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lady-of-tearshed · 8 months ago

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The Monster Bed

Cassian x Reader

Summary: You're enjoying your mate's presence after he just came back from a two days mission with Azriel, until an intruder makes its way into the bed.

Warnings: Spiders? Spiders.

A/N: This is chaos, pure chaos. But hey, it's Cassian. We wouldn't expect less from our dramatic General now, would we? 😌💕

The nights were starting to get cooler in Velaris at the approach of Solstice. You were tucked tightly in bed, trying to keep your body warm without your favorite bat boy.

You had managed to fall into a light sleep after a while, until you heard familiar footsteps quietly making their way to the connected bathroom of your chamber. You smile through your sleep at the general failed attempt to be discreet with his big-ass boots reaching his destination. The distant sound of the shower running made you lull back into your slumber.

You purr when you feel the mattress shift behind your back, and feel a strong pair of arms wrapping around your body, heating it up instantly. You feel your mate gently kissing the back of your neck, his large hands traveling on your skin to caress the curves of your body.

“Mh… Welcome home, General…” You grin and slowly turn your head to look at him through half opened eyes. You scan his face and body quickly, making sure he hadn't been too injured in his recent mission. He kisses your lips and groans in content at the feeling of you in his arms, enjoying the feeling of finally getting home, in their bed, with you laying at his side.

Him and Azriel have been away on a mission for only two days. Those two days, he had slept on a mat without anyone to cuddle, since Az strictly refused to act as his body pillow. Cassian had missed you so much that these two days had felt like years- no, decades to him. “Did you miss me, princess?” He wiggles his eyebrows playfully and trails a path of kisses on her neck, taking a big sniff of her sweet vanilla scent. Cassian loved your scent so much that he could bath himself in without any shame about his brother teasing.

Your mate's usual playful and flirty behavior makes a tired chuckle fall from your lips. You caress his hair gently, too tired to scold him on the fact that he should have dried them before getting into bed, especially with the cold weather that pierced through the wall of the House of the Wind. “Mh… I did. It felt weird to fall asleep without anyone snatching the sheets off of me in their sleep...”

He giggles against your neck at your teasing response and gently starts nipping at the skin of your neck when the scent of your arousal starts to fill the bedroom. He moved his kisses to your collarbone, making you roll on your back with the palm of his hand. You bury your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, but as he rolls you on your back, something cold brushes against your leg. Something cold and… fuzzy.

Cassian halts everything he was doing when he feels you suddenly flinch, and he frowns, worried. He lifts his face off your neck to look into your eyes and ask softly. “You're okay, princess?”

You try to move your leg slightly, checking if maybe you had imagined that weird feeling. But the thing seemed to climb up your leg at the movement. You squeak and stand up straight on the bed, Cassian doing the same without even knowing why he was panicking too.

“What?! WHAT?!” Cassian eyes are wide as he's up on the bed, holding you close to him and watching the duvet as if a monster was about to come from underneath it. The two of you were screaming like idiots, standing up on the bed, Cassian holding you close without even knowing what they were scared of. The door of your bedroom slams open as the both of you are still screaming and squealing in panic.

“What the fuck is happening?! Are you naked?!” Azriel asks from the bedroom door, his eyes covered as his shadows rush to the bed and tangle with the sheets to figure out what was happening.

“NO! SOMETHING TOUCHED MY LEG!” You say, making Cassian scream even louder.

Not a manly scream, though, more like a high-pitched squeal. “IT’S BRYAXIS!”

“SHUT UP CASS! IT FELT LIKE A SPIDER.” You say as you jump into your mate’s arms, making him almost lose his balance and fall off the mattress.

Az opens his eyes and scans the room, but his shadows are quick to report the bed intruder. He snickers and pulls off a pillow from under the duvet. He brushes the cold zipper of the pillow against your leg, and you shiver, cheeks reddening.

“Well, guess I found the intruder… My job’s done now. Good night.” Azriel snickers, and heads out of the bedroom quietly.

You shyly move down from Cassian's arms, and you both lay back in bed, in silence. An awkward lapse of time passes as the both of you stare at the ceiling, your faces burning red in shame to have disturbed the shadow singer for something as stupid as a pillow zipper brushing against your leg.

“No more zippers in the bed.” He finally breaks the silence and turns around to spoon you close to him, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

You simply nod your head, wiggling closer to him. “Yeah…”

He kisses the top of your head and strokes your arm as he starts to drift to sleep. He hears you chuckle, so he groans. “What.”

“You thought it was Bryaxis? Seriously, Cass?”

He nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck and growls in annoyance. “Shut up… sleep.”

You smile and bite your lip, trying not to burst into laughter about how scared the General was of Bryaxis… “Alright. Good night Cassie, love you.”

He smiles and whispers, his voice full of love. “Love you too princess…”

☆•☆•☆•☆

Bryaxis had almost peed on himself from laughing too much when you told him about you and your mate's eventful night the next morning. Bryaxis's ego was inflating when you told him how scared the General still was of the beast even after all these years.

A/N (again lol): I forgot to mention: Based on true events... 🫣

#acotar #fiction #fluff #light angst #my fic #acosaf #x reader #acotar fandom #cassian x y/n #x y/n #cassian x you #cassian acotar #cassian acomaf #cassian #cassian x reader #general cassian #writing #bryaxis

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oogalybooglay · 3 months ago

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[fishy dish!]

Start our restart au!

(You, Sebastian, and p.AI.nter finally get to your family on the beach, but, Sebastian is scared, but finally gets to eat normal food again!)

tw: swears, but its me swearing in the authors interjections and time skips because hell yeah

THIS SHOULD BE READ AFTER READING /start our restart/!!!

Sebastian had fallen asleep in the back of the van, you could hear his snoring. The back of the van was rather cramped (for Sebastian at least) so you were surprised he fell asleep, p.AI.nter moved on from sketching the clouds, and started sketching you (authors interjections: silly guy :})

soon enough, you saw your family home, and the sparkling sea next to it. It’s all just…… so much, the fact you were free, the fact Sebastian and p.AI.nter were with you, and the whole world knew your stories…..

(authors interjections: with the family home thing, don’t live near the sea? To bad! You do now 😈 /j, it’s for story purposes TRUST 🛐)

you spotted the family that could get there on the standing on the drive way (authors interjections: idk how to write this because…like… what if one of you readers don’t like the family thing?? ughhhh I’m just kduiansgemsk jelp me idk what to dooooo)

you parked, Sebastian could feel the stop in movement and raised his head and yawned,

“mmmmphhh where are….we..??”

You looked back at him, and spoke

“….home….”

you step out the car door and were rushed by your family, in a rib crushing group hug (author interjections: you had been framed, so you aren’t a criminal, if your wondering why they aren’t concerned or scared)

a tiny time skip

Sebastian was still in the car, watching you from the window, he was a social person when he was human, but now? He was a monster… what if your family is scared of him? What if they hate him? To many possibilities….you had taken p.AI.nter out of the car already, you knew Sebastian was scared, p.AI.nter really didn’t care, plus? He was a robot/Ai… kinda hard to be scared of a thing with no limbs

Your littler cousins and siblings talked to p.AInter, questioning him. You walked over to the car, and opened the door to the back of the van, and spoke to a scared Sebastian.

“what if their scared of me…?”

“they’ll LOVE you…. You’re funny and witty and…… you! That’s all that matters…”

“……….……I’m trusting you {name}”

you took Sebastian’s big hands and led him out of the car, he looked around suspiciously, your family looked shocked at his appearance,

“I told you…..!”

“Sebby… it’s ok… it’s not everyday you see someone like you, but that doesn’t mean their scared”

“Hmph…”

Your turned back to your family group and spoke,

“this is the….person…. Everyone has been raving about, he’s completely safe I swear, he’s just….different“ “yeah… different”

one of your little cousins spoke, they were young so they didn’t really know how to regulate their words

“he looks weird………but cool!”

you looked over at Sebastian, who was clearly still nervous, which was funny being that he was a 10ft tall eel/whale/mantis shrimp/angler fish, {REDATCTED}, etc, mixed mutant

time skip because I’m not writing an entire fucking scene of just that lmaooooo, I’m lazy ok? 😭

you had entered the house, that since you hadn’t seen it in a while, was basically a mansion, but smaller and not as.. rich-y. Sebastian looked around, he had to duck to get in the door, fidgeting with his hands…. His third arm by his side, your younger relatives stared at him, not even trying to hide it. You told them to knock it off, the house was big, but Sebastian REALLLY didn’t want to accidentally crush a small child so he had to be careful (authors interjections: nah, fuck them kids)

You tried to reassure him while walked around your childhood home, finally having your freedom back, p.AI.nter was interacting with the kids, and the adults looked at him with confusion. Your family had set up a room for Sebastian to conform to his….. big…. Size (authors interjections: IM NOT BODY SHAMING I SWEAR TO GOD. HES JUST 10ft LONG-)

Another time skip because I’m FUCKING LAZY.

you walked into Sebastian’s new room, he was slithering around in it, trying to make sense of the fact he was free, you spoke,

“we have food…. If you wanna eat… it’s a lot I know…. It’s probably wayyy more confusing cus you where in that god forsaken place for 11 years… you can…. come down when you want”

“…….. thank you…. For this….”

“No need to thank me sebs….”

(Author interjections: I want to kiss that fish so bad but he doesn’t exist ☹️ no fictional crush has had me wilding like this until Sebastian came into my life istg)

You walked back down the stairs and joined for family for your first meal back… it’s was… nostalgic… but welcomed… soon enough, Sebastian struggle-slithered down the stairs, he made it though. You told your family he might get a little emotional, or at least would be really nervous. And he was, poor sebby was almost shaking, where was p.AI.nter? God knows, He doesn’t have to eat but he’s easy to find soooo. Sebastian sat on his tail like he did when he was at the hadal, it was muscle memory at this point, (authors interjections: OOOOOOO IMAGINE THE CRAMPS OH MY GODDDD POOR FISHY)

He stayed silent, for someone who was always chatty. It was surprising to hear him not talking your ear off, (authors interjections: I DESPISE describing people eating, why? I DON’T FUCKIN KNOW 😭😭 IT JUST MAKES ME EWWWWAJUAKANSSJJEID, so I’m just gonna avoid it 😜)

Sebastian hadn’t had a PROPER meal in… 11 years. 11 YEARS! (Authors interjections: 11 years is gonna come up a lot get used to it LMAOO) he tried to hide the fact his tail was slightly wagging because he did not handle embarrassment good at ALLLL, and he hid his smile, you could tell though….

Your family seemed confused by him, made sense. Made a lot of sense. Tears slightly welled up in Sebastian’s three glowing eyes, you spoke,

“you good sebs?”

“I-I’m- don’t call me that!- I’m fine. I-I’m perfectly fine…”

“Im taking your word for ittttt.”

One of your relatives asked about the hadal, and what it was like in there

“……………bad… it was-“

“Hell…. It was basically hell… you weren’t safe anywhere…it’s why I’m like this…!!! Sorry-… t-to much detail-…”

Sebastian spoke, then apologized, he wasn’t wrong though….. your relatives realized they hit a sensitive topic and stopped digging about it

Sebastian finished eating, (authors interjections: that HURT to write, it’s three words but I had a VISCERAL REACTION TO THEM 😭) and struggle-slithered back up the stairs to his now room. He set up a little “nest” in the corner of the bed, putting all the pillows and blankets on the bed corner farthest from the door, being defensive was a habit hard to break…

but life was gonna be better

so. SO much better….

and Sebastian? Was ready for it

for the most part at least

KEKEKEKEKKEKEKE ITS DONEEEEE!!! I know there’s not a lot about him eating but fishy dish is such a good title I can’t change it- 😭😭

also, don’t be afraid to comment! Criticism, praise (PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE-) things you found cute or funny? Anything! (Be nice please I’m sensitive -☹️ (/j))

#sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace #fanfiction #pressure roblox #proshippers dni #comshippers dni #start our restart au

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citrinae · 1 year ago

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caramel, salted.

sanji x reader

contents; you seek some free entertainment by venturing into the men's quarters. or: sanji is pathetic in two acts. explicit content, femdom, cunnilingus, facesitting, worship, smoking, sanji being his own warning. some fluff towards the end because i’m weak your honour. afab!fem!reader, wc: 2.6k, mdni. this gets lowkey unhinged at some point so proceed with caution i'm so sorry.

Here’s a thing you can tell about bored people: they’re handwork. More often than not you come to discover about yourself that boredom throws you into situations that would never cross your mind, disconnects you from yourself and moulds you anew as you witness the outcomes of your decisions unfold like a side-street circus act. And as much as you could agree with those who say that you shouldn’t put unfavourable behaviour down to some higher power with a weird sense of humour, neither could you deny the thrill, the restlessness, the refreshing sense of freedom you feel any time you let your body act on its own. Sometimes feeling bored leads you down to feeling creative.

Right now it finds you in the hallway towards the male quarters, leaned against a wall with your foot tapping uneasily against wooden flooring, a lingering “what if” pressed unsaid between crossed hands. What if, and why not, after all, when Sanji would collapse down to his knees at the smallest look you tossed in his direction. It irks you, truly, how you cannot get through the middle of a sentence without him complimenting—your thoughts, the tone of voice, ah, ma choue, apologies but your lips moved so beautifully around that word—or trying to get under your skin even more with his usual display of indiscretion. Like that time when he accidentally let it slide that he spends two hours a week siestaing by himself in the men's quarters.

But you’d lie if you said you haven’t been fueling it yourself, with elbow touches and furtive glances and leaning down his shoulder when you’ve had a few too many. Sanji unlocks something vicious in you that you cannot quite place, or simmer down, and despite it all, you’d often watch yourself with astonishment as you poked around for more.

It’s always so easy with him.

It infuriates you. It’s exciting.

Skipping a beat, you peer left and right for what you counted as the twentieth time before your steps lead you in front of an arch door at the end of the hallway. You knock. Once, twice, thrice, and you begin to hear some movement on the other side as you do. Loose, unbothered, “hurry up you freak”, Sanji trudges his step towards the door handle and peeks out.

“What,” he says, but swallows it soon after noticing you. He’s at his most casual in beige shorts and unbuttoned shirt, uncombed hair curtaining a fraction of his face. His voice chokes up in his throat while thinking of a thing to say to you.

His gaze feels heavy against you, and for a minute there you consider changing your mind. “There’s no way in hell I’d let you win this one”. Air piles up in your chest, stays there for a while. Yet your exhale is loud enough to make a decision for you. With a finger you start pushing him a few steps back, desperate to get inside without being seen, “Don’t say anything and lock this fucking door.”

He obliges, reaching the key to the room at a pace as fast as you expected of him. “It’s not the first time you lock yourself up in here, now isn't it?” You fold your arms as you further watch him rush the key into the lock. “You truly have no shame.”

“In my defense, sweetheart,” he leans against the door, his eyes glued to your figure. You soon notice he’s been holding his breath. “This time I’m not the one asking so enthusiastically to be alone in a room with you.”

You click your tongue. The room is dim and layered with wood that creaks the moment you press a footprint into it. Without another word you clutch Sanji by the collar of his shirt, glazing the surprise on his face with a kiss as you do. It’s a taste you relish, bittersweet with bergamot and the cigarettes he sucks on for dear life. Sanji moans against your lips, and it doesn’t get long until his hands are flattening all over you, too, as he lets you speed your way towards his hammock. Hands on hips, chest against chest. You rip a second whimper from him as your nails reach the skin under his shirt and dig themselves into his back. He kisses your jaw, buries his head into your neck. The low flicker of the hang lights and the sway of the ship blend with the staccato rhythm of your breathing; the salt in the air dissolves on the roof of your mouth like a broken promise.

When his tailbone hits the bedding, he dives a quivering hand for a smoke and lighter. A snap, flame eating through paper. But before he can even take his first drag, you’ve already snatched it from him, greedy and cruel and downright captivating, pushing it between your own lips with a self-indulgent hum.

Nicotine scrapes your lungs as you pull on the cigarette; ease yourself on one of his thighs. Sanji watches with his mouth open when you blow the smoke into his face.

“Darling, please,” he breathes out. “I—”

“I know,” you say, leaning at a finger’s length from his face. The tip of his cigarette is all stained with your lipstick and he drags on it like a starving man after you’ve brushed it back into his mouth. “You don’t deserve to be treated so kindly, you know that, right?”

Acknowledgement is a silent strain that forms inside his throat. He places a kiss on your collarbone. “I can make it up to you”, he says, lips climbing across your neck and up to your ear. “Please,” simple, breathless, taking your earlobe between his teeth. “I can treat you like a goddess, sweetheart, as long as you’d let me.”

“I was counting on that,” you retrieve the cigarette from his fingers. Seconds pass as you take another lungful and flick off the ashes into an improvised ashtray left on Sanji’s bed. “Now, lay on your back.” It’s an order, which he follows without protest. You know it’s a thing of instinct that he brings his forefinger to his nose while watching you slide off your pants and climb your way to his chest. Sanji earns his reassurance in the form of a smile and a peck on his bottom lip. “Good man.”

“Come here,” you hear him drawl, impatient, dragging your hips over his face. Without warning you begin to feel his tongue on the inside of your thigh and your breath hitches the moment he reaches your panties. At first, he doesn’t bother to take them off, his mouth delirious to enjoy your wetness through the fabric. Sanji turns out to be a quick learner, too, as he makes sure to press his tongue against the spots which have you sounding sweeter, tightening your thighs harder around him, and he seems to savour each moment he gets to spend entertaining you. He moans against your panties when your fingers bury themselves into his hair to guide his movements.

Heat builds up in your stomach. It’s not enough.

“You’re teasing me,” leaves you faintly, slowly. “I want to feel you for good, Sanji, c’mon.”

And you don’t know if it’s the sound of your voice, or simply the raw, unrehearsed ache to be touched which has been manoeuvring your movements ever since you stepped into this room, but Sanji is happy to further do your bidding if that means he’ll get to witness more. Fuck, and what a sight you are, rose-cheeked, teary-eyed, straddling his face with both the grace and urgency of a divine calamity; he’d never learn how to say no to you.

Pulling your panties aside, Sanji is gentle as he starts stroking a finger inside you. His tongue readies itself at your clit when he heaves, “Like this, darling?” Your hum is soft, enough. He leaves a sultry kiss on your clit before taking a minute to admire the sight. “So beautiful.” There’s a strange affection in his voice that urges you to turn your head towards the ashtray where your cigarette sits now, discarded and forgotten, but you cannot help but yelp again when his tongue rolls so greedily against you, revering you, drinking from your core as if he’d been eating from Dionysus' hand.

Even more than he enjoys hearing you, all dazed and unfocused, Sanji adores losing himself to the taste of your slick, adores it tenfold when your hand finds the side of his cheek encouraging him to keep up, “Should’ve had you sooner like this, huh. Starved and pretty under my pussy.” You start your own pace as you speak through shreds of sound, hips chasing your release in wet and messy bounces against Sanji’s face. “You must be thinking a good lot of me.”

Sanji lets out a heavy exhale. He did, in fact, shamelessly, pathetically, dream of this moment with you, a little after you’d joined the crew. Not once did he find himself jerking off to the thought of you, a smoky smile, your eyes on him, sweet nothings like apple and cinnamon into his ear before he’d smother you in kisses and eat you up. Taking in your perfume as he’d bend you over the counter of the kitchen, a halo forming round your hair where the light would hit just right. And a good number of nights passed with him trying to assess which flavour would work best with your voice while hanging from the sounds of his name.

“Fuck, fuck,” it’s ragged against you, sending shivers to your core. With your body swinging in the dimness of his room, Sanji feels like he hasn’t been weaker in his life, and it only takes him a meaner pull at his hair and a look at your bitten lips to come right here and now. He continues lapping at you through his orgasm, the sensation he coaxes from you as he does allowing you no time for whatever tongue-in-cheek comment you might’ve come up with in similar circumstances.

You settle on his name instead, and it melts on your tongue as his grip tightens on your hips, bringing you closer and closer to your edge. When you get there, your voice shudders on a deep vowel that you try to bite down into the palm of your hand. Wailed and open-mouthed, Sanji wastes no time as he licks against the dampness spilling over him, being taken through bliss a second time now with the image of your crescendo leaving electric shocks throughout his body.

The hammock is rocking silently under your figures. A moment passes as you stare down at Sanji’s lips, reddened and coated with your slick, parting for short breaths of air. He lulls your skin with a last peck on your thigh before dragging himself from your legs and reaching for the corner of your mouth.

“My compliments to the chef,” he says, his voice taking to fragranced. “This was exquisite.”

“That’s because you haven’t tasted today's main course,” taking his chin between thumb and forefinger. “Would you be interested in trying, sir?”

Sanji’s goatee is still wet from eating you out. The corner of his lips hitch an inch higher on his face as he fixes you, languid and hot. “Only if you promise to kiss across the rim for me, sweetheart.”

ii.

“Caramel,” his voice starts through a cloud of smoke.

You’ve been laying together in his bed, legs curled and shoulders peeking out bare from the covers. The room is hot and your eyes heavy and there’s a pillow slung on the floor beneath you shadowing the memory of minutes ago.

You shift your head to meet his eye. “Care to articulate for us lesser earthlings, Sanji?”

Sanji lets a couple of seconds pass as he ashes his cigarette into the tray. “That,” he explains, and it tugs a brow on your face when he does. “Melted sugar. Not as easily handled as some would think. But it’s sweet, easy to fall for, and really sticks to you afterwards.”

“You’re such a dork,” you find yourself saying with a childish giggle and a thumb swiped across Sanji’s cheek.

“Or helplessly charmed by you,” Sanji adjusts, finding your hand and stroking it into his own with a softness that brings heat into your cheeks. You leave it there.

The door handle jostles on the other side of the room. You freeze. There’s a thud at the door, and later a hurricane of them.

“Open up you stupid pervert!” It’s Zoro. His voice is all steam and gravel as it bursts through the silence. “Told you last time if you can’t keep it in your pants at least be a man like the rest of us and own it.”

Three swords lean untouched against a wall you just now come to pay attention to. You throw Sanji a look. He slaps his forehead, hisses under his breath, “Fucking shit swords.”

The knocks continue.

“Sanji he can’t see me like this,” you whisper, hurling yourself under the covers.

“You with someone there, louse?” Zoro’s voice.

“Storage room, dear, go. You’ll be fine there,” Sanji searches for you between cushions. Then, to Zoro, “Have you mismatched your pills again, mosshead? Go see Chopper for a check-up.”

“I’m gonna mismatch your guts soon enough if you keep trying to be funny with me,” pressure on the door handle, flurry of pounds, a kick.

With a short tilt of his head, Sanji points at the ladder leading below deck, and this time you decide to listen to him, jumping from the hammock and accepting the clothes he’s picked up for you as you rush towards the storage room. The place is dark and damp and you can hear the wood shriek above your head as Sanji works some steps about the men's room and to what sounds to be his locker. “Curious to see you try,” caustic, dismissive. He throws something over the hatch you’ve descended through.

You put your shirt back on. Above you, a key is slung into the lock. Boots bite into the floor soon after.

“Now,” Sanji again. “Was it that hard to wait? Bad-tempered bastard.”

“Fuck off,” Zoro snaps.

“Understandable.”

A pause.

“The hell are you doing here?” he adds on; he sounds confused.

“Wardrobe decluttering. You’d use one,” Sanji drones.

Zoro isn’t buying it. “And you locked the door for that.”

Silently your body rolls through your panties, your pants.

“Maybe I didn’t want you guys’ dirty boots on my wardrobe?”

Shoes, "no sound, I beg."

Zoro says nothing.

Your lungs tilt with the lack of air.

Sound of metal against metal.

“Got everything you needed?” Sanji presses on.

More steps. Door creaking, “You’re weird.”

And he’s gone.

The sigh that escapes you then is loose, deep. You take the moment to press your eyelids close for an outline of your day.

Sometimes feeling bored leads you down to feeling creative. Other times, it leaves you with a ripple in your chest down the ladder to the storage room of the Thousand Sunny.

When Sanji opens the hatch for you, it’s with a wide, pleasant smile, and you don’t think twice before latching onto his hand to help yourself up. “This time. I’ll let you have this, for now.”

Staring at the piles of clothing scattered about the room, “Next time we gotta be more careful with the rendezvous point.”

Sanji anchors to the most essential part.

“Next time?” he leans back, hand dug into the pocket of his slacks, his heartbeat dashing off his eyes.

“Yeah,” you catch yourself saying. Your smile is one-sided as you step forward, turning towards the door. You stop for a minute to run a touch across his cheek with the back of your hand. “Be nice and you’ll get another after that, and another.”

Sanji knows then, lifting his hand to his face, watching your hips sway their way down the hallway, that he’s been caught under your spell, fully, permanently, and he’ll do anything in his power to assure you he’s a place to return to.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #one piece smut #sanji smut #mdni

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keeksandgigz · 3 months ago

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Chapter 2: Au coeur des ténèbres

Part 2 of Words are Futile Devices- A Steddie x Reader Call Me By Your Name AU

Summary: As some weird feelings come to light, you begin questioning your initial opinion of your two guests

cw: some suggestive content, reader's vivid smutty imagination. reader is a bit less of a cunt, brief description of insecurities (nothing too detailed), slut shaming if you squint, kissing, a lot of internal angst, overall a lot of words I'm sorry

word count: 3k

author's notes: I'm so sorry for the wait, but its here!!!

Heart of Darkness laid in your lap as you sat in your father’s study. Eddie typed away at his desk, while Steve looked at some old archeology dissertations from past students. You were often forced to sit in and listen to the guest’s nonsensical jumble of words and phrases in an attempt to sound smart.

You had been scolded by your father twice for trying to interact with Eddie, who seemed laser- focused on the parchment in front of him, the metallic clicking of the keys of the typewriter in the faint background of the stuffy old study. Giovanna had come by twice with a pitcher full of apricot juice from the garden, which the two had gulped down without giving much thought. You saw the way the juice dribbled down Eddie’s chin, how he lifted his thumb to clean off the mess, then wiped his finger on his black cutoff shirt and proceeded to continue typing. His fingers flexed and tensed in between typing, thick and sturdy as he stretched and massaged the palm of his hand with his ringed fingers.

Steve sat on the dark green couch, legs spread, his shorts riding up, up, up bunching at the crease between his thighs and his groin. One of his legs bounced as he reviewed case studies, artifact pictures, lip trapped in between his pearly teeth.

There wasn’t a whisper of a breeze, or a draft, but you shivered nonetheless. The two could’ve been patronizing and condescending, but that didn’t take away from the fact that you saw the way their skin, not yet tan from the sunlight, rippled with sweat at each whisper of a movement in the stuffy study. Steve’s leg bounced as he studied the pictures projected on the walls, his already short shorts riding up with each jump of his leg, exposing more and more of his thigh, you blushed.

This charged silence broke once Steve opened his mouth. He held up another glass full of apricot juice.

“What’s apricot in Italian again?” he asked, wiping remnants of juice from his chin.

“Albicocca” your father said, smiling. He went on a rant about the etymology of the word, which you really couldn’t care about. A fun little rehearsed bit he did every year, the students’ impressed faces beamed up the stuffy study.

“If I can beg your pardon, what you said is slightly wrong” it was Eddie. Surprise tinged your face in hearing him speak up. In the two days that you’ve known him his vocabulary was littered with grateful praises and quiet musings, here it had a slight tinge of pride.

“It’s uh— actually the Greek etymology for apricot comes from Latin. It’s praecoquum, then praecox, then precokia and then we get the Arab al- barquq— albicocca” he mused in a butchered italian, but all you could hear in his observations is just cock, cock, cock. He sounded nervous delivering his lecture, almost as if he was scared of getting kicked out for defying an authority of mind like your father.

Instead, he looked at him with an impressed smile, and Eddie blushed a bit. Steve delivered a friendly pat on the boy’s shoulder.

Not as lucky as many.

Later that day, when Steve stole your friends for a volleyball game on your lawn, you watched his sweaty body, clad in a blue swimsuit, shoulders flexing and shining in the early afternoon sunlight jump up and duck down along with the worn ball that keeps jumping between both sides of the net.

Eddie sat on the lawn, in the shade. His pearly complexion having acquired just the most undetectable sheen of red that threw the boy in a panicked frenzy earlier that morning. He was sorting through loose pages of what appears to be his manuscript.

“Why aren’t you playing instead of staring at me?” his head perked up from the typed up pages, and you could feel yourself heat up. Not even the sun could hide the tinge of pink that colored your cheeks.

“I could say the same thing about you” you stammered out, snippy and embarrassed.

All he could do was chuckle as he motioned his papers towards the book you had ignored sitting in your lap. “I like that book. Heart of Darkness? One of the few books I actually liked when I was in English Lit in high school” he smiled. A smile that seemed genuine, much different than the courteous smiles he had reserved for your mom and dad.

“And that was when the dinosaurs still roamed the Earth?” you curled your nose.

A sardonic laugh escaped the boy.

“Very funny. And how old are you again?” he scooted his butt closer to you, his loose papers now forgotten on the lawn. The proximity made you a bit nervous.

“Twnety-one” you breathed out “I wouldn’t give you any less than fifty- six” you nudged his shoulder and he laughed.

“Shouldn’t you be at some snooty college party right now? I dunno, traveling the world with some sorority sister?”

“And miss this gorgeous sight to behold?” your tone dripped of sarcasm as you pointed at Steve, mid jump into grabbing the ball.

Right as you said that Steve missed, ending up on the grass, a pained moan followed. Eddie isn’t given any time to answer you, stopping in his tracks and to run and pick up his friend to escort him where you were. You couldn’t care less about the physical ineptitude of your guest— if there wasn’t any blood or bones sticking out it wasn’t worth worrying.

“Pass me some water, please?” asked Eddie.. You complied, rolling your eyes as he began kneading the injured boy’s shoulder. He hissed at the first swipes of the long- haired boy’s hands— big and firm. You let down a short swallow.

“Steve you’re tight— you stressed?” Eddie asked, squeezing the juncture between the boy’s neck and shoulder.

“I’m fine Ed” he smiled up at the boy, but instead of moving, Eddie dug his fingers deeper into the golden flesh of the honey- eyed boy.

“Here, feel” he grabbed your hand and placed it on Steve’s warm shoulder— firm and freckled, still wet with sweat. “Isn’t he a bit tight?” Much to your shock you retreated your hand, but the feeling of the smoothness of his tan skin seemed to be encased in the fiber of the palm of your hand.

“Yeah, I guess” you muttered, going back to Heart of Darkness.

Dissatisfied with your curt and cold response, Eddie had your friend Chiara feel the back of the injured boy, whose fingers seemed to linger along Steve’s back for long, almost mapping every mole and mark to store in her mind for later. She was an artist, and an artist’s eye was never wrong.

Steve smiled at the girl, and in return she giggled. Once she left you closed the book in your lap once again.

“Careful, she’s gonna try to draw you naked” you teased Steve, whose eyes seemed to be glued on the way your friend scampered around the lawn.

“Like I’m complaining” he retorted with a cheeky smile, and that made you feel weird.

What did she have that you didn’t? Why didn’t he look at you like that?

You cursed the way you seemed to act too much like a grown up, the way you took yourself too seriously to even participate in a dumb volleyball game.

Maybe you should’ve played.

Taking your towel and your book with you, you made your way back into the house, almost stomping in protest, at the way the honey- eyed boy didn’t seem to spare you a cheeky smile or a wandering eye. Didn’t matter that they both seemed like two idiots who only cared about getting the experience from your father’s expertise, exploiting and squeezing the knowledge out of the overripe peach of his brain, which seemed to become less and less awake with every year that passed.

You disliked the way that Steve seemed to want to make a pass at each and every one of your friends, and them letting him. With his rude and pushy American ways of wanting to make everything his, his property, his Don John-ish manners that made him expect something from everyone he came into contact with.

You hated Eddie’s arrogance in his surveying and picking your brain, making the six year difference between you two seem like a chasm, with his snobbish knowledge of literally every book that sat on your bookcase. Fingers rubbing his stubbly, boyish chin as he examined each and every shelf, spine, title. He always seemed to have something to say with you, wanting to prove himself to the whole world, confirm that he wasn’t just some trailer trash who had finally made it out of the few acres of overpopulated land. You could not remotely fathom how those two were so close together, coming from such different backgrounds.

However, as you tried to silently beg for Steve and Eddie’s attention, that was seemingly anywhere else but on you, like an old, neglected dog, you seemed to realize that, in some twisted sort of way, you wanted to fall victim to their charm.

Like many of your friends did, much bolder, some older, and more confident than you had been, in the past years, not hesitating to pounce on your guests with hunger similar to a hyena. The hunger of a repressed teenage girl who had just reached adulthood, craving everything that came with it– even risque summer romances with men who had traveled around the sun for much longer than they had. Throwing their plump, glowing bodies on the dance floor around the sturdy necks of your father’s students. With every year that passed, you could not escape the vicious circle of your giggling friends, who competed over who would get to lure your guests into their greedy grasp first, and you’d all hear about it the morning after.

You’d heard about gorgeous but incredibly incapable men, well- endowed, but short, much older and more experienced. There was something about their stories, the lightheartedness in their laughs, as if playing with these men’s hearts and minds had become a game, that made you feel like a different person. Coming home and contemplating on leaving the communicating bathroom door open, so that your guest could catch you sleeping on your stomach without any shorts on, or adjusting your swimsuit at the pool right as they passed by to read on the lawn. You never brought yourself to act upon these contemplations, too scared of what your father might have thought of you, and rather, delighting yourself in tormenting your guests as a way to cope with a feeling of inadequacy that seemed to swell with each year that passed.

Ever since Steve and Eddie had arrived– young, attractive, and most peculiar thing of all, there were two of them– your friends could not stop arguing about which boy would have fallen in the arms of your friends. Anna had gushed about seeing Steve’s dick through his tiny, blue swimming shorts earlier that day during a game of volleyball, escalating into a conversation that hours later could not seem to leave your mind, as you sat on one of the lawn chairs of the balcony.

You had not entered your room, afraid your restlessness might have woken the two boys. Nursing a cigarette in between the intrusive thoughts of whether Anna was right. Had she already claimed her prize? A part of you stung at the thought that not even four days into their stay, your friends had already gotten their slimy hands on your guests. A different part had wanted it to be you to have received such attention from the honey- eyed boy. Would he have been attentive and careful? Or full of passion and bravado, much like how he’d presented himself to you since he’d arrived?

“This seat taken?” Steve had startled you. The irony.

You heard him let out a whiff of air, like a muted laugh “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He sat down on the wicker chair next to you, without waiting for your permission. He took in the still night air that had oftentimes brought you counsel, accompanied by the melody of the night cicadas.

“Can’t sleep?” he mused, playing with the woven wicker on the arm of the chair.

“Didn’t wanna wake you guys up” Your dry response was accompanied by a lazy drag off the half- finished cigarette. Steve reached an arm out in your direction, you took the hint.

“I was downstairs finishing some work for your dad, the jet lag still keeps me up” you watched his lips wrap around the cigarettes, right where your mouth had been just seconds before. Your breath hitched at the realization as he let out the smoke from his mouth, slow and deliberate.

“So, uh, you and Anna? I heard you guys had a thing going on” you passed him the ashtray on the small table next to you as he shook the ash off the cigarette and brought it back to his mouth.

He shook his head, “She’s your friend?” he asked, sardonically, turning away from you to look into the distant trees.

“Not really, rumors travel fast around here” you tried to keep your mouth shut, but something inside you just pushed you to intervene, to let him know that she was certainly not good for him. “And she also has a reputation,” you added, gulping.

He put out the cigarette in the ashtray, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and sat back on the wicker seat “Is that so?” A smirk adorned his face, almost as if he didn’t believe a word you were saying.

You nodded, heating up a bit at the way his legs spread and his shorts rode up his legs “She gets around” You avoided his gaze, looking at Giovanna downstairs in the garden, finishing up her last chores for the night.

“Never stopped me before” he retorted, shrugging. The sour look on your face only made his sly smile slice his face further.

“By the way your nose is curled up I’d say you’re jealous” he laughed, standing up. You heated up at the– very correct and very obvious– observation.

“I am not” you retorted, maybe a little bit more upset than you should’ve been at his dig, standing up abruptly.

“What is it then?” he inched closer to you. You could smell the remnants of the cigarette on his breath. You felt your eyes widen and your throat close up “You’re envious of your friends getting more attention than you? Am I supposed to feel bad for you because you feel inferior to them? Maybe if you stopped being a bitch to everyone that crossed your path you’d get laid too” With each stinging sentence the boy got closer and closer to you, his chest almost touching yours, and with each dig you swelled up with anger. Why was he treating you like this all of a sudden?

Deserved? Sure. You had been nothing but a raging cunt to him since his arrival, but his words seemed to intend to cut deeper than that.

However, instead of hurting you, his words only revved you even further, wanting most of all, to shut up his nonsensical attack against you.

You watched his heated expression as he stopped his ranting, leaning on the railing of your balcony.

“Well? Nothing to say for yourself?” he muttered, his voice much lower than his previous scolding. You couldn’t say anything, inside you were fighting demons you had only heard of from your friends. You were panting as if you had run a marathon, but to him, you were just a child throwing a tantrum.

He scoffed “Y’know what? Grow up” he laughed, before motioning to turn around. Something in your chest pulled you towards him. The need to become more like your friends, that had lied dormant as you had awaited to provocatively lure your guests into your room, had been nudged.

As Steve walked away heatedly, closing the door to his room, you imagined grabbing his shoulder with strength you didn’t know you had and spin him around before crashing his lips onto his.

Kissing him with a hunger that was only for you to satiate. Needing to feel yourself bloom out of a cage that you’d put yourself in because you took yourself too seriously. You imagined exploring his sturdy, tanned body.

As you got ready for bed, peeking your face into your guests’ room, where Steve had fallen asleep without changing out of his clothes. You imagined slipping your hands under his billowy shirt, as his hands gripped your waist so tightly that his fingers could have left marks in their wake. Slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, feel the softness of the skin underneath, scratching it with his fingernails.

You thought about intentionally upsetting him, just to have him that close to you again. You thought about his reaction to your tongue making its way into his mouth, licking and tasting his lips, his gums, his tongue. Wanting him to have access to you, to look at you. To peek his head into your room to find you asleep on your stomach, wanting him to see your scrunched up face as you transcribed your music, leaning against a tree as you read. Swimming with your friends, but only staring at you, at the way the water would drip off your body, at the way you would look while suntanning.

A devious thought pervaded you as you imagined both of your guests fighting to have you. Fighting to look at you. Fighting for your attention.

You laid in bed, drunk on the vivid images of your body undulating in between the two boys, heated and needy like you’d never been before.

Thank you for reading!! Feedback is much appreciated <3

tagging: @littlexdeaths, @strangerstilinski, @aphrogeneias, @usergeta, @rebelfell, @ali-r3n, @thornsnvultures , @jamdoughnutmagician , @take-everything-you-can, @aol19 , @eddiesghxst , @myspacebrat , @xxbimbobunnyxx , @cryingglightningg , @lavendermunson , @freak-of-hawkins , @eddiesdaydream , @sidereustales

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senbbonzakura · 7 months ago

Text

this was requested by 🐑 anon but the text was suuuuuper duper long so ill post it without the request, i hope thats okay!!

⋆ READER WITH MAIN 3'S SIBLINGS :

✩ — STAN + SHELLY !

IMAGINE GIRLS NIGHTS WITH SHELLY

and stan too..

shelly is literally like ur girl bestftiend.

gossip with her about literally anything

tell her drama that happened like 14 years ago and shes clenching her fists ready to fight someone

one time u were in stans room doing whatever and shelly looked at stan

"lets do makeup on him."

"totally.😈"

u two ended up doing skincare on him bc he didnt agree for makeup like 529 times

he fell asleep..

time to gossip abt stan then

shelly shows u some stupid pictures of stan or tells stories about all the stupid things he ever did

stan wakes up and the two of you are laughing at him

"what😿.."

he thinks you two did makeup on him while he was sleeping so he RUNS to the closest mirror

hes so confused when he realized that theres nothing on him to laugh abt so maybe he just said smth while he was asleep...

so you go like

"stan remember when you __" while laughing

HIS JAW DROPPED.

"WHY DID YOU TELL HER ABOUT THAT???"

"just bc, and thats not even the only thing i told her.."

✩ — KYLE + IKE !

if you two go to dates sheila would ask you two to take ike with yall

"ma, its probably a shame for ike to hang out with us..."

"noooo!!"

kyle tries to convince ike to not go with you two😭

"ill buy you something if you just stay home"

youre standing behind kyle doing weird hand movements to ike to tell him to come with you two...

kyle finally agrees

that cycle repeats, repeats and repeats until kyle finally gets used to taking ike with you😭

atp kyle is surprised when ike is NOT going

u play roblox/minecraft with ike on kyle's school laptop...

kyle just sits there like 😐

he wants some time alone with you too..

"cmon ike, i need my laptop to study so you two have to end playing for now"

"lets play uno then!"

u agree and kyle is hopeless

he literally has to babysit not only one kid but now two of them

u play first round and u win

"we need a rematch, not fair"

"hell yeah!"

you somehow convince kyle to play with you after a few rounds

ike had sm fun with u that now every time u come over hes waiting for you in the doorway

✩ — KENNY + KAREN !

"do you mind if we take my little sister with us..."

hes the one always inviting her

karen is OBSESSED with you

and ur obsessed with her

she feels so cool hanging out with you two

u definitely buy her stuff with kenny

she deserves that ☹️

ur date just turns into taking karen to fun places

u take her to a playground too

kyle had to babysit 2 kids but kenny, well.. he acts like a kid himself so its just 3 childish mfs😭

u and kenny play with her everytime and do kid stuff

literally feels like childhood again and karen is having the best time of her life

we all know abt mullet kenny right? right

kenny always used to let karen play with his hair so she knows how to do some stuff

let her play with ur hair too pleas

shes so upset when you have to go home

so she hugs you and doesnt want to let go😭😭

u end up staying a little longer..

shes so cutie

requests are open !!

#south park #south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park x you #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick x y/n #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #stan marsh x y/n #stan marsh x you #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh

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demonsword586 · 8 months ago

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Beelzebub Attacker part 5

Whew! Took a bit longer than I expected but still managed to finsih it on Beel's Bday

(Pg: Close up of Beel's sexy wet chest)

The moment you gave up counting,the Beelzebub moving inside of you thrusted upward with a thud,penetrating deeper and deeper inside you - deeper and deeper into a place you'd never touched,or thought you'd ever touch.

Mc: I'm so hectic,that I can't quite think!

Squirt-!

Against your will,you buckled at the waist,gushing clear water between your legs again.

Beelzebub: Ah,coming again. You,I mean. Not me.

Mc: (I know that!!!)

Beelzebub spoke in a uncharacteristiclly affectionate voice and pressed his hand on your stomach like before.

Mc: Urgh!! Don't touch! I'm feeling strange!!

Beelzebub: You can feel strange.

Mc: It feels good. Ah! No! It's....turning me weird!...Ughhh!!

Beelzebub seemed pleased with your response,and you could see the red glow of the VI VI VI markings in his eyes depen more.

Beelzebub: You're doing well. Keep feeling strange. Is it your first time squirting this type of liquid?

Beel 1: This is a waste.

Beel 2: Hmm...it truly is a waste.

Beel 3: I agree. It would be a crime to leave this behind.

Several Beelzebubs started using your body to rock and discuss with each other in a way that felt like choosing a menu at the dinner table.

Mc: Uhmm...what?...Aahh!!

Before you even realized it,Beelzebub had picked up a pace of rubbing infront of you.

Mc: Ah,ah,ah!

Beelzebub: Ha,ha...

Every time you and Beelzebub moaned together,the chorus of other devils around you increased in volume. It was as if they were getting off on watching you and Beelzebub have sex.

In the moment,you were the protagonist in the porn you always watched with bloodshot eyes.

As soon as you realized that,a eush of excitment and somehow smugness spread through your body like a fever.

At the same time,Beelzebub who had been relentlessly playing with your backside earlier pushed his finger which had only gone in a little earlier,all the way in.

Shwoop!-

Mc: Ahhhh! This feels good! Something's coming!

Beelzebub: I like it too....Something's coming?

Mc: Ugh,ugh,ugh,ugh,I think it's leaving me again!

Beelzebub: Huhuhu,is jt coming or is jt leaving?

Mc: Ah,ahhh! I mean it...Ahhhh! Its coming!!!

Squirt!!

Half incoherent and unashamed,you spewed out a fountain with your waist in the air,as though you coudn't control the movement of your hips.

The jet of water which was nowhere near as strong as the first one,didn't stop but continued to shoot out pointedly at Beelzebub.

Beelzebub let the water hit him with glee as he kept teasing you.

Beelzebub: Anyone would think...I'm on fire...

Mc: Ah,ah,ah!

As you watched Beelzebub's face that was much too lewd and gorgeous,you felt an excitement that far surpassed your shame, rolled your eyes and arched your back as you felt a finger enter your backside.

As if on cue,all the Beelzebubs ejaculated in union,spraying cum all over you.

Splat-Splat-!

Feeling like your entire body was covered in waem soup,you heard the sounds of a shower or rain as the cum dripped on to the floor where there was no longer room for it.

Mc: Ha,ha,ha...

Mc: (Cum shower...I suddenly crossed it out of my bucket list...)

Over your dazed and panting form,multiple Beelzebubs leaned in and kissed you all over as if they'd been waiting for it.

Everyone poured their love on you with relentless smooching sounds,but the longest and sweetest kiss was from the Beelzebub who had ejaculated inside you while holding your thighs.

When the lips parted with a smooch,all that reflected in your eyes was a pleased expression on Beelzebub's face.

The Beelzebub between your legs,so the one who brought you here in the first place,spoke.

Beelzebub: You...You really are delicious.

Mc: Ha,ha...What do you mean?

As you breathed heavily to catch up on your lack of oxygen, Beelzebub held something out to you with a refreshing smile.

It was a glass of Beelzebub's cum that the waiter had offered earlier.

It was a glass half-filled with clear liquid that wasn't cum,to be precise.

Mc: What is,eh...No way!

You noticed the contents of the glass and turned pale,but he didn't seem to mind at all and acted pleasently,raising the glass to the ceiling to catch the light.

Beelzebub: Yes,this is the last of the fresh holy water you spewed at me.

Beelzebub: Waiter!~ Keep this fresh!

When Beelzebub spoke,the waiter from earlier immediately rushed over,politely took the glass,and slipped inside.

Mc: (Eeeeek!!)

As you stood there speechless and dumbfounded,Beelzebub took your hand with a boyish grin far from the one he'dhad earlier.

Beelzebub: Mc,you are such a delicious person. Your body,what you make from it and your being.

Beelzebub: Your bodily fluids will be stricly preserved like mine and drunk in one gulp on the most important anniversaries.

Beelzebub: The day the war with Heaven is over... On top of the corpses of the three Seraphim.

Beelzebub looked terrifying for a moment,but then he smiled and gently wiped your sweaty face with the back of his hand.

Beelzebub: You. I'm liking you more and more.

Mc: Was this...What you meant by rest? Idiot.

Mc: I don't even have the strenght to put my underwear on by myself...

Beelzebub: Looks like you've had enough rest. Good girl/Good boy.

Beelzebub: Alright,let's go an have proper sex.

Mc: Huh?????

You momentarily blanked out.

You wondered if the rush of pleasure and dopamine messed with Beelzebub's brain and he was speaking nonsense,but you were already being lifted up and carried in Beelzebub's arms.

Mc: No! I mean,I don't hate it! No,wait,no,actually,I like it! I love it! But wait,I'm going to die!!!

But your words were soon cut off by Beelzebub's mouth,who was holding you and preventing you from saying anything else.

As you arched your back at Beelzebub's touch,the cum dripped from your body.

As Beelzebub held you,another Beelzebub approached,put his arm around your shoulders,and licked the drops of cum hanging from your nipples with the tip of his tongue.

Mc: Ugh!

Beelzebub 1: If you'll let me,I'd like to pierce this nipple later,I really do like you.

Beelzebub 2: Then,I'll tattoo your wrist while you pierce the nipple.

Belzebub 3: The wrist sounds good. Meanwhile,should I tattoo your ankle?

The Beelzebubs who still surrounded you chorused in agreement that it was a good idea.

Their stories quickly evolved into other topics and you didn't know which one to focus on.

Naberius: [His Majesty has severe ADHD,so if he changes his mind quickly on an important topic, it's not his brain that's bad;it's his frontal lobe that's bad.]

Mc: (Beelzebub has ADHD,so he'll get distracted quickly. So if I see an opening,I'll sneak out...)

Beelzebub: Oh,but sex comes first right now.

One of the Beelzebubs refocused on you,and they all looked at you and gave you their signature cool smiles.

(Pg changes to darkness)

And...

Over the course of the night,you learned the hard way with your 'entire body' that he was distracted by most things,but when he got hooked on one thing that interested him,he was more engrossed than most.

Meaning from head to toe,inside and out.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb beelzebub #whb naberius

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dtmsrpfcringe · 1 month ago

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the definitive dictionary and almanac of Tinhattery

hi, this will be a list of the main misogynistic accounts, definitions people have questions about, accounts you should follow and abbreviations— let’s gooo!! If you’re tagged in this I probably put you on the accounts to follow section. Adding a cut here because it’s long and gonna get longer

definitions!!!!

LCB- Used to stand for letscoffeebreak, she has since changed her username to dejadestalkearmeloser.

NGO- Nightgoodomens

Ingrav, Amy- Ingravinoveritas.

tardisrose- thetardisisblueandroseistoo

Tinhatters- A group of (mostly) tumblr users who think everything in these two relationships are fake and the women are abusive and the men want to run away.

Queeranoners- same as above, my favourite way to refer to them, coined by the amazing @theeminentlyimpractical

sheenbergs- Mix for Michael and Anna’s name

sheenbergnant- the amalgamation of the four bad bitches we love

sheenant- ship name for David and Michael. (Remember kids: shipping is cool but it’s fictional!!)

DT- David Tennant (Georgias husband)

MS- Michael Sheen (Anna’s boyfriend)

GT- Georgia Tennant

AL- Anna Lundberg

PR- public relations

GM- a…delegitimising way of referring to Georgia by refusing to use her last name. Instead use her maiden name. Note how they don’t refer to David as David McDonald

APAT- usually used by tinhatters (stands for Anna Plain And Tall) to refer to Anna Lundberg

PR (Tinhatter definition) - an omnipresent being forcing two rich white men who constantly champion human rights and lgbtq acceptance into a hetero relationship because they just are so oppressed and abused and not because they love their partners!

PR (actual definition) -the professional activities of an agency hired by a person, company, or other entity to shape, create, and manipulate that person/company’s public image. A public relations firm is often useful in helping a company manage its media reputation when a crisis happens, in order to attempt to minimize false information or slanderous statements which could damage reputations.

Shipping- Shipping (derived from the word relationship) is the desire by followers of a fandom for two or more people, either real-life people or fictional characters (in film, literature, television series, etc.), to be in a romanticrelationship. Shipping often takes the form of unofficial creative works, including fanfictionand fan art.

Shipping (Tinhat definition) - NO THEY HATE THEIR PARTNERS AND WANT TO FUCK EACH OTHER LOOK HE BLINKED IN HIS VICINITY THEIR PARTNERS ARE ABUSIVE I SWEAR

GREATEST HITS (posts that killed Tinhatters, feel free to submit your favourites in my inbox)

The breakdown of an anon

tassel jokes

backstreet cringe

Ingravinoveritas admitting it

Laurens amazing fuck off post that snowballed into half the fandom straight up saying fuck you to these people

HALL OF SHAME (Worst of tinhatters, again feel free to submit more)

• Taraiha’s rivals meltdown

NGO hates this fandom for…calling her out

it’s not a choice to be weird and creepy about people’s lives! (Again shipping is fine. This shit is not!!!)

it’s okay if you attack women just don’t criticise Michael Sheen (no idea what she was talking about with David) this same lady had another absolutely dog shit post I guess she removed?!

How dare women…have fun at their birthday parties?? (Part 1)

for a group constantly sexualizing David and Michaels every movement we can’t stand when a woman shows a little chest and has fun

Accounts you should follow!!!!:

@goodomenswarning - same purpose as this account, hilarious, an amazing friend

@badaziraphaletakes - calls out shitty takes in good omens as well, so much more level headed about toxicity than I am but I love talking shit with them. @thegeorgiatennantblog - best Georgia content

@fightingalgth8rs -bad bitches calling out extreme sexism

@phoen1xr0se - one of the best and I devour everything she posts

@davidtennantgenderenvy stands up for what’s right in the fandom, one of my idols and stuck up for me during a vulnerable time.

lmk more I need to add because I’m definitely missing some

THE REPEAT OFFENDERS (booo 🍅🍅):

Ingravinoveritas- one of the bigger ones, refuses to believe Georgia does anything nice for David, or that any of them actually like their partners. Can’t stop fetishizing gay male relationships to save her life. If David blinks he apparently wants to be bent over. Likes to pretend she’s not as bad as the others but has some of the wildest takes and said she felt threatened and scared for her life at someone making a Shakespearean reference. Professional victim

Nightgoodomens- a particularly nasty motherfucker. So toxic she’s quarantined. Misogynistic, ableist, um…yeah not much to say there except for the fact that apparently anything that David does that involves his wife means he’s forced into it. Would rather see them as abused puppies than accept they love their partners. Heavy on the homophobia and bi erasure since yes, fetishization isn’t allyship, it is homophobia. Everything is PR. She doesn’t know what PR means nor that David and Michael are not nearly important enough to have a 24/7 team controlling all social media and personal aspects of their lives. Neil gaiman apologist who blamed his sexual assault revelations on David’s support of trans people. Denies women flirting with each other and boils it to PR friendships??!?

Dejadestalkearmeloser- pretty much the same as nightgoodimens, flips shit when you call her out on it, I mean look at her pinned post about me and you’ll see. Also apparently I’m every account that doesn’t like her. Seems to have a problem with lesbians not liking her (wonder why lesbians don’t like the misogynistic people who only talk about the lgbtq community when it comes to fetishising mlm relationships)

Thetardisisbluesndroseistoo- flips shit at Georgia getting credit for anything, lost her shit on someone saying that Georgia has educated David on lgbtq allyship (he quite literally said himself that she does) later deleted posts when I called her out. Can’t stop laughing at that

invisibleicewands- really, really creepy about Anna, delving into her past and family to try and find…something. Body shaming. Mom shaming. The usual misogyny.

dtmsrpf- I guess a spoof on my name, belongs to one of the others on this list. The usual misogyny with a particular axe to grind against their looks and other things. Definitely a little salty.

georgiatennantunofficial (instagram)- extremely fucking gross. Body shaming and misogyny. Usual. You guys see a pattern yet?

#david tennant #good omens #michael sheen #sheenant #staged #rpf #anna lundberg #ineffable husbands #georgia tennant

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acapelladitty · 9 months ago

Text

Captain Boomerang/Female Reader - PetPlay

Summary - Collared and kneeling, Digger is eager to show just how much of a pathetic and slobbering pup he truly is.

"Handsome little devil."

Offering the praise with a small smile, you glance down at Digger as he remains kneeling on all fours like a dog - his body as quick to follow instruction as it is to cause trouble which was definitely one of his most attractive traits. Naked as a babe, his tattooed frame splayed itself without shame – the auburn hair which scattered across his body looking unkempt, particularly around his cock where his pubic bush was in desperate need of a trim.

Surveying him like a prized hound, you lean forward in your chair as you tip the bottom of his chin up with your toe, forcing him to stare up at you from his submissive position.

"That said, it's weird to hear you shut the fuck up for so long. Hmm. Bark for me." You demand, pulling at his collar as you lean even further from your chair to loop your finger through the blue leather which sits tight around his throat.

He follows the demand instantly, his sharp barking being followed by a wolfish smile which showcases his teeth - slightly stained and crooked in places as he looks up at you expectantly, awaiting his praise for a job well done. Between his legs, his cock hangs hard and heavy - the mushroomed head shiny with pre-cum due to its continued denial. He loved this, loved being put in his place, and it was a role you were more than happy to fill for him as your cunt floods with your own arousal.

"Good boy." You purr, ruffling at his messy, russet hair with a casual hand. "Maybe you deserve a reward. What do you think?"

His body is quick in its attempt to rise, and you quickly stop him with your foot as you press down on his shoulder roughly to force him back to the floor.

"Tsk tsk. No rewards for a bad dog who tries to walk when he should be crawling. Stay on your knees and come here."

Heat flushes across his face, his crooked nose glinting due to the slight sweat which sits across the bridge of it.

"Oops." He whines, playing into his role as he bares his teeth with a playful edge.

"Crawl." You beckon him with a finger, spreading your thighs invitingly to show him the mess that he was responsible for. "And you can show me just what a slobbering pup you truly are as you enjoy your meal."

For a man on his knees, he makes some speed, and it catches you off guard as thick, calloused hands envelop your outer thighs and his fingers knead into the flesh there to secure a steady grip while his face buries itself in your aching cunt. The sudden onslaught of sensation is intense and your back arches off the back of the chair as his stubble scores its way along your inner thighs as his breath teases at your hole.

Without hesitation, he dives in and his tongue licks a sordid line up your slit - ensuring that not a single inch was neglected as his tongue brushes across your throbbing clit. The small bit of contact makes your thighs clench in his grip and you feel the chuckle of his amusement as he repeats the feat until you growl and pull him away due to the overstimulation.

It's a mess. His sloppy movements somehow possessing absolutely no finesse as he switches his attention between your hole, his tongue swirling and pushing into you as he tastes everything you have to offer, and your clit, his lips circling the ultra-sensitive bud and sucking it roughly into his mouth. Your hands are rough in his hair, pulling at the ruddy strands until he grunts in discomfort, but nothing seems to put him off as he drinks in your every moan like a starving man.

"Digger!" You cry out, toes curling in the air as you dig your heels into his exposed, heavily tattooed back. "Don't you fucking stop."

"Never, darlin'." A muffled response, one almost muted by your cunt as it remains roughly pressing into his face. "Y'know me, I eat like an animal. Caviar or cunt - it's all good for ol’ Digger."

Choosing to ignore that sentence, you jerk his head forwards to fully put his smart mouth to better use. Shuddering into his enthusiasm once again, you settle in for the long run as you know his stamina will see you a ruined, writhing mess before the session is out.

"And don't even think about pulling away until your lips are numb, and I can't remember how much of a fucking pain in my ass you are."

Blunt teeth threaten your most sensitive skin for a moment and the sheer cheek of him brings a smirk to your lips which is quick to disappear as he resumes his role as the most eager little hound in Gotham.

#captain boomerang #digger harkness #captain boomerang x reader #digger harkness x reader #captain boomerang x you #digger harkness x you #ssktjl #suicide squad #suicide squad kill the justice league

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starsfic · 5 months ago

Note

mk finds a mouse

Pigsy learned that Xiaotian could raise the dead when the kid was about four.

Recently, a restaurant on the next block had started to have a pest problem. While Pigsy was normally glad to have a competitor out of the war for a few months, he was nervous. Pest problems tended to spread if not handled properly.

So, he started to lay extra traps and take extra care to make sure bugs or rodents didn't get in. He refused to shut down and have the shop across the street win! For a few weeks, none of the traps went off and there was no sign of anything.

Pigsy started to relax.

Then, one evening, he found Xiaotian huddled in the corner, staring at something. "What'cha looking at, kid?" he asked. They were closed now. Usually the kid sat at the bar or in his office, drawing. To have them over here was strange.

"She's dead," Xiaotian said in lieu of a proper response.

"Who's dead?" Pigsy asked, craning his head.

His answer was cupped in Xiaotian's small hands, holding gently like it was a kitten or something. What it was was a mouse, head nearly off but dangling by what looked like its spine. He wasn't sure why, maybe the trap had been weird, but his disgust came first.

"Xiaotian, sweetie, put that down-"

"No!"

Pigsy found himself freezing at that. The kid never spoke against him, either being quiet or agreeable. The psychologist he had been visiting and the books he had been reading said that clearly something had happened but Xiaotian could either not describe it or had shoved it down so far that they couldn't remember. Either way, this was a shock.

"I can fix her," Xiaotian said, holding the mouse gently. Their eyes pulsed a soft gold, like when they made that plant glow or were just hanging out with plants.

And, in front of Pigsy's shocked gaze, the blood and gore of the mouse's severed head shifted and twisted, pulling back into the body like it was a dislocated limb or something. The wound healed in a blaze of gold. Then the light and movement faded and the mouse sat there, limp, for a few seconds.

Then it squeaked.

Pigsy felt no shame in throwing the mouse out after that.

#LMK #Monkie Kid #LEGO Monkie Kid #cw: animal death #cw: gore #Pigsy #Qi Xiaotian #my writing #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #prompt fill #prompt fic

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a-simple-imagine · 11 months ago

Text

dancing lights

synopsis: just a lil partying with jordan

pairing: jordan li x reader

words: 1k

A/N - a two second scene from saltburn inspired this and i couldn’t figure out a full fic for it so…

WARNINGS - Drug use and swearing.

As time melts into the early hours of the morning. Neon lights flash and dance across the sea of bodies packed into the room like a giant sardine tin. it’s a strange period of time. nothing matters. nothing feels real. it’s all just a little bit of fun. it’s loud. it’s messy. your friends are all here somewhere but you can only focus on Jordan right now.

there is such a tenderness in the way they look at you; an admiration in those pretty dark brown eyes. they cannot keep their hands off you but it is far from aggressive. it’s a hand on the small of your back. or your fingers intertwined as you weave through the crowd. it’s a constant that makes you feel comforted. like they’re almost scared to lose you to the masses. and you simply watch as their body moves to the beat of the music. a blur of bright colour and swaying. it’s slow. it’s sensual. like they’re putting on a show just for you. they only care about you in your small corner of this party. he takes your hand; thumb gently brushing across your knuckles as he lifts it between the two of you. he presses a kiss against your skin before looking up to meet your gaze. “may I?” shouted over the thump of the bass. you are not entirely sure what they are asking for. you do not care. they could have anything they want, do anything they want, if it made them happy. plus you had consumed enough alcohol for the risk to be worth it. you nod silently slow. a dusting of white power decorated the back of your hand but not for long as their nose makes quick work of the lines. it is weird how into it you are. how you cannot look away. it is not an inherently sexy act. in fact, it’s far from it. it’s not even good but you are mesmerised. a deep desire for the person opposite only made darker by the flashing lights and dizziness in your head. their tongue glides over your skin to collect any remnants. it would be such a shame to let it go to waste. a delicate kiss is placed at the base of your wrist. A thank you for its service. It brings heat rushing to your cheeks. a feeble, almost inaudible 'fuck' leaves your lips as you watch. Their lips curl into a knowing smirk as they guide you closer. You are expecting a kiss as they slowly lean in but they divert to whisper in your ear. "Do you want some?" you shake your head and they fall back. His smile grows lazier, less controlled as they gaze at you. merely maintaining your stare and leading the peaceful sway to the beat. it's pleasant. it's soothing. you could stay in this moment but it's interrupted as you are ushered closer to him. His hands drift to your hips; applying a tiny amount of pressure. your smile grows to match theirs.

"You good?"

"yeah," they nod slowly. "I feel great." they press their body into yours. "you look... fucking radiant."

"radiant?" you repeat with raised brows.

"radiant. beautiful. spectacular. take your pick." a hand once again graces your jaw. it stills your movement as his thumb lightly slides down your bottom lip before they lean in to connect your lips in a feather-like embrace. Over before it even started. “the kind of beauty men went to war for," whispered against your lips. Wow. Such high praise. they really were high. As they drift away you reach over and pull them back into the kiss. it's deeper this time. desperate even. it fills your veins with want and warmth.

"you're much too kind," you giggle as you back away. "that's how I know you're fucked."

"When I compliment you?"

"the kind of beauty men went to war for is a little much," you respond.

"if that kiss was anything to go off, it worked though." he teases, a cheeky smile.

"Maybe a little."

"yeah?" hands that once graced your delicate hips now drifted lower to gently squeeze your bottom as you are pressed further against them. a sharp intake of breath you just can't help . "just a little?"

a shaky breath slips into the air. "maybe a lot." you reach up to peck their lips. "who could resist such charm."

the sun is scoldingly bright as your eyes flutter open. your head throbs with the many mistakes of last night. a slender arm is draped over your chest. Jordan lays face down beside you with their head facing away from you. this was their bed. their room. you groan loudly which causes them to stir.

“How you feeling?" you wonder quietly, shrinking away from the bright rays. they don’t respond as they push themselves up for a second before falling back down but facing your direction this time.

"I feel fucking rough man," they groan out against the fabric. "you?"

"absolutely fucked." you chuckle lightly. with their arm still across you, you shuffle closer into their embrace. snuggling up to their side. they hold you closer. you hum warmly at the contact. "do you remember what happened to Cate?"

"I don't think I saw her again after we all split up," Jordan explains. You roll onto your side so your whole body is facing them. They offer you a very weary smile. "Ah well."

"i’m going back to sleep" A faint hum from Jordan puts you at ease. You settle into their embrace and let your eyes fall close. "I wanna stay here with you forever."

"You wouldn't get sick of me?" they mumble out.

"Probably would," you joke. placing a chaste kiss against their bare shoulder. "But I'd stick around anyway." a comfortable silence comes between you and just before you can drift off entirely you remember what you wanted to ask. “should we get Vought-a-burger breakfast?”

“Definitely,” they murmur peacefully. “Later.”

#jordan li #jordan li x reader #gen v #the boys #jordan li x you

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dynasoar5 · 6 months ago

Note

you're such a unique artist and i love all your work so much, it means everything to me as a furry. like these technically impressive digital paintings that are often spot-on pastiche of venerated art movements, focused entirely on overtly fetishistic (as in niche/erotic) subjects. its a combination that absolutely demolishes any shame i feel for my own interests. i think it's also the perfect demonstration of the collapse between high art/"low art" that is so vital to the furry fandom. sorry if this is a little weird to hear as the person who makes all this art, but i think about your portfolio this way all the time so i thought i might as well let you know, lol

thank you so much for the kind words. I love knowing what people think about my work and the context around it! 🦕💖💖

#dynasoar5 #asks and answers

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ofmermaidstories · 22 days ago

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the australian government is trying to legislate kids under sixteen off of social media. so, if you are aussie and under sixteen, you won’t be allowed to have a sm account on sites like twitter, tiktok, facebook, youtube—and more.

i know our relationship with minors, as fic writers who write for other adults, is rocky at best. the rise in self-censoring and shame-based attitudes among readers in general is helping to kill any and all artistic curiosity in the next generation, which in turn makes it actively hard to be in shared, online fan spaces. it’s easy to blame the kids, but at its heart i think this is an active adult failure. our younger generations have gotten the raw end of the deal, in many ways; one of them being allowed to grow up alongside of material that they should’ve never had free access to, not without guided parenting.

And that’s the thing. the answer isn’t banning them. the legislation involved means that social media companies will be the ones to face the penalties (the fines) if minors break the new laws. which means—what? censorship gets even worse, in an effort to be even more kid friendly? Government-interest friendly? this talk started happening in the thick of the pro-palestine marches, as the movement was trickling into universities and highschools. And okay, let’s say it’s not that—what else could this be about? could it maybe have something to do with the fact that the australian government wants to implement a Digital ID nation wide?

"This one is for the mums and dads,” Albo, Anthony Albanese, our prime minister and prime dickhead, says in the announcement. “They, like me, are worried sick about the safety of our kids online. I want Australian families to know that the government has your back.”

But this isn’t about protecting kids. At the very best, they’re selling it as a scapegoat—like, oh! Haha, now you can just tell the kids it’s illegal!! It completely ignores the reality that people have to parent these humans. Like, it’s giving people, at best, an excuse to continue being lazy. They don’t have to sit down with their kids and the things they’re engaging with, anymore—because they’re banned from it! Instead having conversations about the media they encounter, it’s okay! You don’t need to worry about that anymore! The australian government wants to pretend this is about protecting kids from predators or online bullying, instead of parents confronting the fact they’ve created little assholes with unfettered access to tools to harass people with, or let their kids walk into traps because they haven’t taught them basic internet safety.

I have mixed feelings. Like any other (reasonable) adult, I worry about what kind of effects this much freedom to this much knowledge and drivel and personality can do to someone younger, someone who hasn’t like—had to learn how to make their way through a world where people are messy and a little weird and sometimes outright unlikable, but you have to still be professional about it, you know? I worry about things like micro-trends running the fun and excitement of digging in and finding some niche fashion that becomes your personality. I worry about status symbols like the right makeup and fitness pants and waterbottles getting popular too fast, and then cycling out just as quickly and creating a pace that kids without means can’t participate in as fast. I worry about podcasts run by sigma-pus males or whatever, tradwives selling glamour under the pretense of housework, like, so much of it. But these are all things that you as a parent have to negate!!! Like. You can’t just ban kids from the internet and then expect them to be normal about things whenever they’re allowed back—you have to teach them to be, to handle it. You have to teach them!!

I am saying this as an adult. An adult who likes adult things, and likes them in an open, easily-accessible space. An adult who would actively benefit from minor-free social media. There are things as an adult creator that I wanna talk about, or write about, in ways that aren’t always age-appropriate (or at all!!) for a younger audience. And look—my personal view has always been that as a fanfic writer, my responsibility to you guys (adults and sneaky-little-minors alike!!) has always been to warn appropriately on or in the fics themselves. That’s it. You get the warning labels on the tin, and you decide what to do with that afterwards. It’s not always perfect because I’m not perfect. I will make mistakes. I might not tag for something specific that ends up being a trigger for you. But the thing with fanfiction and fanfic communities is that we generally have to trust each other. I might miss a warning, but you have to trust that that mistake wasn’t a deliberate effort to hurt you. I have to trust that you guys know your own boundaries and will engage—or not!!—accordingly. I opt to treat my space here, my blog, as an open-one. Because it is! It’s a public blog LOL. If you have a tumblr account, then you have access to it! So, I try to treat this space like a public conversation in a café, or a foodcourt. Maybe I slip a raunchy little book over the table to you, and we make one or two rude jokes, or otherwise a stray rando catches the tail-end of a more serious conversation—but it’s all things I would be comfortable (enough) discussing with someone in a space where maybe I don’t know everyone involved, you know? I benefit from the knowledge that oh well, at least I don’t have to worry about local kids getting on here. 💀 But—I hate that for them!! Do I trust younger readers? Not always!!! I worry that they’ll get caught in the wrong feedback loop, that they don’t like, investigate claims or challenge information for themselves, that they’ve never had to! And hey, to be completely fair, I don’t always trust proper adult readers with that either LMFAOOO, but the point is that kids get more grace and more worry from me because they are still actively learning to be apart of things, of communities. And I think banning them from that is ultimately a mistake. To protect someone you have to teach them what to look out for, how to engage safely, how to trust themselves. And that’s not what’s going to be achieved here. This social media ban is a useless bandaid in the face of bigger problems (housing crisis, inflation, the AUKUS submarine thing i don’t even want to talk about it its stupid) that the government is waving around to distract everyone with. And it’s working. Because people would rather sit there and scroll on facebook, or whatever, instagram, instead of actively parenting.

#it makes me big mad bc my mum was like—probably my biggest champion when it came to reading #like she wouldn’t ban me from reading certain books. if i ever picked up something she had concerns about we would talk about it together.#and yeah that’s different from actively being on social media BUT a lot of what i learnt through her trust in that carried over to how i —#—engaged with the internet as an older kid and teenager and young adult #anyways i think it’s a slippery slope !!!!!!! fuck all governments they’re all evil #things like this seem bengin or even helpful but they only serve to tighten the noose around us all further!!!!!

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ro-sham-no · 2 days ago

Text

The Armpit Fic

It was glaring at him, almost, from the crease of Dean’s arm-and-torso as he faced away from Sam. Curly, barely-brown hair, teasing its way out just a little… undoubtedly cleared of any soap or deodorant scents as they had both more than sweated it all off in the hunt they’d just come back from… Sam sat down harshly on the closest bed - Dean’s - as his vision suddenly swam with humiliating levels of arousal. He wasn’t fourteen anymore, barraged with crazy levels of uncontrollable hormones that didn’t even constitute as arousal, really, but as it turned out, seventeen wasn’t much better.

Or,

The Hidden Side Effects of Wanting to Fuck Your Older Brother From a Very Young Age, an exposé.

cw: sibling incest, wincest, underage sex (barely, Sam is 17), armpit kink

Sam eyed Dean from across the room and flushed with embarrassment as a familiar warmth spread in his gut, oh-so-quickly. Humiliation, not because he was lusting over his own brother - no, they’d cleared past that a while ago. It was slow-going, exploring this thing between them in between the hunting-dad-school interruptions that never ceased, but they were getting to it. But, back to that embarrassment, that shameful flush currently on Sam’s cheeks: not caused by that social taboo, but instead by the ones hiding inside his psyche.

See, sometimes Sam’s arousal triggers were… unusual. They always had been, as long as Sam could remember. Probably started sometime after he discovered that his older brother was breathtakingly beautiful (that is to say, way too young), and before he discovered just what it was, exactly, that took Dean so long in the shower. That space of time, that weird limbo of wanting but not knowing how to want, before conventional things to admire about someone meant anything to Sam- well, it was likely to blame for his… thing.

Sam’s thing. The thing, that was his. The thing that was his and was unusual. Weird. Freakish. All words Sam already applied to himself, but this was different. Harmless, really, but Sam squirmed at the thought of Dean finding out all the obscure parts of his body that made Sam’s dick twitch in his pants. Like the way Dean’s nose crinkled when he focused on homework. The way that math, specifically, added that delicious fold between his eyebrows that crooked to one side. Same with watching Dean flex and roll his ankle, seeing his Achilles tendon scrunch up and then stretch out with the movement, so graceful and connected to the delicate arches of his brother’s feet. The way Dean would jump a little to jostle his dick into place in a pair of jeans that were a bit too tight. The list never ended, really; Sam had a lot of time to observe and catalog the bits and pieces of his brother that no one else got to see.

Another thing on that never-ending list was currently plaguing Sam, worsening as he watched Dean, shirtless, move about the motel room. It was glaring at him, almost, from the crease of Dean’s arm-and-torso as he faced away from Sam. Curly, barely-brown hair, teasing its way out just a little… undoubtedly cleared of any soap or deodorant scents as they had both more than sweated it all off in the hunt they’d just come back from… Sam sat down harshly on the closest bed - Dean’s - as his vision suddenly swam with humiliating levels of arousal. He wasn’t fourteen anymore, barraged with crazy levels of uncontrollable hormones that didn’t even constitute as arousal, really, but as it turned out, seventeen wasn’t much better.

“Sam?”

The Sam in question gave Dean a guilty non-look and a supremely chill-and-cool shrug as his embarrassment built, don’t come over here don’t come over here don’t come over here-

No such luck.

Dean walked his way towards Sam with no overt sign of concern, but instead with a graceful sort of casual ownership as he checked Sam over. You shouldn’t put your horse away wet, after all. Sam resented the thought even as it formed in his own brain.

Predictably, the hair was so much more visible from the front, peaking out as Dean’s arms swung mildly with his gait. Better- Worse, even before his brother made it all the way over, Sam could smell him- his natural, just-on-this-side-of-bad sweat smell. Loud, if a scent could have volume. Thick and sharp and intoxicating. Even more predictably, Dean’s eyes caught the extremely obvious twitch of Sam’s increasingly interested dick from where it was chubbing up behind his zipper. Mystery solved, Dean, Sam wanted to huff out bitingly, but meek silence won, struck dumb by the overwhelm.

Sam tugged his eyes away from Dean’s armpits (oh god) just in time to see a smirk develop on Dean’s face, sliding into a leer as he moved closer, “Damn, Sammy. Didn’t know specters got you hot like that.”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbled even as he spread his legs, easy as ever for his older brother. He leaned back on his hands to make room for them to talk, but ducked his head semi-shyly, trying to avoid the full force of Dean’s stare, which would pull every last secret from Sam’s lips in an instant.

Dean moved even closer still, bumping his sternum into Sam’s bowed forehead, ruffling his hands through Sam’s hair in a way that was meant to tease but really just came off as fond. Not that Sam would ever tell him that, of course.

Sam let his head loll to the side as Dean continued carding his hands through the mop of Sam’s hair, rolling his forehead on Dean’s skin till he was face-to-face with his secret quarry. Close enough, now, to spot where the minor discoloration of Dean’s underarm began, some specks of fluff from some shitty t-shirt Dean had worn caught by sweat and hair surrounding his armpit. Close enough, also, to let his eyes roam over the rest of Dean’s arm and shoulder, various aged tan lines and scars criss-crossing in a mesmerizing pattern, spattered with freckles to top it all off. Sam’s mouth watered.

Dean’s hand caught in a snag that made Sam inhale sharply, his senses flooded with the scent of sweat, blood, and dirt. And, listen, Sam was man enough to admit that the sound he let out at that was most certainly a whine, alright? He’s not fragile.

Dean’s responding chuckle vibrated through him, though too breathy to be considered mean, and Sam huffed with it, unamused by Dean’s amusement, ready and aching to get on with it, fully hard in his jeans and probably leaking. Dean was still just standing there, messing with Sam’s hair absently, and goddammit he always did this. Waited and waited and waited, infuriatingly, until Sam finally gave in and did something about it. Sometimes, Sam held out and acted oblivious until even Dean was shaking with it, clearly on the verge of just taking like Sam wanted him to, but never quite breaking. A math problem Sam was working on solving.

So, sometimes; Sam held out sometimes. Not this time, though, by a far margin. This time, today, Sam was two seconds away from mauling his own brother’s armpits and he did not want that to happen, the ammo it would give Dean would be totally insufferable. So, instead, Sam nuzzled into Dean’s torso, mouthing at it, picking his head up to lick and kiss and scrape his teeth over Dean’s most sensitive corners and divots. Dean’s breath was the one to hitch, this time, and his hands tightened in Sam’s hair, who groaned in response.

It was a herculean feat, but Sam managed to move further up Dean’s torso, away from the source of his temptation and towards safer territory, dragging his mouth up Dean’s neck, before finally tugging Dean the last few inches to bring their lips together.

It was slow and sedate, no eager passion taking over just yet. Dean was tired, Sam could tell, not getting the luxury of taking a nap while they got the hell out of dodge. They both were tired, if Sam was being honest. He should stop this, let them both rest. Should, he should, but he just couldn’t seem to make himself pull away. Still, Dean was tired - though equally uninclined to stop, it seemed - so Sam pulled him fully onto the bed before maneuvering him to lay back so Sam could crawl over him and press him down into the mattress, both of them sighing with the pressure.

They kept necking like that for a while, and it just- god , the smell of pure, unadulterated Dean was seriously getting to Sam, along with the way his hands bumped into Dean’s pits un-accidentally as he groped over his brother’s frame. Dean was getting into it, too, rolling his hips up harsher to match Sam’s overeager squirming.

Finally, Dean pulled back, head smushed back into the pillows as he gently pushed Sam’s face away when he didn’t get the hint, “Geez, Sammy, what’s got you so worked up? I mean, I’m not complaining, but shit, little brother.”

Sam whined with the nickname, all of seventeen years old and feeling like a pathetic little kid sat in big brother’s lap, fidgeting as his eyes flickered helplessly to Dean’s pits, drool gathering in his mouth in response and brain fogging over.

He tried to collect himself, “Dean- mmf, I just,” he couldn’t stop rolling their hips together long enough to talk properly, “I need-” His eyes dropped to Dean’s underarms again, sticking there this time, much to his dismay as he struggled to articulate.

But by that point, well, Dean wasn’t stupid, okay? His own eyes flicked down to whatever it was that Sam couldn’t seem to ignore, down at himself, confused about where Sam’s eyes were set, before-

“Dude, seriously?”

Sam cringed at Dean’s non-question, but then dropped his mouth open with want as Dean- Dean, he- Dean moved, suddenly a novel concept in Sam’s lust-addled brain.

Dean smirked as his hunch proved correct, watching Sam’s brain break in real-time as Dean spread his arms out, placing his hands behind his head, showing off the area that his freak of a little brother couldn’t stop salivating over.

But then Sam’s reaction surpassed what Dean was expecting, which was maybe some groping or huffing at most. Instead, the kid let out a noise like a wounded animal, eyes glazing over and tongue flicking out to wet his lips and staying there before he, seemingly involuntarily, dove face-first into Dean’s fucking armpit, of all things. What the fuck?

Sam was beyond any and all reason from the second Dean had spread out, brain actively blue-screening and dick fit to explode. He couldn’t help shoving himself face-nose-mouth first into it- god, fuck, the smell- the taste, the texture of the hair on Sam’s, well, everything - lips, face, nose, chin, tongue - and it was so coarse and so warm, and-

“What the fuck, Sam?” Sam blinked stupidly as Dean shoved him back by his forehead. Genuine concern was painted on Dean's face, alongside bewilderment and just a tinge of freaked-the-hell-out.

Alarmingly, Sam began to tear up, pawing at- Christ, Dean’s armpits, the younger boy’s tongue still out with honest-to-god drool slipping off of it. Jesus, the kid was gone. Sam’s eyes had filled up and spilled over while Dean held him back, still not coming back to his senses, and the noises he was making shot straight through to Dean’s dick, armpit-induced or not. Sam wasn’t even looking at Dean’s face at all, still just fixated on his quarry, like a dog with a goddamn chew toy. Poor puppy. Dean had the acute sense of being nothing more than a slab of sweat-stained meat, but he brushed it off.

Seeing his little brother so disheveled and wanton - worse, even, than the first time they’d done something like this - had Dean finally mumbling fuck it, before gently releasing Sam from where he had him grasped by the head and hair.

Sam wasted no time diving back in with a whine, still sniffling and with tears on his cheeks but consoled as he got back to the warm hollow of Dean’s body. His hips started rutting against Dean’s again on instinct, drawing gasps out of both of them. Dean, for his part, was… acclimating. It was weird, it was so, so weird. Having your seventeen-year-old brother reduced to tears over not being buried in your very sweaty, car-ride-ripe armpits. Which, what a sentence. So, yeah, acclimating.

Sam was now making absurd happy-snuffling noises, tickling Dean, making him twitch and squirm with the vibrations and, god, licks and sucking kisses and scraping teeth- who was Dean kidding, he was totally into this. Freaky, weird bullshit - as per Sam’s usual - but achingly hot at the same time.

Dean reached up (with the hand attached to the non-mauled armpit) to pet the back of Sam’s head, dragging his fingers through it and then down the back of Sam’s neck, petting down towards his spine. Now with his head in the game, Dean patted Sam’s shoulder twice in quick succession to get him to pull back, an instant reaction ingrained in them both by ages 5 and 9.

Sam followed through with a sad, huffed-out little no that would’ve broken Dean’s resolve if he was actually trying to get Sam to stop. That wasn’t the goal, though, so Dean kept a hand petting absently on Sam’s torso to placate the kid while rearranging himself and the pillows behind him so he could sit up slightly while still giving Sam room to… work.

Before he let the kid back in though, he ordered him softly, “Sammy, hey- yeah, I know, just a second- goddammit- just take your pants off, kiddo, Jesus I’m trying to help you.”

So, now Sam was naked on Dean's lap, and Dean's fly was tugged open and down enough so that just his boxers were between them, careful as Dean was to get the teeth of the open zipper away from Sam's bare skin. Dean pulled Sam in by the nape of his neck, hand tangled in Sam's hair as per usual, tugging him in for a kiss.

The sharp tang of his own body odor spread over Sam's face should have turned Dean off, he thought, but it did no such thing. It burned through his gut, taking him by surprise and sparking some animalistic part of his brain into acting.

Grasping Sam's head firmly with both hands, Dean manhandled Sam's head this way and that, tongue flicking out in long, raunchy swathes to lick the scent off of the boy; lips, nose, mouth, cheeks, chin- clean slate.

Sam was groaning into it, letting Dean mess him up any way he wanted to and grinding, always grinding, hands flitting up to the ones Dean had on him and then back to other places across Dean's body- hair, face, torso, shoulders. Naturally, Sam's fingertips slipped into the place they really wanted to go every so often, but Dean jerked his shoulders away every time, half in reprimand, half from being ticklish.

As the kiss went on, Sam got whinier and sloppier, tugging on Dean's hold, trying to return to his toy that he'd gotten so cruelly pulled away from yet again. Dean breathed out a laugh into Sam's mouth, recognizing his brother's antics and desperation and taking pity on him. He pulled away from the kiss but kept Sam's face in his hands, forcing him to meet Dean’s eyes, and there were those tears again.

“Hm, yeah, you need it bad, don’t you?”

With a stuttered breath and puppy eyes out to the max, Sam nodded slowly, lower lip caught between his teeth with apprehension as he was too Dean-stupid to tell if this was a trick or not.

Dean smiled up at him, smoothing down his hair reassuringly, “Yeah, I gotcha, Sammy, I gotcha.”

With that, Dean leaned up to press one last sucking kiss to Sam's mouth before sitting back, tugging Sam in by the nape of his neck until the kid got the hint and sank back down and in with an uncontrollable moan, letting Dean lead him to the other armpit, untouched and deliriously tempting.

Sam greeted it with an open mouth, an obscene noise on his tongue as his eyes fluttered shut, senses overwhelmed again with the warm sweat scent-taste-feel of older brother. Dean groaned with it, too, this time knowing what to expect and reveling in it. And if Sam was a freak for this, then Dean was right there with him, fuck.

Sam was whimpering, unsettled by the start-stop-embarrassment of the night, fidgeting and restless as he desperately tried to get back to that place from before, heady and clouded and safely enshrouded by Dean. Struggling, huffing, whining- all of it ratcheting Dean up higher, his brain lighting up with Sam’s pathetic desperation to burrow inside him and never come out. A sadistic streak best left for another time, probably. Shoving the meanness aside, Dean murmured soothing nothings down at Sam, carding through his hair and down his warm, smooth back with tender fingers, now able to reach down much further with their repositioning.

With his other hand, Dean reached up around Sam’s head and slid his fingers into the locks there, shushing Sam like he was a baby suckling at an overdue feeding, “Shh, Sammy, I know. I’ve got you, dude, take what you need.” A whine, a nod.

Hmm… better, but not best, Dean decided. He looked down at Sam, “Yeah, you like it in there, huh?”

Sam wasn't even listening to him. Sometimes you just had to reconcile the overlay of a needy little kid brother with the seventeen-year-old brat who needed to get smacked around to get him back into line.

Dean could do that.

He finished petting Sam some more before suddenly changing directions, gripping Sam's head harshly and slamming his face into Dean’s armpit with a rough shake, digging Sam’s nose into the soft-hard flesh and smothering him. A soothing gesture, a command, “Just fucking get in there, you dirty little freak.”

A wild groan of relief hit the air as Sam finally felt himself sink fully down into that fuzzy-heady space that he needed, all his vocabulary reducing to a needy plea of Dean, muffled against skin and hair as Dean shoved him in further, “That's right, fucker, take it, c’mon.”

A high pitched keen and renewed vigor, mouthing and sucking and licking- warm and wet and making Dean gasp with the strangest surge of arousal he’d ever had. Dean was quick to admit his nipples were particularly sensitive, an “erogenous zone,” if you listened to the Kama Sutra. But… his armpits? Unexpected, to say the least. But here he was, all the same, meeting Sam’s instinctual thrusts with his own hips as he was driven out of his mind by his little brother making out with his goddamn armpit.

“Fuck , there you go, Sammy, now you got it.”

Dean blinked harshly then, still writhing underneath his brother, but he had to focus. Little brother sufficiently soothed and erotically distracting with it, Dean moved on to the next step of the age-old program. He slowly took his hand off Sam’s back and reached over to the nightstand and brought back a bottle of cheap lotion, silently popping the cap and squeezing out a portion onto his fingers.

Keeping the, er- occupied arm curled around Sam’s head, still applying that firm pressure to it, Dean hunched further over his brother’s prone body and slid his greased-up fingers down between Sam’s asscheeks, startling the younger boy into a yell, thrusting forward before arching his back properly, giving Dean the access he needed. He dutifully slipped in a finger up to the last knuckle with ease- Sam’s body was always ready and willing for anything Dean would give it, Dean was figuring out,

“Such a perfect fucking whore for me, Sammy, barely even need lube, swear to god.”

Sam squirmed and cried as big brother quickly slid a finger into his hole like it belonged there (it did); baby-brother-helpless, naked on Dean's clothed lap and tiny with it, but still needing it, needing more, needing Dean- A steady stream of please please Dean please making its way out of his mouth unconsciously as Dean crooked his finger and pressed at his rim with another.

The angle was awkward but neither of them would change it for the world. Three fingers in now and Dean was impatient, his armpits raw with spit and brother-teething and his dick aching in his boxers, which were rumpled and askew from the force of Sam rutting against him. Dean's fingers got rougher, concentration shot as he tried to figure out how to finally get his dick wet, and Sam gasped out in response, nerves sparking and sputtering enough to get him with the program. He shuffled his arms down between them - never taking a break with his mouth, though, of course - and managed to tug Dean's clothes down past his knees, shifting to let Dean kick them the rest of the way off.

Dean quickly reached down to spread the lotion over his dick while he had the room to do so, groaning at an embarrassingly high pitch from just the perfunctory touch. But then Sam was getting distracted again, so Dean reached up to grip Sam's hip harshly, fingernail stubs sinking in to make up for the slippery lotion, Sam's side lighting up as he arched into it, following Dean's guidance and finally using his own hands to guide Dean's dick where it always belonged, where it should never leave; deep inside Sam, protected and protecting and fully connecting them together in a way that threatened of divinity.

The slide home had them both gasping, just boys in a motel room once again, nothing complicated looming on the horizon, just each of them and each of each other. Sam’s breath huffed against Dean's wet, sensitized skin and the older boy shivered with it, pulling Sam's head further in and with the other hand urging him downward on Dean's cock, throbs passing like tidal waves between them, reciprocal and unceasing. Sam was good at this part, by now, and it came naturally to him - something Dean usually teased him about, if he had the brain power, but not today. Today, it was all they could both do to keep it steady and make it good the way they had learned to together, Sam's hips rolling up and coming back down to meet Dean's, which were twitching up as far as he could without dislodging his little brother’s, uh, efforts.

Sam drew back slightly to bite and lick and teethe at other parts of Dean's flesh- the edge of his armpit, moving up to chase the salt of his shoulder, down to follow the freckles dancing down his arm, then pausing at the stop line of his farmer's tan, gnawing and kissing at it all around like it was tangible, reaching up and manipulating Dean's arm this way and that to get to all of it and more and god Dean just fucking let him- fuck.

As Sam shifted around and moved on (fucking finally- it was hot, but Jesus, kid), Dean got more room to work and soon they were slamming together harshly, jolting and quick, erratic but still somehow perfectly in sync, muscles subtly trembling with exhaustion and desperation quickly building.

The teeth marks Sam was leaving on Dean’s arms would definitely still be there come morning, probably for the next few days, and Dean couldn’t wait to revel in them; fingers prodding them back into soreness, teasing Sam with cut-offs that showed off his handiwork– erotic reminders all over his body, for days. All over Sam’s body, too, probably, Dean’s fingers clenching harshly on Sam’s bony hips, head tucked up - which, when had that happened? - to press sucking, juvenile kisses into Sam’s neck, in a way that was driving the kid wild.

After the excitement of the night, and what excitement it was, there wasn’t much buildup left to be had - though it really felt like they had just started, never enough time spent under each other’s skin, always more to be had. Regardless, the buildup had been so sharp, so blindingly bright, but in the end, the peak was soft.

Dean pulled Sam up away from his latest quarry (the inside of Dean’s elbow) as the tide started to turn. For once, the kid came up willingly, having been winding into that soft space, too, ready to feel the completion of his brother inside him; a job well done. So, Sam let himself be pulled up, let Dean lick and lave all over his face, again, let himself groan into it and reciprocate, cleverly catching Dean’s tongue with his lips, sucking on it firmly, drinking in any spit Dean was able to produce. Dean clutched him even closer at that and fed it to him in kind, deep enough to trigger the kid’s gag reflex and make him squirm, desperate but still sedate. Sam, meet Dean’s tongue, baby, meet bottle. Inevitable, and vital as the moon.

Dean broke away to murmur against Sam’s jaw, “Y’close, Sammy?” His newly-free hand had found Sam’s dick and was lazily stroking it, completely out of time with their movements and perfectly toe-curling for it.

A hummed nod and the increased jerkiness of Sam’s hips were all Dean got in response, Sam nosing behind his ear now, seeking body-baked warmth that Dean somehow always stored in the oddest of places.

Dean leaned into it, the simple friction of skin on his lips and face feeling like the most luxurious textures money could buy. Softly murmured syllables, barely audible, “Hm, yeah, me too.” He emphasized it with a hard thrust - not fast, just deep and firm pressure, enough for Sam to gasp out Dean’s name like a curse and clench up deliciously, and- there it was, at last. Dean tightened his grip on Sam’s dick in response, instinctive-involuntary and chain-reactive, and they spiraled from there.

When they made it over the edge - one after the other, though neither could tell you who was first - it was an all-consuming wave, starting in their toes and sprouting upwards, into the crevices; the clench and slide of Sam’s hole, the tremble of his thighs and lower back as he worked them both through it, into the arches behind Dean’s knees, the tightness of his balls as they drew up, the places they touched, noses, mouths, teeth, and tongues, the tingling marks already starting to form- Overwhelmingly perfect.

Sam was uttering a steady stream of Dean-Dean-Dean, and said Dean was encouraging him in a hoarse voice, his jaw tense with pleasure, “Yeah that’s it, Sammy, come for me- you feel me inside you, huh? You feel me comin’ up in your guts?”

And Sam’s nod was frantic, scrabbling at Dean’s shoulders, “Ah! De-an, Dean, it’s- unh, it’s so much-”

“I know, Sammy, I know- you got it.” Dean kept working his hand on Sam’s dick, bringing the other one down to Sam’s balls, unbearably guy-ish and nasty, massaging, squeezing, wringing- “That’s it, baby, keep coming, keep going.” Dean shoved his hips up even as his own orgasm tapered off, drawing out Sam’s as much as possible, obsessed with milking every last drop of his pleasure out for Dean to see.

Eventually, the kid gave one last, feeble cry as the last crest of his orgasm hit, before finally beginning the come-down, slumping down onto Dean’s chest and gasping for air, Dean not much better off below him, shuddering with full body exhaustion, bringing his arms up and around Sam’s frame, hugging him tight enough that he could’ve sworn they had melded together.

Dean exhaled a deep breath, rubbing up and down Sam’s back, “Well shit, Sammy.”

Sam huffed out a laugh into Dean’s skin in response, “Yeah, Dean, ‘well shit,’” sarcastic but humorous.

Dean flicked him in the side, full of indignation that sounded suspiciously whiney, “Shut the fuck up, you little shit, you started this- the fuck d’you want me to say?”

Sam nipped at Dean’s chest, not unlike a sharp kitten bite, voice bright with laughter as it giggled out of him, “Fuckin' anything, Dean! Like, ‘Wow, Sam, that was really hot, we should do that again,’ or ‘I love you so much Sam, let’s live happily ever after together,’ or ‘Sam, you’re the hottest little brother ever- wmf.”

A pillow mysteriously lobbed itself into Sam’s face, cutting him off as he laughed hysterically into the offending object, voice such a heartrending mix between the boy Dean knew (and raised) and the rich tones of the man he was quickly becoming. Dean supposed a little heartbreak was a small price for the sins he inflicted on his brother. Quietly, Dean joined in on the laughter, slugging Sam on the shoulder half-heartedly, more like a love tap, which made Sam laugh some more.

Grumbling, Dean dug around underneath himself, expertly tugging the covers out and then wrapping his arm around Sam’s waist to slam him into the mattress, swung over by pure momentum and spite, as all of Dean’s energy reserves were depleted.

Sam’s gleeful mirth continued into a helpfully laid out pillow, but he helped Dean’s plan along and pulled the covers back over them, slipping it behind Dean’s back with his long-armed reach before he squirmed around so that he could tuck himself into the crook of Dean’s body, somehow transforming into a being made of solely sharp elbows and shoulders and knees as he did so. Dean huffed a final, wry laugh, shaking his head at Sam’s antics before reciprocating, too exhausted to put up a fuss as he wrapped himself around his brother’s body and breathed in deep; dirt, sweat, and come and brother filling his senses and lulling him to sleep.

#(#spn #wincest #wincest wednesday #armpit kink #scent kink #sweat kink #etc #tw: sam being a gay little freak :/#as per usual #ro writing tag #)

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