#(not even specific Positive emotion just Emotions Intensely) he's fond of kissing but kind of just launches onto you w.o warning

[skunkes]

can't fool him

[commander-hanji-zoe]

Hii! I just read the Mike squirting headcanons and I gotta say, I fell in love. You wrote him so preciously 😩🤧💕 I was wondering whether, if you're fine with it, I could request one for Levi? 👀 But more sensitive reader who squirts often

Hey, ahhh I’m so glad you enjoyed the fic with Mike, I had a lot of fun writing it. I’ve written the below for you in relation to Levi. It starts off as more of a general musing/headcanons and then goes into a specific ‘event’ although I don’t go into as much nsfw detail. I wanted to write something with a different tone. Hope you enjoy! 💕

It’s a feeling that’s still relatively new to you and one that you can’t put into words. Outside of the bedroom it’s never spoken about and even with Levi you don’t really talk about it, it just is.

“Tch, disgusting.” And “Dirty girl”, Are the kinds of phrases that you’ve gotten used to in the bedroom. Levi it appeared, had a certain kind of hold over you like no one else you’d ever been with.

There was something in the way he worked his fingers, in the angle he worked…Something about him which made it difficult not to squirt when you came and it was almost always incredibly messy.

A part of you wondered and suspected Levi too wondered, whether it was because his passion for cleanliness and cleaning. It added an extra layer to the time you spent in bed together which was always intimate, erotic, a secret just the two of you held. Knowing how much Levi hated the mess though was a turn on, it got you off and perhaps you could even associate the word Schadenfreude with it. 

When Levi told you not to cum, you almost certainly would within seconds and if he ordered you not to squirt, well, the bedsheets would be soaked afterwards. It turned out that around Levi you were rather a little too sensitive in that area and he was fond of teasing you about it which turned out to be a pleasant surprise.

The funny thing was that despite his cleanliness, he too appeared to have a kink for and get a kick out of making a mess in bed with you. To him it reminded him of his youth, not that that was cause to celebrate, from what you understood those years were difficult. But rather in bed with you, making your squirm and scream and mess yourself like that was one of the few moments he could comfortably let his guard down. 

He didn’t have to be humanity’s strongest when he was in bed with you, he didn’t have to be perfect and spotlessly clean or feared. He could simply be human with an emphasis on the part of us which remains a little animalistic. 

You’d always been somewhat sensitive when it came to being intimate with others or even yourself at times. Your body could react in unpredictable ways and over-stimulation was often a no-go because it was just too much to handle. Levi always respected your boundaries and so was careful not to do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable. 

But he had the touch. ‘The touch’ was how you described it to others, it was the way he touched you, the way he used his fingers, the technique… It was all so different to what you’d experienced before. With Levi it was like you had an invisible button that even you didn’t quite know where it was but Levi knew exactly how to find it and when to push it. 

Shaking, sweating, crying tears of pleasure, writhing around on the bed…all things you’d become more accustomed to since dating Levi. 

He loved turning you on and transforming you into that state, he loved to watch your face contort as you reached orgasm and then there was this noise he’d make when you squirted. Kind of relief, joy, pleasure of his own marred with a little disgust, whether in you or himself for getting such a kick out of something so dirty, you weren’t entirely sure. He would rarely make himself climax before he made you cum, his restraint was nothing like you could have imagined. But if you were able to keep your eyes open and watch his cock when you reached orgasm you’d noticed as you squirted his own cock would bob and twitch in approval. 

Sometimes Levi would put down sheets he’d bought so not to ruin the bedding and keep things as clean as he could. Sometimes you’d head to the bathroom so you could make as much mess as possible without it being difficult to tidy up.

But sometimes, on a very rare occasion when you got Levi in just the right mood he would like the mess. He wanted the sheets dirtied, wanted to have to clean up, sometimes before you have sex, sometimes before he’d cum. His cock would remain hard as he cleaned up, his erection straining painfully against his boxers, or occasionally he’d be naked and you’d see how tall his cock stood up against his stomach. Sometimes he wanted to be squirted on, liked it in his hair, over his chest, spraying onto his cock. He loved to lap at your pussy as you cum so he could drink down your juices and lick you clean when you were done, soft and gentle so you didn’t scream out. 

One particular recent instance of bedroom antics though was, well, a little bit different to usual, more intense and extreme in a way you previously wouldn’t have thought possible. What happened was…

You and Levi had been apart for a few weeks, it was rare that you were separated for so long but your reunion was always a passionate one. This time had been no different, when Levi arrived home he had the same wild look in his eyes as he always did. The mixture of longing and relief to be with you again, the look that said I love you but also that he couldn’t wait to devour you. 

By the time he had you on the bed you were begging for mercy, just an ounce of mercy and for him to make you cum. 

“I’ll let you fuck me as many times as you want,” you begged, “Any position…” You paused for a moment. The desperate tone of your voice and the way you looked at him, yes, you had Levi’s full attention. “Any hole…” You continued. Levi smirked, it was a type of cold smirk yet not one that felt unloving. Just he knew he had you exactly where he wanted you.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Well that is an interesting proposition,” he chuckled and held down one of your hands at the wrist next to your head. 

Looking up at him as he straddled you really was one of the best views in the world. 

“Tell me y/n have you touched yourself since I’ve been gone?” 

You bit your lip, Levi already knew the answer before you opened your mouth. He bent down and kissed you, the sensations that ran through your body reminded you of the first time you kissed. It was late November and had felt practically forbidden, you kissed in the rain not caring if your clothes were soaked. 

Now when Levi kissed you it brought back all those emotions which surged the first time you slept together. You shifted underneath him, rolling your hips upwards in a vain attempt to bring some relief.  Touch starved didn’t begin to describe how you felt.

“What do I always say?” Levi asked. 

“Patience is a virtue”

“Yes, and it’s one that’s well rewarded.” Levi nipped at your neck unexpectedly making you moan out, patience was so damn hard when you were with him.

The first time you squirted that evening was as standard. Both naked, you laid on your back, head propped up to make it easier to look down and watch Levi work between your legs. As always his kisses down your body were as sweet as they were torture, his fingers tracing your skin, lips occasionally pinching you and sucking at particular sensitive spots. 

As soon as he slipped a finger inside you you let out a sigh, as wet as you were you knew Levi would slip a second finger and a third before long all while his thumb gently rubbed and circled your clit. He enjoyed taking it slow for a long time, drawn out movements and touch as light as a feather as he bent down and kissed between your thighs. With Levi it was all about the slow burn, he loved to build you up, tease you and get you close to orgasm before removing his fingers completely and stroking your thighs for a moment leaving you squirming and panting. 

But in the end you always knew Levi would give you what you wanted, after-all he craved it too and you suspected he secretly hoped you would squirt every time. 

After being apart for so long this time was no exception. As Levi started to pump his fingers into you faster, his thumb brushing your clit and applying just the right amount of pressure, he looked up at you and that steel cold stare….The intensity of the moment meant you were unable to hold back any longer.

“Cum for me baby,” Levi instructed as he curled his fingers inside you. 

Your body shuddered as you came, the orgasm rippling through your body and a moment after the first wave you squirted over Levi’s fingers and the bed. 

As your heart rate started to slow Levi climbed on top of you, often he would clean up the mess before you continued for round two but this time it was clear how much he needed to be inside you.

Despite all the previous self-control Levi had once he was on top of you he let himself go. 

The restraint, all pretence…everything was gone, the veil lifted as Levi moved inside of you. His hands touching you, one cupping your cheek and sliding up into your hair. His forehead bowed and touching yours as he climbed towards orgasm.

As your bodies became one you felt a familiar sensation creep up your spine that made you shudder, this was something that hadn’t happened before.

“Levi I….I think i’m going to.”

As he thrust deep inside you he panted, “It’s okay.”

And it really was. 

As Levi pulled out and spilt his seed over your stomach you came, squirting as you did so, your juices splashed over his cock and between his thighs.

Levi collapsed onto you, his face pressed into your chest, his arm wrapped round you.

After a few moments Levi mumbled, “I love you…”

There was a lot of cleaning up to do but with Levi back it didn’t matter, you’d deal with that later. As for squirting twice, well the small chuckle that escaped Levi’s lips and the way he nuzzled into you, it was obvious he’d enjoyed it. 

[hhjs]

kismet.

pairing ⇨ yoo taeyang x reader.

alternatively ⇨soulmates, royalty. more specifically, prince!taeyang + royal librarian!reader.

In both a hopeless desire to love and admiration for a blatant stranger, Taeyang finds love by a twist of fate.

wherein, soulmates are bounded together by shared scars.

warnings ⇨ elaborate descriptions of wounds.

word count ⇨1.9k

type ⇨mini fic.

The gash on his palm was a pink, golden stretch, giving the illusion of a simple graze. It used to look as though an animal had dug its claw in and tore it open - and he imagined it, imagined the scenarios his soulmate put themselves in to acquire such a dramatic wound.

He envisioned the sharp pain of a kitchen knife running along their palm in the split second while they're committed to a harmless task of chopping vegetables. He often found himself smiling at the thought, imagined himself rushing to help, cleaning it as he scolded them, these images helped Taeyang fill an endless hollow inside his chest that was evidence of his remoteness, even if the relief was temporary.

His innate brevity and intense inability to produce dramatic expressions of his emotions subsequently reduced him to a limping thing going through a abundance of unspeakably articulate individuals, someone who was to carry the weight of their despondence like it was the only thing that mattered and his world, a world of war and peace, the endless crowns passed down to his father and his father's father, a world that conditioned him to hide his true self under the unspoken bravado of being a prince, it had.

The library was a dramatically architectured room, giant shelves stretched for a few thousand feet, spines of a wide variety of novels sticking out, some new, some old, some shoved upside down. The tables were wide, even the relatively small ones designed for one person, little lamps perched up on each corner.

Behind them, laid different stories, of concentrated faces of scholars, astronomer, flustered faces of couples who've secretly kissed behind the foreign literature section, faces struggling to keep their focus and resorting to tapping their fingers and frowning - he's seen it all and he couldn't quite name what which category you belonged to.

"Like this." Placing a neem leaf between the pages, you beamed up at him in a way that made him feel as though he couldn't ever forget you. He said nothing, staring down curiously, in an umpteenth attempt that week, to act on his desire to act on his attraction for you, "That'll keep bookworms away."

Sensing his excessively lengthy stay, he finally nods, reaching out to accept the thick spined novel and just for a second your fingers brush up against his knuckles and linger, in a barely-there, airy gesture.

It's in this sudden ephiphanous moment, Taeyang decides that his concern for being absurdly lonely was less important than chancing upon you again.

…

"Watch where you're going." The tone of your voice was surprisingly chirpy for someone who just knocked over a heap of novels whilst they carried on a careless pursuit of practically leaping to their destination. It amused Taeyang.

In a confused fashion, he furrowed his eyebrows, pursing his lips as you attempted to collect the items quickly, piling them again into an unsteady heap. "You bumped into me." The calm reminder came from him, insinuating that you ought to take your own advice.

The sheepish design of your face greatly piqued his interest, if not the way your eyes widened when you immediately recognised him by his princely position and subsequently rendered an apologetic smile. It was different from the usual veil of confidence you wore when you worked tirelessly at the library. "Pardon me!" You quickly exclaimed, blinking profusely.

"You're pardoned."

Taeyang noted the immediate look of relief on your face whilst he knelt to your position, picking up the remaining set of the dropped elements with great care - but instead of returning them to your expectant hand, he held it snuggly against his chest. "if...if you let me help." He added, peering up at you from behind his lashes, only to find that you were nodding, in all but a poor attempt to bite down a gigantic smile.

...

Taeyang will admit that he doesn't rely on the truth to make "coincidental" visitations to the royal library - he just wanted to see you and in his defence, there was no way to be honest about how he felt without potentially embarrassing himself by blubbering nonsense he'd come up with whilst thinking over elongating conversations with you.

All he knew was he liked the way your eyes travelled over the ups and downs of words, sentences and how you pressed his thumb against the corner of a page before flipping it so there wouldn't be any creases.

He liked that you could always strike up a chat about the most random things, liked the way your mouth quivered when you'd try to stop yourself from smiling, liked how you two always forgot to take note of time, sitting hours tangled in a mix of silence and long stretches of talking deliberately with him, in the course of time, he developed the courage to grow closer to you just as he attempted; albeit, regardless of the fact that you seem to have become increasingly close, you never talk about your soulmate, or your scars or produce typical impassionate harangues about how fated you were to someone - not that it mattered.

In fact, whoever his soulmate was, he was sure he couldn't possibly grow half as fond of them as he is of you.

A bed of wet grass pressed up against his back, it was too cold and too dark and the moist earth was undoubtedly going to leave a nasty imprint on his milky tunic - but he didn't care, he didn't care about those trivial, unimportant, stupid things.

Because you were with him.

"Don't you ever wonder what it'd be like if they showed up? Your soulmate?"

Your question sounded more like a test than it did a question - dipping cautious toes in uncharted waters to see if the crocodile would leap and bite.

He tilted his head to you even though not a thing was visible in the intense black of the night.

It gave him immense pleasure to know that in spite of his hindered vision, he could still picture what your face might look like now, the slope of your nose, the anxious pinch of your eyebrows and a lopsided frown.

He shrugged, "Not really."

"Why not?" You asked, albeit the cheery ring to your voice seemed to determine that you were quite pleased with the answer, as if you've gained something in knowing he wasn't looking for someone else.

He scoffed in an offended fashion, like the answer's just that obvious, like you shouldn't have even asked, not allowing a single beat of silence to pass, he felt for your fingers in the dark and easily slipping his own ones, holding the interlaced pair up like it meant something to to him. "This." He said, "is more important to me than being lumped together by fate."

...

"Still practising, huh?"

Even in the acute quietude, vaguely disturbed by the distant sound of buzzing crickets and the slight crunch of twigs under his feet, the sudden sound of your all too familiar voice didn't startle him.

Taeyang pressed his finger down on the arrow's shaft and slowly retracted from a shooting position. Perspiration had effectively glued his fringe down to his forehead and he could feel his body slowly give away to overexertion. But it wasn't uncommon for him to push himself to a point of absolute lethargy when he put his mind to perfecting something, Taeyang was hardworking by nature.

Your face was yellow from the oil lantern you were holding up, your free hand was behind your back. Looking over his shoulder like this, he could make out that you were donning a look of utter worry, the colour barely found the lopsided curve of your mouth and disappeared all the way down to your throat, to the slope of your neck.

His chest heaved upwards and downwards from the heavy intakes and outtakes as he watched you in masked endearment.

Taeyang blinked, his curious expression replaced by a sudden look of apparent conclusion at the way your head's poised to stare at your toes. "Is something the matter?"

You produced a non committal hum and it startled him, the possibility of upsetting you when he hadn't intended to, Taeyang opened his mouth to say something but didn't know what exactly that something ought to be, so he closed it again.

You drew your hand from behind your back and held a digit up in the air, where the light caught on and he could clearly see a fresh scar atop.

It was earlier that day when it happened.

You ran your fingers along the smooth spine of a bent novel sticking out rather ungracefully.

All you could hear was nothing but the nervous ringing of your ears, the involuntary tremors of your excessively careful hand.

It wasn't like you to be so anxious at an unsuitable time like this. But there was an unsettling feeling inside your chest, like something was about to go wrong and yet you had no idea what that thing may be, the roaring and clapping and grumbling lightning before a cyclone hits.

You hissed, taking your injured skin into attention once you realised a deep wound had torn open on the tip of your index, it had an abysmal sting to it, the kind of sting that jolted up your spine and gave you a headache - but you stood frozen in your spot.

But you hadn't whipped your head about rapidly, searching for another person who could've been whelping in the aftermath of the same injury. Like you always did before.

You wonder when it came to this - when you stopped looking for your soulmate. This love, you told yourself, was enough, even if it wasn't perfect, even if you weren't fated. The way you care about him is deliberate, the way you're falling in love in spite of the unnerving fear of losing him is intentional and purposeful. And nothing in the world could replace this.

"I don't care for it." You said quickly and honestly, the sincerity in your voice so weighty that he could understand you meant this statement.

Taeyang's smile, of all things, wasn't something you quite anticipated, sensing that it was a gesture he just couldn't fight, he put the down instrument on the wet grass, padding closer to where you stood. It was a strange thing that bound you together, something indescribable, that led him to recognise that he needed to be in your proximity at all times.

And now he had a name for it.

It was earlier that day when he'd absentmindedly pricked himself while sharpening an arrow tip, the injury was apparent, a reflection. You blinked, once and twice. And then you smiled a big, wide smile.

"It's you." He said, mimicking your gesture. "It's always been you."

Shadows of his outstretched digits crawled along your face, reducing the splatter of light to mere speckles, he made a careful work of caressing your face, wiping away a thin layer of mist against the cool skin with the calloused pads of his thumbs. (And then he kisses you and it feels like something erupted inside the depth of his belly, a knot tightening and tightening and tightening, and this is something he's always wanted. To love someone, to love someone so much he thinks he could die for it, had fate put him to the test.)

...

[a-lil-perspective]

oh my god please tell me you’re writing a part 2 for the hunter request it is so beautifully written and this was my face at the end: 😦 i was so stunned i cant believe you!!!! wow you’re wicked

Why, thank you! XD Never fear, back to my innate sappiness. :) What started out as a oneshot for a specific kissing prompt has now spiraled into some series, enjoy. XD [Implied Smut?]

@shadow-hyder @obiorbenkenobi @thegoodbatch @everyonehasanindividuality @starflyer-104 @karpasia

Serendipity With A Slice Of Sergeant | Part II

▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️▪️♦️

Hunter...

Your heart was racing, breaths clipped and slightly ragged at the thought of the man who had just graced your lips with passion, near intimacy, yet—a fleeting kiss. A stolen moment. One that you sought compensation for.

Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three...

You recite numbers with intense concentration—the calculation of precisely one minute upon the Sergeant’s departure from your quarters before you elected to pursue after him.

Literally, and figuratively.

You restlessly paced your quarters.

Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven...

Too many questions, not enough answers.

Yet you were determined to receive.

Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty...

You quickly throw on a layered article of clothing upon the mark of digits signifying the specified passage of time before starting off with purposeful stride towards the Havoc Marauder, leaving behind the Officer’s barracks and any lingering trepidations in the shadow of your now moonlit silhouette.

***

The ramp to the Havoc Marauder was down on full display, a faint glow emanating from the inside casting an ambient light around the shadowy Republic base platform you found yourself crossing—a largely vacant area at just past 04:00 in the morning.

You simply waltzed up the steps in entering the cabin space before switching to a lightness in your bounce as you gazed around in search for the Sergeant.

“He’s not here, cyar’ika.”

You startled slightly at the coolly terse voice and lanky figure of Crosshair stepping into view, nimble fingers laced around a mug of some obscure dark liquid swirling the inside. Definitely not caf. Corellian Whiskey. Of course.

You decided not to rib the sniper for having a go at the wrong kind of shot this early in the morning; instead finding yourself timidly asking Hunter’s whereabouts.

Crosshair jerked his head to the exit, a brow raised in... amusement? Seriously? “Outskirts of the base. Grasslands, to be specific.”

Right. Crosshair wasn’t exactly the ‘specific’ type. His eyes currently harbored more than his usual sense of enigma; a glimmer of mischief towards a guarded secret, a piece of intel, an obscure fact you clearly weren’t privy to in that instant.

You wished everyone would stop being so cryptic. It was too early for this.

However, a buzzed Crosshair is not who you wanted to receive any type of confession nor opinion from regarding the current state of your endeavors in pursuing his ori’vod.

You acknowledged him with a slight nod before trekking out and promptly locating the man encompassing your focal point— positioned with a knee bent while the other remained splayed in front of his form, arms resting atop as he sat pensively in the midst of the field adorned in simple blacks, his tousled dark locks partaking in a gentle dance number with the cool breeze.

You abruptly halt your stride at the image of his back poised to you, the sudden swell of confusion and reservations gripping tightly at your entire being. Your brows furrowed, quickly sifting through different scenarios for conversing with the Sergeant who, as if on cue, stiffened slightly in sensing your presence. Oddly, you felt a spiked anxiety at the way he didn’t turn around to acknowledge you until you fully approached and firmly placed a hand to his shoulder while tentatively taking up a spot at his side.

“I’ve decided, Y/N,” he casually mused.

“That...?” You pry.

“Your thoughts are definitely louder than mine,” he finally stated with a smirk, eyes still fixated on the field ahead, though his entire demeanor had noticeably relaxed in your presence.

You chortled at his conclusion, turning to address the side of Hunter’s face, noting the way his facial tattoo became washed in the pale moon glow as you absentmindedly intertwined your fingers with his calloused hand—a habitual but fond gesture you sometimes shared in the wake of serenity.

You willed your mind to halt it’s march in carrying you over the line of looming thoughts for the unspoken—uncharted territory, the point of no return; confessions birthed from an overwhelming innateness for the acquiescence of profound desires, transcending beyond sole physicality.

While Hunter gently thumbed the tracing of random shapes along your knuckles, you begged your heart to stop cruelly taunting you with the prospect of this man beside you; a potentially shared future swirling overhead, clouding, permeating the space between.

You finally sigh deeply at the forced dispersal of thoughts, now opting for a form of incitement. “Well... Our conversation from earlier was a bit... lacking, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh? I think it went rather well.”

His purely whimsical tone that never failed to surface at any given time was irresistibly contagious; your own humor on full display and intrinsically colliding with Hunter’s in perfect unison.

“It could’ve gone even better, Sergeant.”

Hunter suddenly shivered at the velvet skin of lips grazing over his ear, your low and titillating hum of words accompanied by an echo further solidifying the effect. He quickly turned to regard you.

“Cyar’ika... not here.” He stood, fingers still threaded through yours before giving a slight tug. “Come.”

Your mind still raced with a million questions.

His mind raced with enhanced perceptiveness to the rapid thrum of your heartbeat, the cacophony of your thoughts beheld through the window of your expression, and the fluctuation of hormones festering between the two of you.

“Why?...” your voice stunted any further words. You couldn’t bring yourself in deciding which question to even ask first.

Why kiss me like that, why walk away, why now?

“Olaror, cyar’ika,” Hunter beckoned, guiding you through a discrete path back to the barracks, the path signifying a journey that lie much farther beneath the surface.

***

His unfaltering gaze boring into you made you squirm.

“Sarge, you still with me?” You giggle in hopes of lightening the atmosphere, to which he blinks slowly at your gentle nudge, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry, cyar’ika. Guess I’m a man of few words.”

“Sorry, Sir, you’ll have to do better than that,” you tsk, crossing your arms before flashing a knowing smirk towards his uncharacteristically meek composure.

But the perceptive Commando was nothing if not upfront and honest. That remained a steady inherence of his.

“Alright. Words fail me at the moment.”

“That’s more believable.”

Hunter scoffed lightly at your prodding but simply remained transfixed to your movements, facial expressions a loud amassment of words, even though the tense silence was becoming more of a companion to you than the man himself currently occupying the small space of your quarters. You had stripped out of your outer gear upon re-entrance and finally strode up in front of the Sergeant.

“Haar’chak, Hunter, just kiss me.” Your playful tone of an assertive demand rang through his ears, and you gave a breathy laugh at the way his brow arched in surprise with quick respondence to this newfound dominance of yours. Hunter fervently tried to shift his focus away from the sudden blood-flow to his lower half and from the way your hand drifted down his taut abdomen before fingers curled teasingly around the band of his blacks positioned just below his waist.

“That’s right,” you purr, a smug satisfaction peaking through at his authentic surprise and particular muscle response as you cocked your head to the side, eyes never leaving his own. “You’re not the only one who can give orders around here, Sergeant.”

Hunter cleared his throat in quelling a soft moan threatening to manifest from your tease before emitting a strained chuckle. “I’ll remember that.”

In actuality, he only vaguely remembered the sentiment as you fisted his blacks before pulling the Sergeant to you while permitting his lips to wander over your skin.

His kisses were clumsy, distracted and hesitant, wallowing in insecurity; one look to his contorted facial expression informed you that this man was terribly conflicted.

“Hunter,” you breathed, pausing; your tone laced with concern and predictably gentle; touch even more so while stroking his muscular arms in reassurance and forcing away the tingle down your spine in favor of exhibiting empathy for his plight. “Talk to me.”

You wanted to be the place where he ran to, instead of the place he was running from.

The Sergeant of Clone Force 99 didn’t ask for things, didn’t beg—strong will and determination always trumping over his own vulnerability and reservations. Yet he found himself abysmally succumbing to you in a desperate endeavor for clarity. If nothing else, closure.

“Just tell me, Y/N.” A low husk of his voice thickly coated with emotions had Hunter briefly halting his session with your lips to tentatively trail from your clavicle to the crook of your neck with deliberation, planting light kisses to accompany his journey until his lips ghosted the shell of your ear with a sudden plea.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me what I need to hear. I have to know.”

Tell me it’s okay to love you.

“Please.”

There it is again—that pained expression. The downcast one tracing over every fine line etched into the man’s face, the one that plagued his demeanor every time he found himself faced with the notion of making love to you.

You found yourself thankful in that moment for the support of durasteel wall pressed against your back as your legs and core momentarily ceased trembling from the sensuality of his touch, now shifting all focus in sharp attentiveness to the sound of desperation and urgency radiating from Hunter’s voice.

Your sudden realization regarding his trepidations were tangible in that moment, and you inwardly chide yourself for not having fully understood until now, locked in a moment of transparent intimacy.

He was afraid of falling for you, just as much as you were for him. Hunter often largely spoke in equivocations in attempt to satiate his deep predilection for you. You finally deciphered the unspoken inquiry, the only important questions which begged answers from both parties:

If I dove in headfirst, would you follow?

How deep in love?

How far with desire?

Hunter would never regard you as some derogatory objectification. He didn’t want to simply take you out of pure lust and sole consideration for a throbbing muscle between his legs. Hunter needed something more grounding than that. A cozy space safely nestled between fantasy and pragmatism, where he was neither Sergeant nor Soldier, mentally and physically stripped of the armor that forbade him the basic humanitarian rights of absolutely anything wholesome or blissful.

That forbade him from you. A life with you.

In that moment, Hunter needed confirmation— your verbally signed confession, your reassured coax—that he could love you unconditionally and purely unabashed.

You dwelled on the way the Sergeant’s steady arms, with a firm grip and strong determination, permitted not an inch of space between yet radiated such warmth and stability. How his larger hands ever so gently remained wrapped around the nape of your neck as he caressed the side of your face while waiting in earnest for your answer, studying you intently.

After several passing seconds with the hands of time seemingly encompassed around your neck and head locked in a moment of consideration for his plea, you fully conveyed the summarization of your entire future, now more certain than ever.

Reaching up to gently entangle your fingers in the tufts of his soft hair, you allow pools of deep brown irises to entrance and captivate you with allure before:

“Gar ani ner kar’ta. Ner cyare, ni copad taylir ibi’tuur, nakar’tuur, darasuum.”

Hunter’s breath hitched at your profound declaration, picking up on every string of enunciation and wishing he could choke on his own for you instead of the current gasping for air that resulted from a long moment of lips locked in an unbreakable seal of passion that effectively robbed the breath from both your lungs.

You complete my heart. My beloved, whom I desire to hold today, tomorrow, eternally.

Everything faded away into the night; breathtaking planets and glittering stars usually splayed across the galaxy now condensed into one room as brightened spirits and reflective constellations, elements between two people, became perfected by each other’s embrace.

The only stars that radiated within these durasteel walls were the ones Hunter had in his eyes for you. Reciprocated pledges of adoration echoed in resounding, with neither a faint consideration for war raging, nor death, nor despair—

—Hunter knew not these things, terms utterly foreign to a man who currently found respite in the outpouring of your name from his lips during the high of his pleasure, while worshipping the chorus of your own.

“Love me, Hunter.”

Hunter had never loved more intensely than he did you.

[og-danny-dorito]

Bucky Barnes SFW Headcanons

a new hyperfixation to avoid my growing anxiety with my personal life? yall already know whats up, and i'm feeling angsty so brace yourself

PUBLISHED :  2 - 17 - 20

S F W : 

- to start off of a positive and happy note (jk you already know thats not how it works) its very likely that upon first meeting, any touch directed towards him is met with an alarmed grunt and/or a slap of your hand away

- anything unsolicited makes him nervous and uncomfortable, so if you really do want to pat his shoulder or hug him or something like that you'd have to ask if it's okay first. now it's pretty easy to see the reasoning behind this but for those doubting it i will explain

- big man has been trained to kill in hand to hand combat and advanced weaponry and countless other things, meaning that he's pretty much wired by this point to have a gut reaction that automatically goes to the fight or flight instinct. it doesn't make logical sense that he wouldn't get uncomfortable and jumpy at loud noises and unsolicited touching since his ptsd has accumulated over the years to MAKE him react like that. he doesn't want to accidentally punch you in the teeth

- like yeah he's all tough and shit and could break the a dude’s neck if he really tried, but the issue is that once his walls are broken down he's sort of akin to that of a regulated killing machine having to redo its wiring to be “normal” again. the transition itself would be traumatic, but the process of initiating it would be even more difficult

- so that means that in the first few months of his recovery, he probably would do a lot of absent-minded staring and just long spells of silence where he just doesn't do anything. it's sort of like a reloading point for his brain, and he starts to pick up the habit of daydreaming a lot. sometimes you'll have to say his name a few times to snap him out of it, but when he does come to he looks a little embarrassed

- it's not that easy to elicit an emotional reaction out of him. you'd have to be fairly close with him to actually get most responses out of him that are more than a word long, and so thus starts my favorite trope; hard depressed kill man falls for person who just Keeps Trying

- it's not that easy to get under his skin, but meeting him somewhere normally and constantly talking to him will probably start to make him feel more encouraged to speak in the sense of making normal conversation

- he's a little awkward so in this case patience goes a long way (as does with pretty much everything with him). it gets to the point where after a month or so he may feel weird if he doesn't talk to you at that specific time of the day. if he's grown that fond of you he'll even go out of his way to ask a few people where you are

- part of him hates getting this attached for a number of reasons. there's that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that his environment is temporary and getting attached to the things and people there will hurt him more than he'd like. while he knows that it's not temporary, that he's not leaving anytime soon and probably won't for a while, it all goes back to the killing machine thing

- when he was under hydra’s control, the only thing that was certain was the base he resided in and it's hard to come out of a state of mind where the only thing you know to be continuous is your continued existence as a tool. the place itself brings back horrible memories, but you get what i mean

- so initially he may resist conversation for that very reason

- he tends to pick up on details more than anything, and most of your smaller traits tend to make him quickly used to you. like for instance, if you're prone to pursuing your lips and narrowing your eyes at something odd you've heard or seen, he might find it cute mentally and then immediately correct himself for it. if you tend to snort a little and roll your eyes when you laugh, he's going to notice that and MAYBE try to pay more attention when something funny is said to hear it again

- i would generally think that he doesn't really have much a type or preference at all. in fact, i'm pretty sure the only thing he seemed consciously aware of that he likes in a partner is ability to understand. cause if you can't forgive him for the things he's done and see why he does what he does now, he can't bring himself to feel like he needs to go through all of his self hatred and doubt more intensely than he already is

- he probably is asexual as well but that's sort of iffy considering he's canon been in sexual relationships so that's a maybe. but he's definitely demiromantic. it's not that easy for him to find people attractive anymore. when he starts to get to know you better he starts feeling some sort of way and picking up on MORE details that you may not even notice yourself

- bucky is also incredibly skilled at remembering things you might've said a month ago and completely forgot about. some find this off putting and that's understandable, but when it comes down to it, its a product of sorta okay memory

- “My cousin almost flipped his car over this week.”

- “Phillipe?”

- “Uh, yeah. How did you...?”

- “You mentioned him two weeks ago... when he almost fell of your roof the week before.”

- “I did?”

- remembers dates, names, eye colors, and a multitude of other things, so sometimes he'll just mention something important you may have forgotten and pretend like he definitely wasn't paying too much attention to you. it's surprising how good his memory is even though he can't remember any of his past. so this most likely means that he has issues with remembering events and how they happened, but not the details of them. like how you can remember your shirt color a few week s back but not what you did while wearing that shirt

- and on that note, he kinda shuts down if he gets a weird flashback in the middle of something. they're mostly triggered by smells and sounds, but sometimes if he sees something while he's walking down the street he'll just stop and stare at it. it's best just to stop and stare at it with him, or alternatively if you don't want stares, act like you're taking a picture. but don't talk to him while it's happening cause it'll interrupt the train of thought and derail him completely

- he tends to talk a lot about things if he's grown very invested in them (he's very good at keeping focus). if you're out walking together or just sitting down he might stare and absentmindedly reach out to touch you before stopping himself at the last minute. gently grabbing his hand and placing it wherever he wanted to touch makes him flustered every time. that and hes super soft but is afraid to be vulnerable around anyone

- just gently grabbing his hand makes him all mushy, and it’s more often than not that he finds himself weak when someone shows pretty much any form of affection or endearment towards him

- probably not into pda though, not that much. he will hold your hand if you want to, but don’t expect to like sit in his lap or like straight upstart kissing in public cause any attention in a public setting makes him nervous

- really likes a kind of homey s/o. someone who likes to cook or bake or whatever makes him feel a little bit like he doesn't have to worry about something for a while. like if he comes home and dinner is just waiting on the table for him or you’ve already drawn a bath for him and/or made the bed or whatever, he literally appreciates that above pretty much anything else

- love language is most likely acts of service. hes not very good with words unless he like thinks it out beforehand, but pretty much buys you gifts all the time because he likes seeing you light up when you see them. he does try to spend as much time as he can with you but either anxiety gets the best of him or hes literally too busy, and so it ends up being more distant with him coming over a few times during the week, even if you live together. and we already know the deal with physical touch so im not gonna restate my strong belief in “big man has trauma no touch big man unless A S K”

- but a lot of the things he does are situational. one day he may be very down to be super affectionate and the other he’ll be painfully distant, but the main issue with all of it is that hes very very bad at communication

- this poses an issue for a number of reasons, but his responses and reactions are more physical than anything. so for instance, if hes uncomfortable with something he’ll start to shift and stare and be very tense the whole time it’s occurring, or if he’s feeling a bit more sad or depressed he’ll isolate himself and consistently stand slouched or look as if he hasn't gotten enough sleep. it’s mostly body language, but after a while he’ll feel safe enough to tell you how he feels about certain things

- this takes a while to actually happen, but when it does he manages to just,,, say things that are on his mind. like you’ll be reading or scrolling through your phone or whatever and he’ll randomly be like “The table has a lot of scratches on it.” it’s just observations he has, but usually it translates to him wanting to change the stated fact. best thing to do is just to roll with it, since hes practically learning how to communicate again and he’s picking up on things socially

- now let's get to the “a little fluffy” and “kinda-already-known” shit, shall we?

-  miscellaneous headcanons;

gets jealous pretty easily in the early stages of your relationship, but only ever indicates this by staring the person in question down and refusing to admit to it later

likes having his hair put up into cool hairstyles and likes colored rubber bands (or hair ties if youre not where i'm from). seriously, he may loose his shit if you just like put cool braids in his hair one day like hes a viking or whatever

kind of tone deaf but his singing is more of like this raspy and slightly more “Misty Mountains” vocals sounding

is touch sensitive, so even doing something as small as like rubbing your thumb on his arm makes his hair raise on end

doesn't like his metal arm at all and quite obviously wears long sleeves all the time to hide it, but occasionally wears short sleeves when he's feeling less insecure

oh, super insecure btw and THATS why he feels all mushy when someone is kind to him because he KNOWS he's a freak and that he's weird but you're not still being sweet??? too pure, must protect

gives great hugs since he practically smothers anyone he meets with them, but is also basically a walking heater

is terrified of the idea of taking care of children or just anything weaker than him, but is good with them since they always hang on his arms and hold his legs when he walks

super strong

likes sweets a whole lot, specifically fruity sweets like apple pie or peach cobbler. never bring those wallmart cakes or whatever near him cause it'll be gone in like an hour flat unless you tell him to leave you some

- in conclusion, he needs therapy and probably won't be very responsive when he's not sure what to do. it doesn't mean he loves you any less, but he may have a hard time communicating it to you. all he really needs is some patience and a bit of understanding, and he'll get better with the whole s/o thing soon enough. cause you mean the world to him, and he doesn't want anyone or anything to make you feel like less than that

[fisheoctrashdump]

Also, Jedediah 1-20 (20 with Kristen) 👉👈

Before I go into all these, I wanna start with saying that Jedediah (and Cirino) are pretty old characters. They existed shortly after I made Blez and Kaya, but I haven't changed them as much. It's kinda funny because for as long as they've existed, Jedediah has basically just been a background character for the Cirino Show™, but now the roles are reversed.

Holiday

Jedediah hates holidays of any kind. He's been through so many different worlds and has seen hundreds of different holidays, but none of them were something he cared for,

That is, until he went to the festival with Kristen for the first time. Her enthusiasm was annoying at first, but the longer they stayed, the more Jedediah felt Kristen's joy passing onto him. It was all the same to him - the food, the music, the crowds of people praising something they never really knew - but the magic he felt that night was the lights reflected in Kristen's eyes, and the way she said his name, grabbing his arm to show him all her favorite things.

He still hates holidays, but now it's for a completely different reason...

Cooking

Jedediah doesn't have to cook for himself. He has magic to do that for him. Some might say it's made him pretty lazy, but he disagrees. It gives him time for more important things (plus all the food he eats is good as fuck)

Sleeping

Sleeping for him is rare. He doesn't actually need it as often, because again, magic. When he does have to sleep, it's hard for him to fall asleep, and when he finally does, he is sometimes prone to nightmares.

Driving

No need to drive when you have teleportation magic :3c

He's kinda like Kristen in that he doesn't want to learn to drive. He's seen cars before in many different worlds, but he never learned to drive. I doubt he ever would, either.

Bathing/showering

MAGIC

jk I'm not sure what his bathing habits have been before, but currently it's not really anything special. He showers daily, and he does it as quick as possible

Hugging

Before the wish, Jedediah would always get really stiff and awkward when Kristen hugged him. But he… did like it.

If anyone else were trying to hug him, though, there is no way they would be successful lol

Kissing

He's never been kissed before. I imagine he sometimes wonders what it would be like to kiss Kristen, but he never thinks about it for long.

When/if he ever were to kiss someone (and by someone, I mean Kristen lol) I imagine his kissing to be maybe a little intense at first, and then just slowly melts into a gentler, more passionate kind of kiss.

Sex

Jedediah is like a thousand years old and a virgin lol

I headcanon him as demisexual, and I just can't see that he would consider anyone in his life close enough.

General physical contact

He usually flinches from physical contact. Any kind of physical contact in his life before now has pretty much only been the bad kind, so it's become an instinct to escape when he feels someone touch him (using whatever means necessary).

He eventually became comfortable enough to allow Kristen to touch him without trying to escape, but he still was very guarded and anxious.

Physical appearance

He has greyish skin, black hair and red eyes. He's 5'8 owo

Jedediah has several long scars that span from his wrists up to his shoulders. He also has scars that circle his wrists, and a diagonal scar on his abdomen.

Wardrobe

To be completely honest, I have no idea. When he was still mortal, before Cirino fucked his life up, I imagined him being a suit kinda dude. After that and currently, I can't really decide. Probably darker clothing lol

Jewelry

No jewelry.

Nickname

Jed ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ who wants to say a four syllable name all the time?

Cirino used to call him Jeddy when they were younger. Kristen will end up using this nickname as well, but she of course had no idea about the memories attached to it. He let her call him that regardless, and began to grow fond of it again after a while.

Dancing

He can waltz, ballroom, and tap dance, but it's not really something he does currently

but god, imagine him dancing with Kristen,,,,,,,,,,,

Singing

He sometimes sings or hums to himself to concentrate. He barely even noticed he did it until he joined Kristen's elemental group. The other three would tease him about it sometimes just to see him get flustered.

Anger

Jedediah gets angry very easily. Over minor and immediate issues, he can diffuse the situation himself and calm himself down. For bigger issues, however, he takes it out on others.

His problems with Cirino has caused him to hurt a lot of people, including Kristen. He has dealt with a lot of anger over the many years he's been alive from the way he's been treated by pretty much everyone he's ever known.

Soft spot

Kristen.

Vince and Luna

Animals, specifically cats and birds.

Books. He reads for a lot of different reasons, but he's always found comfort in immersing himself in a book.

Favorite possession

The dark magic book he took after Cirino disappeared. It also makes for a perfect hiding place for his real favorite possession - a pressed flower Kristen grew for him shortly after they met.

Favorite photograph

I don't think he has one.

Relationship with ___

Kristen

His relationship with Kristen (and feelings for Kristen) are very complicated.

I imagine when they first met, Jedediah was feeling kind of lost. He had been ordered around for pretty much his entire life, and he didn't know what to do now that he was free from Adizora. Up until the point they met, he had been burying himself in research. Kristen pulled him from his sad boy isolation, and pushed him to put his powers to good use. She thought that Jedediah was the answer they needed to stop the fighting between the elementals and the wizards. He had magic just like Adizora's (if not better than hers), and she hoped Jed would step up to replace her.

Jedediah wasn't too happy about this idea, but he joined Kristen's elemental group to be closer to her. He felt very drawn to her, because for the first time in his life he was being treated as someone's equal. More than that, she had such a positive effect on him. He felt a little less lost and more like he actually had a purpose.

I haven't decided what exactly happens that causes Jedediah to be set on his revenge path, but when it does, he realizes this will go against what Kristen was hoping for. In fact, it could very well cause harm to her and the other two friends he made. It makes him realize that choosing revenge means he's going to have to put his walls back up with everyone, and cut off his emotions from them.

Everytime he goes after the others and does things to hurt them or keep them back from stopping him, he feels horrible. Jed tries to cover this, push himself harder, and ignore his conscience. It feels worse with Kristen, though. He misses being a part of the group sometimes, and I imagine a point where Jedediah starts to have second thoughts until he sees Cirino for the first time since he abandoned him.

[matrixaffiliate]

Glimpsing Happiness

Co-written with @hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon

FFN and AO3

Chapter 14

Some people might have found it hard to believe that Sirius Black had ever been personally acquainted with the concept of human emotion. It was by design, really. He'd protected himself by a front of carelessness and rebellion. It worked. He was safe behind his mask. But that didn't mean it was who he really wanted to be.

The gift of clarity about who he really wanted to be came packaged in a frankly atrocious giftwrap of war and blindness. But he knew, he wanted to be the person who everyone important seemed to believe he already was. It was a strangely freeing realization to have as Marlene clung to him sobbing after committing an act of valor that Sirius would probably still be in awe of if he lived to be 100. If he could be the man Marlene went to for comfort, the brother who James had come back to alive, and the cousin who Andromeda burst into a quarantine ward for, but for another 76 years or so, he would have succeeded in everything he ever really wanted.

He turned his head slightly towards the little spitfire in his arms. He'd never thought he'd kiss the top of a war hero's head, but he lucked into the opportunity. He felt an errant curl that must have escaped from her veil, tickle his nose. He hadn't known that he was capable of loving someone so completely. He must've lucked into that as well. The smile that took hold on his face felt poorly timed but he couldn't stop thinking about how damned lucky he was. He didn't even care if he never regained his sight. He'd still be lucky to be the blind wanker who got to love Marlene McKinnon.

"Marlene… I've never seen anything like what you did. I mean… I still haven't, but…" He smirked at his own joke.

"Really? A blindness pun? Now?" He could hear the beginnings of a smile. How was it possible to know someone is radiantly beautiful without the benefit of sight? He didn't even understand it himself but he knew.

"You know me well enough by now to know there is no bad time for a blindness pun. And I know you well enough to know that you're bloody incredible. I don't think I have the words for this…" He pulled her closer, that seemed to be all he could do. He wanted desperately to put his lips to hers. To show her how impressed he really was, how he really felt about her, but he knew she wouldn't thank him for making more of a spectacle than they already were as he held her on his cot.

"So, you're so impressed that you just had to make a pun?" Ah, she was laughing now. That was good; she needed more laughter, specifically laughter caused by his awfully good puns.

"I guess that's one way to interpret that. Yes. I hope you like puns because I'm never going to stop being impressed with you."

It occurred to Sirius, that not since the Napoleonic Wars had there been a Frenchman on British soil as unwelcome as the five present in the room at that moment. He sighed in resignation. Someday he'd get the opportunity to kiss the skin on her neck and run his hands over her soft curves and…

"It's not their fault, Sirius." She sighed and pulled her head from his shoulder. "Besides, it's time for me to go back to work."

"Was I thinking that loudly?"

"Yes." She ran a hand along his very scruffy face. He hoped she wasn't terribly fond of his beard; they'd make him shave it off once he could see. "Subtlety is not your strong suit, Captain Black."

She was right. He was very conspicuously arse over elbow in love. But there were worse things to be. It was nearly painful to feel her pull away from him.

"I'll miss you." tumbled out of his mouth before he could think the comment through. But it was true, and she may as well hear him say it.

"Not like I'll miss you." There was a sadness to her voice. He wasn't sure what it meant or if she was just exhausted to the bone. She squeezed his hand one last time and then she was gone.

The day still felt like half a dream. He hadn't been paying close mind to who came and went since Marlene had left. So he was somewhat taken aback when a small childish voice called out for his attention.

"Cousin Sirius! Mummy says you look like a vagrant. But I think you look rather happier than a vagrant."

"Thank you for that, Cousin Dora." Sirius laughed as the little girl threw herself across him in a rather dramatic hug. "Did you bring your mummy with you or wander up here by yourself?"

"Well I must say it's easier getting in now. They may have tried to offer me a job? I couldn't quite make out what the man was saying. He was excessively Northern, you know. He may have been asking for gardening advice? It's hard to say. Anyhow, he seemed glad that I was here." He heard Andromeda take a seat in the chair near his cot. He wondered if that chair was more comfortable than the one in the last room he was in. Not that Marlene bothered to sit in this new chair when she came to see him.

"I'm glad you're here too, Dromsy. But who on earth would look at you and ask for gardening advice?"

"I could garden if I wanted." Sirius could perfectly picture Droms pulling herself erect and her looking down his nose at him. He loved making her do that. "I've walked in many a garden in my day. The gardens here are lovely, actually. Do you fancy a walk in them?"

"If you lead me round like a seeing eye dog that sounds brilliant." He envied the patients that could walk about the gardens. The night nurse had had a moment to walk him around the hospital once because most of the patients were asleep, but Marlene was still running faster than a road runner, and it wasn't really worth walking around without her.

"I can be a seeing eye dog Cousin Sirius!" Dora's chirpy little voice, and her enthusiasm about a rather unglamorous sounding task, amused Sirius greatly. She was a good kid. When he stood up he felt her tiny hand take hold of his and start pulling. He followed his seeing-eye cousin happily, and heard the click of Andromeda's beside him.

He was immediately struck by the change in air quality when they made their way out of the doors. Five weeks had been enough for him to become almost used to the smell. The French certainly didn't help matters in that department.

The area where his cousin lead him smelled intensely refreshing. It was also very bright out here and he could… see that? Huh. He could see that.

He'd been able to tell light from dark for a decent stretch of time but this seemed different. It wasn't really like seeing, but there were different colors? Holy shite he could see colors!

"Droms! I can see colors!" He spun to where he thought she was, pulling poor Dora with him.

"What's that now?"

"Colors! I can see that there's grass! And sky! And you're a lovely brownish amorphous blob."

He was practically jumping out of his skin with excitement. He was still unable to see the shape of his own hand in front of his face but this was a massive improvement.

"What color am I Cousin Sirius?" Dora pulled on his hand.

"A beautiful little blob of brown!"

He ruffled little Dora's hair and then threw his arms around Dromsy's shoulders. She wasn't much of a hugger. The family's enforcement of stoicism had stuck to her more than it managed with him. But he liked to think she was at least smiling while she stood rigidly and let herself be hugged.

"I'm glad for you Coz, and I love you, but you just called me an amorphous blob and now you're squeezing me. Please stop?"

He let her loose from his embrace and chuckled. She was exactly what happened when someone is exactly the person they were taught to be, except that they're kind and loving on top of that. She was a proper lady through and through but it hadn't stopped her from marrying Dora's commoner father. He wondered what Ted thought of Dromsy's investment in the importance of fork placement.

That made him think of another matter.

"Droms do you have Grandmother Irma's jewelry? Uncle Alfie kept it. I hadn't thought of it until now, but I do hope my mother didn't get her hands on it."

"You have sudden interest in wearing our late gran's brooches, Baby Coz?"

He could hear her eyebrows rising. It was there in her voice. She had a suspicion, and it wasn't that he'd taken to wearing ladies jewelry. Sirius answered back without missing a beat.

"No, I was thinking of the tiara."

Dora's giggle came exactly on cue. "You'll be positively lovely Cousin Sirius."

"Thank you, Dora. You're such a kind seeing eye dog."

"To answer your question," she cleared her throat, "I don't have it myself but I can make some inquiries if you'd like."

"Thank you Dromsy. You're a gem."

"Yes yes, I know. I'm like the big one in the center of grandmother's tiara."

Was it possible to hear an eye roll? Andromeda Tonks either had a very loud face, or her face was the easiest to hear because he'd grown up with her eyerolls and her smiles that she thought she was hiding.

"You're the one at the center of the queen mums. Honking huge diamond that you can pry from her cold dead hands. That's you to me." He inflicted his cousin with another tight hug and knew that the sigh he heard was hiding a smile.

[philcreateddan]

Just wait without saying a word

Title:Just wait without saying a word

Words:

Warnings:none

Domestic moments being domestic and sickeningly sweet sometimes. 

Dan is, if Phil were to be asked for it specifically, red. He considers himself blue.

Even if Dan's favorite color to wear is another, to Phil black symbolizes emptiness, a whole where unexpected things awaited patiently to be discovered. It means silence. A complete opposite of his personality. No, Dan was red. The color of fire and blood, associated with energy, war, danger, strength, power, determination as well as passion, desire, and love.

Red is a very emotionally intense color. It enhances human metabolism, increases respiration rate, and raises blood pressure. It has very high visibility, which is why stop signs, stoplights, and fire equipment are usually painted red. In heraldry, red is used to indicate courage.  

That was Dan for Phil. Always visible, never one to be left without the last word. A person completely able to submerge himself in projects as long as he loved them with a ferocious passion. Intense, always on spotlight, impossible to miss.

Phil considers himself blue. It has nothing to do with his eyes.

“I swear Phil they are at least three different colors.”

Blue is the color of the sky and sea. It is often associated with depth and stability. It symbolizes trust, loyalty, wisdom, confidence, intelligence, faith, truth, and heaven.

Blue is considered beneficial to the mind and body. It slows metabolism and produces a calming effect. Blue is strongly associated with tranquility and calmness. In heraldry, blue is used to symbolize piety and sincerity. Phil often believes that’s true, on the surface at least.

Dan is red. He is blue. Together they’ve been making shades of purple out of red and blue for seven years. A very rare color in nature, often considered artificial. It evokes different emotions depending on who sees it. It has been evoking different emotions since Phil first tweeted him back. Back when red was a color he didn’t consider in his life.

Purple is not the color they would chose to most things, it has been spoiled by many brands already. But Phil likes the representation it gives them. He told Dan that one day.  

“It’s only a color Phil. I prefer to think we are colorless” he points at himself “and colorful” he points at him. He is wrong of course but Phil lets it go.  

Phil may not like purple that much but he likes their purple.  

Dan knows Phil can't take care of living things. That’s why he was against the plants from the beginning.

“I believe you still can save it.” Dan has been reading something on his phone while Phil's mind was in turmoil with thoughts. Things needed to be done, ideas for new videos, new merchandise to be finished, material to be prepared for meetings. Dan was concentrated, his eyebrows on a slight frown. Phil had no idea what he is talking about because last time he checked the brunette was supposed to be helping him.

“Save what.”

“Your houseplant” He says it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The houseplant he had secretly bought and cared of had long been dying without him knowing why. Phil had given up to be honest and bought another that was expected to arrive in a few days. Dan didn't know that yet.  

“Look I’ve been reading and it might need a new fertilizer or a bigger pot.” He only stare at him. Daniel is solemnly serious and Phil wonders for how long he’d been searching for that instead of doing what they were supposed to be doing.

“Phil I swear I won't be dragged into babysitting that plant so you better take good care of it.”

Dan still hasn’t looked at him when he stands up and stretches. “Let's go then, there’s a place we can find natural fertilizers but it will take us about an hour to arrive.” Phil wants to kiss him then but doesn't.  

He does however smile as they get in the cab. Even if the houseplant is saved another will arrive soon and Dan’ll complain about it. And he will take care of it as well.

Dan is loud. Phil has headaches easily.

He isn’t vocally loud as represented on his videos. Not always anyway, at home his voice is low, calmed. But he is loud in everything else, physically he shouts any sentence even if he’s only whispering it. His emotions are loud and resonate on every inch of his body. Phil has learned listening to Dan Howell involves observing him most of the time. He can also be literally loud of course leaving Phil in fear for his hearing in the long term.

When they first skyped Dan had been quiet. Too shy to be recognizable now. His emotions had been loud for him then even if Phil was yet too new to hear them properly. Now he can't be quiet and sometimes Phil wishes he could turn Dan's volume down a little. He knows, of course that he wouldn’t in the end but it's something he is allowed to fantasize about.  

Dan is very eloquent, it's endearing hearing him speak of things he discovers after nights reading wikipedia and is always keen on lecturing Phil on different subjects before sharing them with their audience. A lot of times he repeats things he’d already told him before. Phil doesn't point it out. Sometimes he moves his hands too much and stops when Phil points it out.  

In their meetings while arranging things for final shows in Europe, Dan spoke a lot. Every commentary mouthed with intelligence, every remark cautiously seeking for the tour to end perfectly. He was very articulate in this kind of things. Phil made observations from time to time and Dan elaborated. It didn't bother him, he knew what them both wanted for their audience. Phil took care of other things, more technical ones that Dan forgot.

Phil doesn't tell him when his head starts pounding, Dan knows by now. Phil knows he knows because that’s one of the few times when the piano echoes through the flat and everything else is quiet. When the headache stops Phil tells him he needs to practice more because that was awful. Dan calls him a deaf ungrateful spoon, his emotions loud still with fondness Phil hears with every stroke of gentle fingers on his scalp.  

Dan is loud. Phil can go through any headache as long as he can observe his words being loud at everything he says to him forever.

In every social event they position the chairs so close one can't move without the other nothing. The people around are used to it now or they don’t point it out anymore at least.

The first time they met in Manchester Dan had, in hope to perform a cool personage, been physically distant. Phil had taken his hand between walking simply because he could. He had been shivering. Phil didn’t let go after his body calmed down. It's been seven years and his hand still reaches searching for Phil's before any presentation for a brief squeeze, when his thoughts become too loud, when words can't express enough what he is feeling. Phil doesn’t let go even after he stops trembling and Dan simply squeezes him tighter.  

“Take my hand so you don’t get lost.”  

“I don’t get lost.” Phil says as he take his hand. They avoid touching in public, however they are never apart for longer than five minutes. Phil gets distracted easily and wonders off. Dan always finds him. Phil jokes he Dan had implanted him a chip to GPS his position. Dan says he will, someday. Even without a chip he always finds him.  

They don’t say “I love you”. Not loudly. In fact they barely remember the last time the words were punctually pronounced out loud.

That thought scares Phil for a moment yet the words don’t come out. It feels weird to even think on saying them out loud. It’s not them. Not something they do. Not really a necessity. Never truly given a name for what they have. Something that had gone through so many changes and that has finally become steady. Solid. Platonic. Mature yet not mature enough.

Mature enough to get them tangled together with lust when nights are clear and have breakfast in bed together the morning after instead of avoiding each other with regret. Not mature enough to label it even with people who have known them from the beginning maybe. Mature enough to shrug and admit they’re happy together when asked instead of completely denying it. Mature enough to know they don’t want to date anyone else because they are not them. Not mature enough to adopt a dog. Mature enough to know it will be  their's.

Mature enough to know and knowing the other one knows and knowing that’s enough.  

“They are everywhere aren’t they?” Felix comments after the picture posted gets immediate reactions from the audience. The audience. Everyone laughs. It's good they, the collectively them offscreen, knows they are enjoying themselves, good they see them happily sharing moments with a group of people willing to be shared online too.  

For the rest of the party Phil talks with PJ, Dan sits on the other couch where they can hear him laughing.

"What comes next?" He doesn't mean it as a nosy question, it's something Phil has been wondering as well. A palpitating whisper beneath the constant steam on his brain.

"Some calm, relaxing months I expect. We can do with some vacations after last year."

"Japan again?"

"We'd certainly enjoy that. “Dan’s laughter catches their attention momentarily deviating their eyes to see him and his dimple enjoying a joke unheard by them. “Maybe going for a couple of weeks this time without so much on our heads.”  

“Without making it public?” Phil nods and receives a knowing look “They’d start sending wedding presents.” Luckily he had not been drinking or an accident would’ve occurred but they are laughing instead.  

“I reckon. They are already looking for hidden rings and locations.” In reflex Phil looks at the couch of the other part of the room. Dan’s fingers are jewelry free, uncommitted resting on his lap.

“Have you thought about it?”  

Phil often finds myself grateful of PJ’s friendship. He knows them. He knows him, not as amazingphil only but Phil, just Phil. They share a creativity bond he doesn't take for granted.

“I don’t know.” He say honestly because he is not sure the idea had been ever real in his head. Ever a thought itself separated from the solid knowledge that his life is intertwined already, enough for years to come. But then again Dan’s fingers are naked, playing with themselves. “Should I?”

PJ shrugs “You are still young besides what matters is the answer you’d receive. The ceremony is a formality.”

Phil is aware of the answer, of both their answers but then again he is not one who cares about tangible proves of commemorations like Dan. He stays silent for a while now, head spinning with ideas, pictures of moments and strangers enjoying themselves in what could be a traditional ceremony, with their faces at the center of it. Dan's. Beautiful and rose as he would be.  

“It wouldn’t be so difficult to keep it a secret. Any of it.” Whatever expression PJ had read on his face has been interpreted in fear of being discovered apparently. “Or, you could use the time to..” His eyebrows are lifted. Phil shakes his head.

“We’re not a commercial for everyone else.” PJ nods with a smile and understands the subject is dropped.

People often asks him if Dan ever has existential crisis as his branding elaborates. Phil say he often stop from falling with his body on the floor or that his worst crisis was when Zayn left One Direction. People laughs and Dan agrees with it.

In reality it's been years since Dan's last “crisis”. Phil is thankful of that, because Dan’s demons used to torment him to pieces that he’d fear would never heal back. They can laugh now, joke and use it to help their followers with it somehow but the idea of him being dragged down on that drowning spiral of thoughts again terrifies Phil sometimes.  

“I hate it Phil” He sobs with an anger that was slowly drying him and Phil doesn’t know what else to do but hold him up. “I hate my life. All of it.” It breaks Phil's heart but he can't say it. Dan can't know how the implications of his words added him in that equation of his misery making Phil feel useless and fearing he is about to lose him.

Phil believed he had been selfish then. Dragging Dan outside ignoring his glare, pushing him to make videos ignoring the roll of his eyes, talked and talked ignoring his quietness. Sometimes Phil likes to believe his voice had been the one that silenced Dan's demons back then. He just got better and loud and vibrant again and Phil didn’t care whose merit it was because it had taken him some time to heal accordingly.

Perhaps the movie they are watching would do it this time, Phil unconsciously thinks, perhaps it becomes a trigger. Phil has gotten used to this fears now, to his veins icing when a shadow obscures those big brown eyes he adores seeing alive. He asks Dan if he is okay.  

“Why?” he asks back nonchalantly.  

“Don’t you fear it anymore then?” that’s when he get his total attention.

“What are you talking about?”

Phil tilts his head to the TV “Well this film explores lonely alienation and desperation that comes as a result of not making any choices in an absurd existence.”  

Dan laughs “And? I won't lay down on the floor for a movie Phil.”

He can't really lie to Phil, not when he is staring directly to his eyes.  

“Would you prefer me having a stupid crisis instead?” he asks. Dan hates when the other doesn’t answer. He has learned to be more patient with time.

“Of course not, don’t be stupid.” Phil pauses the video, though he really doesn’t want to continue, and turns to face him entirely. “You don’t fear it anymore? How fragile existence is and all that?”

Dan is taken back then, not a reaction that denotes fear but exclusive astonishment at the question. When the other doesn’t laugh or look away he recollects himself. Phil wishes he had the ability to read his thoughts then, know why his skin tone has tainted a thin tone of pink or why he suddenly breaks into a smile. That annoying smirk he has when he knows something Phil doesn’t.  

“I was young back then Phil. Existence doesn’t scare me anymore.”

Phil frowns. Not knowing things of Dan Howell before Dan Howell was unusual on his book. “Since when?”

“Since I decided I don’t care. Everything is fragile and doomed to extinction and we are all going to die in the blink of an eye.”

“Very positive line of thoughts.”

He shakes his head still amused “I used to be terrified by a lot of things but especially by fragility. Of sentiments, of purpose, of life in general.” His pupils dilate then as his blush intensifies. Phil waits for an explanation. “Y-you know how it went for me. In many if not every aspect of my life except for one. You. Then I realized you were a constant.”

Phil certainly didn’t expect that. “ A constant?”  

“You know what a constant is.”  

“Not changing or varying.” It almost sounded like a question. Was that what he was? The only personified example that came to Phil's mind was Peter Pan. Hardly a flattering comparison. He frowns.  

“Invariable.” Dan had obviously heard the incredulity in his voice. “I mean, look, people, feelings, memories die and the universe doesn’t give a crap right?” he was gesticulating now “But none of that matters to constants. They have always been there and will continue there. If you think of that then a constant has more power than the universe itself because it's not infinite, which is an unbelievable idea, but something solid. Unbreakable.”  

Oh.

“Dan”

“And after all the crap I gave you and all you didn’t leave. So yeah you’re my constant.”  

Phil can't help it then. It really is his fault when he pulls him by the shirt and kisses him. His face is hot and Phil's hands on his cheeks cools him down, apart from keeping him from separating from his mouth to keep talking. Phil wants to tell him he is stupid then. That his analogy is flawed but then again Phil wants it. He wants to be Dan's constant. He wants it to be reciprocated.

Phil remembers sometimes school times; friends asking his help to decorate different sizes of paper with romantic themes to give their significant others. He never got the chance to do that. The most romantic palpable thing his twenty year old self ever did was a poor edition of pictures on video maker with a sappy song in the background. He still cringes remembering it. Phil had blamed it on lack of inspiration and the sensation that doing that kind of tangible manifestations just wasn't his thing.

The inspiration had arrived along with a young Dan. With his sad eyes, his bright smile, his golden skin.

The tingle to decorate A1 papers never hit, but with snow as his paper he wrote those three letters with Dan by his side, and even if they would be dissipated soon enough Dan's teary eyes as he said it back were enough confirmation that no crepe paper would be more perfect.

The plushie he had given Dan then was still in his room too.

Phil never needed material objects as manifestations of his feelings. He could write entire poems on Dan's skin with his mouth and the reactions he got were tangible enough for him to treasure forever.

Still, Dan had wanted the books. Things he could weight on his hands. Things that would stay forever no matter what. And maybe, Phil thought, that included a solid ring claiming them as each other's.

Phil is thinking this when he corners Dan on their old couch. The boxes still to be filled with things they'll keep on their new place. But Dan had been giggling after finding yet another crack on the ceiling of their lounge and with the imminent moving in only a couple of days Phil had to pull him close to attach their lips.

His skin begin to a slow burn when he separates a few minutes after. Dan follows him aching for more, his lips invitingly pink so Phil rests his forehead on his.

"Do you want me to propose?" He asks because Phil has discovered over the years that romance is overrated. With them it means private glances, secret brushes of skin and candor, honest candor when in the privacy of their flat. With them it means talking, talking like best friends before anything else.  

"What?" Dan is kissing his jaw then, so Phil clears his throat.

"Dan. Do you want me to propose to you?"  

At that Dan stops. Phil knows he is bright red right then as the other looks up with wide eyes and maybe a little pale given they had been smooching seconds before.

"What?" He squeals this time.

"Dan."

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Are you proposing right now?" Phil blinks because he somehow forgets to sometimes.  

"No. I just wanted to know if you ever want me to you know." Dan is frowning now, untangling himself from him and Phil doesn't need to open his mind encyclopedia to know his mind is working miles per hour.

"That's not how... If you don't... Fuck, Phil." He covers his face with his hands before groaning. "Fuck you scared me there, my blood went from my crotch to my face to my feet in seconds!"

"I'm serious Dan. We've never really talked about that and I don't know if you're expecting me to do it or..."

"Shush." Phil's mouth is effectively covered by a hand. Dan inhales deeply before a vomit of words come out quite rapidly. "Jesus, Phil I was about to murder you right then. I mean, no, we've never really talked of it but I believed it was clear that it is a step to come in the future for us, at least the commitment part because fuck if I ever go into a church I might implode you know? Who knows but we're already moving in a couple of days and then traveling and fuck give me a break, since when have you been thinking of marriage to begin with? Let me buy the ring first before you come and fucking- ah!"

He retracts his bitten hand from Phil with such astonishment he can't help but laugh even when Dan starts poking him.

"You. Bit. Me."

"You wouldn't shut up otherwise!" The older one manages to say between chuckles as fingers tickle him merciless. "Stop!"

"No!"

"Dan!"

"Nope."

"Please!"

What follows is a two side battle with long limbs looking to either push the other or find open spaces to attack. Bodies familiar with each other after years of gentle manipulations, compliant strokes or abundant teasing. Laughter leaving them gasping for air, the younger one victorious on top of the other.

"Phil." Dan's dimple is there, his eyes are glazing and Phil sees it there. He hadn't needed to worry after all of asking the question.  

"Yeah."

"I am going to propose to you."  

And I'm going to say yes.

"Kay."

Waiting was going to be easy, Phil reckons as their lips meet in the middle again. They are good at bargain and with answers already a certainty stronger than any ceremony Phil looked at their future months, years together with a smile.

[amynchan]

Tag numero uno!

Actually got double tagged by @kwamimusings  XD

FIRST ONE

Rules: Answer the 20 questions and tag 20 amazing followers you’d like to get to know better!

Name: I’ll stick with Amy.  *^_^*

Nicknames: Ames, Yames, Sancouer

Zodiac Sign: Libra

Height: 5′10-11″

Orientation: Pretty sure I’m ace

Ethnicity: White.  XD

Favorite Fruit: Strawberries!

Favorite Season: I’m liking Spring.  I don’t have allergies and it’s when I start coming out of hibernation.  XD

Favorite Book: Do I have to pick one?

Favorite Flower: Used to be roses, but now I’m fond of sunflowers?

Favorite Scent: Freshly cut grass

Favorite animals: I’ve become fond of cats.

Coffee, Tea, or Hot Cocoa: Hot hot!  Hot chocolate!

Cat or Dog Person: Cats, because they’re more likely to be calmer than dogs

Favorite Fictional Character: Ummmmm

Dream Trip: An all around the world tour, stopping specifically to say hi to all my internet friends.  *^_^*

Blog Created: I think it was 2014 or something like that?

Number of Followers: 883 people who are all probably about as insane as I am  X’D

What I Post About: I reblog stuff I’m interested in, but also post fanarts, fanfictions, and poetry

Do I get asks on a regular basis: lolno

Aesthetic: Like...  visuals we like?  Countryside, with earthy colors and something that’s calm, but has the tinge of possible adventure on the horizon.  Just a tinge, though.  *^_^*

Hogwarts House: I’m a Huffle.  X’D

SECOND ONE!!

Rules: Write 92 rules about yourself, then tag 25 people. 

LAST ___:

Drink: Water Phone Call: My aunt Text message: Got one of those Facebook personality tests from my sister (it says I’m ruled by both emotion and logic.  XD) Song you listened to: Fields of Glory by High Kings Time you cried: This morning.  Dad said some things that I didn’t know I needed to hear, so yes, I cried.

HAVE YOU EVER ____: Dated someone twice: Yeah. Been cheated on: I don’t think so. Kissed someone and then regretted it: Yeah Lost someone special: Yes. Been depressed: Felt down?  Yeah.  I’m not sure if I ever got clinical depression, though. Gotten drunk and thrown up: Nope

LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS: Purple, green, silver

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU _____: Made new friends: I make new friends online, but irl, I tend to latch onto my bro’s friends.  X’D  I have no social skills Fallen out of love: I don’t think so, because I don’t think I’ve ever felt honest to goodness love.  I’ve felt obligation and I’ve felt intense fondness, but I’m not sure if either of those were romantic love. Laughed until you cried: Oh heck to the yes.  I have a story about this. X’D Found out someone was talking about you: Yes.  It wasn’t pleasant Met someone who changed you: Yeah.  Both for the good and for the bad. Found out who your true friends are: Yes.  I have a story about my best friend where she literally dropped everything and she and her boyfriend came out to kidnap me and treat me to ice cream because I was sobbing my eyes out.  Best.  Friend.  Ever. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: Yes?  We were kind of dating at the time of said kissing, but we’re not anymore.  But we’re still friends, so it’s all good.

GENERAL: How many Facebook friends do you know in real life: Ummmm...  Most of them, actually.  Whenever I start to get too freaked out, I go through my FB list and take off people I don’t talk to anymore. Do you have any pets: Nope Do you want to change your name: I wanted to be named Crystal when I was younger.  And, of course, I did want to legally change my name to Amy.  I don’t anymore, though.  XD What did you do for your last birthday: A family get together with my family and my best friend, crowded around a freaking amazing cake.  Also, a karaoke competition! *^_^* What time did you wake up: Nine in the morning What were you doing at midnight last night: I think I was on this gosh darned site.  X’D

Name something you cannot wait for: Getting out of this school.  I swear it’s a ghost town in comparison to my last.  *shudders* When was the last time you saw your mother: A few hours ago. What is something you wish you could change about your life: I wish I had either a real job or was able to do serious commissions What are you listening to right now: The Black Velvet Band by High Kings Have you ever talked to a person named tom: Yup.  He’s my great uncle, actually.  *^_^* Something that is getting on your nerves:  Currently?  Ummmm....  my seemingly inability to go to sleep at a decent hour despite the fact that I’ve got choir tomorrow?  X’D Most visited website: Tumblr and ArchiveOfOurOwn.  ^^; Elementary: Secret High school: Secret College: Secret Hair color: Blonde Long or short hair: I keep it nice and short.  XD Do you have a crush on someone: Sorta?  But I think it’s going away now. What do you like about yourself:  I do my best to make people smile when I can? Piercings: None Blood type:  O Positive, I think Nickname: Didn’t we already do this one? Relationship status: All the single ladies, all the single ladies!  X’D Zodiac sign: Libra Pronouns: She/her Favorite TV show: I’ve gotten into the Great British Bake Off lately, which is really fun.  *^_^* Tattoos: None.  I’m terrified of needles.  X’D Right or left hand: Right

FIRST ____: Surgery: Does being knocked out for wisdom teeth removal count? Piercing: None Best friend: Someone I’d rather not talk about. Sport: I was never on any team Vacation: My little baby feet knew of the beach’s soft sand before I was a year old.  *^_^* Pair of trainers: Huh?

RIGHT NOW ___: Eating: Nothing Drinking: Nothing About to: Contemplate sleeping Listening to: The Auld Triangle by High King (though this is the third time you’ve asked now.  0.o) Waiting for: An email that’s probably never gonna come. XD Want: My papers to be done, but iLazy.  X’D Get married: Eventually, but as stated, I am a single lady, so it’s not happening anytime soon. X’D Career: Don’t have one yet, but I’m hoping to be a college English professor in the future.

WHICH IS BETTER ____: Hugs or kisses: Hugs just feel nicer.  *^_^* Lips or eyes: Eyes are the window to the soul Shorter or taller: Taller Older or younger: Um...  not sure, honestly Nice arms or nice stomach: Arms.  The better to hug you with, my dear. Sensitive or loud: A mix of both?  I’m not terribly loud, but I do enjoy the company of one who isn’t afraid to be happy or gushing. Hook up or relationship: Relationship Troublemaker or hesitant: Ummmm...

HAVE YOU EVER ____: Kissed a stranger: Pfft, no way!  A stranger can’t even pat me on the back without me jumping a mile high.  X’D Drank hard liquor: I don’t think so? Lost glasses/contact lenses: Ahahahahaha....  yeah. X’D Turned someone down: Ummm, sorta?  But he didn’t even mean it in the first place, so when I tried to stutter my way through the fact that I was flattered but didn’t even know him, he and his pal just kinda laughed at me, hooting about how I’d even believed it in the first place.  That’s the only time I remember, so..  *shrugs* Sex on first date: Ew, no! Broken someone’s heart: I’m afraid so. Had your own heart broken: Only by myself. Been arrested: Nah, but I’ve been in the back of a police car. Cried when someone died: Yes. Fallen for a friend: I thought I did?  But I was misidentifying my fondness for him.  Like, I want him to grow and be happy and live a happy life, but it ain’t gonna be with me.  X’D

DO YOU BELIEVE IN ____: Yourself: *shrugs*  I mean, I should, but....  meh. Miracles: I believe they happen. Love at first sight: I don’t think so. Santa Claus: Sadly no.  X’D Kiss on the first date: I don’t even know how to kiss properly, so I’d say nah.  X’D Angels: I’m not 100% sure, but I think they’re there.

OTHER ____: Current best friend’s name: Can’t spill a secret that isn’t mine to tell. ;) Eye color: They change from green to blue then to green again Movie: Anastasia is always a good one.

[calebswitching]

Easter eggs - Eric/Caleb

Easter eggs scene - Eric’s eggs

eggs: football field, leash, cage

Monday, April 15

@ericxanders

Caleb met Eric after classes on Monday, the last day to fulfill one of the Easter Egg scenes.  He was honestly exhausted at this point, he’d done so many scenes over the previous week, and it had been emotionally intense for other reasons as well.  But Caleb really liked Eric, and he wanted to help.  And he knew Eric would be gentle with him.  Well, for a given value of gentle.  They both knew Caleb liked pain.  But Eric was emotionally gentle with him.  Eric always told him he was a good boy.  Caleb wanted to please him.  After classes were over, Caleb went out to the football field, where Eric had instructed him to meet, and waited for the Dominant to arrive as well.

Eric knew how busy Caleb’s week had been; he knew first hand that it had been intense and that it had had a heavy emotional impact at times. He felt good about their play the day before; he’d pushed him and Maverick hard and both submissives had responded beautifully and neither had been afraid to speak up when they needed something more. He took that as a personal victory. He’d been so busy with other things during the week that he’d intended to leave his egg scene however sometime on Sunday evening, it had occurred to him to ask Caleb. He’d asked him specifically trusting in his own ability to take care of him and also in the hopes that a simple scene would serve as a reminder and reinforcement that he was a good boy and a submissive to be proud of. He met him at the bleachers, immediately leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. ‘Hello beautiful.’ He greeted warmly. ‘How’s your ass feeling today?’ He teased.

Caleb looked up at smiled at the sight of the Dominant.  The kiss was a surprise, but a nice one.  “Hello, Sir,” he said, standing up and moving closer, obviously happy to see him.  “It’s sore, Sir.  But in a good way.  Not super painful, just sore.  I like a sore ass.  Makes me think of our scene every time I sit down, and anyway, it feels nice.”  He looked down and shyly added, “I kept shifting in my chair to make it hurt during classes.”

Caleb’s admission immediately brought a smile to his lips. ‘Is that so?’ he asked, reaching out to squeeze his waist before sliding his hand around to grope his ass. ‘We make a right pair then don’t we? Because I take a great deal of pleasure in giving you a sore ass.’ he winked. ‘I wasn’t planning on giving you a spanking before walking you out to the fifty yard line but since you’re so fond of it, I think I’ll do exactly that.’ he nodded. ‘You’re here for my pleasure though and I don’t want you to get too excited so before we go any further, I want you to take your pants and your underwear down so I can cage your cock.’ he informed him. ‘I picked a cage specifically with your penchant for pain in mind actually.’ he confessed.

Caleb flushed red and looked down, but he was smiling at Eric’s teasing and the way he grabbed Caleb’s sore bottom.  He looked up at the mention of another spanking, hopeful.  Since he was already sore, it wouldn’t take much of a spanking to make his ass nice and red and warm and aching.  He nodded quickly when Eric continued, and pushed his pants and underwear down to his ankles.  When he straightened up, he realized that there were people on the track, watching, and Caleb blushed even more furiously.  

‘You’re here with me Caleb; nothing else matters.’ He remarked, watching him take notice of the people running on the track. He wasn’t sure how comfortable Caleb was with exhibitionism although he recognised it wasn’t a limit because he agreed to be here in the first place. He spoke to remind him that he was safe; he was there as his submissive and that was a responsibility he took seriously. ‘Such a good boy.’ he hummed. ‘Turn around and let me see the marks I’ve already left.’ he requested. When Caleb turned, he ran his fingers lightly over the light brusing and the raised welts that were a product of the cane. ‘Beautiful.’ he remarked simply before touching his waist to guide him in turning around. ‘This is a Kali’s Teeth cock cage.’ he explained, showing him the toy. ‘There’s teeth on the inside that will apply some pressure if you do start to get aroused.’ he explained. ‘It’s not unbearable, it’s not overly painful; but it is a little sore and definitely uncomfortable.’ he clarified. ‘Are you happy for me to use this today or would you feel more comfortable with something else?’

Caleb looked down, away from the other students, and nodded, grateful for the reminder.  “Yes, Sir.”  He smiled a little at the praise, which always felt nice, and turned around to let Eric see his bottom, even leaning forward to give him a better view.  He flushed with pride at Eric’s reaction.  It made him feel so special, carrying Sir Eric’s marks.  He shuffled around again, pants still pooled around his ankles, and looked at the cage that Eric had brought.  He was a little nervous, unsure how much it would hurt, but he was sure he could take it.  And he wanted so badly to please Sir Eric.  “Yes, Sir,” he said, nodding.  “I can use this one, please.”

‘I was so hoping you’d say that.’ he admitted, closing his fingers around Caleb’s length and giving a gentle tug to draw him in even closer. ‘I think you’ll enjoy it beautiful.’ he told him, making it clear he’d chosen it to be something he enjoyed. With practiced ease, he secured the ring around his length and then instructed him to position himself over his lap. Caleb’s weight was comfortable across his thighs and he took another opportunity to squeeze his already bruised ass. ‘Any time you feel like you need a spanking; any time you want it to hurt when you sit Caleb, I want you to come tell me. You look so incredible.’ he praised, bringing his hand back and landing it with a firm smack. He allowed heavy smacks to rain down; starting off lightly and gradually building to the more heavy thwacks they both preferred.

The cock cage wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t really uncomfortable either.  He could tell it wouldn’t feel good if he started to get hard, but with his dick soft, it just kind of sat there, and didn’t bother him too much.  As he arranged himself over Eric’s lap, though, he ended up with his cock trapped against the Dom’s thigh, which made the cage push into his dick more.  That was definitely uncomfortable.  Not quite painful, though.  He wasn’t going to complain.  “Thank you, Sir,” he murmured at the praise.  Dave had said the same thing to him, recently.  That he should ask whenever he wanted a sore ass.  It was weird, that both of them would offer like that to him.  Caleb wasn’t sure he’d ever ask, because he didn’t want to bother them, but it felt nice that they’d offer.  As the spanking started, Caleb groaned softly.  He’d been through quite the week, culminating in a serious spanking from Sir Eric, and his ass was already quite sore.  It didn’t take much for him to start squirming in Eric’s lap as his ass started throbbing again.

He was careful. He knew first hand a little of the abuse Caleb’s ass had taken during the week and he didn’t want to make him so uncomfortable or sore that he couldn’t continue to function normally. ‘Fucking gorgeous.’ he praised, rubbing his hands lightly over the now bright red skin. ‘After today though, I want you taking a good break from this sort of play; several days at least. You need to make sure to give yourself time to recover.’ he remarked, giving a final light tap. ‘Up you get sweet boy. You can pull your pants back up.’ he explained, recognising the beginnings of the chill that came as the afternoon became early evening. ‘There’s no football practice and I think we ought to make use of the empty field.’ he teased. ‘I’m gonna walk you out there and you’re gonna put that pretty mouth of yours to good use.’ he winked.

Caleb groaned as Eric rubbed his raw, sensitive skin.  It felt so good, just the perfect amount of pain, making him start to slip into subspace.  It was so peaceful there.  “Yes, Sir,” he answered, knowing that Eric was probably right.  He needed to let his skin heal every so often.  He didn’t want to think about that now, though, while his ass was aching so perfectly.  He stood up, and groaned again when the movement made the cock cage dig into his dick, which had started to harden during the spanking.  He grimaced, but it faded after a second, and he pulled his pants up.  “Yes, Sir,” he murmured again, and sent Eric a smile.  There were several spectators now, people who had clearly watched the spanking, and Caleb flushed as he saw one of them with their phone out.  He wasn’t going to complain, though.  There wasn’t anything wrong with serving Sir Eric like this.  There was no reason to be embarrassed.

‘Say the word and I’ll have them put their phone away. We’re asking to be watched being out in public but it’s not okay to record this in anyway if you’re not comfortable with it.’ he hummed, speaking in a voice that was just met for the Switch. ‘I’m goi’ng to put a play collar around your neck and use a leash to walk you; I don’t expect you to crawl.’ he explained. He wouldn’t have asked that of anyone without knee pads and additional support; especially not outside. ‘Lift your head beautiful.’ he instructed before he put the thick, black collar around his neck. He wished he’d planned this far enough in advance that he could have bought a collar specifically for Caleb in future scenes like this; but without knowing if he’d enjoy it as much as Maverick had, he figured it was possibly for the best. He clipped the leash in place and gave a gentle tug. ‘Keep the leash loose. If it becomes strained, you’ll earn a swat to your cock.’ he informed him. Making his expectations and consequences clear was something he was consciously making an effort to improve on. ‘Follow me.’

Caleb shook his head, though he moved closer to Eric, feeling a little like he wanted the Dom to hide him.  “No, it’s okay, Sir.  I know I’m not doing anything wrong.  I don’t mind if they post it somewhere or something, people will just see me serving you.”  He sent Eric a small smile before ducking his head to let Eric put the collar on him.  He’d been coming to really enjoy having a leash in the past week, as this was the third time it had been used on him.  He liked the way it tugged on his collar when the Dom redirected him or pulled him closer.  “Yes, Sir,” he said with a nod, and followed Eric closely.  

‘You are far from wrong beautiful.’ he nodded in agreement. He was incredibly proud to have a submissive like Caleb walking along, collared and leashed, next to him and that pride was clear to read on his face. He led him out to the fifty yard line; front and centre for anyone around them to enjoy the show. ‘On your knees Caleb.’ he instructed firmly. He knew the people around them could be distracting, as could the discomfort the ring was no doubt causing and he wanted to do everything to ensure Caleb’s focus remained on him. ‘Take my cock out and use your mouth to get me hard.’ he directed, keeping the leash in hand as his fingers slid into his hair.

Eric looked so pleased, it made Caleb smile back at him and relax.  It really didn’t matter much who was watching, if Sir Eric was going to look at him like that.  Caleb dropped to his knees immediately when ordered and smiled up at Eric.  “Yes, Sir.  Thank you.”  He opened Eric’s pants, and gingerly pulled out his dick, then clasped his hands behind his back.   He pushed his head into Eric’s hand for just a second, nuzzling him, then wrapped his lips around the tip of Eric’s dick and sucked.

There was something so fantastic about the fact Caleb knew what he wanted before having to ask for it; he responded to him so wonderfully and it felt incredible. He let out a low groan as the wet heat of his mouth surrounded his cock, and already aroused by the spanking and the way the Switch had squirmed against him, it didn’t take him long to stiffen between his lips. ‘So fucking good.’ He praised tightening his grip on his hair. Slowly, he began to take control of what was happening. He rocked his hips forward, pushing further down Caleb’s throat and made short work of finding a greedy rhythm that spoke to just how much he enjoyed the Switch.

Caleb would have grinned up at Eric were his lips not stretched around his perfect cock.  He sucked more of Eric’s dick into his mouth, bobbing up and down and leaving the whole thing slick with spit.  When Eric’s hand tightened in his hair, Caleb groaned.  He loved the pain of a fist in his hair, and the way it controlled his movements.  He was all too happy to relax his jaw and let Eric thrust into him.  He tried to match his rhythm as much as he could, sucking every time Eric pulled out.

He increased his pace and in that moment, Caleb was a toy for him to play with. Something for him to use to get off and it was amazing to have that connection with someone; someone who was comfortable and trusted him enough to allow him to push them to that place. Sparks of pleasure electrified his body and he was only more aroused by the few by-standers they had attracted. He could hear muttered comments about how good Caleb was, how obedient and that was beyond thrilling for the Dom. For this brief amount of time, Caleb was his submissive and he was more than impressive. He held his cock at the back of throat, his stomach tightening as his orgasm crept closer. ‘Hollow your cheeks pretty thing.’ He groaned.

It was both humiliating and incredibly erotic to be used like this.  As he knelt there, hands behind his back, Sir Eric’s hand in his hair and dick shoving back into his throat, Caleb felt completely owned, like his only purpose was Sir’s pleasure.  It felt like a privilege, like he was special to be chosen and allowed to serve Sir Eric like this, where anyone could see.  He could hear some of their voices, but he didn’t process any of their words.  His world had shrunk to focus only on Eric.  Everything else was blurry and unimportant.  He groaned when Eric thrust into him particularly hard.  He sucked as hard as he could, trying with everything he had to be obedient to Sir Eric’s every desire.

His orgasm hit him hard and he scarcely had time to give Caleb any warning other than a quick muttering. The Switch’s name left his lips in a rough growl and he fucked his throat mercilessly, milking every second of pleasure he could take from him. ‘Swallow everything beautiful.’ He demanded as he pulled back. His cock left his mouth with an obscene pop that seemed to echo. ‘Such a good boy.’ He praised warmly, enthusiastically. ‘With such a pretty mouth.’ He added, letting the head of his cock just rest against his lower lip before he pulled away completely.  ‘Fix me up boy.’ He demanded next, emphasising Caleb’s place in all this.

Caleb would have swallowed without being told, he would never just spit out a Dominant’s load when it was given to him.  He swallowed repeatedly, getting everything down, until Eric was done and pulled away.  He beamed up at the Dominant, so proud of having been good and useful.  “Yes, Sir, thank you so much, Sir,” Caleb murmured before he started to very carefully lick Eric clean.  He could hear the people around them more clearly now, some of their comments, some of which were lewd, some impressed with Caleb’s performance.  He grinned to himself, and thought privately that it wouldn’t be that bad if Sir Eric wanted to let some of them come use his mouth as well.  But for now, he just cleaned all the spit off of Eric’s cock, then kissed the head one last time to show his gratitude, then tucked Eric back into his pants.

He could tell by Caleb’s tone and the look in his eyes that he was happily floating in sub space; it was such a wonderful look on him and he decided then and there that he wanted to be someone who brought Caleb into that headspace as often as possible. Partially because he didn’t trust other people with the sweet soul he’d come to care about and partially because he took satisfaction on being able to put him there. ‘That’s my boy.’ He said, loudly enough for the people around them to hear. He stroked through his hair more lightly this time and directed him back to his feet. ‘Come on beautiful. I’m not nearly done enjoying you but you’ve given enough of a show.’ He teased. ‘Walk with me; same rules as before.’

Caleb just smiled and leaned into Eric’s hand.  His boy.  That sounded so nice.  Sir Eric was such a good Dominant.  It was such a privilege to serve him.  He didn’t have to waste time hanging around with Caleb, but he did anyway, and it was a gift Caleb didn’t take for granted.  “Yes, Sir,” he murmured happily as he stood and followed Eric closely.

[wordstrings]

Secret’s Revealed

or, Part 2 of Dean’s Secret

Written and submitted by @fluttersnfun (words: 3,100)

Dean focused on taking steady breaths. The anticipation was killing him. After tickling Dean’s tummy a bit, Cas had left to change into more comfortable clothing. As he left, Cas had teasingly told Dean not to move from the bed.

Dean had snorted in response. As if he could move. Cas had done a very good job in tying Dean’s wrists to the headboard, and Dean had only himself to blame for how his feet were secured to the bed via his homemade stocks.

Looking at his feet, Dean smiled. While he had imagined plenty of scenarios where he was in this exact positon, he had always thought that they would remain happy fantasies. Now this fantasy was about to be brought to life, and Dean couldn’t help squirming at the miriad of possibilities.

The sound of the door opening startled Dean. He looked up as Cas, now dressed in a soft t-shirt and sweatpants, closed the door behind him. Cas looked at his boyfriend, who frankly shouldn’t look that adorable while also being tied to a bed, and yet there was no other word for how Dean looked in that moment.

Cas smiled at Dean. “I see you were able to stay put.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but his voice didn’t have any sarcasm as he said, “Not like I had much choice.”

Cas walked over and leaned over the foot of the bed, his hands positioned on either side of Dean’s feet.

“Would you have stayed if you weren’t tied up?”

Dean paused to think about what to say.

“Maybe. It would be fun to have you chase me one of these days.” He said this with a slightly cocky smirk.

Cas smiled at the notion. “Chasing you down the halls of the bunker, in and out of the various rooms, but ultimately, catching and tickling you into a giggly, flustered mess.” As he said this, Cas was making gentle circles on the tops of Dean’s feet with a single finger.

Dean squirmed at the light touch, a small smile taking shape on his face.

“But…um,” Dean mumbled nervously.

Cas stopped his caresses and looked at Dean.

“But what Dean?”

Dean blushed at the gentle intensity of this personal moment between him and Cas.

“But I don’t think I would have run today.”

Cas looked at Dean, waiting for him to continue.

“I think I would have stayed where you told me to, even if I wasn’t all tied up.” Dean said, nervously looking to and away from Cas.

Cas tilted his head in that adorable way.

“And why is that Dean? Why would you have stayed?”

Dean’s flustered state got the better of him, and he finally looked away from Cas.

“Because I would want to make sure that this was all really happening. That you were ok with my liking….of…”

Cas walked over to the head of the bed, and gently turned Dean’s head so that Dean was facing him.

“That I was trully accepting of your fondness for tickling? Specifically being tickled, and the pleasurable mix of feeling vulnerable and safe all at once?”

Dean nodded, looking Cas in the eyes.

Cas smiled and gently caressed Dean face.

“Dean, there is no part of you that I do not love and cherish. There is no proclivity, interest, or kink that you have that would cause me to no longer want you in my life, as a friend or as a partner.”

Dean looked at Cas as he said this, feeling the warmth of love and acceptance blossoming in his chest and spreading all over. Dean gently nuzzled against Cas’ hand, unable to trust his voice to say thank you or any of the things swirling in his mind.

Cas huffed out a little laugh at Dean’s nuzzling.

“You constantly surprise and delight me Dean.”

Cas leaned in and gave Dean a light kiss on the lips. Dean returned the kiss with the same tenderness.

Cas gently withdrew and surveyed Dean.

“I must admit, I’m not sure where to start.”

Dean opened his mouth to say it was ok, that there wasn’t any pressure or expectation that Cas had to meet, but Cas silenced Dean with a small gesture.

“I don’t mean to say that I don’t know what to do. What I mean is that there are so many places where you’re ticklish Dean, and so many different ways to tickle each one,”

As Cas was saying this, Dean blushed and squirmed in place, growing more flustered as Cas went on.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Cas. He smiled at Dean’s reaction to his words.

“And there are just so many ways to tease you Dean, both verbally,” Cas gently reached out and tickled Dean under his chin, “and physically.”

Dean chuckled, moving his head to try and hide the growing blush on his face.

Cas followed Dean’s head movements, moving to tickle the shells of both Dean’s ears, and returning to tickle under Dean’s chin again.

Dean’s chuckling grew in volume. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Warmth flooded his belly and grew to encompass his whole being, feeling like he was being tickled from the inside.

Cas chuckled with Dean, feeling the warm, happy emotions coursing through Dean, knowing that he was causing this feeling with his gentle tickles.

Dean was so occupied with the feelings coursing through him that he didn’t notice when Cas moved his hands to stroke at Dean’s underarms, trailing his tickling fingers from Dean’s elbows all the way to his armpits.

When Cas’ fingers reached his armpits, Dean gave a full body flinch and fell into cascading laughter. Cas went from edges of Dean’s armpits to the centers of each hollow, going from light caresses to gentle digging.

Dean’s arms were pulling at their restraints. He twisted and turned his head, but there was no escape. Not that he actually wanted to escape, he was loving every moment of the ticklish torment.

“Cahahahas!”

Cas smiled at Dean,

“Are you enjoying this Dean? Do you like how my fingers tickle you all over?”

As he said this, Cas moved his hands so that he tickled Dean along his sides, ribs, and edges of his stomach, coming back up to his armpits in a big loop.

Dean’s head fell back as he laughed. His upper body squirmed at the sensations running over each of his ticklish spots.

Cas made the tickle loop two more times before coming to a stop on Dean’s tummy, though not stopping any of the tickling.

“Tickle tickle Dean. Do you like being tickled on your tummy?”

Dean’s laughter changed into squealing giggles at the teasing. In his flustered state, Dean seemed to be growing more ticklish as time went on. He wanted to curl up so badly. His head tipped forward towards Cas in an attempt to get closer to him, it was as much curling up as his body was allowed in his current position.

Cas noticed this and chuckled.

“You want to be closer to me Dean? I think that can be arranged, but no hiding any ticklish spots from me, understand?”

Dean nodded through his laughter.

Cas reached up and untied Dean’s wrists.

Dean instantly curled up, but in such a way that alllowed him to be closer to Cas and still be exposed for tickling.

Cas smiled and gently carded his fingers through Dean’s hair, letting the green-eyed man catch his breath as giggles continued to pour out of him.

Once Dean was breathing a little more normally, Cas looked at him.

“Now Dean, this might tickle.” Cas reached down and gently drumed his fingers around Dean’s exposed hipbones.

Dean exploded into laughter. His hips were one of the most ticklish spots on his body, and Cas wasn’t pulling any punches. Tickling around with light strokes, and digging in slightly with his thumbs on each side.

Dean grabbed at Cas’ arms, but made no attempt to stop the tickling. It was so intense that Dean’s laughter soon went silent, tears were forming at the corners of his eyes.

Cas slowed and stopped tickling Dean’s hips, gently petting Dean’s sides without tickling.

Dean gasped for air. “That was so…that really…”

“Tickled?” Cas supplied.

Dean chuckled and turned his head into his pillow.

Cas smiled and moved his petting from Dean’s sides to his head.

Dean sighed at the gentle touches, snuggling closer to Cas.

Cas shook his head at Dean’s happy manner.

“I think you may just be the most adorable creation I’ve ever seen.”

Dean looked up at Cas playfully, “Including guinea pigs?”

Cas laughed, “Including guinea pigs.” He said as he tickled Dean’s tummy with one hand.

Dean giggled, but didn’t make any motion to move away from the tickling.

Cas removed his hand,

“Now I believe there is one more spot that I haven’t fuly tickled yet.”

Dean looked up at Cas, then down to his feet, which were still tied up.

Cas got up and walked over to face the foot of the bed. Dean’s toes were tied in such a way that spread the whole foot, as well as each toe, allowing for complete access.

Cas ran a finger around the edge of one foot, then the other, seemingly in his own world where the only thing that held his attention was the pair of ticklish feet in front of him.

Dean giggled and fliched at the gentle touches. He tried wiggling his toes, but they were quite secure. He started to notice a slight numbing sensation.

“Uh Cas? I hate to pull the brakes on this, but my toes are feeling kind of numb.”

Without another word, Cas started untying Deans toes, and feet. Once both feet were untied, Cas sat on the bed and placed Dean’s feet in his lap. He gently started to massage them, encouaging the blood circulation.

“Thank you for saying something Dean. I would hate to have any harm befall you because I was too distracted by my enjoyment from tickling you.”

Dean looked away embarassed, “I’m sorry, I…”

Cas cut him off, “You have nothing to apologize for Dean. It’s ok.” Cas soothed as rubbed the feet in his lap.

Dean blushed, “It’s just….I don’t want it to be over yet.” He said as he looked up at Cas with an expression of shy eagerness.

Cas smiled at Dean, “I’m not finished tickling you Dean. I just won’t bind your feet like you had them.”

Dean looked at Cas. “But I wanted to…I wanted you to t-tickle my feet like that.” Blushing as he said the word.

Cas gave Dean a look filled with such warmth that Dean’s toes curled from how flustered he felt.

“I will use my grace to bind your feet in a similar fashion to your homemade stocks. Your blood circulation will be unimpeded, and there will be no ties to potentially block any of the tickling you will experience at my hand.”

Dean’s eyes widened at the prospect of being held by Cas’ powers alone. Cas smiled at Dean and finished his massage.

Cas stood up, went to the foot of the bed, and removed Dean’s stocks. He folded the blanket that Dean had used to hide his feet earlier, and laid it across the foot of the bed. He then grasped Dean’s ankles and placed them so that they rested on the blanket.

Dean watched Cas with growing excitement. He tried to wiggle his toes, but found that they wouldn’t move. His eyes shifted to Cas in an expression of excited trepidation.  Cas gave Dean a mischievious smile, and tickled the soles of both Dean’s feet with his fingers.

Dean burst into bright laughter. He squirmed and rolled around, sitting up then falling back onto the bed because he just didn’t know what to do. Cas was tickling his feet and he was stuck there until Cas was finished.

Cas chuckled at Dean’s reaction, then stopped tickling both feet at once.

Dean sat up to see why Cas had stopped, and saw him pick up the metronomes that had been pushed away earlier.

Cas untied the feathers on each metronome, setting the device down in order to brush his fingers along the soft edge of one of the plumes.

Dean watched with utter facination as Cas looked over each feather. Cas turned to look at Dean, who blushed and looked down.

“How long have you been using my feathers to tickle yourself?”

It wasn’t an accusation, but a question asked in genuine curiosity.

Dean looked up at Cas, “Since after I returned from Purgatory. I found those feathers in the Impala, and I had always been curious about what they would feel like…”

Dean’s voice trailed off into a bashful silence.

Cas held one feather between his thumb and index finger and twirled it.

“Do you want me to tickle you with one of my feathers?” Cas asked.

Dean looked down as he smiled at the question.

“I mean, you don’t have to limit yourself to just one.” Dean said in a soft voice.

Cas smiled at this.

“Lets see how you handle one feather on your feet, and then we’ll talk about bringing in more feathers.”

Cas brought the single feather to Dean’s right foot, to his heel, and brushed up to his toes in a single stroke.

Dean gave a full-bodied jolt at the sensation.

Cas looked up at Dean, and repeated the gesture on Dean’s left foot, all the while not breaking eye contact with Dean.

Dean gave another jolt, all the while staring back at Cas. When Cas had finished the second stroke, he manuvered the feather to stroke downwards, moving slower with the downstroke than the previous upstrokes.

Dean was already fighting a smile (and failing) with these light strokes. He felt Cas position the feather right at the center of his sole, and pause.

“Oh no,” Dean said in realization of what was about to happen.

Cas smirked at Dean, “Oh yes Dean.” And began tickling Dean with the feather.

Giggles immediately poured out of Dean as the ticklish sensations ran from his foot, up his leg, and settled in his belly.

Cas ran the feather up and down Dean’s sole, doing the classic feather tickling motion that so many cartoons favored when featuring tickling.

Dean hugged himself as he laughed. He had though that he knew what being tickled by angel feathers was like with the re-engineered metronomes. He was wrong. Nothing could compare to an angel feather being wielded by a skilled and deft tickler.

Dean realized that Cas hadn’t changed the course of his tickling much, other than to shift to his other foot and repeat the same feather tickling motion.

And yet it tickled so much.

“Hoahahahahahaha how cahahahan it tihihihihickle so muahahahahahach?” Dean asked as he laughed away.

Cas’ smile widened at the laughter infused question.

“I’m not entirely sure Dean, though I imagine that one possible reason has to do with how an angel’s grace is infused into every part of their being, including each individual feather that makes up their wings.”

As Cas explained, he moved the feather up to tickle at Dean’s toes, brushing the pads of each toe, stroking the area where the toes met the ball of Dean’s foot, weaving the feather in and out of the spaces inbetween each toe, and tickling the tips of Dean’s toes.

Dean laughed helplessly, gripping at the bed sheets, his sweatpants, hair, and sides. He could feel the reflexes of wanting to move and wiggle his feet, but they stayed motionless and spread out as Cas repeated the toe treament on his other foot.

All the while Cas teased Dean, ranging from making simple observations like, “My feathers are surprisingly durable. I can weave them back and forth between your toes and they don’t crinkle, break, or fold more than they are designed to,” to asking Dean rhetorical questions, “Does it tickle more when I brush the feather under your toes or along your sole?” to straight up tickle talk, “Coochie coochie coo,” “Tickle tickle tickle Dean.”

Dean was bathed in ticklish ecstasy. He had stopped rolling around and squirming, he simply lay there and laughed, feeling waves of giggly happiness wash over him.

Cas finally set the feather down, moving Dean’s feet down to the mattress, then taking the blanket and gently laying it onto Dean’s giggling form. He then crawled in next to Dean under the blanket, pulling it up over both of their heads.

Dean moved so that Cas could have more room, only to be swept into Cas’ embrace.

Dean looked at Cas smiling, “Hi.”

Cas smiled back at Dean, “Hi, did you enjoy me tickling you? Was it like you imagined it would be?”

Dean looked at Cas with a gaze full of trust and love, “It was so much better than anything I ever imagined.” Then a question came to his mind. “Did you enjoy it Cas? It felt like this was more for me since I was the one being tickled, but did you like it too?”

Cas nodded, “I thoroughly enjoyed tickling you Dean. There were times during where I thought I was getting more enjoyment out of it, but when I looked at you, I could tell you were enjoying it too. That realization made it far more pleasurable for me, knowing that you were receiving pleasure from me tickling you.”

Dean blushed and tucked his head under Cas’ chin. “Do you think this is something you’ll want to try again?”

Cas chuckled at the shy but eager question. He manuvered Dean’s head so they were looking at each other, “I most certainly want to tickle you again Dean.”

As he said this, Cas tickled Dean on his tummy, relishing how their close proximity allowed him to see Dean’s reaction close up. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and curled around Cas’ tickling hand, snuggling even closer to his angel.

Cas chuckled. “You know, Sam won’t be back for at least three more days. How many of your tickle fantasies do you think we could make a reality in that time frame?”

Dean, still giggling from the tickles on his tummy, squirmed at the thought of all that time alone with Cas, “Plenty, and perhaps we could even turn the tables every now and then.”

As Dean said this, he lightly tickled Cas’ side.

Cas jumped and giggled at the touch, then smiled at Dean. “I look forward to it Dean. I look forward to all of it.”