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Woof

Simon wakes in the night.

cw: wip, accidental voyeurism, sexual content, Price's genitals are ambiguous because I kind of liked the idea of Price being wet as fuck for Nik, but eh, there could also be lube being used.

Simon blinked awake and spent the first few moments of bleary consciousness staring into the middle distance, trying to work out what had dragged him from his dreamless sleep. He wriggled his toes in the warmth of the heavy hotel blankets and drew in a slow breath. Like most nights, he had faked being drunker than he actually was. It warded off the well-intended peer pressure from the rest of the squad and let him keep his control.

It also meant that he slept a little lighter than the two sergeants currently snoring their heads off on the other side of the room. It took a moment for his brain to switch up enough gears to narrow in on what had disturbed him. There was a bit of huffing; distress, perhaps pain, and his tired mind offered that perhaps Price was coming down with a fever.

All he could pick out was vague movement at first, and then two hushed voices, both low and gravelly, a little breathless.

“Nik, the boys…”

“They are out cold. Please, John…”

“I–uh, fuck…”

“Be good for me.”

Sheets and clothing shifted. Price slept in his boxers and shirt when they were lucky enough to score a hotel room before catching the flight home. Simon squinted into the darkness, eyes adjusting to the pale light sneaking through the crack in the curtains.

He could see Price gripping his pillow, his head pushed back, shirt rumpled up over his tits to reveal hard nipples to the cool waft of the air conditioning. The noises punching out of his chest were strained, strangled, desperate to stay quiet.

Simon glanced down the slope of his body. There was a large shadow between his spread legs, two equally large hands wrapped around his thighs to keep them apart. It shifted, and Nik's broad back formed a defiant silhouette in the dim room, his head shifting lower. The wet sound of his mouth working sent a shock through the length of Simon's body, and he pressed his thighs together, the sudden rush of heat in his belly almost dizzying.

Price pushed knuckles into his mouth, stifling his high, tight huffs as Nik licked him; slow, deliberate, soft moans of pleasure muffled against Price's flesh. The bed springs creaked as Nik leaned to the side, one of his hands sliding between Price's legs. A breath later, Price’s back bowed off the mattress, the slick noise of fingers working into him joining the wet slurp of Nik's mouth.

“Nik,” Price keened, his voice cracking, faultlines of overwhelmed pleasure spidering through his self control. The strain in Price’s voice rattled through Simon like the first tremors of an earthquake, and he pressed a hand to the front of his boxers, the throbbing heat of his own erection, defiantly hard, filled his palm.

Nik sat up, pushing his forearm across his mouth as he freed his cock from his boxers with the other hand. Simon’s chest burned as he held his breath, gaze dragging down the glistening length of it, the streetlights catching a sheen on the thick droplets of precum gathering at the tip. It was long, thicker in arousal than Simon had ever glimpsed in the showers, with a slight upward curve, and every inch of it was going to sink into his CO’s hole. Nik dragged a quick pump down its length before leaning forward, a hand bracing in the pillow beside Price’s head.

“Nik…” Price said, hushed, like a plea. It sounded strange in Price’s voice; there was an alien vulnerability to it that shot straight to Simon's cock, and he squeezed the shaft with an appeasing pressure. Nik didn't reply, he leaned his hips forward with the low whine of bed springs, and the next sound that punched out of Price was strangled. Blunt fingernails scrambled at Nik’s shoulders, frantic, his muscular body arched from the bed as Nik thrust into him. It only served to push him further onto Nik's cock, Nik's heavy balls nestling against the curve of his arse.

“Oh, John, you feel so good,” Nik rasped, his low groan muffled against Price's collarbone. A large hand threaded through Price’s ruffled hair, the other fisting the pillow, and slowly Nik began to fuck him into the mattress. The rhythmic creaking of the bed springs matched the wet, lurid noise of Nik's cock plunging into Price's body, the headboard tapping lightly against the wall.

The sergeants are still sparko, their soft snores fading into the background, and Simon slid a hand beneath the elastic of his boxers to palm his cock in time with the slap of Nik's hips, listening to Price’s voice, a tense ‘please’ choking into a moan as he is so lovingly fucked against the tangle of bedsheets. Nik kissed his lips, his forehead, whispering in sweet, low Russian between wrecked groans.

Simon's gaze dragged down the slope of his broad back to the rise and fall of his arse, Price's legs thrown wide, his heels occasionally knocking against Nik's thighs as Nik ploughed into him, increasingly industrious with his pace. Simon pumped his own cock faster, each breath shivering over his trembling lips as he tried to stay quiet. He was getting off on his captain being fucked by his boyfriend, the tension of the op spilling out of their bodies, soaking into the hotel beds with their sweat.

He imagined it was him fucking into Price, cock sawing in and out of his hole, stretching the soft skin tight around his girth. And yet, at the same time, he was underneath Nik, his thick pelt of body hair soft against Simon's chest, the hot, searing length of his cock brutal and demanding as it spread him open. He pushed a second hand into his boxers, curving his hand beneath the heavy weight of his balls to his taint. Slick with sweat, he slid to his hole and touched the tight wrinkles of it, hair soft against his fingertips, and his toes curled tight.

Nik was fucking Price faster, harder. Price puffed out soft, gravelly ‘uh, uh’, pinned by Nik, unable to wriggle away from the onslaught of pleasure as Nik lifted one of Price’s legs to his shoulder to plunge deeper.

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jesus no

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metamorphosis (im free! im finally free!!)

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violence and death and dying and blood and guts and gore and violence and viscera and fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you

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your post was removed because it wasn't a photo of your armpits. upload a photo of your armpits

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The Circus

Bath, Somerset, England

35mm film

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they had to kill off Charlie because they realized having a lesbian best friend was going to be too liberating for Dean. If charlie was there in season 11 or 12 when Cas hangs out in the bunker and Dean is asking gay hunters what it's like to settle down and he's making him a mixtape, she would've smacked him over the head

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ai destiel is just disrespectful. those 2012-2016 tumblr users put their everything in to editing destiel kissing gifs. respect your elders

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Angela Carter, from a poem titled "Unicorn", featured in Unicorn: The Poetry of Angela Carter

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PSA: AO3 HAS BEEN INFECTED WITH AI BOT COMMENTS.

Have you seen one of these dipshits? If you post regularly on ao3, chances are YES, but more likely you didn't notice nor suspect it was a bot. Sometimes they start off nice, or even praise you before getting nasty out of nowhere, like so:

But much like Grok, their newest obsession is nazism.

I don't know where they come from, or what purpose this could possibly serve other than suicidebaiting random people in the internet, I guess; but apparently they've started parroting names from real users to send these comments and shifting their general length to go by undetected. Maybe those are scrappers trying to train 'reviewbots' to be sold as part of some scam service promising to give feedback for newbie writers, who the fuck knows.

Here are more examples of the tone and backhanded compliments you can find in these:

If you regularly post on AO3 or interact with writers in it, please pass this along so they don't feel insane receiving bombs in their inbox. This is ridiculous.

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Nik manhandling and railing a sassy lieutenant price for snapping and mouthing off at him for whatever reason

Correct.

The lieutenant doesn't seem to get the memo either- that his mouth is that what landed him in this position. That being bent over the desk in his office, papers and stationary litter the floor after being thrown to the side by an overzealous swipe of an arm.

His chest aches with how hard Nikolai had slammed him down and he can taste the blood that coats his teeth from the slow weeping wound from where he bit through his cheek with the impact.

Yet the shit-eating grin remains, satisfied and amused at being able to push Nik’s buttons until he broke. Until the calm exterior was traded for a biting glare and John was being bodily shoved across camp and through hallways until they got to his office.

Exactly where John wanted them to be.

Nikolai had taken no time to shove his trousers down and growl at finding John’s already prepped slick hole- just as he had planned.

John had been eager for this, for Nikolai to lose control and take it out on his ass and honestly, he had expected it to take more of a push- Nik could be an infuriatingly patient man despite the man’s mean streak that ran a mile long.

As it turns out, it took no time at all.

John just had to push, mouth off a little, tease and needle at him. The final straw, as it turned out, was some meaningless flirting- wear tighter clothes, bend a little too far, bat his eyelashes, and the man was twitching with barely concealed fury.

MacMillan always said that he had a gob on him and a knack for not knowing when to stop...

“You are infuriating.” Nikolai’s breath is hot against his ear as he presses in deep, chest to John’s back as the lieutenant gasps and stretches out against the quickly warming wood.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” His smile is smothered beneath Nikolai’s hand, fingers pushing in harshly so that the puppy fat of his cheeks bulged.

“You talk too much, solnyshko. I much prefer-” Nik rolls his hips and John’s answering cry is lost in his palm, “when you sing.”