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A combination of Day 21 (Orgasm Denial) and Day 26 (Submission & Greed) to finally round out @smutceptember2025. No TWs, enjoy!
âDo whatever you want.â
Itâs an intoxicating level of trust to put in his hands. At first, he panicked, thinking that heâll inevitably hurt Leon if given that level of power, but after some coaxing, his mind started racing with the possibilities.Â
Now, Leon is beneath him, laying on his back on the ridiculously plush bedding with his legs spread. His hands are bound above his head, tied tight enough that he canât accidentally wiggle free, and a soft blindfold covers his eyes. Otherwise he was completely bare, save for the bite marks that Wes had already given him.Â
âYouâre so pretty underneath me,â Wes mutters, hands wandering up and down Leonâs sides. He shudders, cock already leaking from the praise and gentle touches- Wes wants to know what heâll look like when he breaks.Â
âWes- haaahhh-â Leon pants when he licks another wide strip across his nipple, teeth scraping the already swollen bud. He cups Leonâs dick with his hand, and the man instinctively bucks his hips, whining when he pulls his hand away.Â
âPatience, princess.â Wes grabs a clump of his hair, giving it a little tug that he knows will restart Leonâs brain. His darling moans, clearly fighting the urge to thrust as he goes back to stroking him, slow but firm.
He leans over, now attacking Leonâs other nipple with his tongue. With his other hand, he glides his nails along Leonâs sides, earning him a delicious whine.
His breath starts hitching, and when his boyfriend starts whimpering in a familiar way, Wes pulls away. Leon groans, still on the edge but no longer having any friction, hips twisting as he searches for some relief. âWes- Wes- Wes-â
He presses a kiss to Leonâs neck, still refusing to touch him where he wants it. âYou know what to say.â
He shivers, mouth opening and closing as Wes continues to lightly touch his abs. Eventually he says, âLove, please-â
Leon yelps when he sinks his teeth into his stomach, at the same time as he pushes a wet finger into his darling. Wes holds Leonâs hips down with his other hand as he fingers him open, keeping his mouth busy by sucking more hickies into Leonâs stomach.
He hears Leon whimper again and pulls away again, earning a frustrated groan as he pinches the base of his cock. âAh ah ah, not yet.â
He keeps his hand there as he gives his own neglected dick a few strokes, only moving it to firmly grasp Leonâs hips. âSay it.â
His boyfriend pants, and Wes can see a few tears slip out from under the blindfold. âPlease-â
âPlease what?â
âPlea- EASE!â Leonâs voice cracks as Wes pushes his cock in, legs trembling from the strain of keeping them open. Wes sighs, finally feeling pleasure running through his veins as he feels Leon quiver around him.
Wes starts moving, purposefully keeping his thrusts just shallow enough to never hit Leonâs prostate. The feeling of Leon writhing and squirming around him almost breaks his resolve, but Wes keeps a steady pace as Leon keeps begging, just repeating the word âpleaseâ over and over again until-
âMaster, please, let me cum!â
Finally, Wes stops holding back. His next thrust has their hips crashing together, which is all it takes for Leon. He screams as he covers his stomach and chest with cum, thrusting back against Wes as he rides out the rest of his orgasm. Wes keeps going until he joins Leon, his entire body on fire as he spills into his darling.Â
It took several minutes for them to still, with Wes still balls deep as he slumps over. His heart is still racing as he smears Leonâs cum onto his cheek, and he swears that his brain needs a minute to restart.Â
Although based on the fact that when Wes pulls out, Leon is still boneless beneath him, he may have accidentally broken his brain. Oops.
At some point in between Wes freeing Leon of the bondage and cleaning him up with a towel (helpfully left on a nightstand within armâs reach because after Wes tops his legs become jelly and he didnât want to crack his head on the floor again), Leon emerges from the foggy haze heâd been in. âHoly shit, that was good.â
Wes snorts, helping him sit up and letting Leon help wipe him down. He presses a gentle peck to his boyfriendâs lips, melting as he starts to take over the clean up duties, throwing the dirty towel into the hamper and grabbing their pajamas from the nightstand. âYou took such good care of me. Let me handle this.â
âYou donât have to-â
He leans down, whispering into Wesâs ear as he slides a pair of boxers up his legs. âMaster shouldnât have to worry about such silly things as cleaning up, thatâs what Iâm here for~â
He shivers, eyes wide as Leon guides him into his pajamas. âWh- you- thatâs not- you canât do that-!â
He chuckles, turning the lights off and pulling him close. Wes may be a mortal man, but he isnât that easily distracted by cuddles and cozy sleepy time. He is a little more distracted by the kiss on his forehead, and Leon muttering, âGoodnight, love.â
At first Dallas doesn't know what woke him up. His room is dark and it must be the early hours of the morning judging by how Buck's had calmed down. Music quiet enough he can barely hear the crooning voice.
His hand grasps the butt of his heater and his breath is stagnant in his chest as he hears it, the soft padding of feet outside his door, the click of the handle turning and a creak as whoever slips inside.
He waits, the room remains silent for a few minutes after the door clicks shut again, maybe the intruder had realized the room was occupied and left?
"Dally?" Dallas's body jerks upright at Curly's voice, the gun slipping from his grip as he blinks into the dark room in an attempt to see the younger boy. Curly had never called him anything but Winston before.
"Shepard? What do you want?"
Curly doesn't answer as Dallas watches his shadow walk across the room until he was stood at the foot of Dallas's twin bed.
No Matter how far you Think You're Going you Keep on Rowing.
Oh yeah for sure! Feel free to add them to the smutceptember collection as well! It'll be open until the end of the year, and prompts will still be free to use for whatever, whenever indefinitely after :)
Written for day 26 of @smutceptember2025, Gentle and Nerves. Leon's POV of day 12.
TWs: past noncon referenced
Leon sits on his bed, side by side with Wes. His boyfriend is draped against his side like a Pokemon, absorbing his warmth as he reassuringly runs his hand up and down Wesâs thigh.Â
Obviously Wes is nervous, given his history, and Leon will always reassure him. But the motion is also for himself; theyâve been making tentative forays into closer and closer intimacy, a world where Wes has been horribly abused in before. Every time, Leon has been terrified of fucking things up and hurting Wes more, and he thinks heâll never not feel that twinge of anxiety when they lay together.
âWe donât have to do this if youâre not ready, love,â he mutters, feeling how Wesâs heart races in his embrace. He knows Wes feels guilty for not being able to give him âreal sex,â as meaningless as that is, but how Wes truly feels is more important than any obligation he feels he has to fulfil.
His beloved shakes his head, lifting it to meet Leonâs gaze, and he can see both nerves and a steely determination in his eyes. âIâll never be ready. I want to do this, I want you, I justâŚâ
âAre you sure? I donât want you to push yourselfâŚâ
Wes grumbles a little. âNo, its not⌠Youâve shown me so much. I- Sex hasnât been good for me in the past, but Iâm sure you can make it feel good.â
Oh. Thatâs a lot of faith- a lot of pressure. âDonât- Donât call it thatâŚâ Leon starts stammering and waving his other hand around as he tries to find the words he means. âAnd probably but itâs not like- Iâd need some time to explore and figure out how to make you feel good.â
âOh. Well, you can do that⌠However you do thatâŚâ
âAre you sure?â Leon asks again, his nerves getting the better of him. âI donât want to hurt you.â
âYou wonât.â Wes gently reaches out and grasps Leonâs hands, raising them to his lip and pressing a gentle peck to his knuckles, sending Leonâs heart racing. âI trust you, Darlin.â
âOkay.â Leon sighs. âYouâre going to need to get undressed then.â
Wes curls his fingers, digging his nails into the skin of Leonâs palms, and he can see how his boyfriend tenses up. âCan- Can you alsoâŚ?â
âYeah, of course.â
They separate, moving to opposite sides of the bed. With years of practice, Leon strips quickly and efficiently, tossing his clothes into the hamper next to the closet. After he grabs the lube from the nightstand, he turns back around and takes a moment to take in Wesâs body.
Thereâs a twinge in his heart as he can see the ribs peeking out of his sides, the tattoo above his pelvis, the myriad of scars that cover his belovedâs body. But itâs overridden by seeing the lean muscles that heâs built up, the little bit of fat that theyâd managed to work up around his thighs, the hickies that Leon had left earlier in the day around his neck and jaw. Like always, his boyfriend is a jewel from the desert, clearly worn and polished from the sand but gleaming brightly despite it.
âCome here,â Leon says, scooting to the middle of the bed. When Wes moves to meet him, he reaches out his free hand to pull him the rest of the way. He pulls him as close as body, making sure as much of their bare skin is touching as possible when he lays Wes down on the blankets beneath them.
He sees the initial fear in Wesâs eyes, so he closes the distance between them, pressing a searing kiss to his lips. He tastes the gasp on Wesâs tongue when he opens his mouth, and Leon presses deeper as he lets his hands move on autopilot, wandering up and down his body. His beloved is hot to the touch, rutting against him when Leon slides a leg between his, and he can feel Wes relax as he continues to touch and grope.
When he pulls away, Wes is panting, a hazy glaze over his eyes and fear nowhere to be seen. Gorgeous; and Leon doesnât realize he said that out loud until Wes moans.
âYouâre so perfect for me,â Leon continues talking as he spreads Wesâs legs, massaging his thighs as he does his best to keep his boyfriend in that relaxed state. âSo beautiful. Just relax, youâre so tense for me⌠thatâs it, good job, love.â
Another pang goes through his heart when he sees the scars around Wesâs entrance, remembering the glimpses into the horrors of his past through bits and pieces of Wesâs nightmares. But as he warms the lube on his fingers, seeing how his belovedâs dick is hard and how he shudders under his touch, he reminds himself that Wes is here with him now, and Leon intends on giving him the best damn orgasms of his life.
He circles his finger around Wesâs rim, but pauses when Wes takes a shaky breath. With his other hand, he lifts Wesâs leg so he can press a kiss to the inside of his knee. âYou doing alright, love?â
Wes nods, curling his fingers into the bedding beneath him. Heâs still relaxed, so Leon gives him another kiss as he presses his finger past the ring of muscle and actually entering him. He keeps his pace slow and steady as he pushes it further in, occasionally pausing to let Wes adjust, until his finger is fully encased up to his hand.
Leon keeps an eye on Wes as he starts rocking it in and out, making sure he can move without resistance before pushing his second finger in. Thereâs no sign of pain or discomfort, although he can tell that his boyfriend isnât enjoying himself. Well, now that Wes is fully opened up, Leon can fix that.
It takes a few minutes for Leon to find his prostate, but after he twists his wrist and curls his fingers just right, he finds the little bundle of nerves. Wes shrieks, bucking his hips into his hand as he shakes with pleasure. Just to make sure he remembers where it is, he pumps his fingers in and out and curls them again, watching as his beloved stops thinking.
âThatâs it,â Leon says, watching Wes tremble and a bit of drool slip out of the corner of his mouth. His cock is leaking onto his stomach, and heâs flushed red and panting. Beautiful. âI bet you could cum just from my fingers.â
Wes moans, bucking his hips. âPlease please please please please-â
âAs you wish.â Leon thrusts his fingers in again, watching Wesâs eyes roll into the back of his head and legs start to tremble. He deftly strokes his prostate, memorizing the feeling of Wesâs ass as he brings him closer and closer to the edge. Without thinking, he uncurls his thumb, and it brushes against Wesâs balls-
His beloved cums, a whine thatâs borderline animalistic falling from his lips as he spills all over himself. No longer able to ignore it, Leon uses his free hand to grab his own cock, and one stroke is all it takes for him to join Wes in orgasming.
The sight of Wes, covered in both Leonâs cum and his own, body fully relaxed and a glaze over his eyes as he has a dopey smile on his face, the most at peace that Leon ever sees him; something within Leon is pleased that heâs the one who made Wes feel so good.
He lets his boyfriend rest as he works on cleaning them both up, smiling at the little satisfied noises Wes makes when he wipes him down with a towel. Once they were both in pajamas and the dirty towels and bedding had joined their clothes in the hamper, Leon scoops him up and tucks them both into bed.
âHoly shit.â
Leon canât help but chuckle, brushing his fingers through Wesâs hair as he cuddles closer. âIâm glad you enjoyed yourself.â
His sentence is ended with a yawn, and so he decides to close his eyes and let sleep take him, basking in the warmth of his beloved and the pleasant haze that still clings to him. As he drifts off to sleep, one thought crosses his mind.
He wants Wes to feel as good- no, even better next time.
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CWs: noncon/extremely dubious consent, drugged sex
Something similar to hatred burns through Sylvia's mind as she watches the black-haired hood move through the room of gangsters and cowboys alike, stalking with a confidence that said he was in charge and everybody knew it.
Tim Shepard, existing as if he didn't notice Dally Winston's missing presence every day like she had to. Dally had such little impact on his life that here he was, grinning and dealing just days after Dally was pumped full of lead and dropped in the ground. The bastard hadn't even come to the funeral.
Tears sting her eyes at the reminder. She'd cone to find Tim in hopes of sympathetic company, she'd thought, surely the man Dally had always wanted to choose over her would be just as devastated at his loss? She hadn't understood the whole queer shit Dally kept beneath his skin, but she'd loved him too much to tell anyone else about the times he'd be half asleep and call Tim's name, those times she'd found the two of them in a car or back alleys, between each others legs or down on their knees.
Dark blue eyes land on her and Tim scowls, something unhappy flitting across his face, Sylvia thinks it looks like hatred or disgust, but it's gone in a second.
She gathers all of the confidence in her as she walks over to him. He stops in his tracks, tucking his thumbs in his pockets and leaning back on his heels. Not an ounce of grief in him. It pisses her off.
"Sell me something." Sylvia snaps, taking the small bundle of bills out of her bra.
"Whatchu want?" He tilts his head
"Whatever this can get me that will fuck me up so good I can't feel anything."
Got a Head Full of Spiders and a Heart That Isn't Here.
I just learned about this today. I didn't see it mentioned in any of the rules, but the collection remains open after September right? I have a fic, which is finished, and a draft (I was planning to post it this month anyway), which falls into the "Powerplay", "Possessive", and "Humiliation" prompts, if not more, as listed here: https://www.tumblr.com/smutceptember2025/789876021439643648/breaking-down-the-promptsfeeding-ideas?source=share. I look forward to hearing from you.
Yes! The collection will be open until the end of the year and I'll be sharing any posts I'm tagged in until then as well!
"Come'on man, ya can't have pissed him off that much." Dallas is about two seconds away from belting Curly right across the face if the little fuck didn't mind his own business.
Dallas isn't usually around Buck's at this time, nearly the hottest part of the day, when almost nobody was around. Buck was out back working on his car and a few bums were drunk at the bar top, Dallas was shooting a game of pool by himself.
And of course Curly. Who'd somehow decided that the last two weeks Dallas had been avoiding the Shepard Gang territory was somehow because Dallas had pissed off Tim.
Dallas huffs a breath, cigarette dangling between his lips as he leans down to line up his next shot. Curly hops up onto the pool table like the little asshole he is, but Dallas isn't playing for stakes so he just takes it as an extra challenge. "Buck'll swat yer ass black an' blue if he catches ya up there."
Written for day 27 of @smutceptember2025, Outdoors and Envy.
TWs: referenced nonconsensual kissing and past noncon
Wes pushes Leon against the wall, grabbing his cape and yanking him down to his level. He presses a searing kiss to his boyfriend's lips, his blood still boiling as he can still feel the lipstick from that fucking woman-
Leon opens his mouth, hands wrapping around Wes's shoulders and pulling him closer, and Wes finally started to relax, wrapped in the scent of his Darling. He pushes his tongue to meet Leon's, shuddering as Wes feels his hands running down his back.
When they pull apart due to a need for oxygen, Leon's eyes are wide, the lipstick that had been on his lips now just little smudges.
"You should've let me break her fucking ribs," Wes growls, his blood still boiling at the audacity of that woman. To kiss his boyfriend in front of him, clearly stepping over the line and getting offended when Wes pushed her away. "You should've let me kick her into the dirt. You should've-"
Leon cuts him off, pressing a gentle kiss to Wes's lips. "I love you very much, which is why I don't want you to get arrested."
"It's self defense, it's justified-"
"Love." Leon presses a finger to his lips. Now that Wes is closer, he can feel how his Darling is trembling, how his eyes have a glassy sheen to them.
"I'm sorry," Wes mutters, a pit opening up in his stomach. "I should've broken that bitch's fingers before she got too close, not afterwards."
"Wes." Leon says, tone firm and steady. "I'm okay, really. I just wanna move on."
Wes presses closer to him, feeling the boner through his shorts. "Well, let me make it up to you, hmm?"
Leon flushes suddenly, looking over Wes's head in a panic. "We're in an alley- someone could-"
Wes shushes him, letting his hands wander beneath the waistband of Leon's shorts. "Someone could see what a Champion time you're having?"
He drops to his knees, finally freeing Leon's cock from his boxers, and meets his eyes. His boyfriend gasps and squirms just from his breath, and his voice is shaking. "Are you sure?"
Instead of answering verbally, he opens his mouth, taking the tip of Leon's cock. Above him, his boyfriend moans as Wes slides forwards, head spinning as he's surrounded by Leon's scent. He doesn't have a gag reflex, so he can take his entire dick in his mouth.
As he kneels there, looking up at his Darling, seeing him whine and fall apart just by the movements of Wes's tongue, the tilting of his head, the glide of his lips up and down the shaft; Wes doesn't think he quite gets why Leon likes doing this so much, but he can understand seeing his boyfriend enjoy himself and feeling all the blood rush to his dick.
"Fuck- fuck- Wes I'm gonna-"
He pulls off of Leon, hearing a frustrated groan above him. Instead, Wes closes his eyes, and licks a long stripe on the underside of Leon's cock.
He feels the hot cum splattering across his face, grinning as his boyfriend ruts against his face riding out the rest of his orgasm. He licks his lips, pleasantly surprised at the taste of Leon's cum. He didn't know it could taste good.
"Love-" Wes feels Leon grab him by the arms and pull him to his feet, and his eyes flutter shut as he feels Leon wipe his face with a handkerchief. "Let me clean you up."
"Mmm, let them see how good I treat you~"
"I love you so much, but you are absolutely not going to walk around with cum on your face."
Written for day 25 of @smutceptember2025, Safeword.
TWs: past noncon implied/referenced via flashback (flashback ends before anything graphic happens)
Wes is on his back, his skin crawling as hands hold him down. He kicks and squirms, trying to escape, but all he hears is laughter as the hands pull his pants off of him. He can't do anything as the older grunts grab his ankles, spreading his legs for the leering crowd.
He chokes as someone yanks on his collar, forcing his lips open as someone shoves the barrel of a gun into his mouth. He stills instinctively, eyes tearing up as the cold metal pushes towards his throat.
"Stop squirming, brat!" Agrev snarls, using one hand to keep the gun in place as he rips his boxers off with the other. "Actually... keep him still."
The hands strengthen their grip on him, keeping him pinned as his stomach sank and he realizes what is happening. Wes thrashes, screaming and crying as the gun is pulled from his mouth and his legs are pulled further apart.
Something snaps in his mind, and suddenly he's no longer a scrawny teen trapped in a dingy room by Team Snagem. He's in Leon's penthouse, sitting on the plush bedding across from his boyfriend.
Leon is crouched across from him, eyes intently watching him with a Corviknight's gaze. He relaxes a little when he sees that Wes's eyes meet his, silently holding his hands out, palms up, offering without demanding.
Awareness trickles in as Wes reaches back, placing his hands in Leon's. His back is against the headboard (which is also plush), with his legs curled up against his chest, and he's shirtless but otherwise his pants are still on.
"Love," Leon mutters, gently running his thumbs over Wes's knuckles. "Are you back?"
Wes nods, making some sort of noise as he does so. Leon pulls his hands to him, pressing a few gentle kisses to his knuckles. "Can I hold you?"
"Yeah." Leon lets go of his hands, scooching over and pulling Wes into his lap. A jolt of fear goes up his spine as he feels Leon's boner when he slumps against Leon's chest, but it quickly passes and is replaced by a stab of guilt. Fuck. He asked Leon to have sex and then freaked out and now he has to comfort him.
"I'm sorry."
"Oh, Wes." Leon wipes away the tears gathering in his eyes. "No, I should be the one apologizing. I'm sorry. What did I do wrong?"
Wes tries to cast his brain before the flashback, but he shakes his head. "I- I don't remember. Sorry."
"That's alright." Wes relaxes in Leon's arms as he starts rubbing his back. "We don't- you don't need to do anything else, just take it easy, okay?"
You don't need to do anything else.
As he listens to Leon's heartbeat, something occurs to him. Wes said stop, and Leon stopped. He had told him before, that if Wes told him to stop his boyfriend would always stop, but its as if his brain didn't really believe him until it happened.
Wes feels tears running down his face, and Leon holds him close as he sobs into his embrace. He can't explain why, how the world seems to be tilted on its side suddenly, but Leon doesn't say anything as he continues to rub Wes's back. He can't explain how its both terrifying and freeing that Leon is right, that the people who hurt him in the past were wrong and that his voice shouldn't have been trampled over.
But the most important shift in his world is that Leon is safe, a shining beacon of light that Wes can always turn to, who illuminated the shadows haunting him. And he believes that if he stays by Leon, absorbs all the light his Darling is willing to give him, that maybe he'll finally be free of those shadows.
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It's the third day this week that Mark had woken up to a foreign weight on his bunk, kicking and snarling visciously to get the more handsy of his roommates to back off. A sharp crack! as his knee collides with the assholes nose, sending him cussing and spitting away with a bleeding nose.
Mark presses himself into the corner, knowing letting himself be cornered is a terrible plan but it's the easiest defensable position he could reach at the moment.
The other two boys in the room remain silent, both a year older than Mark, staring with wide-eyes at Samson, who's whipping himself into a fierce anger, whether because Mark dared to defy him again or because of the blood that steadily dripped down his face and onto the floor Mark wasn't sure.
There's a restless shuffling down the hall as guards make their way down to check out the commotion, Mark was sure he'd be tossed in solitary again for starring a fight, the other two boys too scared of Samson to speak out against him.
Samson's eyes are dark and full of anger as he glares at Mark, spitting out the blood that seeps between his lips. "Just you wait, Cat. I'ller make you fucking pay for this." Chills run up Mark's arms and a stone drops into his stomach at the threat, knowing what he knew about Samson he didn't doubt the promise of it.
Mark can't help but be relieved as he's shoved into the empty room, not even a cot to sleep on, his ribs and hands aching from the cane that'd been taken to them, it was nothing compared to the last kid he'd seen after Samson got his hands on him.
You can Hear the Growling so you Throw the dog a Bone.
linkĂeverybody // actor au // hatesex // gangbang // object insertion // somnophilia // fisting // tally marks // facials // degradation // multiple orgasms // 3006 words // ao3
âThatâs the part about this you donât understand. For a proper hatefuck, the fuckers have to think itâs their own idea.â
âOr, in this case, my idea.â
âExactly.â Link turned to Ahrt Secro with an expression of superiority that the taller man was so used to he only rolled his eyes. âYouâre part of the crew, and Iâve been aggravating enough for them to grow their own sense of community that includes you, automatically.â
âThat still doesnât explain anything. Thereâs clubs that do these things, you know?â
âWell, I donât want to go to a club. This is what I want, and Iâm going forward with it with or without you.â
Ahrt Secro sighed, and considered it for a moment. âAnd I donât have to stay after wrap?â
âYou can leave as soon as the rest of those oafs get their neurons together, I just need you to set the ball rolling.â
//
It was a hard day on set, or a hard week rather. Link coped by making it harder for everyone around him. However, sometimes thatâs just not enough, and he needs actual R&R. Hence his lingering outside past his scenes, and the pills he washes down now with a swig of carbonated water. He sprawls on the bench heâd been littering around to mess with the prop guys, and runs his fingers down his archaic costume as his lids start drooping and his body gets heavier. Now, he can only hope Secro delivers.
Heâs been waiting around enough that heâd be tapping his foot if he wasnât effectively paralysed, by the time he hears hoots and calls that tell him heâs slumped enough his tunic has ridden up. He spares a thought to thank the costume people that decided heâd go without modesty shorts for realism as he feels himself hoisted up and then the edge of a table digging into his hipbones. Voices overlap for a minute, and stop making sense, but it doesnât really matter because it doesnât take long for someone (Secro? Someone else, capable of independent thought for once?) is spreading his arse with rough fingers and pushing inside him with no care and insufficient lube. The sensations are somewhat dulled by the drugs, but he knows that wonât be a problem for long.
A rush of air leaves his lungs, the only reaction afforded to him in his semiconscious state, as hands move him forward and back on the table in rhythm with the dick thrusting inside of him. Itâs a rocking, almost dizzying motion, that adds to his haze. Itâs pathetically soon when the man comes inside him, but heâs appreciative all the same for the hard spank that lands on him as he pulls out. The sound resonates through the room, and the men watching on turn to each other, ready to pretend ignorance in case the actor wakes up.
âWhat the hell,â shrugs one of them. âHe didnât wake from that, I say weâre safe.â
He replaces Secro behind the drowsing man, and figuring the formerâs sperm is enough lube, unceremoniously pushes in. Thereâs been muttered jeers and the usual rumours around the set about whatever Link does in his off nights, but he figures if heâs not using his hole to get ahead with the producers heâs twice the fool. Even knocked out like this, the muscles on his channel try for a tenuous grip on his cock that has him ramming it in harder, sparing a quick thought to what heâd do if Link were to wake up, after all, and concluding the indignation on his face would be worth it all the same. His movements are careless, obviously not trying to please anyone but himself, and he comes inside the unconscious man soon enough.
That seems to give the men that have started crowding around some sense of security, and it takes less time for someone to take over, feeding his cock into Linkâs unsuspecting arse. Heâs just getting used to the situation when another man steps up opposite him, considering the blondeâs lax expression for a moment before heâs pulling out his dick to press it against his mouth. Initially, he just rubs himself against those parted lips, but thereâs something about seeing the calm in his attractive face unaware of the defiling his body is currently going through, and he canât hold himself for long before heâs holding his mouth open with his thumbs and experimentally pushing inside. Linkâs breath becomes laboured as his head is held in place so the cock in his mouth can reach deeper, but he doesnât wake up.
âWhat did I tell you all?â The man huffs in disdain as he pokes the inside of Linkâs cheek so the outline of his dick is visible from the outside. âBitchâs drooling around my cock, and asleep like a log. Bet if he had this every night he wouldnât need those damn sleeping pills, huh?â
No shit, Sherlock. The internal roll Linkâs eyes give at that doesnât stop him from revelling in the degrading words. And they seem to break some sort of spell that was holding the others back, as soon thereâs more hands on his body. Heâs groped and slapped, nails dragged across his chest and fingers pinching his arse. His limp hands are wrapped around dicks he hopes wonât spill until theyâre inside him, even as heâs filled again.
Link splutters and coughs when the man fucking his face comes, the reflex making him tense around the cock in his arse, and even as he feels the warm liquid trail down his lower lip heâs got the werewhital to hope that wonât scare the men away. He shouldnât have worried, the men have decided heâs apparently not waking up until morning, and all that happens is the man getting ready to use his leaking mouth rolls his hair around his fist to hold him up and slaps his cock firmly across his face twice before pushing inside. Heâs so thick Linkâs cheeks hollow on their own whenever he pulls out. The tears that spill from his eyes as his body tries to gag around the head do nothing but entice the men waiting their turn into rubbing their cocks on their trail.
Link lets his body be overtaken by the sensations, he knows he canât get hard like this and it will still take more for him to come at all, but he also knows it will be all the better when he does. After the man who first claimed his mouth thereâs been sadly a drop in the degradation, not that he expected much from the guys whose creativityâs stumped at SFX, so he spaces out for most of it and focuses on the relentless fucking instead. A door opens heavily, and the hands holding his hips hesitate, but heâs got an idea of the location security team and this is only confirmed when the newcomers opt to join.
âI always knew that arse was made for taking cocks.â
âJust look at that face, thatâs what you call sweet dreams.â
âWonder what the little slut would say if he could see himself.â
âHow many loads has he taken?â
That, Link wouldnât be able to answer. The sperm drying on his face is just a distant sensation, and whilst he can feel his hole dripping with it heâs too drunk on pleasure to even try and guess the number, even if he could speak. When the men around him can only hazard a guess, the man who asked gets a marker from somewhere to keep the tally. The man fucking him comes, and Link feels the cool felt tip against the back of his thighs before heâs flipped onto his back. He snores at the change of position, which elicits laughter from the crowd.
âSee, this is the most comfortable environment for this whore.'
With that, his legs are folded over himself so he can get mating pressed as two men try to beat each other at coming in his mouth. His lips strain with it, and he gasps for air to no oneâs concern. When heâs taken both loads deep in his throat with minimal gagging, someone straddles his chest to fuck the shallow valley between his pecks. If he was conscious and had an available mouth, heâd open to catch his release. As is, with the biggest cock heâs sucked bulging out his throat, it merely lands over the swell of it.
Even with the constant of the marker on his skin, he loses count of how many times heâs taken like this. His hole is so sore it twitches with every thrust, his throat is raw but canât stop swallowing around the ever revolving lineup of dick and his nipples canât stiffen no matter how hard theyâre pinched; heâs in paradise. Heâs unbalanced momentarily as the man fucking him shifts him around, and before he can understand whatâs happened he finds himself suspended by the legs midair, a second cock pressing against the stretched muscles of his arsehole. Itâs big, and Link wonders if theyâre purposefully doing this as hard as they can, thinking heâd hate it. When he finally gets a grip inside him and enters him so brutally he can feel his bollocks against his skin in one stroke, Link feels his soft prick dripping. So howâs that for hating it?
Either the men donât realise or they donât care, fucking into him like theyâve got something to prove. He rides out his pleasure as heâs used like a fleshlight, each of the men trying to give it to him harder than the other. When the first one comes, heâs so put out he slaps his arse a couple of times before pulling away. Link figures itâs a good enough tradeoff for not having a dick in his mouth right now. This gets solved quickly, as heâs laid over another man on the table so both his mouth and his hole are accessible. His hands are occupied soon enough, and it progresses until heâs taking two cocks on each end more often than not. The stretch on his arse is sublime, and the constant demand to be in his mouth is overwhelming in the best way possible.
After a while, an hour or five really; these men never last nearly enough, his hole is left empty for the first time since this started. If he had any control on his muscles he could try and clench himself closed. As is, he can only guess the gape heâs presenting to the room of men that in all fairness work under him, with his choked breaths as a background, for at least some of them seem to think they can work themselves to hardness again using his mouth. A finger presses down on his rim, stretching him more as the flow of sperm increases.
âHe looks so blown out, like a pussy.â
âWhat, youâve never seen a pussy before or something?â
âWhatever, I wanna eat that out.â
Incredulous laughter follows, and Link doesnât know what to expect when something cold and smaller than heâd like is pressed inside him. He doesnât think he can actually fully wake up, but the men seem willing to risk anything at this point, if the fast flow of water inside him is anything to go by.
âDude, is that safe?â
âOf course itâs safe.â A hand presses over his â less flat than usual nowâ abdomen. âHow else do you think sluts like him get clean?â
Thereâs the shade of nausea mounting in Link at the dual pressure on his belly. Too soon thatâs over, and he makes a note to try that on his own later as the hand presses down until heâs spilling the water. It feels worse going out than it did when it was pumped inside him, and he doesnât know how heâs not blushing, semiconscious or not. Heâs still coming to terms with being washed out like a sextoy when he feels the press of a mouth on his sensitive hole. And he didnât expect anything theyâd do to him to be gentle, but heâs still surprised at how aggressibly even this can be. Between the rough sucking on his abused flesh and the strain on his mouth, he comes again. They notice, this time.
âDid he justââ
âHe wasnât even hard, was he?â
âLook at the size of that thing, like weâd notice if he was hard!â
Link is smackdown average, thank you very much, but he canât decide whether that makes the menâs disdain better or worse before the man working his arse switches his tongue for his hand. Not two fingers or three, but his entire hand pushing into him without stopping. It stretches him until heâs crying again and settles inside him against his beat up prostate.
âNow heâs got something to cum about!â
And this is why Link insisted it had to be this way. Heâs never been fisted with so little preparation, and he can feel his cock dribble because itâs so good it hurts. He lets out a sound between a snore and a groan around the cock hardening in his mouth, someone gives his untouched cock a slap and the fist inside him pushes further in. Link sighs when he feels what must be a watch bump past his prostate.
âBe careful⌠I mean, heâs still got some scenes tomorrow, doesnât he?â
âShut up, I could puppet him like this and his lines would have more credibility.â
âWhat do you mean, lines? Whore like him doesnât need lines to sell a movie.â
âI donât know about that.â His mouth is freed as heâs hoisted up somewhat, and fingers pinch the corners of his swollen lips in turns to make them imitate speech as the man pitches his voice close to Linkâs register. âIâm never happy unless thereâs a fist up myââ
âGod, you sound too much like him!â The hand on his arse starts nigh punching into him. âPissing me off.â
âHow can you be mad at this cocksucker?â Fingers press inside his mouth idly. âAfter heâs doing all this to please us.â
The fingers withdraw, and then a quick succession of men land their spit on his open mouth, or face if their aim sucks, which doesnât surprise Link. He struggles swallowing, and so his mouth is tilted forward so it drips over his chest. He only registers the jeers distantly, mind melting at the constant assault of the fist inside his arse that twists and pushes like it wants to break him in two.
âLook, you can see how good youâre ruining him!â
Someone calls, and the men that were losing interest after fucking a couple of loads into the blonde make a circle to see his belly bulding out as the man fisting him struggles to get the more muscled part of his forearm in him. The marker that had been left to the side after someone gave up trying to figure out for how many did the fist count makes a return, in careless words scribbled all over his front. Finally, the fist relents after Linkâs cock drips an amount that promptly gets called pathetic and forgotten. But the show has imbued some energy into the attendants who leave the beers they were passing around to go another round inside him.
âYou said he was blown out, but look how youâve left him!â
This is merely a token protest, for the man who complained is the first to slide under him, leaving room for someone else to go in with him. And heâs back to taking two cocks in his arse as someone holds his face up, as if examining him.
âYou brought that hose all the way here and couldnât wash his face?â
âWhat do you mean, he looks better like this!â
âI guessâŚâ He flicks the corner of Linkâs mouth with his cock, and itâs so derisive heâd come if he wasnât drugged and wrung out. âWhat do you think heâd say, if he woke up like this?â
âLike, once heâs done screaming from the doublestuffing? With a cock in his mouth?â
âYou know what I mean.â
âYeah. Itâd be real fun, let me tell you that.â As if imagining it, the man fucks into his arse harder. âI can just picture him, trying to lecture us between moans.â
âLike heâd try. I think heâd just accept his place as a fleshlight.â The marker again, this time in his face and Link can guess what theyâre writing. âHeâs passable at it, at least.â
âPassable?â
âYeah, now that this idiotâs stretched him out.â The man interrupts himself with a groan, as if to gainsay himself, as he comes into Linkâs stretched arse and is promptly replaced. âFeels like fucking a water balloon.â
âWe should get a horse to fuck him.â
âAre you stupid?â
âWhat, now you care about the little slut?â Someoneâs fingers push into Link along with the cocks, tugging on his rim with enthusiasm. âSeemed happy to wash him inside out.â
âThereâs no bloody horses in this location, idiot.â
âFigure we could still find a dogâŚâ
âWhat about these?â
Link is torn between being offended at the ease with which the men inside him stop trying to give him their seed and curiosity, before a beer can is shoved inside him amidst hearty cheers. Itâs big enough to press relentlessly on his prostate but it still enters him without struggle, holding his rim stretched as it weighs on his insides. Itâs cool and a shiver goes through him, but itâs dismissed with a you better stay under, slut as a finger traces over his twitching hole. Link sighs out, relieved. He figured they wouldnât be able to keep it up for much longer, but it seems at least someoneâs got the brains to be a satisfactory lover.
Tags: Fluff, Smut, Anniversary Gifts, Crying, Kissing, Nipple Play, Clit Play, Cunnilingus, Unprotected P in V Sex, Oral (Dean and Cas Receiving), Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Explicit Language
Word Count: Around 1000
Written For: @smutceptember2025
Squares/Prompts Filled: Day 30 - Threesome for Smutceptember 2025
Dividers By: @/saradika-graphics
The bunker had never felt so warm, so alive. The moment you opened your bedroom door, your breath caught, the glow of candles flickered along the bookshelves and table, painting the concrete walls in a soft amber glow. The room smelled faintly of leather and spice, Deanâs cologne, and the sweet, lingering notes of Castielâs grace.
Dean leaned against the edge of your bed with that cocky little grin, a wrapped box in one hand, his green eyes gleaming. âHappy anniversary, sweetheart,â he drawled, voice low and warm. âHope youâre ready for a good night.â
Beside him, Castiel stood straighter, his blue tie loosened, eyes shining like heâd been waiting for this all day. âYou deserve celebration,â he said simply, but his words carried that grounding weight that always set your heart aflutter. He held out a smaller package, wrapped neatly, carefully, just like him.
You laughed, giddy, cheeks heating as you stepped closer. Dean shoved his box into your hands first. âGo on, open mine. I wanna see your face.â
Inside, nestled in tissue, was a delicate silver bracelet, adorned with a tiny charm, an impala, detailed down to its little windows. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, pretending like it wasnât a big deal. âFiguredâŚyâknow, itâs like carryinâ Baby with you...but also me.â
Your heart squeezed. Before you could speak, Castielâs gift was waiting patiently. You opened it and found a soft leather-bound journal, filled on the first page with his handwriting. His careful script read: Every thought I have of you is a gift. I hope youâll fill these pages with your own.
You couldnât stop the tears if you tried. âYou twoâŚâ your voice cracked, and Dean was already pulling you into his chest, his arms secure, his lips pressing to your hair. Castielâs hand followed to the small of your back, warm and steady.
âBaby, donât cry,â Dean teased softly, though his voice was thick too. âWe ainât done yet.â
Castiel tilted your chin, his thumb brushing away a tear. âNoâŚthis night is only beginning.â
When they kissed you, Dean rough and hungry, tasting like whiskey and want, Cas deep and slow enough to make you shiver, you knew exactly what they meant. They laid you back on the bed, and together, they worshipped you.
Deanâs hands were hot, calloused, dragging down your sides like he couldnât get enough of touching you, while Casâs lips ghosted over every inch of exposed skin, murmuring words of praise that made your breath hitch.
âLook at her, Cas,â Dean growled, voice husky. âPerfect. Our girl.â
âYou are divine,â Castiel whispered against your throat, his hand cupping your jaw. âEvery part of you.â
They took their time, Dean kissing you fiercely until you gasped, Casâs fingers gliding over your sides, his voice low in your ear reminding you of how cherished, how utterly theirs you were. Each touch was a vow remade on your skin.
The candles burned low, shadows flickering across the bunker walls as Dean peeled your clothes away with rough, eager hands. His lips found your neck while Casâs palms smoothed over your bare skin.
âIsnât she beautiful, Cas?â Deanâs voice rasped against your throat. His teeth grazed your skin, a soft bite making you arch. âSheâs ours. All ours.â
Cas kissed just beneath your ear, his hand sliding between your thighs, tantalizingly slow. âAlways. And tonight we show her.â
They moved in perfect contrast. Dean pushed your legs apart with a growl, while Cas knelt at the edge of the bed, his mouth trailing open-mouthed down your stomach. When his lips brushed the inside of your thigh, you gasped, your hands fisting in the sheets.
Dean smirked, leaning down to kiss you hard, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as Casâs mouth finally descended, tongue sliding through your wet heat with unhurried strokes.
âOh, Cas!â Your cry was muffled against Deanâs mouth, and he swallowed it with a low groan.
âThatâs it, baby. Let him taste you.â Deanâs hand came up to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple while Cas worshipped you with his mouth, his tongue making your hips jerk.
Every time you whimpered, Cas moaned into you like he was tasting something divine, his hands holding you open, steady. Dean pulled back just long enough to watch, his eyes dark with heat. âFuck, Cas. Look how close she is already.â
You tugged at Deanâs shirt, needy, and he stripped it off in a rush, his muscles gleaming in candlelight. He shoved his jeans down just enough, grinning when you reached for him. âThat what you want, sweetheart? Hm? Want us both?â
âYes...please!â
Dean kissed you again, filthy and rough, before pulling back to guide himself to your mouth. âOpen up for me.â
The stretch was so good, your tongue swirling around the thick weight of his cock while Cas kept you pinned, his tongue relentless, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. Deanâs head fell back with a groan, his hand buried in your hair. âShit, baby, that mouth...gonna make me lose it.â
Your moans vibrated around him, and he gripped your hair tighter. Cas lifted his head, chin wet, eyes blazing as he looked up at you like you were heaven. âShe is ready for us, Dean.â
Dean pulled free from your lips, his thumb swiping the spit from your mouth as he grinned down at you. âYeah. Time to give our girl what she deserves.â
They moved you together, Dean sliding behind you, guiding you onto his lap, the blunt head of him pressing against your entrance. âTake me, baby,â he groaned into your ear as he sank in, stretching you wide, filling you to the hilt.
Your cry broke out, and Cas caught your face in his hands, kissing you fiercely, swallowing every sound. âPerfect,â he whispered. âYou are perfect.â
Deanâs thrusts rocked you, deep and steady, his arms banded tight around your waist. âThatâs it, baby, ride me...just like that.â
Then Cas pressed closer, his hand guiding himself against your lips, his voice rough. âLet me have you too.â
Dean growled in approval, his teeth nipping your shoulder. âOpen for him. Take us both. Let us worship you right.â
The world narrowed to the two of them, Deanâs thick length pounding you from behind, Cas filling your mouth, his hand gentle on your cheek, his voice breaking as he murmured praise.
Your body shook, every nerve alight as they gave you everything, Dean snarling against your skin, Cas groaning your name like a prayer. When you shattered, it was earth-shattering, but they kept going.
Deanâs voice was ragged in your ear, a growl wrapped in heat. âThatâs it, baby...fuck! You think weâre done? Not even close. Youâre gonna cum again. Gonna give us everything.â
Cas moaned low in his throat, pulling free from your lips with a pop. He cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so he could look at you. âYou are radiant,â he whispered, his blue eyes molten. âAnd tonight, weâll worship you until you can no longer speak anything but our names.â
Deanâs fingers pressed against your clit, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts, dragging broken whimpers out of you. You tried to squirm, the pleasure overwhelming, but he locked an arm around your middle. âNo running, sweetheart. Youâre gonna take it. Youâre gonna let us love you like you deserve.â
Cas lowered his mouth to your breast, sucking at your nipple, his teeth grazing, his tongue soothing, while Dean kept grinding you open from behind. You came again, screaming, clenching so hard that Deanâs growl turned feral.
âFuck, sheâs squeezinâ me like a vice,â he snarled, holding you tighter as your body convulsed.
But Cas wasnât done. His fingers replaced his mouth, twisting and tugging at your peaked nipple, his other hand stroking down between your thighs, joining Dean in working your swollen clit. âOne more,â Cas commanded, his voice like thunder. âGive us one more.â
You cried out, the intensity too much, tears streaking down your cheeks as they pushed you over again, your body writhing between them, your throat raw from moaning their names.
Dean groaned through his teeth, spilling inside you. Cas followed soon after, his release painting your stomach as he kissed you fiercely, swallowing your sobbing moans.
Finally, they slowed. Dean eased out of you carefully, murmuring against your hair, âThatâs my girl. So goddamn good.â He laid you gently on the bed, his rough hand surprisingly tender as he smoothed it down your thigh.
Cas retrieved a warm cloth, cleaning you carefully while Dean held your hand. Cas pressed soft kisses to your belly, your thighs, anywhere his mouth could reach, whispering, âYou are everything. You are loved.â
Dean chuckled softly, still catching his breath, pulling the blanket up over you. âDonât think Iâve ever seen anything more beautiful,â he admitted, brushing your hair back with a gentleness that didnât match his earlier roughness.
They settled on either side of you, Casâs chest a cool, steady weight against your back while Dean tucked your head under his chin. Both kissed you, slow and sweet, until your body relaxed, every tremor soothed.
âHappy anniversary, baby,â Dean murmured against your hair.
âEternally,â Castiel added, eyes heavy but full of devotion.
And out of everything they have given you, you knew there was no better gift than them.
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@smutceptember2025 29: pride + sensory deprivation
Make Mine a Meteor
adam milliganĂmichael ⥠418 words ⥠ao3
Adam feels himself relax as Michaelâs breath slows down once the earplugs go in. He hits the lightswitch and hopes he didnât break it in his impulse to kill the harsh overhead lighting. Then, he faceplants on his bed, burrowing into a pillow until he starts to forget everything thatâs happened during the day and from the moment he died for the first time and before that. He wants to forget things he doesnât know yet. Michael pins his wrists crossed under his stomach so his abdominal aorta pulses over his radial artery. Itâs a surprisingly calming sensation.
Heâs forgotten to eat, say, for a week at least. Although he doesnât need it, thereâs something dizzying about the empty feeling he gets after a couple of days. Just like he doesnât need to sleep, but he thinks he could use it. Now, however, Adam is comforted by those deprivations. Or rather, their baseline abundance.
He doesnât know if he starts it or Michael, and he doesnât notice when his hips begin shifting against the duvet. He hums, pleased, and presses circles over his hipbones with his fingers. His ankles are uncrossed, a knee bending for better leverage as Michaelâs grace extends down his body, so soft itâs a step above desultory. Any more and itâd be an irritant. His stomach feels newly empty in a way that leverages the building pleasure.
He doesnât need the oxygen from breathing, but rather the movement on his airway, and when this becomes difficult from the cotton, or microfabric or whatever it really is, he turns over. The streetlights coming in through his window have him hugging the pillow he just escaped tightly over his eyes.
He lets out a yawn he canât hear, and squeezes his duvet between his thighs, letting Michael pleasure them in this understated, clement fashion. His mouth hangs open and when he comes itâs in sudden bursts of ecstasy that bloom across his body, warmth radiating from his throat and in his shaking lips, the backs of his knees tingling as they twitch.
Adam's fingers dig into his pillow and he feels it tear. He canât help the burst of inaudible laughter now that makes the pit of his stomach tense like a caress. Human life might be harder now but the truth is it was never all that easy. And Michaelâs here now, he thinks, somewhere between grateful and proud. He turns over to dream, maybe to sleep. He might even get to eat breakfast tomorrow.