#like. he's somehow rougher than I'd thought he'd be

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

Steve just getting absolutely demolished by Eddie

i combined this with a similar ask i got that said "eddie covering steve's mouth while they do it!"

___

"you're too fucking noisy, harrington. do you want them to hear you?"

eddie had steve in the back of the rv, while everyone else was in the shop to get the essentials for fighting vecna. steve came back early, just to spend time with eddie before they returned, but it took a turn rather quickly. of course, steve didn't mind; in fact, he quite liked it. what eddie was doing to him right now was pleasure on a grand scale, one that steve never believed possible.

eddie had him in the back, still fully clothed while steve wore nothing but eddie's vest. they began to fool around almost immediately, and eddie promised nothing more than a fun, quick make out session and maybe a little hand stuff. somehow, steve knew better, and was aware of where it would lead. he'd only known eddie for less than a week, but he already knew him well enough to know better.

eddie conveniently found some condoms & lube stocked away in one of the drawers ("must be some kinky fuckers; who would have ever thought?" were his exact words upon the discovery), and was so gentle with steve. they knew the others could come back at any moment, but both were so consumed with lust that they just didn't care too much. eddie opened him up, and then entered him when he was sure that steve was ready and gave his consent. steve was moaning noisily, and while eddie found that hot as fuck, it was also going to be a problem in the middle of a crowded parking lot. if someone were to come investigate, and see eddie inside? they would be in trouble. probably even more than they would be for having sex in public like this.

"i'm going to have to cover your mouth if you don't shut up," eddie hisses, biting around steve's neck as steve mewls in appreciation.

"sorry," steve breathes, bringing eddie up by his hair for a kiss. they make out for a moment as eddie sets a faster pace, and steve's head tips back. "you just feel so good, i...i never thought..."

"you had your awakening the moment you saw me," eddie says smugly, winking at him with a smirk. "i get it, man. i really do, but i'm going to need you to dial it back a little on the noises."

but steve wasn't listening. that eventually led to eddie covering his mouth as he rammed into him, looking out the curtains on occasion to make sure that no one was coming. he grinned down at steve, who was groaning against eddie's hand as he tried to fuck himself more on eddie's cock. eddie tsk'ed, licking a stripe over steve's pulse point before snapping his hips rougher than before.

"this is so fucking hot, you know that?" eddie pants. "steve harrington, of all people, horny for hawkins’ most wanted murderer. if i didn't know any better, i'd say you've got a hard-on for criminals and long-haired freaks."

steve tries to speak around eddie's hand, but it's too muffled to understand. eddie just smirks at him again, jerking steve off as he let his hand off of his mouth. steve is moaning freely again, and eddie no longer cares. he's close, and he can tell by the way steve is twitching in his hand that he is also getting there. a few strokes of his cock and a few more hard, rough thrusts, and steve comes undone in eddie's palm, crying out for him and arching his body against eddie's. eddie is chuckling, still pounding into him as he holds his soiled hand to steve's mouth. his grin is wicked, white ropes of cum running down his hand & wrist as he coaxes steve's mouth open.

"there you go," he coos, smiling as he places his cum-soaked fingers in steve's mouth. "taste yourself for me, harrington. just make sure to save some for me, okay?"

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steveddie #steddie imagine #steveddie imagine #steddie blurb #steveddie blurb #steddie fanfic #steveddie fanfic #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things imagine

[spielzeugkaiser]

h e l l o ??? I never thought I'd say that, but the hat actually makes it. Like. I am looking.

#witcher season 2 #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher #the witcher con #the witcher netflix #I can somehow see them meeting up in the redanian intelligence episode like... Geralt is supposed to meet up with someone. #someone he will trust even if it's a tough job #and surprise surprise #also new outfit Jaskier really feels different (good job with storytelling costume department!) #like. he's somehow rougher than I'd thought he'd be? #like I might have expected I AM SAD roughness but this is FUCK YOU roughness #and I'm honestly digging this like yeaaaaaaah #also this Jaskier honestly looks like he has at least twenty illegtimate children and I'm- #sorry I'm losing it a bit over the hat

[digimonloving]

Heyo, quick lil message before I request, I'm REALLY GLAD I FOUND YOUR WRITINGS, I've been on a digimon thirst for the past few weeks and your writing just keeps fueling my hunger for more so thankyou :D Okie so I kinda had this though of a nsfw headcannon for Angemon and Beelzemon: the base of their wings are sensitive and kinda act as an aphrodisiac?? (Similar to what you've written in some Stingmon fics) These two are my main thirst so I'd be cool to see more smut of them :)

Wings that, when rubbed at the base, act like an aphrodisiac with..

Beelzemon:

Beelzemon, while in Blast Mode, has rather sensitive wings at the base. He doesn't even notice the feeling of the skin around it when he's flying around strangely enough, but oh does he feel it when his partner sensually rubs them at the base. It starts with him having a shiver run up his spine that he shows; shaking his body and his wings, and if they continue, it's a surefire way of getting him all sorts of excited and hunger for their body

If his partner does it deliberately, he's pouncing on them without a second thought. THEY started it, and he was going to finish it. Multiple times at that. He'd make sure they wouldn't be able to stand, greatly so. And if they continued to rub the base of his wings, they better grab on. He's going fast and rough, and there's no stopping him until he's spent. Which won't occur for a long, long time.

It's worse when it comes to the wings that lie on the small of his back. They're more sensitive, and if his Tamer finds it out... they're in for an extremely horny Beelzemon who can't hold himself back and is immediately on them -- even faster than if they did his bigger set of wings somehow.

His sex drive is high, and his hunger is worse. He won't stop till he's had his fill, and for the Demon Lord of Gluttony... it's a tall order his partner better be ready to try and handle if they go for his wings.

Angemon:

It's all about finding which set of his wings causes such a reaction. Here's a hint: It's the middle set. Sensually stroking the base of the middle wings can get Angemon all riled up and he's a bit of an embarrassed mess.

He's not used to such a feeling, but if his partner starts something up, he isn't going to deny them. Not now, not when they deliberately caused him to get an erection and get him all hot and bothered more than he was with their closeness.

He's a bit rougher than he'd like when they rub the base of his wings, gripping their hips at a near bruising level compared to his softness if he's already having sex with them when they started to do it. His thrusting becoming desperate as he gets rougher and faster, and it only climbs the more his partner strokes his wings. He pulls them close and practically shoves as much of himself as he can into them, the right movement making him cum harder than he would.

Angemon gets embarrassed about how much it drags out of him. He's a gentle angel Digimon, but those strokes... they bring something out of him and he can't help himself...

#Beelzemon #Angemon #Spicy headcanons #(Aaaaa Thank ya!! I'm glad you like my writings so much!! #and i completely get you honestly hsdhsd #there's simply not Enough when it comes to smut for Digimon

[mythicamagic]

Childhood: a Kohrin oneshot

Summary: Two teenagers sneak off one night to the beach, reflecting on their pasts. Despite the grim subject, Rin somehow always manages to make him smile. Kohaku x Rin oneshot

3,000 words

Childhood

Laughing, racing, tumbling, grinning. Gaped teeth, freckles, dirt between toes, teasing brothers, sunbathing, cool creaks, bare feet and squawking kappas. The scatter of petals and grass kicked into the air, the scent of campfires, sunflowers, crispy fish and cooking fungi. Assuring golden eyes keeping vigilance over her sleep, along with the steady rhythmic breathing of a two-headed dragon keeping her warm. These are all the things Rin chose to remember about childhood.

She remembered and kept them close, especially at night, gliding through memories masquerading as dreams.

In the years after travelling with the stoic lord and staying with Kaede at her village, her limbs had changed- becoming gangly, form lean and growing with burgeoning maturity. She'd adapted to her environment, forming strong friendships with her mentor and the Inutachi. However, despite her days being spent in quiet happiness, she couldn't help but notice a few things. A perpetual absence. A certain searching look in Sango's eyes whenever she glanced up from monitoring her three children to stare off into the trees.

Tossing and turning beneath the covers, Rin frowned in her sleep.

One person who remained elusive in both her dreams and the waking world was-

A crooning noise startled her upright, brown eyes flying wide. Stumbling from her futon and hurrying from Kaede's hut, she peered out into the night inquisitively.

From within the forest, she could see a faint orange glow peeking out between the trees. Tightening her sleeping yukata around her, Rin's lips pursed. She then stubbornly sought out the glow, bare feet padding over cool dirt.

She found him, as predicted, watching Sango's hut.

Kohaku stood, a little further along into his maturity than her. Even the dense shadows couldn't quite hide the changes in his height and features. Rin stopped the second he caught notice of her- a telltale wariness gripping him a moment before recognition painted his face.

"Rin," he said with relief, tone soon slipping into a resigned reprimand. "What're you doing out so late? You should be asleep."

"So should you," she smiled easily, rocking on her heels. She gave a wave to Kirara, who hopped onto Kohaku's shoulder after transforming into a small version of herself and mewling. "It's a strange hour for you to come back. Sango won't be able to greet you with a lively smile-" lively chatter broke off the second she noticed the older boy direct his gaze to his feet. "Oh… unless… you don't plan on staying long?" Rin murmured. Again.

For some reason, it was always the same with him. Lord Sesshoumaru's brief visits didn't bother her in the least. He barely had a connection to the village. But Kohaku? He should've been there, stayed there. She knew Sango missed him terribly but he barely made time to visit.

However, she didn't voice any of this. She'd done so before, and Sango's assurances never seemed to help him. Guilt continued to gnaw like an infected wound at her friend.

Rin observed his freckled face in the torch light, seeing the emotions swimming within vibrant brown eyes.

"You know I would if I could. But…" the silence of the forest swallowed up the remainder of what he wanted to say. Rin shifted her bare feet, drawing closer and taking his coarse, demon-slaying hand.

"Let's go somewhere."

"Huh?"

"I want to go to the beach," she said decisively, as though he had no say in the matter. Kohaku supposed he didn't when she got like this. "Come on, Kaede says the ocean air is good for you. Hurry, before everyone wakes up," Rin tugged on his hand.

Kohaku smiled slightly, giving in far too easily.

---

Kirara touched down on sandy shores an hour later, allowing them to slide off her back. Rin stretched and sucked in a long breath of salty sea air.

"Ahh! Now isn't that better?" she grinned.

Kohaku snorted and smiled good-naturedly, looking out at the black sea with a quiet, observing look. "I haven't been to the beach in a long time."

"Why not?"

Kohaku wandered out, boots crunching on pebbles until they were cushioned by sand, leaving moonlit footprints. "I want to say I haven't had time, but that's not true," he chuckled. "It just hasn't occurred to me to go. That I'd enjoy it."

At 16, Rin still didn't feel old enough nor wise enough to understand everything. She wasn't a firecracker like Kagome had been around her age, and she didn't see herself as a warrior like Sango. However, there were some things Rin knew how to do.

Following, Rin took his hand in passing, tugging to ensure he'd stumble after her. She walked right up to the shoreline, drinking in the dark, hushed atmosphere only broken by the sound of waves crashing against rocks.

"Take off your boots."

Kohaku blinked, raising a brow. His lips quirked, "you sure are bossy today."

Giggling, she wriggled bare toes into the sand- squealing when the cool tide rushed in and splashed about her ankles before drawing back. "You used to walk around barefoot all the time, just like me."

"When I was a kid," he reminded her.

"Are you implying something?" Rin huffed. "I'll tell Uncle Inuyasha you said that."

"No, I wasn't trying to say-" his hasty words cut off, noting her mischievous expression. Kohaku smiled and leaned down as though to take off his boots- suddenly thrusting his hands into the surf and splashing her.

Shrieking and gasping, Rin gaped with surprise- soon grinning viciously wide and leaping towards him. Kohaku quickly dodged. He began running, hotly pursued by the petite young woman. An unexpected noise rang out into the night. Boyish, happy laughter.

Earthy brown eyes widened and even as Rin sprinted, panting, she drank in the sound of Kohaku laughing. How strange, rare and wonderful it was.

Running fast and putting all her energy into her legs, Rin leapt at his back. Catching him around the middle, she collided hard against him.

With an undignified yelp from a demon slayer, Kohaku lost his footing, toppling gracelessly to the ground, kicking up sand. Giggling breathlessly, Rin spat some from her mouth and lifted her head.

"You went down easy. Are you sure you slay demons?" she teased, nestling against the warmth of his back.

Kohaku shifted, shaking sand from his ponytail and adjusting their positions so that they were facing each other, laying on their sides. He wiped his face, expression clearly trying to remain unaffected and firm- but breaking into a tender smile.

"You always do this," he mused quietly.

"Hm? I don't think I've ever tackled you into the sand before," Rin felt fairly confident about that.

"That's not what I mean, it's just that you always make me feel... something different. Something good."

"But we had that argument about how best to stew nettles the other day," she pointed out.

A chuckle escaped him, soulful gaze sober. "Even that felt good to me."

Tilting her head against the dry, soft dune, both fell silent. Despite being a chatter-box, Rin also knew when to be quiet and let him talk. Her hand inched out naturally for his, and Kohaku accepted it, grasping her palm in a way that made her feel secure and safe. They'd known each other for many years so some things came as easy as breathing. Other things, like talking about it, came slowly, painfully.

"Why won't they go away?" Kohaku murmured in a hushed tone for only her to hear. "The nightmares. The memories," his gaze shook. "I just want to stop seeing it every time I look at Sango, but its there, in the back of my mind. I don't... feel right being around my nieces and nephew."

"You're still scared you'll hurt them?" there was no judgment in her tone. Assuring him that Naraku was dead and gone didn't help. Kohaku was perfectly aware of that.

The young man ducked his head, lips thin. His larger, rougher hand in hers trembled. "What if it's still there?" he whispered. "The compulsion to hurt people. I could be living my life- I could marry-" his eyes avoided hers. "Have children, but then one day I hear his voice again and the memory is too strong to resist. I could do something awful."

Dark brows pulled together, heart-squeezing in her ribcage. She wanted to help so badly. However, there was nothing she could do but keep trying to assure him and listen. "Even if you hear him, I believe in you, Kohaku," Rin stroked a thumb over his scarred knuckles. "You'd fight it. You're getting stronger all the time."

He looked exhausted, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "I'm so tired of being scared," he mumbled, glancing wearily at her. "You're still scared too, aren't you?"

Her face lost its girlish innocence, becoming firm as she sat up. "I've told you before- I'm not afraid of you, Kohaku!" she insisted hotly. "I haven't been since I was 8!"

Kohaku shifted his muscular body, and it was times like those she noticed how much larger and different he'd become. She blushed slightly but kept her expression serious.

"I wasn't talking about that," he chuckled, gaze becoming gentle. Careful fingers minded some dark hair from her face. "Your nightmares. You still have nightmares about your childhood too, right?"

Rin blinked, feeling cold and releasing his hand to wrap both arms around herself. The brush of cool night air gliding over her skin suddenly felt a little too chilly.

A soft croon rumbled out seconds before Kirara's large form settled down behind them. Lustrous buttercup coloured fur bumped against Rin's back, and she nestled against the nekomata's side gratefully.

"We don't have to discuss it if you don't want to," Kohaku said with concern, leaning back against the demon as well.

Forcing a cheery smile, Rin shook her head. "I'm fine- I've actually come up with something that helps me sleep most nights now, and I thought it might help you too."

"What is it?"

Tilting her head back to gaze at the stars above, she smiled a little more naturally. "I think of all the good things in my childhood. Laughing, racing, tumbling, grinning. Gaped teeth, freckles, dirt between toes, teasing brothers, sunbathing, cool creaks, bare feet and squawking kappas. The scatter of petals and grass kicked into the air, the scent of campfires, sunflowers, crispy fish and cooking fungi. Assuring golden eyes keeping vigilance over my sleep, along with the steady rhythmic breathing of a two-headed dragon keeping me warm."

Kohaku stared at her with no short amount of amazement. He swallowed and looked down at the sand.

"You're strong," he breathed. "To be able to separate all the good things from the bad."

"You can do it too," grabbing his hand again, Rin inched closer with an encouraging nod. "Tell me some things you remember. Happy things."

Kohaku blushed a little at her proximity and cleared his throat, thinking. "Sango. She was always there for me."

"What else?"

His eyes seemed to haze slightly, "Father…"

"Push through it, Kohaku," she murmured. "There was a time before all the bad stuff. Was he kind?"

Kohaku blinked, firm fingers squeezing hers as he came back to himself, exhaling. He chuckled shyly, "he was a little strict, but he meant well."

Rin shifted closer, resting beside him shoulder to shoulder, knee bumping his. Kohaku rested his head back against Kirara's soft fur and began recounting things long since buried. Things he hadn't thought he could remember or appreciate anymore. The guilt was there, it always would be, but it felt further away, replaced with a bitter-sweet tang.

"Practicing, running, training, laughing, chasing yellow nekomatas," he scratched Kirara's ear. "Butterflies, bare-feet, hunting- freeing rabbits from traps because I didn't want to see them get killed. Father yelling. Father's hand gently resting on my h-head," the words stumbled. "Playing, flower gathering, flying on Kirara. The smell of the blacksmiths. Sweat. Forging weapons. Sango snoring."

Rin gasped and giggled, watching as his fingers slid through the gaps between her own.

"Warming my hands on the brazier. Talking. Listening. Stories around the campfire. Demon slayers, family," Kohaku murmured, voice thick with memories. He closed his eyes, falling silent.

"You did really well," cuddling against him, Rin pecked his cheek.

Kohaku glanced down at her, "I haven't talked about that stuff out loud before. I didn't think I could anymore."

Grinning, she put her nose in the air, imitating Jaken. "Humph well, I am rather good at talking. Getting other people to talk is my speciality ~"

Chuckling, he nudged his free hand against her forehead gently, brown eyes incredibly warm. "Can we do this again sometime? There's probably more we can remember."

Blinking, Rin gentled and squeezed his fingers, "of course we can. Anytime, Kohaku. But you know… Sango might want to hear some of this too- when you're ready," she added quickly.

His face became a touch more guarded, which broke her heart. He was so afraid of hurting Sango again. For a demon slayer, the young man was heavily weighed down by empathy.

Rin touched his freckled cheek, "Kohaku?"

He shook his head slightly and gave a smile to show he was alright. "Never mind that. How'd you get to be so brave talking about this stuff?"

Humming, she let her fingers linger, dragging down to his jaw. It looked and felt strong beneath her touch. "I probably couldn't talk about it out loud if you weren't here. You make me feel brave."

Before her fingers left his face, her hand was caught. Kohaku pushed it back to rest against his cheek, tilting his face into her palm.

"Likewise," he mumbled.

Cheeks warming, Rin felt her heart stutter and thrum wildly in her chest. It was weird. Kohaku was so incredibly dear to her. She loved being close to him, but lately, butterflies just wouldn't stop fluttering in her stomach.

Seeming to sense her confusion, Kohaku released her slack hand and gently returned it to her. He then turned to his boots and began tugging them off.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm doing as you bossily suggested earlier," standing, he gave a small smile, offering a hand down to her.

Rin accepted it, following as he walked to the shoreline. Stepping onto the wet sand, a noise of surprise and shook escaped the demon slayer as the tide rushed in.

Biting her lip, Rin tried and failed to suppress mirthful laughter. "Did you just squeal?"

"No. You're imagining things," Kohaku grinned.

The ocean lapped around their ankles, slowly receding, before sweeping a fresh wave of cool, dark water against their skin.

Kohaku gradually adjusted, looking out at the endless stretch of ocean brightened by the moon. Rin breathed in a lungful of the fresh air, slowly relaxing with him.

The tired lines beneath Kohaku's kind eyes seemed to soften, not entirely going away, but his face appeared young once more, gaining a healthy glow.

Rin held onto his hand throughout. He was the only one she felt so strangely at peace with. Lord Sesshoumaru and Kaede were protective presences, but neither really knew her, or her secrets. No one understood everything that had happened in her life, though she'd divulged some things.

She'd told Kohaku everything. When the boys at the village whispered among themselves that she was strange, a shape-shifter, a hanyou girl in disguise, Rin would smile. Because they didn't need to know or understand. Kohaku accepted her oddness, an outlier himself. Perhaps they were Hanyou children in a way.

Like Uncle Inuyasha, they didn't quite fit into human society. They were too strange. Too changed, different because of what they'd seen and experienced, never quite meshing despite their best efforts to.

But that was alright.

She'd asked Uncle Inuyasha about it once, Lord Sesshoumaru in their presence. Inuyasha had met Sesshoumaru's gaze, voice gruff.

"Well, there was no place for me, so I had to make one for myself, and then I realized, I had a place, but I was the only one in it."

Lord Sesshoumaru had seemed quiet and considering of his words.

Rin understood. Gazing at Kohaku right then, she felt he would too. The two humans who had died too young. Kohaku was part of her space, and she was in his.

Catching her eye, he smiled. Just as naturally as holding hands, he leaned down and rested their foreheads together. Rin let out a whoosh of hot air, lashes fluttering shut. The press of his head against hers felt intimate and sweet.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and shifted her head, lips inches from his, face burning. Kohaku's eyes cracked open wide, before gazing solemnly at her. He wrestled with something- and she thought he might pull away.

Kohaku then snuffed out the rest of the distance between them, lips pressing against hers in a chaste kiss.

White-hot feeling burst within the young woman like shooting stars. Butterflies turned into hummingbirds. Her lips burned.

They pulled away, both avoided each other's gazes a moment, reeling. They then caught one another's eye and slowly, shyly smiled. Because they were still the same, just a little different from before.

"Let's go back to the village," Kohaku murmured, noticing the first hues of sunlight brightening the horizon. "I think… I'll try talking to Sango."

Rin nodded, smiling with palpable relief.

He glanced at her, expression remaining vulnerable, fragile heart laid bare for her to see. Kohaku trusted her to handle it gently.

"And Rin?"

"Yes?"

He blushed slightly, squeezing her hand. "Let's come back to the beach sometime soon."

Rin's face burst into a wide grin, giggling a little breathlessly.

"I'd love to!"

---

End

#kohrin #Inuyasha #Kohaku x Rin #kohaku #Rin #inuyasha fanfiction #Fanon pairings

[arclucifer666]

Acceptance

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2118

Summary:  It is the first time they have sex after Dean returns from Purgatory, and Sam's brother is even rougher around the edges.   

AO3

@@@@@

Sam's back hits the mattress hard, teeth clicking together, but luckily he doesn't bite his tongue.

Boots and socks are the first to come out.

He doesn't react. Cannot. Neither wants to.

A knife and it starts ripping his clothes, jeans first. The blade touches his skin in some places, which remains intact, however.

Familiar green eyes show hunger, anger, and something dark. Something that is directed at monsters when they are hunting. But Sam is the only monster here, the freak that Dean should've killed many years ago.

And maybe his passivity has something to do with the need for purification that never left his thoughts.

The Cage was not enough.

A feeling of impurity has always been there, inside him, in his soul. He's a failure in a family of hunters and heroes. He's a hunter, but not a hero, and perhaps the righteous man can purify him once and for all.

Dean's blade cuts through his shirt and then his undershirt, precise, destroying the false security his clothes bring to him. Hands throw the useless pieces on the floor, and his underwear is the only thing preventing his nakedness.

He can hear his own heartbeat under the scrutiny of hungry eyes.

"Less muscle. I think I like that."

The first touch on his groin is gentle, just massaging, stimulating, and his body starts to react. It's inevitable. But then Sam remembers he wants it. And this is better than the contempt and anger that became the rule after Dean's return from Purgatory.

"How long?"

The question surprises him. Why does Dean want to know this?

Two broken souls that were trying to survive. Sam was dead inside anyway.

Clenching his fists, he tries to answer, "I-"

Fingers squeeze his balls, but the pain is welcome too. Anything that makes him feel alive again.

"It doesn't matter, Sam. No longer."

The pressure is gone.

That voice has always done things for him, but the barely contained rage he hears now has never been this bad.

Dean's knife cuts again, and this time the blade touches with purpose, navel, waist, groin, and finally, the erect cock against his belly.

"It would be so easy."

Sam prepares himself for pain.

He watches the knife move towards his balls. Sensitive skin wrinkles with the unwanted touch and tension makes his skin sweat.

"But then I would have to bring you back again."

Dean seems to give up on the idea and pull the knife away. So, he pushes Sam's right leg up, planting the sole of his foot on the bed. A touch of the knife handle on his inner thigh is enough for him to know he's to do the same with his left leg. And he's never felt so exposed before, not even at those times Dean wanted to tie him to a bed.

He holds his breath for a moment when feels the tip of the knife on his perineum, so gentle, barely there at all.

Noticing a stain on the ceiling, Sam fixes his gaze on the small imperfection. Like him.

"So perfect, Sammy."

The paradox of the century.

Cold fingers touch his skin and pull an asscheek apart, leaving him even more open. Dean's blade goes down, and clenching is an automatic reaction.

"Shh, I suggest that you relax as much as you can," Dean instructs, sounding calm and controlled.

But talking is much easier than doing when there's the tip of a fucking knife against his hole.

The stain on the ceiling has uneven edges, Sam notices. The knife does not observe any regularity, following the wishes of its owner.

Not knowing what his brother wants is perhaps the most unnerving part. The Dean who returned from Purgatory is not the same man who disappeared in that damn lab as if by magic. There are sharp edges, violence, and pleasure in killing that weren't in him before. Not on a scary frequency, anyway.

The contact stops, and his skin doesn't seem to fit him anymore. Something hard is against his lips then. Sam opens his eyes—which closed at some point without him even noticing—to find the knife handle asking for entrance and Dean looking at him.

"You better get this wet."

Sam does, knowing what comes next. But his traitor cock twitches against his belly in perspective anyway.

"Good boy."

A few more inches inside him and Sam sucks, the odd shape fucking his mouth.

"It reminds me of how much I like to see you choking on my dick, Sam."

With what he sees on his brother's face, choking on Dean's dick is the only thing that would happen during a blow job right now.

"Another day, though, because my plans for today are more interesting."

Interesting wouldn't be the right word for the events of the night.

It doesn't take long for Dean to look satisfied and return to his previous position between Sam's legs.

The finger, although familiar, is unexpected.

"Did anyone touch you here?"

The gentleness on the sensitive skin is so different from the anger he hears in Dean's voice.

Sam covers his eyes with a forearm while enjoying the pleasure that Dean's touch still causes in his body. Small circles that caress but don't penetrate him.

He means to say yes to the question, wants to tell Dean about the times when he held a delicate wrist and pressed too thin fingers where only Dean had been before just to be able to remember what he'd missed. Nights that ended up with him drunk and crying for something he would never have again.

"No, Dean." The lie comes out easy and convincing to his own ears.

"I don't know what I'd do if I found out that someone touched what they shouldn't have."

Promises of pain are what Sam hears. And he sighs relieved that he hasn't put her in danger.

Sam groans his frustration when the finger disappears, and Dean's laugh gets him out of his hiding place. And how Sam missed that mischievous look, even when it meant pranks, most of the time, in the past that seems so distant.

"Still the same little slut as always, don't you, Sammy?"

Sam tries to show neutrality he doesn't feel, not when his cock is still rock hard and his hands grab the sheets.

He's transparent, and Dean can see every detail.

"I'll give you what you need, little brother, like I always do."

Like all those times when you dumped me in a Plucky Pennywhistle to go fuck girls? Or how did you side with Dad when I got the letter saying I'd been accepted into Stanford? Or then when you didn't trust me and in my ability as a hunter?

His thoughts are interrupted by the hardness of something against his hole, and it's nothing like the finger from before or even the silicone toys that Dean liked to play with.

An image of the knife forms in Sam's mind; he knows precisely what part of the handle is going through his entrance. In principle, it's just pressure until the entire end of the handle enters. Sam grits his teeth and takes a deep breath, trying to relax. The image of the stain now is blurred by the tears that form in his eyes.

"There were only monsters there, Sammy. I missed something as perfect as this."

Perfection. The same word. But there is nothing perfect about having the handle of a knife stuck in his hole by his own brother.

A tear runs down the corner of Sam's right eye even when his vision clears, and he knows that that will be the only one tonight.

He'll make sure of this.

"Somehow…"

Dean pushes the handle further, but Sam's body begins to accept the intrusion, pain turning into a slow burn. His erection is gone, though.

"It was bloody. Messy. Thirty-one flavors of bottom-dwelling nasties. Hell, most days felt like 360-degree combat. But there was something about being there."

Sam's chest aches with what Dean says even as the movements inside him make his mind aware of the pleasure beginning to surround him again.

"It felt pure, Sammy."

Sam feels like he can't breathe. Purity. What he always wanted. But he was tainted at six months of age, and sometimes the phantom taste of demon blood is still there, impregnated in his tongue.

"I wouldn't have minded staying there longer. Killed as many sons of bitches as possible."

Dean moves the knife like a damn dildo, forcing his body to accept the strange shape. At some point, though, it's more pleasure than strangeness, insufficient to make him come, but good enough to keep him on edge.

"But I couldn't be without you anymore."

Some abrupt movement and it hurts.

Sam also can't live without Dean and the more he thinks about it, the more he's sure that neither of them can live without the other. What he'd after Dean's vanishing was not life. It was more like going through the days, an automaton in a world that no longer made sense.

"And I need you now." The wanting Sam hears in that deep voice is almost too much for him.

The handle is pulled out, still odd, but it's easier than the entrance was.

Wild eyes stare at him. "It's always you, Sammy. It all starts and ends with you."

It's more than a promise, mutual now, Sam is sure.

"On all fours."

He doesn't have much choice here, a fight—which he'll probably lose—or being mounted like a bitch in heat. The second option is the only one that makes sense, though, even when humiliation and shame burn his cheeks and his hole clenches like it gets a mind of its own.

So much time in the same uncomfortable position has an effect on Sam's legs, and they tremble as he moves into the new position, equally exposed and vulnerable.

The sound of a zipper, warmth of callused hands on his asscheeks, massaging and exposing him again, and finally, the heat and hardness that he missed so much, as difficult as it's for him to admit it. The large head touches sensitive skin, there is no waiting for permission, just taking, invading, and settling in as if that had always belonged there, but it's more like coming home, actually.

He lets out a sharp cry, and his chest falls against the sheets, too weak to fight his body coming alive after more than a fucking year of separation.

Hands find their place on his hips, though now they burn like a brand on his skin, appropriating him again. And this is when Sam allows himself to recognize he needs this as much as his brother does.

Sam can't stifle the little pathetic moan that pours out of his mouth when the stimulation on his prostate starts feeling good. Dean's cock is so present that he doesn't want to feel anything inside him other than this.

At some point, weakness turns to lust and he manages to lean on his hands again, fucking against Dean's impulses with the same ferocity. And sex has never been so savage and primal between them before. Still, he craves it with all his strength, desperate to feel something again, to feel alive again.

"It's been so long since we'd this. Fuck. Missed it, little brother."

"Me too, Dean," he admits in a wrecked voice, his orgasm building within him. "I need you…Always."

Strong arms wrap around his chest and haul him up, his back against Dean's chest, the softness of the shirt brushing against his sweaty skin. And his big brother is so solid against him, so real.

A hand wraps around his cock, sharp pain from teeth biting on his shoulder, and a groan rips through him with his climax, which is so intense that it consumes his force. Only Dean's arms keep him on his knees on the bed. Hips that barely move at all, the soft tongue that licks the bite, and Sam throws his head back on his brother's shoulder.

His eyes turn to the stain on the ceiling again, which watches them regardless of its own imperfection.

Liquid heat spreads inside him. And only now does he realize how he missed this and as well as that old feeling of belonging, one that he was able to experience just with his brother.

Sam still feels like that damn stain, however. But now he is no longer alone in his imperfection and impurity because Dean is like him. There is no life for any of them without the other. And Sam can accept who he is once and for all.

#wincest #dark dean winchester #dubious consent #bottom!sam #top!dean #lemon

[kitkatastr0phe-blog]

December 04, 2004.

Eventually the second year of high school ended and summer came. I was too scared to leave my abusive boyfriend, but if I wasn't around him anymore, maybe it would solve itself.

That very summer my oldest sister had a friend who would come visit on the weekends. He was a Marine. He wasn't terribly attractive, but he certainly thought I was, and my practically non-existent self esteem thought that was enough. He was a douchebag who played acoustic guitar.

But, he saw the fear in me every time the phone rang. Somehow, he managed to scare away the abusive boyfriend. He never called again.

So, I decided to date the older Marine guy. He was kind, or so I thought. He treated me with kindness. He'd play me songs on his guitar. Teach me how to play pool a little better. He'd take me for car rides. But, he was also a man with desires and I was a 16 year old girl.

I was very upfront that I didn't want to have sex until I graduated from high school. I didn't want any risk of getting pregnant before I got my diploma. And with the way luck in my life had ran.. I wasn't taking that chance. He agreed, but asked if we could do other things instead. Gentler, more innocent things, as he put it. Feeling like I had to compromise, I agreed.

However.. "More innocent things" eventually wasn't enough..

He started coming down to my room and waking me in the mornings before anyone else was awake. He'd touch me with tenderness, and whisper to me that we could see how just the tip felt. Only just a little bit, not everything. And if it wasn't everything, we weren't actually having sex, we were just seeing how it felt. And if it hurt.. he'd stop.

I started trembling and crying every time though. So, he'd stop his advances, cover me back up with my blanket, and leave my room. I'd lay there, with Tenny, and cry for awhile each time. Feeling like I'd let him down.

Eventually he changed it all to "I have a condom just in case you change your mind. I want to protect you." He also felt the need to assure me that he didn't have them to sleep with other girls, and that condoms were just something important that adults kept around.

I only ever did things with him if we were alone. The rule was the house had to be empty. But.. There was something different about December 4th, 2004.

We were sitting in the living room, watching something on the TV. It was dark aside from the porch light shining through the window. Eventually, he started getting a little handsy. I wasn't too surprised by that, but.. he turned the TV off. And his touching felt a little rougher than ever before.

He whispered into my ear something about wanting to be a good girl. I was young and still naive, so I had no idea why or anything about it, but I knew I desperately wanted to be a good girl.

He then whispered into my ear an instruction to go put on something that I knew he liked. Okay.. I wasn't sure why I was changing my clothes. But I did as I was told. I had a plaid skirt that he liked, and some cute off the shoulder shirt as well.

I went back upstairs, seeking approval, but.. Well. That's when I saw that there was something on the table that wasn't there before.

I froze. I was terrified.

He told me not to be afraid. That I could trust him. And gestured for me to come to him. I very slowly and cautiously walked over to him.

He gently pulled my panties down and off, and then sat me across his lap, facing him. He began explaining things to me about positions and how certain things felt better certain ways. I grew more and more scared with every word and I started crying.

As he talked, he traced my body with his lips and his hands. In between his explanations, he kept assuring me that I could trust him. He kept telling me how I shouldn't be afraid. That he loved me. He'd be gentle. If it hurt we'd stop. He'd never make me do anything I didn't want to do. That it was okay. We were being safe. I just needed to trust him.

At one point he leaned forward to grab what was on the table. I saw this as an opportunity. I tried to jolt up and away, but he grabbed me by my hips, and pushed me back down. I started crying harder, and trembling more. I felt trapped.

He took a moment to tell me his assurances yet again as he tried to excite me with physical gestures.

After a minute or two, he undid his pants, and grabbed my hips again, this time tightly. I cried out in fear. But he took his time feeling himself against my body before wanting to push things further.

He needed to actually put the condom on though, so he had to let go of me. Or so I thought.. He held onto my hip really tightly with one hand and used his other hand as if it were nothing. I tried to jerk away again, desperate, but he just pushed back down. And again, with the verbal assurances.

Grabbing my hips with both hands, he lifted me up, but then used one hand to guide himself.

I cried out in horror and in pain, throwing my face into my hands, as he was pushing me down. Further and further. I could feel every piece of me shatter.

Weighing less than 100lbs, it was nothing for him to move my body up and down as he needed. I cried and sobbed, feeling trapped and helpless.

Eventually, he swept me under himself. His body laying against mine. This silenced my crying because I could hardly breathe. He pushed me down as hard as he could. Because he couldn't hear me crying anymore, he believed I had finally given into it all. He went on about how great it must feel. And how it was okay for it to feel good. To enjoy it. But really, I just couldn't breathe or move with his weight against mine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he came, and let me go. I immediately ran to my room and hid under all my blankets, sobbing, while holding onto Tenny as tightly as possible. I don't know what he did, but he left me alone the rest of that night. I just stayed in my room with Tenny, sobbing. Wanting to die.