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#no shame in needing help or having boundaries but it is always whiplash
hardlygclden · 2 years
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FIND SHAMEFUL COMPANY | NATHANIEL’S WANTED CONNECTIONS
THESE AIN’T OUR SONGS || THE ONE WHO WANTED MORE: Exes are fun, and what about the one person he indulged only to leave them like he always planned? This muse could have been linked to one of the bands he managed directly or by proxy, and they got close. 
“CONSIDER HOW TO FIND A PLACE TO STAND INSTEAD OF WALKING AWAY” || THE ONE WHO’D GET AWAY WITH MURDER: Nate has a limited sense of trust, and therefore every favor is paid back in full in order to avoid any threads that will keep him owing a person. There was a time where debt threw him on the wrong track and ever since his brother’s band made it big, he’s done what he needs to in order to not fall out completely. Though, one person has managed to escape this form of self preservation. He’s gone as far as stealing in their name, finding the funds to obtain something they need without expecting much in return. They’re the one person he gives into without much hesitation, going as far as faking it because they’ll be justified. Still, he knows better than to get too close. The thing is, Nate would let them get away anything— and everyone knows it.
“SHUT UP AND DRINK YOUR DIET SODA” || THE ENLIGHTENMENT: Someone’s easily seen right through his hard work and quiet note taking, and they know not everything is as it seems. They’ve taken him under their wing whether he likes it or not, or if he even fits. This person is getting him to act upon the better morals he’s simply learned to use as boundaries rather than his own beliefs.
SWEAT DRIPPING DOWN YOUR LITTLE BACK || THE WORST HABIT: Nate’s got an affinity of seeking out a quick fix, whatever it may be, and sometimes this works when he knows the budget is starting to run low. There’s trouble with this one, though. They’re either a rival label, manager, band, or linked to someone that makes him the person they shouldn’t be lying in bed with. 
MUST YOU KEEP MY BABY TEETH IN THE BEDSIDE TABLE WITH YOUR JEWELRY || THE BLACKMAIL: This muse is someone from Nate’s past who knows just where his troubles lie. They know every secret belonging to his family, just how his brother’s band got his start, and know just where Nate got his start, too. They know the origin of every intention, and aren’t quite sure he’s turned a new leaf in the name of helping his brother and reaching fame, or if he’s just gotten better at hiding it now that bad habits are easier in the light of glory. 
I FEEL DOWN, I FEEL DOWN, I FEEL DOWN || THE CRASH: This muse knows about Nate’s relationship with narcotics, but whether they are against it or for it remains UTP and not a concern of Nate’s. All he knows is that he can always crawl back to them, find a soft spot on their floor and maybe rest his head on their lap, and be gone by morning without much question. They’re one of the few that lets him find some comfort before the bruises burst with color in the morning and every cut stings. 
IF I CAN’T RELATE TO YOU THEN WHO AM I RELATED TO || THE BROTHER: Nathaniel and his brother bonded over the very thing that is their undoing, the object of desire that pulled them away from their family and will soon pull them away from the people they used to be. As a means of making money in desperation for a fix, Nathaniel became his brother’s band’s manager and it blossomed because of his vast connections for every blackmail he had tucked in his back pocket. His brother’s band has a behavior similar to that of the Sex Pistols and Motley Crue, and he’s the only one that can handle them and they’re very aware. They’ve considered replacing him but they know that no one will fight for them like he does, even if no one fights against them the way he does. 
BODY LIKE A WHIPLASH || THE DRUNKEN HOOK UP: Call it what you want, but Nathaniel and this muse keep coming back to each other when nothing else makes sense. Whether they’re the anchor or they’re just more appealing under a haze for another bad decision, he’ll never know. Their meetings are exclusive to these nights and their entire relationship is built on lying about every aspect fo themselves. They’re strangers, there’s no doubt, but they pretend to unravel every secret on to the other despite it being blatant lies for the sake of a laugh the next afternoon on their walk home. This muse also seems to play a role in his drug habits, either as a dealer or a partaker in the trouble. It plays a part in why he always comes back. 
SWEATING ALL YOUR SINS OUT, PUTTING ALL YOUR THOUGHTS BACK TOGETHER || THE KEEPER: There is only one person who knows all of Nate’s secrets, the one who he doesn’t mind if they unravel off his tongue and slur and slip into their pocket. They know every thought that even he doesn’t know sat in the back of his head until he revealed it to them. This muse could be the end all for him, but he still keeps him close because he knows they’ll never tell a soul even if they’re the first to call him out on everything. 
TRANSPARENT HANDS AROUN MY NECK BUT I LOVE THE WAY YOU LET ME BREATHE INSTEAD || THE SWEETEST SIN: This muse and Nathaniel have only one reason to keep linking up— impulse feels good. They tear each other down just to have the sweet taste of licking each other’s wounds throughout the night. It seems to be the only time he’s sober because it might just feel better than any high. It’s a dangerous game, and it’s one that he won’t tell a soul about. They give him something to think about that’s not the shit in his head. 
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mrpenguinpants · 3 years
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Xiao: First Kiss HCs
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I’m so sorry it took me actually forever to reply to you. But I really hope you like this and it was somewhat worth the wait;; I tried really hard but ty for liking my Xiao content and yes! Let’s be absolute trash for Xiao. In this house we only believe in Xiao supremacy 💕💕
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Semi Part 1: Friendship
Semi Part 2: Falling in Love
Semi Part 3: Cuddles
Semi Part 4: Protective
Semi Part 5: Affection
Semi Part 6: Jealously
Semi Part 8: Opposites Attract
Semi Part 9:  String of Fate [Soulmate] HCs
Semi Part 10:  [ Fainting ]
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Childe Ver: First Kiss HCs
Venti & Kaeya: Mistletoe HCs
Venti, Xingqiu, and Razor: Kissing HCs
Considering how many more Xiao fics I need to write. This semi part link might not be a good idea lol. Also let’s ignore if I wrote in a kiss in a previous post haha.
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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.
@hanniejji​​  @mikeysbike​​ @unionwitch​​ @musekala​​ @twistedsunnshiii​​ @stanzastic​ @akaasea​​ @xoneaboveallx​​ @adoring-ghost​​ @asheseiler​​ @childelover​​@youaskedfurret​​ @snowy224
---
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Xiao: First Kiss HCs
When you and Xiao first got together. It was a slow and steady process of learning each other boundaries and what felt comfortable. Xiao knew he was a difficult partner but you loved him and even becoming his friend was a slow and worthwhile adventure. It started off small leading from small handholding, to cuddling, to showing each other affection. But the one area that you both weren’t familiar in was kisses. He was an isolated adepti and you were an adventurer. You didn’t have any experience in being kissed and Xiao sure as hell didn’t either. Plus it was a lot more intimate and nerve wracking compared to holding hands and that was an hard hill to tackle in itself.
You didn’t mind that he wasn’t comfortable with initiating affection or never went in or talked about kisses. You were just happy that he was by your side and that your love was reciprocated. That he was comfortable in your presence and seemed content in your arms. It still made you a bit giddy when you reflected on how far you both came and that was enough for you. Xiao, on the other hand, couldn’t exactly say the same. While he was happy and he was content, he couldn’t help but feel that maybe your relationship was too one-sided? He knew that you were comfortable and okay with waiting for him to work out his issues and figuring out how to love again but he also really wanted to do more. He just wasn’t sure how to start.
It suddenly dawned on him one day when he saw you off on your next journey, that he had never really kissed you. Even a small goodbye kiss. It was usually you initiating affection or giving words of love and you always told him that it didn’t matter if he said it or not. His actions said more which always made him flush a bit. But on slow and quiet days where you were off on another adventure and Liyue was calm, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to you. To your face, your bright eyes that would light up whenever you talked about the interesting sights you saw on your journey, the curve of your nose whenever he tapped it when you started to ramble on to much, your lips and how they would spread into a soft smile when it was just the two of you.
Xiao quickly flipped himself up into a sitting position and groaned into his hands. What was happening to him? He needed to take a walk to clear his mind again. He’s been going out a lot since he met you. He had faced an army of demons and fought in a war and yet this felt like the hardest challenge of his entire thousand year long life. He could almost hear Guizhong’s laughter at his predicament and her words of wisdom saying to take whatever problem he had and face it head on. Just without his spear. The spear needs to stay home.
So the next time you visited Wangshu Inn he asked for you to close your eyes. You complied but you were surprised, sitting by the railing facing Liyue up on the balcony. Was he going to gift you something? This was the first time he asked you to close your eyes but you trusted him. You could almost feel the anxiety waving off Xiao so you kept quiet and patient and waited for him to be ready.
He was ready. He could do this. You weren’t even looking at him so what was there to be worried about? He slowly leaned in, just hovering above your lips. But then he leaned back a bit, flushing red. He nearly chewed his lip before stopping since you probably didn’t want to taste blood. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ready or he thought that you would hate it, he was just nervous in messing up. What if his accidently transformed? What if he accidently pushed you off the railing? Even worse, what if someone showed up and saw you both like this?
Turns out he didn’t need to worry. Somewhat. Zhongli, who Xiao knew now was actually Rex Lapis in disguise, made a sudden appearance behind him. The whiplash of suddenly seeing his Master, the nervous butterfly’s fluttering in his stomach, and pep talk Xiao was trying to pound into his mind made him suddenly lurch forward and kiss you deeply. A bit too deeply as his little fangs nipped at your bottom lip.
“Zhongli!?”
“Rex Lapis?!”
You both quickly broke apart as your eyes flew open when you heard the man but also surprise at the sudden but, not completely unpleasant, pain and pressure on your lips. You could almost see the soul leave Xiao’s body when he spun around to see the surprised Zhongli. It was silent for a moment, all three of you just staring at each other. You were still processing what the hell just happened, Xiao was trying to find a way to astral project, and Zhongli was computing the fact that yes, the ever grumpy and “don’t touch me” yaksha both had a lover and was in the middle of...courting.
“Oh. My apologies. I wasn’t aware you were both occupied. I shall take my leave and visit another day then.” Zhongli simply nodded and left before you or Xiao could say anything. You both stared at the empty figure of where Zhongli was before you started to burst into laughter at the situation. You really felt bad, you did honestly, but with all the overwhelming emotions you couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m...sorry. I didn’t know he was going to visit today,” Xiao muttered as he pressed his hand into his face and groaned at the embarrassing moment. You could see the tips of his ears were getting redder by the second which made you chuckle. For such a fearsome Yaksha he was really cute sometimes.
“It’s okay Xiao. I don’t mind. But are you alright?” you stifled the last of your giggles and reached out to pull him closer and remove his hand from his red face before cupping his cheek. He huffed but leaned into your hand. He really was sometimes like a cat.
“Are you hurt? Was I...too forward?” Xiao asked but he still wouldn’t look you in the eye. The floor was very interesting this afternoon. Wood was nice. Wood was good.
“No! It was...nice,” you answered, starting to go a bit pink yourself now before you felt a stinging pain in the corner of your lip, “Ah. I think you might accidently bit my lip though.”
“I see,” Xiao was now looking at you with his piercing eyes as he watched your small pink tongue brush over the corner of your bottom lip. His attention began to focus on that small part as the world seem to narrow down. Just the two of you. But unlike when you both would lie on top of the inn and watch the sun go down he felt hungry.
“Do you-”
Before you could ask anything Xiao suddenly pounced and pressed his lips against yours in a heated kiss. He took you by surprise but you quickly recovered as you gripped the purple ribbon on his back and yanked him forward as his hands slammed against the railing, trapping you. You felt his tongue press against your lips as you slowly opened them to let him in. It was overwhelming and you were sure if you hadn’t been grabbing onto the purple ribbon you would have fell over but then a sudden deep rumble snapped you out of your trance.
“Xiao? Are you...Are you purring?” you giggled when you got a tiny but of separation from the lack of air but he frowned at you, really it looked more like a pout, before leaning over once again.  Just barely brushing over your lips as he whispered
“Meow”
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This isn’t even OOC anymore. I feel like I’m writing a fucking k-drama right now, what am I doing anymore? English? Huh? I do not compute.
I’ve just awakened something in me with Cat! Xiao and I am flying with it (and casually ignoring lore. Isn’t he a bird?). Heading straight for the stratosphere and you cannot stop me. Just gonna hide away in shame now don’t look at me.
Okay. Time to commit sleep for uh 2 hours lol. I’m really tired but I feel kinda proud of myself haha. Tomorrow’s fics are going to be Venti, Lisa and Diluc pairing, and Venti and Barbara pairing. Good night!
Oh, and yes there is a lot more Xiao content to come and uhh might continue this cat!xiao idea. Unless that’s too weird. I’m sorry don’t shame me pls 😰
my god tumble just work. i dont want to deal with you and your tags. 
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odos-bucket · 3 years
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Bruce Being Super Protective of His Kids in Their Out-Of-Costume Lives Pt. 2 Re-Write
Basically this story with a little bit of extra angst injected in
Jason isn’t particularly well adapted to the kinds of social gatherings that Bruce’s position within the city demands they participate in. He attends his first event a few months into his stay at Wayne manor. He goes in fully expecting it to be terrible, and is not disappointed.
The old ladies trying to pinch his cheeks were something that Dick had warned him about. His tone had been light, like maybe it was something that he thought was funny, or was trying to think of as funny. But Jason doesn’t like to be touched, not by people he doesn’t know. He's only just starting to feel okay about casual physical affection from his new family. He doesn’t think Dick was trying to scare him exactly, but he accomplishes it anyway.
From the time the shindig begins he’s wound so tight he’s practically vibrating. He has no idea how he’s supposed to act at something like this. Things he’s never thought about before are suddenly tormenting him. He can’t figure out how to stand, or what he should be doing with his hands. He’s never been self conscious, but now he’s in this stupid room, wearing this stupid suit, surrounded by these stupid people, and it’s making him feel awkward.
The first time somebody tries to touch him he flinches away violently. He doesn’t mean to; it’s just what happens. It earns him a series of incredulous looks, from the man who had made the mistake of putting a hand on his shoulder, and a few other people in the vicinity.
Jason relocates himself quickly, not that one corner of the large room is really any better than any other.
 The next time someone tries to touch him, it’s his face. He had already decided that he didn’t like the woman in question before it happened. Her voice is an annoying pitch. Her words are all condescending. And even before reaching out for him she had been standing way too close.
If the proximity hadn’t been enough to put him on high alert the patronizing way she spoke to him certainly would have done it.
When her fingers come to press against his chin- as if she wants to turn his head to examine him- he pushes her away. Again, he doesn’t mean to do it exactly. It’s an instinctive reaction (and a pretty reasonable one, he thinks).
This time, however, he gets more than a few suspicious stares. The movement itself had been subtle enough not to draw any attention he didn’t already have. But the woman replies with an outraged squawk, that suddenly brings dozens of eyes onto them, and sets Jason’s heart racing at a panicked pace.
 He freezes. Being stared at had been pretty high on his list of things to avoid tonight. And now people are talking too.
 “Why you little-“
“What happened?”
“Wayne’s little rat-“
“Did you just hit her?”
“Delinquent-“
“Did he just hit her?!”
The woman he shoved looks like she might be about to slap him, but he’s honestly less concerned about that than he is about the mix of curious and indignant bystanders drawing closer. They’re not surrounding him really, but it sure as hell feels like they’re trying to, and Jason’s had enough experiences being surrounded to know that it never leads to anything good. At the moment he’s having a hard time processing anything beyond the terrified impulse to lash out again, not to hurt anyone, just to get them away, so that maybe he can get away.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Oh god, Bruce. Jason’s not surprised the scene got his attention, but he’s a little startled to hear a much darker tone than his regular civilian voice.
Every muscle in his body that wasn't already tense tightens up, and heat flares at the back of his neck. He doesn't want to be in trouble. He doesn't even really know what being in trouble means in this new life yet, and he's been hoping to put off finding out as long as possible.
Bruce forces his way through the crowd. Some of the onlookers redirect their attention away as he approaches. A handful of voices from different directions make overlapping attempts to answer his question. Jason hears something about how he’s, “not as well behaved as your last stray,” but isn’t looking up in time to see how the comment makes Bruce bristle, and just feels the warm shame that he wishes it didn’t ignite in him.
Bruce reaches them in seconds, takes in the woman’s body language, and immediately drags her several feet back from Jason. When he speaks, he manages to sound like Batman (at least to Jason’s knowing ears), even without the voice modulator.
"You will never put your hands on my child again.”
Jason's not sure what he had been expecting Bruce to say, but that wasn't it, and hearing it gives him whiplash, makes his heart that had already been beating in his throat stutter to a halt.
“I didn-“ the woman begins. “Your urchin-“
“Did you touch him?” Bruce's voice is deceptively calm.
“I was only-“
“Yes or no.”
“I didn’t hurt him,” she scoffs.
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Jason wants to say that it doesn't matter, that it isn't a big deal, because really it shouldn't be. He shouldn't be afraid to be touched; it's just one more thing about him that so glaringly doesn't belong. But he's still not sure whether or not he's in trouble, and if he is then he's learned from experience that it's better to keep his mouth shut.
“Mr. Wayne, the kid attacked her. All she did was touch him.” One of the few onlookers who isn’t pretending not to be paying attention pipes in.
 Bruce’s jaw grinds, as he looks slowly between the man who had spoken, and the woman.
“So you did touch him?”
“This is ridiculous!”
It's somehow the worst thing she could have possibly said. Jason already knows he's ridiculous. He can feel it with every fiber of his being, and the confirmation that everyone else can apparently see it too sparks a stinging sensation at the back of his throat.
“On that we’re agreed.” Bruce slips further into his regular public persona as he speaks, and Jason flinches slightly at his words.
Bruce looks over the remains of the audience they’d acquired, making pointed eye contact, silently subduing any conflict before it can arise. By the time he turns back to where the woman had been standing, she’s hurried away. The sparse handful of people still shooting them scandalized glares are at least a little easier to ignore.
Bruce approaches Jason, who forces himself to keep his eyes open and his gaze up.
He's getting ready to apologize. He hadn't wanted to embarrass Bruce, or to get him in trouble with whoever the hell those people had been- with his luck probably someone important. He doesn't want to be in trouble either, but he recognizes that that ship has probably sailed already. He just wishes he knew what kind of punishment to expect; he hasn't been here that long, and adult behavior is hard to predict.
“Are you okay?”
Jason blinks, and apparently it takes him longer than he thinks to process and respond to the question, because Bruce asks it again.
This time he nods, figuring it’d be pretty stupid for him not to be okay.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Bruce asks.
Jason knows that it's not really a question; he's already done enough damage for the night after all. He nods his head. He’s not totally sure how to get back to the manor from here- he still doesn’t know this part of town very well- but he’s sure he’ll be able to figure it out before Bruce wraps up here.
“Let’s get our coats.”
Jason looks up in surprise, but Bruce is already walking away.
Right. He guesses it makes more sense that they’d be leaving together. He's noticed that rich families like to keep any shows of conflict private. One of the consequences of which being that he still doesn’t know how the hell these people discipline their children.
He nods again, cheeks still burning with embarrassment.
-
They leave the party without further incident, catching a cab back to the manor.
Bruce observes Jason’s defensive body language as they slide into the backseat.
“Are you sure you’re okay, lad?” He asks slowly.
He receives a tight nod in reply, and sighs.
“Do you want to help me get a better picture of what happened in there?”
Because what he’s looking at isn’t okay. He’s seen his witty, outgoing child shut down like this before, and it usually means he’s scared. Bruce needs to know if he was spooked by something innocuous, or if he’s going to need to hurt someone.
Jason turns from being seemingly caught off guard by the question, to apparently desperate to answer it in the span of a second.
“I swear I didn’t hit her! It was just that she-“ He shakes his head, apparently deciding against whatever he’d been about to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? You’re not in trouble, Jason, not unless I’m really missing something here.”
That earns him a long suspicious look.
“I don’t like to be touched,” Jason grumbles after a minute.
“And people shouldn’t feel entitled to touch you.”
He learned pretty quickly when he first became a parent not to assume that adults would always respect children’s boundaries. And he knows that Jason has been hurt. He’s not sure exactly how, or by who, but the signs are all there. And he shouldn’t have to deal with being forcibly reminded of that by the carelessness of others; he’s a kid for god’s sake!
“Is that all-“ He stops himself from finishing the question. “People shouldn’t feel entitled to touch you,” he reiterates. “Can you tell me if anything else happened? If anyone hurt you, or threatened you?”
Jason starts to shake his head, but stops with his neck angled slightly toward Bruce.
“I thought she was gonna hit me,” he admits.
Bruce’s body tenses up. He had noticed that himself when he’d first entered the scene, and what he had read in her body language had made him see red.
“And then there were so many other people,” Jason continues. “And they were talking, and staring at me. It had me feeling kind of boxed in.”
“I’m so sorry, son.”
Jason looks a little startled up at him.
“Just to be clear,” he says slowly. “I’m not in trouble?”
“You’re not in trouble,” Bruce confirms. “I promise I will always do whatever I can to protect you from people like that.”
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flatfootmonster · 4 years
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Reflections
Neither the gentle rustle of the wind, the ease of the dark, nor the ache of exhaustion is enough to lull me to sleep. Curiosity is an itch that I’m familiar with but not growing in the shadow of ignorance in regards to someone’s emotions. How someone feels has always been inconsequential. 
The half-wild creature next to me still shivers, despite the heavy robe now draped over him. But he makes no move to turn or leave, even if these are his chambers I wouldn’t put it past Na-Kyum to storm off and sleep outside. That thought pulls at a thread of amusement and I find myself grinning. He is unknowable; a fey animal dancing on the boundaries of this world and an ethereal realm. 
My fingers move on their own, reaching for him and finding soft strands of hair beneath my fingertips. The enjoyment I receive from the way he feels beneath my hands and the gratification that comes when he sighs, inching across the narrow span of space left between us is an even weight. His body is curved towards me—not away. Why am I taking so much stock in irrelevant observations?
He’s just as restless. I could demand he tells me what is bothering him but that concept is foreign; I’ve never needed to know how someone feels. It’s never mattered before. Yet, as he trembles and sniffles, the same anxiety that had its grasp around my gut when he was ill plays in the same shadows my curiosity grew. 
Has his spirit been broken? What exactly did his teacher say? That single memory coaxes a tide of murderous anger… 
“He is a fool, you realise.” There's an edge to my voice I didn't intend, sharp enough to let blood. Certainly strong enough to make him flinch yet he stays still. Contrary creature. Withdrawing my hand, I resist the urge to pet him—not least because comforting isn't something I often feel compelled to do. Or ever for that matter. That aside, given his unpredictable nature, it's a toss up whether he’d sob or bite me. 
Tilting his head up, he gazes at me wide-eyed. The innocence in his soul cannot be sullied—even by me. A long moment of consideration passes before he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” Eyes once more are cast down, and that subservience grates me—it shouldn't be there, not for In-Hun.
“It does,” my reply is as firm as the finger I place beneath his chin, tilting his face back up, eyes meeting mine again. “It may be foolish to love without a thought for yourself but the bigger fool is the one who would snub a love so pure. And not only refuse it but to shame it.” My thumb rubs gently along his chin without being told to do so. His lips slacken, the pink tip of his tongue darts out to wet them. Somehow I can feel his tension being eased. The shivering subsides. 
“He said I— that I’m a p-prostitute.” 
The tide of anger swells again, it's so easily provoked in this matter. The arguments that froth at the surface all relate to me. Implying that I would sleep with a prostitute, or pay for intimacy, would be a misstep that I'd answer with a blade rather than dignify with words. But I cannot give worth to another borrowing from my own standards. 
The stern expression I know I've donned, that Na-Kyum now sees, sparks fear in his eyes. Yet he doesn't pull away. "And what do you think?" 
The hesitation is enough to alleviate my fury. He at least has the confidence and freedom of thought to question his mentor—or past-mentor. "You keep me here to paint, the agreement was for nothing more," he comes to a premature halt, holding back the speculation I took more than I asked for. He wouldn't be wrong. "I'm not being paid for w-what we do." 
A rare and discomforting pang of guilt thrums through my veins. Despite what he says, up until tonight he never had autonomy in our affairs. Choice is a difference between himself and a prostitute. That matter wouldn't normally trifle me, let alone induce guilt, but there it is. 
But he came to me now, asked me to take him. Was he simply submitting to his lofty teacher's assessment? Is that what brought this on? As I study him, confusion welling like tears, I see something other than that. Perhaps I want to see it, but it's a point he's been shamed over by In-Hun and used by myself as a probe to tease. 
"Enjoying it makes you feel conflicted?" In his naivety, perhaps he assumes the only people that enjoy sex submissively are prostitutes, and that's why they do it. Slaves to desire and nothing more. 
His mouth moves wordlessly, unable to even admit the pleasure. But his gaze doesn't deviate from my own. His spirit isn't broken, I'm sure of it. "Not it," he stammers. "It's not what we do, it's that it's you that does it." 
My brows knit together as I try to pick apart his words. "What I do makes you feel conflicted?" But the meaning unfurls as I speak. Pushing myself up on one elbow, I look down at him, my hand resting on his neck. His heart is running as wild as his emotions. 
"The way I feel—my dreams—" his words stop and start. Impatience is a barely restrained force as I wait for his thoughts to be articulated. "I yearn for you," he whispers finally. 
I hear the now that's missing. His adoration lay at someone else's feet, undeserving as they were. But now his allegiance has changed. Something stronger than anger expands in my chest, I can barely breathe for the possessive instinct that overwhelms me. He is mine—body and heart. A battle was won that I had no idea I was fighting. 
My fingers curl around his pale and fragile neck, as my thumb runs over his Adam's-apple to the crest of his chin. His head tilts with every minute direction of my hand, apprehension in his eyes, waiting for whatever comes. 
He used to feel like a small bird trapped in my fist, I could anticipate the beat of his frail wings before I'd loosen my hold, and mirth would rise as I'd imagine the ways he might try to escape. Now, as he lays beneath me, if I closed my fingers on that bird until bones crunched, the only fight would be its heart against a delicate cage made of ribs. Yet if I hold my palm flat, the bird will perch on my finger.
His spirit isn't broken but he is enamoured in the foolish way he loves, forgetting himself. "You are the fool it seems," I admonish gently, but there's no heat in it. If he is a fool then I must be one, too. Of course I’m aware of the exceptions I make for him.
And he reads between the lines, for once seeing me as transparently as I see him. "Then I am your fool, My Lord." They are the first firm words he's uttered. 
Will he now defend my honour, the way he did his teacher’s? Has he done so already? I'm drowning in curiosity over matters that should be insignificant. No—his loyalty is not insignificant; small perhaps but persistent, like the grain of sand that becomes a pearl. I won't probe. Proof of his nature is already abundant, in my memories and before my eyes.
"My fool." The repeated sentiment falls softly from my lips; a coveted caress. Past that, I find it difficult to move from this moment. The stillness draws out as I simply hold his throat in my palm, enjoying the racing pulse that radiates from his surrendered heart. That revelation calls for motion, my hand answers as it slips down to his heaving chest, fingers splayed across vulnerable flesh. He’s blissfully warm where the beat is strongest. 
The tip of his tongue darts forth again as a tentative hand drifts up to my arm. Gentle fingers test my bare skin. "You're cold," he murmurs, "let me." The offer is made as his hand falls to the robe, opening it from around himself and proffering one side. 
A heavy breath rushes from my lungs as I nod, unravelling muscles that had tensed at some point. Arm laid flat, I settle beside him, allowing the material to be draped over my torso. He fusses over it, focussing on his work as our makeshift covers are smoothed around my shoulders. There’s a furrow between his brows as he does so and I can’t help the way my lips pull at the corners. 
“Are you going to mother me now?” I can’t blame him when my jest falls flat. When has he ever heard me joke to know how my tongue paints humour? But that doesn't stop the whiplash of regret that’s inflicted when he recoils, looking down in self-deprecation. I already know his cheeks are red despite the dark withholding solid facts. 
He may be quick but so am I, I grasp his hand before it disappears in the folds of fabric. And with his hand I catch his attention, both brought to my mouth as I push a firm kiss to his wrist and then place his palm flat against my chest. 
"Don't." It's a one word warning, I'm not sure how to tell him not to pull away from me again without ordering him or begging. After all his candour I should be softer, I just have little practise. "I like your body heat." 
I listen to him breathe in the quiet, three haggard exhales before he moves closer. His hand stays where I placed it, warm and soft, and that sensation spreads as his body presses to mine. He tucks his head beneath my chin, and the air that leaves his body caresses my skin. "Is this… OK?" 
There's little to be done against the will of my fingertips, my hand runs the length of his back before resting at his nape, holding him tight against me. I hum a yes and it sounds like a contented purr. But there are matters to straighten before I let my senses dull. I already slackened by allowing us to lay here—we should be in my own bed. "Tomorrow you will eat every meal in my presence." He nods quickly, hair tickling my neck. 
"I will, My Lord." 
"I do not want to see you get sick again." The hardness in my tone resurfaces, but by the way he clings tighter to me he reads it in the context intended: worry rather than impatience. Perhaps he has started to know me, or my hands give me away. They have a mind of their own as they sweep over his smooth skin. "Do you need to eat now?" 
"No." 
My finger drifts to his chin, tilting his face up so I can peer down at him. "Are you lying?" He shakes his head, a singular and minimal motion, eyes locked to mine and lids heavy. With sleep, or perhaps... 
"I want to stay here—this way," he murmurs, emphasizing his meaning by pressing closer. 
I draw a line down his torso, finger coming to stop at his naval. "If I hear any complaints from here," I poke at his slender stomach to emphasize my meaning, "then I will feed you myself." The soft beneath my touch pulls taut. He’s tense. Did he expect hurt? It would be a fair assumption given the marks my hands have already made on him. The taste of that realisation is sour but short lived when I hear the soft huff expelled from his lips. Before I’m certain of the reaction that I just witnessed, my fingers run along the seams of his muscles, to the soft spot above his hip. The tensing becomes a full flex as his body curves protectively and something happens that I hadn't expected or considered. 
The huff becomes a gentle gurgle. He’s laughing. He’s laughing and I have never wanted to capture something as futile with my fingers before now. I’ve never heard him laugh, and if he’s smiled I can’t recall it. The night and it’s secrets be damned, I can’t see the expression this new development brings to his face. I want to see how his eyes wrinkle, the shape his lips take, the warmth flood his features, whether his cheeks dimple. And now I have stared too long so he grows still. Does he think I disapprove of laughter?
“It’s ticklish,” he murmurs as way of explanation, as if it’s needed and I’m too dull in my senses to draw that conclusion on my own. 
“I realise.” And even I can hear the pleasure on my tongue. There’s a pause, he’s hesitating, I imagine he intended to apologise for such a natural and wonderful reaction. It’s down to me to make some things clear, I’m not one for many words, especially when it comes to assurances. “I like your laugh. You will do it more often.” It sounds as ridiculous as I intended the demand be, and he hears it. I grin when my efforts win another soft snort. 
“Yes, My Lord.”  
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fanforfanatic · 7 years
Text
As You’re Told - TWO
Relationships: Castiel x Reader Rating: Smut Warnings: Dom/sub, bdsm
~6200 words
Summary: You start dating Castiel, a famous physicist, when you get hired at the same university as him. A few months into the relationship, you explore dom/sub dynamics within your sex lives.
Read it on ao3
Chapters on tumblr: ONE  TWO  THREE  FOUR  FIVE  SIX
Chapter TWO
There’s a blurb at the beginning that depicts the dynamic within the relationship. It has words like dominant and submissive and following orders . Words like control and rules and consequences. It explains that all activities would be within discussed boundaries and both parties can tap out at any time with the use of a pre-established safeword.
There’s a line explaining to indicate if the following are a yes a no or a maybe and to add any comments and/or caveats.
Then, the checklist begins. It’s pages of one long enumeration of sexual acts and toys and positions with a line next to each one for you to write your stance on. Some of the things make your eyes widen, some make you blush, some make you squirm, some make you wet. Much like the toys in Cas’ drawer, some you know of, some you don’t, but even those that are familiar to you, you see in a new light. You wouldn’t just be doing these things, you’d be doing them because Cas tells you to. You’d be doing them when and how Cas tells you to.
You’ve skimmed your way through the first page and a half when you look up from the document for the first time. You had pointedly been ignoring Cas, to keep things from getting awkward. For you. Cas seemed right in his element, happily eating his waffle and glancing at you between bites. Sometimes staring for a moment as he chewed thoughtfully.
“Do you have another of these?” You ask him, lifting the document a bit so he knows what you’re talking about. Though, you don’t know what else he could think you’re referring to.
“I can print one.” He looks at you curiously.
You nod and jump to your feet. You walk the short distance to the couch where you left your work the previous night. You return to the table with your red pen in hand.
Cas continues to watch you as you annotate the document like you’re doing academic research. You underline words, write comments in the margins, he even saw you draw a small graph. After a minute or so, Cas leaves you to it and brings the plates to the sink. He decides to wash them then and there, which isn’t his habit.
Saturday mornings he likes to go for a run, but the thought of leaving you at this time is out of the question to him. He’d picked up on your slight submissive tendencies but he hadn’t considered bringing this up so early on in the relationship.
You two had met late in the summer, before the official beginning of the semester and you had absolutely infatuated him. By the end of the first week of school he’d gotten you to agree to a date, even though he could tell you thought it'd make a bad impression or get you a bad reputation at the school. Dating coworkers isn’t forbidden but it isn’t particularly celebrated either.
Still, you agreed and Cas likes to think it’s because you felt the same things he did even then. You two simply hit it off. Which surprised no one more than him because he wasn’t usually interested in dating younger women. You keep up with him better than more than a few of his peers, though. You aren’t just smart, you’re keen, sharp and quick on the uptake. The university did a good job scooping you up and the physics department will more than benefit from having you.
So no running today, because Cas has a beautiful, endearing, intelligent woman sitting at his kitchen table filling out a BDSM checklist and using her phone to, apparently, do a bit of research on some of it. You’re nothing if not thorough.
Cas watches you a little longer from the kitchen before he decides he’s getting creepy and goes back to sit across from you. This time, with his computer as he gets some work of his own done.
 “Okay,” You say, a while later.
Cas looks up from his screen and watches you inhale deeply, setting down your red pen with a shaky hand.
You say, “You want tea?”
Cas raises a brow at you.
“Fine, coffee, you addict.”
“Sure.”
He finishes up what he’s doing so that it isn’t left hanging while you rummage around the kitchen. He keeps glancing at you as you do so. When you return, he’s closed his laptop and set it aside with his notepad on top of it.
You each take sips of your respective drinks, watching each other over the rims of your mugs.
“May I?” He says.
For a moment you consider playing dumb, just to stall, but you end up shrugging and pushing the document towards him. “I have questions,” You tell him.
“I can see that.” Which he can. The first page is littered with literal question marks and Cas figures it’s the same for the rest. He even spots a few asterisks with the note see back of page . You ran out of space for your comments. Cas kind of loves that you ran of space for your comments.
You blush, feeling dumb, and mumble, “Sorry.”
Cas hears honest to God shame in your voice and his head snaps up. “Hey, no. It’s a good thing.”
You look at him like you don’t believe him.
“Talking, communicating, it’s so important in any kind of relationship. It’s especially necessary when there’s a dynamic with such a heavy handed shift in power. We’ve got to be on the same page. Alright?”
You nod and when he continues to stare at you, you say, “Alright, Cas.”
“I don’t ever want you to hesitate to ask me questions, or to speak up about something you don’t like, or something you do like. That stands all of the time. Whether we’re having kinky sex, regular sex or no sex.” He waits. “Say you understand.”
You wonder how your body isn’t in distress with how all your blood keeps rushing to your face. Cas gave you a direct order and it’s a simple one and it should be easy to just say yes because it’s not like you don’t agree. It’s not like you haven’t had this conversation about being vocal with each other, before. But it’s not easy. It feels like a huge deal.
“I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start with what we have here.” He uncaps the blue pen he’d been using earlier and looks at you for some sign to move forward.
You’re grateful for the out he gives you but you wonder if he’s disappointed. He doesn’t look disappointed. Just open and earnest. Clearly you hadn’t let him down enough for him to want to pull the plug, so you decide that you freezing up isn’t that big of a deal.
“Alright,” You say.
He grins at you and it’s devilish and handsome and wicked enough that you think he might have lied before about the lack of a dungeon.
 He looks at the document, his eyes traveling over the first page slowly.
“There are a lot of maybe s, on here.” He comments.
“Because a lot of the items are maybes for me.”
He looks up at you.
“Because I don’t really know, you know.” When he just keeps looking you continue. “Okay, like that first thing on the list for example.”
You stand to sit back down with your legs folded beneath you, giving you the height to reach across and pull the document closer, placing it halfway between you. You take the blue pen out of his hand and tap the line with the first item.
“Abrasion. It’s the stimulation of the skin with rough textures. It’s supposed to be erotic.” Cas smiles at you like he knows you had to look it up, which he does. “And, like, I can’t imagine myself enjoying that but people do , right? So there’s gotta be something to it… Right?”
Cas shrugs. “Different strokes for different folks.”
“Was that a pun?” You ask, incredulous at his timing.
“A very subtle play on words which you picked up on,” He says, then, as a joke, adds, “Good girl.”
But your breath hitches and your ankles cross under your ass and your grip on the pen tightens just a bit as you swallow down a lump in your throat. Cas sees it all with his quickly darkening eyes.
“Huh.” He says looking like he’s contemplating your entire existence.
“Shut up,” You snap.
He chuckles.
“Shut up, Cas. And stop being so anal about puns versus play on words.”
“There’s a distinction,” He defends.
“Your face is a distinction.”
“Queen of wit, everyone.”
“Can we,” You wave an agitated and a decidedly unshaky- ha! - hand over the document. “Okay?”
“Okay,” He says very seriously, still yanking your chain.
You huff. “So bottom line is maybe. Have you- Do you- enjoy it?”
Cas shrugs. “Not really. We can still have you try it out though.”
“No, in the venn diagram of things I like and the things you like I want us to always be in the intersection. We might hit and miss a few times because there’s a lot of maybe s in my case but you know what you like.”
Cas would argue. Would tell you he’s more than happy to help you explore things even if they aren’t his cup of tea (or cup of coffee, as it happens) but you spoke with such assuredness he decides to let it go for now and nods.
“Okay,” You take a breath. “Next item.”
You move to turn the document so you can read the right way around, but Cas pulls it towards him and tells you to sit back, which you do.
In his deep voice, without fanfare, he reads:
Anal sex Yes
He smirks then.
Anal plug (small) Sure
Anal plug (large) Size reference (??)
Anal plug (public, under clothes) Discuss! (maybe)
“Cas.” You stop him. He looks up to find you beet red. “Maybe you can read in your head and make your own notes and then I can read what you wrote and-”
“Nah.” He smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“ Cas. ”
“Your suggestion is extremely unappealing both because I enjoy watching you squirm and because it’s highly inefficient. Mostly, though, we need- you need to be able to talk about it if you want to do it.”
“Pretty sure there’s no rule that says that.”
“I make the rules.”
Your mouth dries so fast you find yourself reaching for your forgotten-until-now tea that’s turned cold, nearly knocking it over.
“There I go, getting ahead of myself again.” In the same breath, he continues, giving you whiplash. “Later, you can take out from the drawer all the toys the size of which you aren’t comfortable with. All the toys you aren’t comfortable with in general, but we discuss most of them in the checklist anyway.”
You nod, looking into your mug, watching the particles of herbs that escaped the tea bag float, sink and float back up.
“Does that sound reasonable to you?”
You think he’s messing with you again so when you look up it’s with a glare at the ready. His eyes aren’t mocking though. They’re kind and open and a little heady. “Yes.” You croak out. You have sex appeal coming out the wazoo, clearly.
“So, anal plug in public.”
“It’d have to be discreet.” You rush out to say. “And not right off the bat. And I need to be able to back out whenever.”
“You’re always able to back out whenever.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” And then, “Wait here.” He drops the document and rises to his feet.
That startles you. You watch, twisting in your seat, his still-only-boxer-clad body walk over to his messy office area. His apartment is one big space that has a loft-style layout with an adjacent bedroom, so he doesn’t have an actual office but the nook where he’s put two desks in an L-shape works just as well. Even though he can't keep it as organised as, say, his drawer of sex toys.
You really like Cas’ place, which doesn’t surprise you, you like most things about Cas. The high ceiling and the back wall, that’s mostly all windows, make it look even bigger than it is. You feel like there’s more room for your head here as opposed to your tiny studio where you sometimes feel like if you think too hard, your thoughts will bounce off the walls and smack you down.
He returns with a new stack of papers, bringing the stapler with him so you can watch him make it a document. You roll your eyes. Despite all his qualities, Cas is such a fucking weirdo. He brings another blue pen with him and scribbles a few things. From then on, he notes all the stipulation, restrictions and comments that go with the maybes on the new document. He also writes no s and yes es wherever appropriate. This version won’t be covered in your questions because they’ll be answered.
You have a BDSM checklist draft and a BDSM checklist final copy. And it’s still morning.
“Okay,” He says. Then reads.
Arm & leg sleeves (binders) No
“That’s your first no, excluding abrasions. Is it a no for all bondage?”
The words slide easily out of his mouth and you decide you need to stop from feeling like you’re dying each time he speaks nonchalantly about these things, like he's helping you fill out your tax return, or else you won’t make it through the list.
“It’s just a no for the binders. I looked them up and I don’t like the visual. I don’t think I’d like the feeling either. I like the idea of being restrained but not so much feeling so trapped. It wasn’t on the list but I definitely don’t want those masks that usually come with the binders, the ones that cover your entire face, either.”
Cas nods and jots a simple no down. “That’s okay.”
“Is it?” You ask, suddenly unsure of yourself. “If you wanted to we-”
He looks you in the eyes. “The intersection of the venn diagram, right?”
“Right.”
“Besides, it’s not my favourite kind of bondage, not in the least.”
You lick your lips, eyes still locked with his. “What is?”
He seems to think about it but somehow you know what he’s pondering is whether he wants to divulge the information or keep it to himself for now.
He makes up his mind, giving you a little but leaving out a lot. “I’ll use leather when I’m cuffing you to furniture and rope when I’m tying you in different positions.”
Then, without missing a beat, leaving you reeling for a moment with a string of mental images, he reads:
Asphyxiation Willing to try if you start off really really easy and you warn me beforehand (and you don’t kill me)(do you have experience? Is it something you’re knowledgeable/comfortable doing? Do you like it?)
“I’m not going to kill you,” He says with a laugh.
You say, “You don’t know that. Accidents happen.”
“If you’re worried-”
“If I didn’t want to try it, I’d have written no. I read a couple first account experiences and they made it sound like the best ecstasy trip.” You shrug. “Do you like it?” With the pen you’re still holding, you reach over to tap the document where you know that same question is written.
“I like doing it when it makes my submissive-” my submissive “- feel like they’re on the best ecstasy trip.” He quirks a smile. “That brings me pleasure but not the act within itself. But yes, for everything on the list, I do have experience and know what I’m doing so as not to cause you harm.”
“You mean other than the lack of oxygen and blood flow.”
“Naturally.”
You’re both grinning.
He writes: To be tested with slow beginnings and forewarning.
“Hey, look. We made it to the Bs and only thirty percent of your blood is in your cheeks.”
“Shut up.”
He laughs teasingly then reads.
Bathroom use control No, I’d like to keep my bladder to myself. (Why is this sexy?)
He takes the question at face value, doubting that you’d mean it derisively. “It depends on the person. Some just like to relinquish the control. Others feel physical pleasure from being forced to hold it in and then allowed to let it out.”
“Fair enough.”
Beating (soft/hard) Sure I thought this was spanking but then I got to ‘spanking’. You want to beat me up?
“I don’t want to beat you up.” He laughs.
“Good, ‘cause I could take you.” You challenge playfully.
He raises a brow at you.
“It’s for the sake of the pain?” You ask, getting back to business.
“Partly.”
“I don’t think I’d like that. You know, one’s bum has more padding. I don’t want broken bones or-”
“Jesus. Please tell me you’re kidding.”
You maintain your serious expression and watch Cas’ grow more scandalised. Then, you’re cackling.
“ Not funny.”
“Kind of funny.”
“I was starting to think that you actually think I want to hurt you.”
“I don’t,” You tell him seriously. “I do think the whole pain thing might not be for me though.”
Castiel nods. He writes something down but you don’t bother looking. You know it’s a no.
Blindfolding Sure
Being serviced Who to who? This document is lacking in clarity. You’re supposed to be a man of science. I’m disappointed. (Also, sure in either direction.)
Castiel has a fleeting thought about your word choice. You write sure. Rarely yes.
Biting Sure (we already do this) (Is it different like this?)
Breath control See asphyxiation. (page one)
Branding Um, no.
“What about non permanent marking?”
You laugh. “What you want visual proof that I'm yours?”
“Yes.”
You choke. He doesn't growl the word. He says it very matter-of-factly and it’s got your thighs clenching in the tight denim. “Okay,” You breathe.
Bondage (light/heavy/public under clothes) Okay but my muscles gotta be able to function the next day if I have work. The public thing is fine too but I don’t particularly understand the appeal.
Chores (domestic) Clean your own apartment
Collars (private/public) Not in public. Don’t ask me to bark because I will leave you.
Dildos Sure. See ‘Butt Plugs’ for sizes.
Electro-play No thanks
Exhibitionism (friends/strangers) Absolutely not. / What would it entail with strangers? Probably not though. Okay, for public space but secretive? Semi-public? (Let’s not get arrested, though.)
You two table this one for now, agreeing to have a conversation about it if ever it comes up.
Eye contact restrictions Sure. Don’t see what the Shouldn’t be too different from being blindfolded.
Face slapping Only if I can slap back. (not sarcasm)
Fisting (anal/vaginal) ( No no no no.) to the tenth power
Forced masturbation Doubt you’ll have to force me, so sure.
Forced nudity This is still about sex right?
Cas says, “You know your commentary keeps getting cheekier.”
“What’s wrong, old man? Not sure you’ve got the prowess to subdue me?”
Cas smiles at you and it’s a little frightening. There’s a dark look in his eyes like he can’t wait to make you eat your words. He doesn’t say or do anything else, though, and then he carries on reading in the same deep almost methodical voice. You think you’re going to have blood pressure complications by the time this day ends.
Gags (cloth/phallic/ball [plastic or rubber] /tape) Sure / Only your phallic ;) -(Cas lets out a loud laugh here)- / okay and A-okay / No tape if it’ll irritate my skin pls. Also, I don’t know how I feel about the ring gag.
Hair pulling You already know, dude
Humiliation (degrading speech) what?
“I didn’t bother looking that up.” You say once Cas has read your comment.
“So it does not interest you?”
“I’m not even sure what it is.”
“The idea is to heighten the sexual experience of a person by having them tap into emotions of shame.”
“How does that work? How does it make sex better?” With the intrigued look you’re sporting, you seem very much like the scientist that you are to Cas in that moment.
“Some might say the same thing about pain, yet the world has masochists. In fact the region of the brain that deals with embarrassment is similar and near the one that deals with pain.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Humiliation is vast and borrows from other kinks. Bathroom use control, for example, which we’ve already discussed. Some enjoy it for what it is. Others for the humiliation that comes with having to ask to relieve themselves. Wearing collars, which you’ve agreed to in private, and if I don’t ask you to bark, is another example. Some find an element of humiliation in wearing one.”
“Um… I don’t think that’s why I said yes to that…” You say looking at not-Cas.
“No, I didn’t think so.”
You look up at him curiously.
Cas opts to forge on with his explanation instead of telling you that he thinks you’d like to feel both owned and like you belong to someone. “In the case of speech, which is what this item is about since all other acts with the intent of humiliation would still need to be discussed separately, it’s about talking down to the person.”
“Like you’d be condescending?”
“It could be that. I wouldn’t dream of insulting your intellect, however. I’d imagine it going differently. Would you like it if I called you a slut that’s only good for taking my cock?”
“I- euh, I’m- So like dirty talk?”
Cas smirks. “You’re not answering the question, but yes, like pejorative dirty talk.”
“Um, I- I could do that kind of dirty talk. Y’know, on occasion.”
“I’ll make note of it.” He says, writing down a yes.
Knife play Nopitynope. For the record: No blood. No permanent damage ever.
Nipple stimulation (clamps) Sounds good. (Willing to try the clamps, will let you know if I don’t like it.) You already know though that my breasts aren’t all that sensitive.
Orgasm control/denial Yes.
Castiel pauses. Looks at the rare yes then looks at you with so many promises at the tip of his tongue. You break eye contact, barely of your own volition, as your eyes are drawn to his long elegant neck when he swallows.
Outfits (costumes/lingerie/etc.) Sure but maybe discuss something totally out of the box.
“Would you let me,” Cas licks his lips, his eyes steady on yours. “Let me chose what you wear on a given day.”
You’ve talked about having stuff put up your ass but for some reason this question has you feeling a little dizzy. Has you wetting your underwear just a little bit more. Has you wondering just what it is you’ve gotten yourself into and why you aren’t regretting it. Not the littlest bit.
“Would you like that?” You rasp out. Why does your voice sound like you’ve been fucked? You haven’t. Castiel hasn’t touched you, yet. Yet. Yet. Yet.
“Yes.” You haven’t touched him either, so why does he sound thoroughly fucked out too?
Your face is so hot, burning enough you think it might start sizzling like the waffle iron did earlier. “Promise you won’t put me in a sweater vest?”
Cas laughs and it’s full of glee and you’re so proud you’re the one who made it happen. He winks at you and says, “It’d be up to me.”
The moment has lightened, yet when you speak next it’s heavy with intent- with meaning . “Yes, I’d let you.” The idea that you’d wear something all day, as simple as the blue jeans and tee you have on now, just because Cas has asked you- told you- to feels strangely erotic amidst all this… this BDSM talk.
You continue to look at Cas and at first he looks pleased (you don’t keen), but then he looks indecisive for a moment, until he seems to settle on his response. He says, “Good girl.”
( The small sound you let out is NOT a moan.)
Spankings (hand/paddle/crop/flogger/cane/etc.) Sure. Slow build up, buttercup.
“This is surprising.” Cas says.
You frown. “It is?”
“Earlier, with the beating item, you said you weren’t interested in pain.”
“I did, but… I mean...”
Cas continues to look at you. He’s always looking at you and it’s always so unrelenting. Was he like this before today? Did you just fail to notice?
“You’re going to need to finish that sentence, babe.”
You kind of want to glare at him because he says it reassuringly but there’s a hint of teasing there. You would glare at him but your mind is too busy searching for words.
He waits. Like he has all day. Prick.
“That’s- It’d be because-” You take a deep breath, shutting your eyes tightly. You let the shiver that’s been building rake through your body, then look back at Cas. “It’s not about the pain.”
“Oh? What is it about?” He’s mocking you again but he’s giving you a curious look. His features are still kind, letting you know that whatever it is, he’s here to hear it. Maybe he isn’t pulling your leg? Maybe he doesn’t know what you’re getting at? Maybe it isn’t obvious?
“It’s about punishment.” When a beat passes and all Cas does is let his eyes widen your voice wavers. “Right?”
Cas, once he collects his bearings, smiles at you softly, with the same adoration he had for you by the dresser. It turns into a smirk. “Not if you like it.”
He continues reading.
Spreader bars Okay
“Last item on the list,” Cas says.
Suspension I fear for my safety
“I get that you’re joking a lot probably because it helps you get through this conversation since it’s so new and it’s a lot. You’re someone who deflects generally speaking and you have these defense mechanisms and humour is one of th-”
“Please stop psychoanalysing me.”
“What I’m saying is, you’ve said more than once something to the extend of me injuring you, or you being in danger. You do get that the last thing I want is for you to get hurt on any level, right? You understand that this is founded in trust?”
Cas looks… hurt.
“Shit, Cas. I didn’t mean anything by it-”
“It’s okay if you did. It’s okay if you don’t feel like it’s for you. There’s a big part of this that’s about relinquishing control and it’s okay for you to not be up for it.”
“I am!” You say a little too eagerly with a bounce, making you flush again, but it seems to relax Cas so maybe your embarrassment is worth it.
“You know that I want to take care of you?”
You nod at him, worrying your lip between your teeth and willing the red out of your cheeks.
“Say it.”
“Yeah, Cas.” He shakes his head at you and you don’t get why but some part of you must because then you’re saying, “You want to take care of me.”
“Good.” He says slowly and smirks at how you stop breathing for a moment. You’re waiting for more and he’ll give it to you but later. “Do you have other questions?” There’s no more teasing in his voice now, it’s back to being open and urging you to do the same.
“How does this work exactly? You tell me to do sexy stuff and I do them and we both get off.” You do jazz hands.
“Essentially.”
“What if I don’t want to do what you’re asking at the time?”
“Then you use your safeword. I believe I know you well enough not to push too far beyond your limits, and I’ll be starting off slow, but if I do then it’s important for you to communicate that and-”
“Cas,” You interrupt. “That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about what if you want to spend the night giving each other head and I really want to fuck.”
“Well, you can bring it up and I might reconsider the evening’s plans.”
“Might?” You frown.
“It’s about your pleasure but it’s me who decides how you get it. Besides, I doubt you’d object to that.”
“You do give good head.” You wink at him and it’s more joking than sexy but it’s all truth.
He laughs. “Though that’s accurate, it’s not what I mean.”
“Then, what?”
“Part of the pleasure for a submissive is in obeying.”
Obeying. You shift in your seat, ignoring the tingle on your skin, and look at the painting of the meadow behind his head.
“And I think it’s your case. So if what I want is to eat you out, take my time doing it, you’d enjoy it but you’d also enjoy letting me.”
You snap your eyes back to him. “You can’t know that. That it’s,” You make air quotes. “My case.”
“No I can’t. But you hate it when someone is upset with you and you bend over backwards to please people. Lucky for you, I’ll only be asking you to bend over forwards.”
You roll your eyes at him because that was lame and he knows it. “You’ve thought of this before. Of me...b-being a su- Maybe being into this.”
“I wonder how that happens. The switch in your head where one minute you can say you want my cock inside you without blinking and the next you’re undone, blushing and bashful, unable to say-”
“I said I might want to fuck, I never said anything about your cock inside me. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
Cas laughs. “There it goes. You’ve flipped the switch again.”
You huff. “Stop changing the subject.”
“Yes, I’ve thought about this before.”
“But I’m… I’m not docile. I’m stubborn and argumentative and-”
“What do you think a submissive is exactly?” He chuckles. “Do you think you’re signing up to be a doormat?”
You take a long moment to respond. “The point is we can’t know.”
“No, we can’t,” Cas agrees. “Not for certain anyway. Which is why we’re exploring this, right? If we realise you’re not getting anything from it then we’ll know. Maybe you’ll even realise you’d want to be on the other side of the situation.”
“You mean m-me d-do…” You glare at the mirth in his eyes. “Dominate you.” You practically bark the words out.
He has a full blown smile now, like he’s proud of you. “Sure.”
Your eyes widen at his admittance. “You’d let me do that?”
“To see if you like it? Yeah. Why are you so surprised? You’re letting me.”
“I guess,” You mumble. “So, what, do I gotta call you master or sir or something, now?”
“Do you want to call me master or sir or something, now?”
“That’s not fair. I asked first.”
He just keeps looking at you with his too blue eyes.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Well you definitely can’t call me that.”
You laugh, thankful for the reprieve from the tension.
“You can call me Cas. If somewhere down the line you want to call me something else you can do that too.”
“Okay.” You smile appreciatively.
“You should know that I have every intention of breaking you out of this bad habit where you can’t get words out.”
“O-okay.” You repeat.
“I know you, so what are your other questions?”
Despite everything, despite the tension in your shoulders, the permanent flush of your cheeks, despite the feeling you’ve had in your chest ever since Cas told you read , you can’t help but crack a smile, because he does know you.
“Okay,” You start, in a way that lets Castiel know it’s going to be a long winded sentence. “So I get that I do as I’m told yada yada obey obey good gi- good stuff good stuff orgasms, but do I just do what you tell me?”
Cas, angel that he is, lets your slip up go without mention. “I don’t understand the question.”
“Am I allowed to touch? To talk? Or is it one of those,” Then, in a gruff voice that sounds nothing like no one ever, “Speak when spoken to.”
“I’ll tell you when I want you quiet. I’ll tell you when you aren’t to touch me or yourself.”
Your breathing gets a little heavier. Cas watches you nod in agreement with lustful eyes and you start to wonder if maybe people don’t sign up for this just for the… oh god, this is a kink negotiation . One that has you flustered and that seems to be having an effect on Cas too if the way he reaches down to adjust himself is anything to go by. But he’s done this before. Wouldn’t the novelty have worn off for him?
“Hey, Cas,” You say and see his eyes clear from their haze. They’re too focused for you to bear now so you stare at the meadow again. “The toys you’ve got, you’ve used them with other people?”
There’s a long silence where you feel Cas’ eyes beckoning yours to his but you keep staring above him.
“Please look at me,” He says. So you do. He locks eyes with you. “I rebuilt my collection from scratch when I moved out here. I’ve dominated people since, but it wasn’t intimate-”
“Not intimate,” You scoff.
“Not romantic. It was always at their place, or at a clu- It was never here. Never with my things. I’ve been in relationships too, but they didn’t take this turn sexually. So the answer is no.” He grins wickedly once he sees your relax a little. “We’re going to pop their bdsm virginity along with yours.”
“Oh, you’re such a-” You don’t finish your sentence opting to toss your- well, his - pen at him.
He laughs, an easy, carefree sort of laugh and you’d laugh too but he stands to bend and pick up the fallen pen and you spot the shape of his hardening dick against the fabric of his boxers. Laughing really isn’t what you want to be doing with your mouth just then. Not to mention that your brain is on the fritz. You didn’t think going through your non-contract would do this to Cas. You figured it was at least a little like a formality to him.
He settles back in his seat. “Anything else?”
“No-” You clear your throat. “No that’s it for me. For now. Do you have questions?”
He smiles at you big and bright. Of course, you’d ask that. Cas should have expected it. “Would you like a signal to indicate when we begin and when we finish?”
“I think I’ll know when we finish,” You laugh.
He nods agreeably but smiles like he knows a state secret.
“I don’t know if I’d like it to be so formal. So systematic.” You answer his question. “But I did read earlier that there are dangers of having it bleed into… let’s call it real life. So we can try without but if either of us feels like there are kinks we can figure out a system?”
“And by kinks you mean issues, I assume.”
“Oh har har, Cas. Bite me.”
“In a minute.” He winks and there’s no heat in it but your nerves spike anyway. “I’d like you to pick your safeword now.”
“Right, okay.” You look around, rubbing your palms anxiously against your thighs. This is happening. Your eyes land on this morning’s kitchen appliance. “Waffles?” You question out loud, but mostly to yourself. “No, no, I’d like for that to come up during play. Yes, I’m hinting. A scene centered on breakfast food sounds like heaven. ”
“Well, look at you, down with the lingo,” He teases.
You glare at him halfheartedly, your eyes landing on the meadow behind him, again. It’s a pretty picture of a small bird flying over a field of flowers with trees surrounding the area, making it seem like you’re peeking into a hideaway in a much larger patch of woods.  It’s a recently painted piece but done in an impressionist style, he told you once. Most of the artwork in his apartment belongs to that art movement. It’s his favourite.
You’d known, when you had that conversation, that Castiel is more than accomplished in his field, works on ground breaking research, you’d even known that Cas is an extremely knowledgeable guy in general, but that’s when you realised just how cultured he is. Well read, well travelled, moderately well dressed. (He made questionable sweater choices at times.) You’d felt small and insignificant next to him but only for a moment before flooding with hope. Cas has a way of doing that. Lighting up the rooms he walks into, sure, but more importantly he makes everyone inside of it feel like they’re glowing too. Makes them feel full of potential and full of yearning to do good things. Do great things.
“Wings,” You say, looking away from the bird and at Cas.
“Okay.” His small approving smile widens and becomes, there’s no other word for it, it becomes sly. He leans back in his chair and, in his usual gravelly voice, he says, “Come over here.”
Read it on ao3 
Chapters on tumblr: ONE  TWO  THREE  FOUR  FIVE  SIX
A/N: Thank you for reading :) I promise in the next chapter, they’ll actually touch each other.
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