours and you could already see the imaginary tail eagerly wagging from behind him, and its endearing really. laios would love it if you pet his head or scratched his belly or even just combing through his hair. he wouldn't be against wearing a collar or some ears and a tail to complete the look (though i don't think he'd like being caged or leashed so much. something about feeling constricted too much freaks him out)

he's got that dog in him, what can he say?

oh he would absolutely melt too with praise. anything to let him know he's doing a good job, that you're feeling as good as he is. he loves it, before anything, it's reassurance, a sign to keep going or to change his pace/angle. he knows he's not the best at reading people, so something as simple as telling him how good it feels is enough to keep him going and going. though, immediately after reassurance, it's the unexplainable twist in his gut when you tell him these things. he just loves being called a good boy. argue what you want about if he'd growl or if he's whimper because the correct answer is he'd do both. i dont think he's particularly noisy in bed, but definitely he will make noise and when he does it's so obvious because he's just so loud. it's a bit jarring sometimes because he could be almost silent, save for deep breaths and pants, and suddenly a canine-like growl or whimper would escape his lips.

i like to think he's more or less quiet because he's just too focused on the act. any noise that slips out is simply primal response, written in laios' dna to respond so instinctively.

he's like petnames too! he finds a certain intimacy in the act. he loves calling you by them too, though they're quite unorthodox, things like "my wildflower" or "cheesecake" (since it's his favorite food!) he's definitely tried to call you by a monster's name ... and as sweet as the sentiment was, it wasn't something that lasted too long.

ohhh and back to petplay, laios loves being called "puppy". it's cute and honestly, he kind of is one, is he not?

i think laios can be a bit too excited sometimes too. it's easy for him to get carried away with things he wants to try or do, so you'd have to repeatedly ground him back to what's happening or what's reasonable. though it's not always a verbal cue. you could kiss him gently or pat his arm and he'd get the message, he'd slow down and give you time to breathe and stuff.

idk i think laios is a really sweet guy. similar to my falin nsfw thoughts, as much as he wants to try these new things, it's more out of curiosity and comes from a certain air of innocence. a lot of those things are new therefore something he must try lol. its endearing, it really is. but like his sister, i think he can be a bit timid about it. if he mulls it over too much, he'd end up shyly asking you about it, if it were something you were comfortable with or something you wanted to try. otherwise, he'd be asking you pretty directly, something straight to the point and along the lines of "i want to do this". that being said, i think laios could easily be coerced into trying things. you dont even need to bat your lashes or plead, if you play your cards right, you could instantly spark his curiosity and get him ready to take of his clothes.

oh but laios .. wouldnt be the best at aftercare. dont get me wrong, he tries his best, but somehow he feels a bit lost on what to do. on instinct he goes on autopilot, picking up clothes from the ground, handing you yours, getting dressed and preparing to sleep. but something sweet he does is talk to you though he'd do that regardless of sex. just something short and sweet before you go to bed, in a way, its his way of showing his love and care for you. he listens to what you have to say, he tells you something in return and then its off to bed with you both. it's nice especially if you two have finished doing something nasty, it's a slice of domesticity after something that feels so carnal and it's truly heartwarming.

[thehandsresisthim]

“bdsm headcanons - Johnny “Soap” MacTavish”

contains: discussion of bdsm, dom/sub relationship, sub!soap, dom!gn!reader

word count: ~700

brat or obedient?

⋆｡♡ ˚ yeah he’s the brattiest little bitch. at least at the start of a scene.

⋆｡♡ ˚ johnny’s always all excited, and trying to provoke you.

⋆｡♡ ˚ this is what he likes about being dommed - testing your limits, then being put in his place.

⋆｡♡ ˚ at first, whenever you two start something, he criticises almost everything you do in a mocking manner, or in a questioning tone.

⋆｡♡ ˚ you grab a paddle to punish him with? “hey! why don’t you just spank me with your hands?”

⋆｡♡ ˚ you get out a pair of handcuffs for him? “i look way better in rope, you know, master.”

⋆｡♡ ˚ when he acts like a brat, he loves it when you kinda… don’t take him seriously. just mockingly scoff and go “silly johnny. that’s not a good idea at all.”

⋆｡♡ ˚ loves, loves, loves the condescending tone. he kinda has a thing for getting talked down to. he loves to know that you’re in charge now - and, in play, everything is your choice.

⋆｡♡ ˚ once you punish him and mock him, he finally drops the brat act.

kinks and limits:

⋆｡♡ ˚ he loves being degraded. for example, johnny drools a fuckton when he is being overstimulated (which is another thing he likes) - and he is a very happy man when you mock him about that. “aww, look, my dumb little puppy can’t control himself, drooling all over himself, huh?” or “i wonder, does your cock or your mouth leak more?”

⋆｡♡ ˚ puppy play. yeah, he’s ready to wear a collar and a leash, but he’s also not opposed to being muzzled. put him in a cage when he’s bad. (whether that be a human-sized cage or one for his cock)

⋆｡♡ ˚ overstimulation is another thing, ideally mixed with bondage - use your hands or a toy on his leaky, sensitive cock and he’s writhing around, unsure if he wants to get away from your touch or if he wants more.

⋆｡♡ ˚ once you've corrected his behaviour, he appreciates some praise. even better when it sounds like you're talking to a dog, all “who's my good boy? my very, very best boy? yes… yes, it's my good Johnny!! good boy!!”

⋆｡♡ ˚ i mentioned it earlier too, but he likes the idea of wearing a cock cage. like i said, he's a huge fucking brat, and it keeps him in line. at least for a while.

⋆｡♡ ˚ okay so this last one of his preferences isn't really a kink but the guy loves to orally please you. makes it messy too - loves, loves, loves having your… fluids all over his face. goes insane when you praise him whilst he does it.

⋆｡♡ ˚ he does have a few limits, however:

-> doesn't care much for more extreme pain. no cbt for him, please.

-> okay i can't really explain why but i feel like he dislikes temperature play. johnny always runs hot (the guy is your personal space heater, always warm to cuddle with) and whether you just use wax or just ice, or use other means to quickly switch between hot and cold sensations - it overwhelms him and makes him uncomfortable.

-> hates being ignored as a punishment. i headcanon him as always being overexcited and a bit loud as a kid, and sometimes he'd get ignored when people got tired of him. it still makes him feel genuinely insecure, so he wouldn't be okay with you doing it as a punishment.

aftercare:

⋆｡♡ ˚ i think it always takes a bit for him to get out of subspace. he enjoys spending time with you, when he's in subspace, in a non-sexual context.

⋆｡♡ ˚ probably enjoys, after getting cleaned up a bit, just lying down on your chest as he still wears his collar and you run your fingers through his hair.

⋆｡♡ ˚ big cuddler.

⋆｡♡ ˚ he's usually not that exhausted after a scene, so he can do at least some of the physical aftercare himself. still, he likes it better when you're there with him and help him.

⋆｡♡ ˚ usually gives a little feedback on the scene immediately after, something like “tha’ was good”, but the real feedback comes a few hours later or the next day, depending on when you guys did the scene.

⋆｡♡ ˚ big on communication. wants to make sure you are always comfortable. he can be a very bratty sub, but he worries about being overwhelming or annoying.

thank you for reading! check out my masterlist for more fics ❤️ - and here’s the same bdsm headcanon thing for ghost (this one is for fem!readers only, sry)

[love-toxin]

miss Ellie?? Are you having lots of Logan thots too?? Hhhhnggg i wanna make him my puppy- collar n everything

OK BUT HAVE U SEEN THE INTERVIEW W/ MS. HAMMOND??? im gone. him just, like, kneeling next to her sent me spiraling.

also puppy!Logan is SUCH a mood hwaoh 🥵🥵 big ol' mean ol' grump on a collar & leash.....ok im going off this needs to be censored im going OFF--

the collar isn't as much of a bother after a while but the leash is what really seems to irk him--having to be at your literal beck and call with every tug and yank for his attention. it's such an adrenaline rush because he's big, for one, he's got claws that could slice your guts to ribbons, and he's literally got an indestructible body. but he won't hurt you and in fact he refuses to, he won't even resist all that much when it's playtime even though he'd barely have to lift a finger to do so. since he doesn't really have to worry about you hurting him and he certainly doesn't have to worry about dying, there's not much anxiety on his end, you can do basically whatever you want and he can take it. painwise, at least. pleasure is a different story.

but it isn't the potential for pain that thrills him, it's more the humiliation of it all. 'Logan' and 'vulnerable' are two words that basically never coexist; he's either the ruthless Wolverine or he's the grumpy old guy with a sourpuss lounging around Xavier's mansion. to get him to open up is like cracking a coconut with your bare hands. sometimes, you just need to use a rock.

it just so happens that the rock, in this case, is a leash-and-collar combo and the promise of total discretion. whatever happens during playtime stays in playtime, and while it takes quite a while for Logan to accept the fact that you really will keep all his secrets, when he does accept it you get to see a whole new side of him. a needy, clingy, submissive side that needs your attention 24/7, and only pretends to be begrudging when you demand it yourself. in reality the yank of his leash has his cock twitching instantly, the grit of his teeth and his grimace a mask for the flush that's gonna overwhelm it when you make him beg for it like a good dog. your puppy needs training and he likes being obedient, but he also likes breaking your rules even more and jumping up on your lap when you order him to get down.

but he's so cute it's okay. besides, he gets all leaky and sticky when you make him wait it out, he'll beg all whiny for you to help him clean up and end up humping your mouth while you yank frantically on his leash. fuzzy, muscled thighs trapping your face to the ground like you're something cute he just found and needed to stick it in in a rut. even when he leaves your throat hoarse and slick and your chin soaked down to your chest you still forgive him, you always forgive his bad behaviour, because it leads straight back to you--it's your job to correct your poor puppy's bad habits, he can't help himself, it's just in his nature. same as his instinct to grab your head and pull a thick arm around your neck in a chokehold just to pummel you from behind in a myriad of heavy, wet slaps of flesh on bare flesh. no rubber cause good dogs don't need to wear condoms, and he's always just good enough of a doggy to avoid wearing one--and creamy, sticky slick smearing down your backside and wetting your thighs cause Logan can't control himself in puppy mode. if he cums he just cums and keeps going, if you cum he barely even notices because he's wrapped up in the softness and the warmth and the spasms of your walls clamping down on every thrust, he's only got breed breed breed breed in his mind and nothing else.

and he knows he's gonna get in so much trouble after he's done, once he's nutted in you two or three or ten times in a row and soiled your sheets or your rug or your sofa. once he's calmed down enough to fall asleep still buried inside you, knowing he'll wake up to a scolding but snoring peacefully anyways. that's part of the allure for him, you holding him accountable--you don't let him get away with everything and there's always a challenge looming for him to trial. he can test the boundaries and push push, push until you either break and give him what he wants or resist until he gets a punishment. in real life he feels the pressure to be top dog when things get tough, but in the bedroom, with you, he's at the bottom of the totem pole and that means you'll always take care of him, which he likes immensely more than he thought he would. even when he's a bad puppy and gets reprimanded at the same time that you're cleaning him off and stroking his hair and giving him kisses. he knows you'll get your licks in too as revenge--and that part is what he just can't wait for, to see what kind of diabolical gauntlet you'll put him through just to get a sweet, sweet taste of his owner again.