#debating reposting the REAL self indulgent stuff

[compositecreature]

Takin my pet cloud for a walk

[saxxxology]

Cosmo Says - 2

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader WARNINGS: smut: p/v sex, oral sex, some dom/sub themes, eventual threesome, exploration of kinks, and more NOTE: Do not save or repost my work without my consent. I don’t tag for spoilers, so feel free to message me with any questions you have. This work is 18+ only.

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Sam’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Tugging it free, he unlocks the screen and goes right to the chat string. There’s a new message from you. Odd, considering you hate texting and would rather call than send a—

Oh.

> i’ve always thought about your cock ;) 

His blood turns hot. It’s been a while since he’d gotten a text like this, the last time he’d done this sort of thing, he’d been left hanging and given up. That was a while ago. 

In the four years you’ve been with them you’ve all seen each other in the near-nude quite a bit, after walking in on showers, clothing changes, sex, everything. He thinks ‘well, I've always thought about your tits’ as a silent reply, but changes it at the last minute.

< What about it?

Your little chat bubble pops up, wavering back and forth for several long seconds before a message finally pops up. 

> how it looks. how it feels.

He chuckles to himself, ignoring Dean’s nagging “what is it” and attempt to lean over and get a peek at whatever’s amused his little brother. Dean only earns himself a muttered “fuck off” as Sam taps on the keyboard.

< You’re telling me this just now? Why?

> cosmo said sexting is good ;)

Ahhh, yes, of course. You’ve been indulging in that damn magazine again. Might as well entertain while he’s into it.

< On the road. Want a pic later?

> yes, please :)

He smirks to himself as his dick gives an interested twitch. 

< Are you gonna treat me, too?

> if you’re good. drive safe. 

“What was that about?”

Sam turns his phone over. His cheeks are bright red, he’s sure of it. “What was what?”

“Somethin’ got you happy,” Dean makes a grab for the phone, somehow keeps the Impala straight on the road, and misses as Sam yanks his device out of his brother’s reach. 

“Fuck you,” he retorts, grinning despite himself. 

“Was it Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “She okay?”

“She’s fine.” Sam clears his throat and stares out the window, trying to will his dick to stand down. He’s seen your tits on several occasions, the most notable being when he’d walked in on you touching yourself under the covers, rolling a nipple between your fingers with a hand apparently between your legs. The memory always comes to him when he needs it, and it never fails to do its job. 

“Anything juicy?”

Sam’s throat goes dry. “What?”

“She got anything on the case,” Dean clarifies.

“Uh, no.” Sam makes a show of checking his phone again, as if you might have sent something relevant to their travels. “She, uh, just wanted to check in.”

Dean relents, but gives his brother a shifty look as they continue down the long, empty stretch of road. 

They pull into a motel just after six. Dean sticks around long enough to drop his stuff, use the bathroom, and takes off for the closest bar. Sam takes advantage of the fact that he’s alone to throw the lock on the door and stretch out on his bed, phone in hand. The lure of privacy finally overwhelms him, and he shoves his jeans down his thighs, gathering his cock in one hand as he shoots you a message.

< Hey

You reply within seconds. 

> what you got for me?

Sam grins and strokes himself firmly, getting himself hard and ready. 

< Gimmie a minute

> can’t get it up?

< Feel free to help.

> mmm i can wait ;)

You’re relaxing in bed, phone in hand. Sam’s little chat bubble keeps popping up and dissapearing, and you can’t tell if he keeps fucking up the camera or not. 

> I’m sending this on Snapchat

You roll your eyes. Of course, he’s paranoid about Dean getting into his phone. 

< i’m waiting

After a good five minutes, a little yellow notification pops up on your screen. A thrill of excitement makes its way through your stomach, and you open the app and scroll to the fresh chat string.

Holy goddamn. 

He’s thick and long, flushed dark and glistening at the tip. Gripping himself at the base, held between his thumb and index finger. He’s shaved clean, or waxed, and you feel heat swirl between your legs at the thought of what he might feel like inside you. A quick screenshot lights up your screen, and you smile when Sam’s text comes through.

> Screenshot? Really?

You giggle, typing back. 

< i liked it. keep touching yourself.

> Wasn’t planning on stopping

< video?

> Hang on

You set your phone down to wait and quickly undress, getting comfortable on the bed as the anticipation builds. When another Snaptchat notification pops up, you slide a hand between your legs, teasing your clit as you open the video, volume on high. 

“Oh, fuck…” Sam’s breathy moan echoes through the receiver as the camera focuses on his cock. His hand’s moving steadily up and down, twisting around the head. You lose yourself in it, watching closely as his abs tighten, hips moving up so he can fuck up into his fist. 

The video only lasts a good fifteen seconds before it times out, and you let your head fall back onto the pillow as you try to process the heated glory of what you’ve witnessed. 

> Enjoy?

You raise your phone up to type a quick reply.

< yes - more?

> Define more.

< i want to see you cum

The next ten minutes are filled with the sound of Sam’s moaning on repeat in your head as you stroke and touch and rub yourself. You won’t cum quite yet—you’re just amping yourself up.

When your phone vibrates, you’re quick to snatch it up and scroll to the new message.

It’s almost a minute of Sam just panting and grunting, the phone angled down by his hip so you can see his cock aimed up towards his stomach. His fingers tighten, loosen, pumping up and down until he lets go with a strangled grunt and several drawn-out sighs as he spurts thick, white ropes of cum onto his abs. The video cuts off before he’s truly done, but you’re left satisfied as you shoot him a text with trembling fingers.

< messy boy ;)

> Haha. Can I see you now? Please?

Such a gentleman. 

< what do u want to see?

Sam takes a hot minute to wipe himself clean before replying. He knows exactly what he wants to see. 

< How wet are you?

> really wet

< Show me.

 He sits back against the headboard, breath held as he waits. As soon as the little chat notification pops up, he opens the image and lets out a long, drawn-out moan at the sight of your middle finger, shiny with slick and nestled between the bare lips of your pussy. He’s so engrossed in the image that he forgets to snap a screenshot and asks for a second. 

You send it without question, this one where you’ve got two fingers pressed down over your clit and Sam can see the soft pink inside of your cunt, flushed and swollen and shiny…

< I want to be inside you so bad is all he can manage to text you as his cock gives a solid twitch. 

> mmm maybe when u get back…

Sam’s mouth waters at the thought, and he’s halfway through typing a reply when you send a follow up that makes his cock perk up in his boxers.

> i bet cumming on your dick would feel real good

Sam rubs a palm over his thigh—he can’t remember the last time he got hard twice in a row… 

< Are you touching yourself?

> yeah

< Show me.

He slides a hand inside his boxers, stroking slowly as he waits. 

It’s well worth it: your legs are spread wide, two fingers swirling on your clit. He can see your cunt squeezing around nothing, and debates if it’s worth asking you to use one of the toys he knows you have. 

< Good girl… make yourself cum for me.

The next video, like his, takes a while to come through. He continues to rub and stroke himself, more intent on alleviating the pressure between his legs rather than having another orgasm. He wonders how warm and tight you’d be on him—it’s been a while since he got his dick wet and he’d be lying if he said his jackoff sessions the last few weeks have totally not been drenched in thoughts of you riding him, grabbing at him and begging for him...

His phone buzzes, and he bites down on his lower lip as he opens the video. 

Fucking. Hell.

It’s two minutes of your hips rolling, thighs trembling, moans changing in pitch and intensity. Sam pinpoints the exact moment when your orgasm peaks: you let out a long, high-pitched cry of pleasure as your body convulses, and he can tell that you’re fighting to keep your legs spread long enough for your shaky video to capture the rest of it.

By the time the recording ends, Sam’s ready to bust hands-free. He pulls his hand from his cock and replies, breathing through his nose as he fights to keep some form of self-control. 

< Gorgeous. 

> next time i cum, i want you inside me.

Sam groans, shifting uncomfortably as he types a reply.

< We’ll be back by the end of the week. Think you can wait that long?

> yes

< I wanna taste you. 

> you can ;)

Sam licks his lower lip, desperate to find some relief. He needs a shower, anyway, he can take more time in there. 

< Gonna clean up and get to bed. You all good back there?

> got cosmo to hold me down until u get back. send me a pic in the morning?

< Of what?

> you know. goodnight.

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[a-room-of-my-own]

This is grim stuff, so apologies in advance. Although I don’t know why I’m apologizing.

Aimee Challenor, former spokesperson for the UK Green Party and current Diversity Officer for the Coventry Liberal Democrats is about to marry a gentleman from Michigan who writes pornographic fiction about children and “mind control.”

How do we know this? Because someone posted the accusation on Mumsnet and the budding author, Nathaniel Knight, cheerfully owned up to it on Twitter.

“Yes, I have written smut,” Knight said. “I have written smut featuring minors. I have written smut featuring incest. I have written smut featuring things that are not ethically sound or morally right in the real world. I also write smut featuring adults.”

Stirring stuff! Even by the Internet’s cavalier application of the laws of space and time, the thread stayed online for too long. Knight deleted the thread, but it was too late. The tweets had been screen-shotted and reposted.

Note his choice of word, by the way: “Smut.” Not “pornography” or “porn” or even “erotica.” Those words wouldn’t have quite as casual an air. “Smut” has the just-minding-my-own-business-guv quality you need when you’re choosing something to loiter next to the word “minors.” Essentially, he’s trying to diminish it and normalize what it is he actually writes and fantasizes about. “I have no reason to hide the fact,” he continues, “that I am sexually awakened adult who has fantasies that might be unethical to explore in real life.”

Well, you do, mate, as a matter of fact. Because your “unethical” fantasies are the kind that get you housed away from the general prison population, should you be so “unethical” as to indulge them in real life. (Again, note another artfully chosen word.)

It was an astonishing thread. The guy’s brain is obviously so pickled in porn that he genuinely doesn’t realize that the thing he is oversharing is something that no human being should ever feel safe saying out loud to anyone, except maybe a therapist.

But Knight isn’t really the point. You see, at the time of writing, Aimee Challenor is still — still — on the trans advisory board at Stonewall, an influential charity which advises many organizations with responsibilities for children, including the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (NSPCC). Yes, that NSPCC. (And now, this NSPCC.)

Despite the fact that Challenor’s father was charged for an unspeakably dreadful and depraved crime, Aimee continued to use him as an election agent. David Challenor is currently serving a 20+ year sentence for raping and torturing a 10-year-old girl in the attic of the family home.

The Greens produced a report that meant Aimee scarpered rather than hang about to be disciplined, pausing only to shout “transphobia” on the way out the door. Then it was straight into the arms of the Liberal Democrats and a new man, who apparently shares the same taste for children — at least in his imagination — as David Challenor.

A Labour peer recently got fired from her position as the shadow Brexit secretary because she complained about a bunker mentality at the top of the party, but this is a problem that extends all the way across the UK Left. Anyone pointing out legitimate concerns with, for instance, the obvious ramifications of legally allowing individuals to self-identify as the opposite sex, is portrayed as a bigot and a bully, with a kind of message consistency that would be the envy of Fox News.

Feminists who question modern gender ideology are insulted by trans activists in suspiciously coordinated language. The same phrases come up again and again: “no debate,” “transwomen are women,” “trans rights are human rights” (whatever that means… Trans people have the same rights as the rest of us…) There are some — the majority — who repeat this messaging because they think it makes them appear more inclusive, more evolved, and because they haven’t thought beyond its superficially “kind” appearance.

But there are others — and I think David Challenor was one of them — who have a vested interest in lowering the standards of safeguarding in the UK and silencing those who raise the alarm about it. As social workers often point out, it only takes a few people to groom an organization — or, in this case, a whole movement — and people like David Challenor see the destruction of safeguarding norms as a way to normalize sexual practices and exploitation of children that would ordinarily attract a criminal sanction. Almost in the same way another person with paedophilic tendencies would replace the words “pornography” and “evil” with “smut” and “unethical.”

These women who must be silenced include Helen Watts, who was expelled from the Girl Guides for questioning Stonewall’s safeguarding policies. Stonewall (along with Gendered Intelligence) advised Girlguiding on its trans inclusion guidelines — guidelines that require males who identify as girls to use the same sleeping, washing, and changing facilities as females, without the prior knowledge or consent of parents. If girls object, the only remedy is to ask for a private space away from the others, or not take part.

“Girls are being groomed to ignore their own boundaries, to put the needs of males above their own, to never express a preference for single sex spaces for fear of being labelled a bigot.” Watts told me. “It’s revealing that while the Guides trans policy emphasizes that trans children must be protected from harassment and victimization, no such protection is offered specifically for girls who must have single sex spaces.”

As Helen also pointed out, “In all seriousness now, if Yaniv was in the UK and so inclined, [Yaniv] could be a girl guide leader. Girlguiding policy is that being a woman is a matter of self ID. Anyone who says they’re a woman can be a leader. Assuming [Yaniv] passed a DBS check (no convictions) then [Yaniv] is in.”

Women like Watts are now tagged for violence as “TERFs” by both gleeful misogynists and unthinking children who insist they are protecting the most vulnerable. Aimee Challenor is very likely a damaged young person for whom we should have sympathy, but sympathy should not extend to enabling such people to take influential lobbying roles with young people’s organizations.

And must it again be pointed out that both organizations have a duty of care — not only to the vulnerable LGB people who are affected by their guidelines and policies, but to Aimee Challenor?

One thing is certain, there is no way this person should be giving Stonewall any kind of advice. And while they are, no-one should be taking advice from Stonewall.

Graham Linehan is the comedy writer and director behind Father Ted, The IT Crowd, and Black Books.