#blog thread

Sam's puppyspace is quiet and obedient. Leaving every part of his body and mind in Dean's hands when he feels safest with him. They both know the warning signs before he slips and Dean is quick to find out what Sam wants. Sometimes its sexual, sometimes its just the need for comfort and to be praised and reassurance he's safe with Dean.

"Sammy?" Dean asks and Sam looks at him immediately, as always, from where he sat still on the chair, staring blankly at the laptop screen. "Yeah?" he tried to blink, but his lids felt heavy and clouded. Dean took a moment to assess Sam's state. He switched the TV off. "Can you come here, Sammy?" Dean asked and Sam nodded slowly, getting up from the chair and standing in front of Dean, waiting, pupils wide.

"Sit," Dean says, letting his voice sound stern simce he learnt Sam enjoyed when Dean was more demanding and controlling with his responses. Sam sat next to Dean, feeling light as he looked at his brother with a pout. "That's my good boy. What does my Sammy want, hm? Use your words, baby where are you right now?" Dean encouraged, wanting to know where Sam was in his headspace and what he could do from there. Sam practically whimpered to being called good boy, one of his favorite praises that had him moving to tug at Dean's shirt. "'M not- Just want- Dee... I want it... Please?" Sam whispered, sounding pathetic and eager. Dean looked down to where Sam's legs pushed against his his. His erection straining against his jeans. Finally understanding the situation Dean rubbed Sam's thighs slowly, fingers moving to comb through his hair. "Okay, I'm here, my Sammy. That's a good boy." He touched everywhere but Sam's cock making him whine. "Dean..." Sam whined and pressed his palm against his aching crotch.

"Nuh uh, no touching Sammy. What are my rules?" Dean asks firmly, hands stilling on Sam's body. His cock twitches in his pants as he repeats the rules they've formed over time learning about Sams space. "No- No touching myself without permission." Dean ruffled Sam's hair in approval. He whimpered pathetically and squeezed his eyes shut. "That's good, baby. So instead of touching, and misbehaving like a bad puppy, tell me what you want, Sammy." Sam shuddered and whimpered, hands moving to lay flat on his thighs and Dean finally continued stroking his hair, waiting patiently for him to speak. "Please... Dean. Need your hand- anything. Wanna cum, Dee," Sam begged, voice soft as he trembled staying in place. Dean smirked and pressed a few light taps against Sam's cheek in acknowledgment. "That's right, good, baby. Just my hand, Sammy?" Dean asked as he began unbuttoning Sam's jeans, the younger lifting his hips eagerly but keeping his hands in place. He nodded eagerly before staring at Dean's mouth, gulping as his mind clouded with just wanting pleasure and praise. "Use your words, baby."

"Y-Yes. Your hand, please, Dee." It didn't take long for Dean to be stroking Sam's cock and telling him just how much of a good boy he is. Sam squirms and moans, grabbing at Dean in any way as he squeezed his length, knowing Sam was close. "Nuh uh, you only cum when I let you. Otherwise 'm gonna make you sit like this all night, okay?" Dean said, though he never would, he just knew its what Sam loved to hear. There were a few moments where Sam misbehaved and Dean punished him with time out or not being allowed bathroom privileges until he messed himself.

Sam sobbed, drinking in Dean's every praise and doing everything he could to hold back. But Dean's stern tone was enough for his body to react and listen on its own. With more praises, and guidance he finally let Sam cum, spilling all over his hand and clothes. He loved watching how his brother came on command.

my thread shouting out Biel's supporters, including my ex-mutuals

my thread on the predatory similarities between both art works made of us by our own abusers

I wanted to buy food and clothes but I have no car to keep them dry, they’d get soaked in the rain on the walk home. Now I have no lunches for work unless I make some shitty sandwich.

I don’t want to be on the computer or phone all day, but I don’t want to hang out anywhere besides my room.

But then this kid moved in next door who also loved basketball. We let him use our hoop and I tried to be friends with him for a while, but he was mean. Really mean. I’d hang over at his house and he’d spray me with the hose (it had a strong nozzle on it that stung when you got sprayed), or he’d want to wrestle. That’s when I would come home with bite marks all over me.

The first couple times he bit me I would laugh it off as roughhousing cause he was laughing, but it REALLY hurt. I went home and when my parents saw the marks they told me not to play with him anymore and I didn’t want to anyway.

After that I was really scared to even go outside in case I ran into him. He was ALWAYS outside playing basketball, so I didn’t like to go out of the house. Eventually I just let him have my basketball hoop. My parents tried to get me to play outside a lot and make friends but i was scared of going outside and seeing Him, or that strangers would end up being bullies. That, and I could tell from school that I was weird and that people didn’t want to hang out with me.

Because of that, from about eight years old to as recent as a couple years ago, I was a virtual shut-in. The second half of my childhood was just full of anxiety and depression and the feeling that I can’t do anything.