#hellpppp!!!!!

maybe something happened with his guardian (still don’t know if i headcanon him being with his own family or possibly a foster family or another relative/someone who adopted him. idk idk details shmetails) so maybe he’s just like. overstimulated. pissed off. every single thing makes him upset or angry. but he’s come over because he promised he would and you two were gonna watch a movie and spend time together.

one thing leads to another and you’re making out on the couch, he’s pawing at you, desperate to release his pent up energy from an entire days worth of anger and frustration. cut to him laid back, you’re ontop, grinding down onto him slow and teasing and he’s just so… upset.. he needs more, needs to take and take, needs these feelings to get out before he just absolutely blows up like a bomb. so suddenly, his frame is over yours, pinning you to the couch, your legs around his waist, and he goes feral. im talking hips slamming into yours, jostling your entire body up, his hands on your shoulders and dragging over your back and arms, nails digging into your skin, all the while he’s buried his head in your neck, biting at the junction of shoulder and neck hard, so fucking hard that my god it really hurts? is he drawing blood? (you consider stopping him, already having said plenty “seb–! hey!” “slow down– seb, fuck slow down” “sebastion” grabbing at his hair, pushing at his shoulders, it doesn’t work. but you let him do what he must because yes it hurts but it isn’t past your limits) he’s panting through his teeth, sobbing tears of frustration as he takes takes takes, fucks like some wild, rabid animal until he cums. he doesn’t even know if you’ve cum too but that’s the least of your worries as he collapses onto you, crying, panting, and you pet over his hair like you’re comforting a stray cat, gentle, soft, careful.

cue clean up, your back is fucked. red scratches from his dull nails go from shoulder blade to just above your ass. some even go from shoulder down your biceps, and the left side of your neck is ravaged. a deep bite mark is on the junction where he stayed for the most part, small little cuts from his teeth, but also a cluster of hickies and more faint little teeth marks littered down your shoulder. he sobs again, cries, says he’s sorry, he doesn’t know what happened, he feels so ashamed and is horrified you’re going to leave him. but you tsk, try to ground him with a few ‘i love you’s and order him to clean your back for you and apply some cream to the scratches since you can’t reach. he does so, hand trembling all the while, and then you sit down with him to have a proper talk.

he doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t know why he just lost control. he says he was just so.. so mad all day, everything was going wrong, everyone was upsetting (save for you). you have a healthy talk with him, telling him he can’t always leave you like you’ve been mauled by an animal when he gets upset, nor can he turn to other things like breaking shit or yelling. you tell him that you’ll both figure something out, reassuring plenty that you aren’t angry with him and you aren’t leaving him. two days pass, you’ve come up with a solution the next time you hang out.

you present a little box to him, no bigger than his hands held out together. he’s confused. a gift? for him? he insists he doesn’t deserve anything but the constant sting when you move on your back serves to remind that yes, he does deserve this, and urge him to open the box. inside is a black leather collar, meant for a dog, silver buckle and one singular ring beside it, and a matching leash. he’s like.. “i don’t have a dog..” but his own puppy eyes say otherwise! you gently explain that it’s meant for him, for his neck, something to try that might be able to ground him, and he’d only wear it when at your apartment. it takes a second for the intentions to click in his brain, and his cheeks go red, “you.. you think that’d work?” he’s skeptical, but you remind him he doesn’t have to try it, you just thought it’d be a nice idea. so.. he agrees. he lets you buckle the collar on, enough to fit three fingers through comfortably, and oh.

oh.

his cock fucking aches. it hurts in his jeans. the constant pressure on his neck is just so good he can’t believe he’d never explored this. he’s laid with his head in your lap, watching a movie, trying not to squirm around. he feels he doesn’t deserve to fuck you again yet afterall.. but you notice. notice the color on his cheeks as you play with his hair, the way his thighs stay pressed together, the subtle shifts of his hips, the way he hasn’t really said a word about the show when usually he’s a little chatterbox critiquing or pointing things out.

cue fifteen minutes later, he’s sat back on the couch whilst you’re riding him. the pace is agonizingly slow, and he’s grunting and whining like crazy. you’ve clipped the leash on, but it’s slack right now. his punishment is to not touch you, he has to just take what you give. soon enough though (you knew this would happen) his hands fly to your hips, grasping, a shakey “please” escapes him. quickly, you’ve got your one hand on the back of the couch, leash in hand, and it tugs on the collar enough to yank his head back some. the most pathetic noise you’ve ever heard comes from his throat, brows furrowing up, lips parting as it’s just a bit harder to breathe. “behave.” you’ll groan, fucking yourself down a little bit faster when his hands leave your waist.