Misha’s thighs tremble beneath Jensen’s palms as he pushes them open. Sliding between Misha’s knees, Jensen bends to mouth at his cock, nose at Misha’s balls, breathing deep until he can practically taste Misha at the back of his throat.

“Jensen,” Misha says, voice rough and tired, rumbling up like thunder.  “I know it’s difficult for you to keep your hands off me—fine paragon of a man that I am—but I don’t think I’m really up for—”

“Oh really?”  Jensen looks up at him, eyebrow quirking, then back down at Misha’s cock, half-hard already.  The flush already on Misha’s skin deepens, and Jensen grins, wants to follow it with his mouth.  Later, maybe; he’s got more important things at hand.

“Anything athletic,” Misha finishes.  “But by all means—” he waves a hand at Jensen, lying back so his head’s propped up “—if you want to do all the work, don’t let me stop you.”

Jensen smirks and leans in, licks a stripe up Misha’s cock.  “You ran 80 kilome—”

“Eighty-three.”

“—83 kilometers.  This is the least I can do.”

“The least, huh?  Does that mean I shouldn’t be expecting a check signed Jensen Ack—Jesus Christ!”

Jensen sucks at the head of Misha’s cock, tongue flickering against it before he pulls back.  He moves his hand up the shaft once, twice.  “It’d be pretty impressive if Jesus Christ sent you a check.  Think he’s a cheapskate?”

One of Misha’s hands finds Jensen’s shoulders, moves upward to fumble at Jensen’s hair.  “Right now I don’t fucking care,” he says.  “Suck my cock.”

“Pushy,” Jensen mumbles, but he grins and leans back in, licking at the line where his fingers wrap around the shaft, moving upward to lap at the head.

Removing his headset after Kevin hangs up, Dean tosses it on the desk and stands, stretching.  Something in his back pops and he groans—his first genuinely pleasure-filled groan all day.  He glances at his watch—4:35—and, deciding he has time for his break, heads out to the lobby.  He tosses a wave at Al and hits the down button for the elevator, chewing the edge of his thumb while he waits.  Nerves, he realizes.  You’re nervous.  His chest feels tight and his skin is hot and, oh, he wants Cas to call.  He wants the next voice he hears through his earpiece to be filled with gravel and honey and sex.

In the building’s lobby, Dean heads straight for the vending machines.  He buys a Coke and a Snickers bar, more from a need to occupy himself than any real hunger.

It’s drizzling outside, the streets darker than even this time of year calls for, and Dean sighs and eats, barely tasting the chocolate or caramel or nuts, the syrupy sweetness of his drink, mind occupied with thoughts of Cas.  Is he looking out at the same weather, waiting for the right time to call?  Is his heart pounding just as hard?  Are his palms as sweaty?  He wants to wipe them off on his thighs, but his hands are full.  He’s an adult for God’s sake, not an anxious, horny teenager.  And this is his job, nothing else.  Get it together, Dean.

He downs the rest of his Coke and tosses his garbage.  Taking a deep breath, he heads back upstairs and settles in, tucking himself into his desk and replacing his headset.  He adjusts it minutely and then waits.

Last time Cas called, Dean had talked about bending him over the back of his couch.  He’d described working him open with his fingers, spreading his ass and licking him, fucking him with his tongue.  It had been…amazing.  And that had only been the sounds.  God, the sounds Cas had made.  Dean can only imagine what it would be like if—

No, he can’t think like that.  He doesn’t even know if Cas is local, let alone interested in anything other than anonymous orgasms.

Dean checks the time and his heart sinks a little.  Late.  He does his best to tamp down the disappointment.  It’s only a few minutes, he tells himself, and it’s not like you had a date.  Maybe Cas is done with him.  Maybe he’s, God, married and taken and someone else’s who doesn’t appreciate the—

Dean’s call light illuminates, glowing red, and his heart leaps.  Fuck.

“Al’s taken care of business,” he says, swallowing hard and hoping his voice doesn’t give anything away; he’s a professional, damn it, “now let me take care of pleasure.  What did you have in mind this evening?”

“Hi.”

Dean’s heard the same voice this breathless before and he smiles into the headset, a weight suddenly lifted from his chest.  “Hi,” he answers.  It comes out higher and more eager than he intends and he clears his throat, tries again.  

FINALLY working on PSO!Dean and Castiel is breaking my heart.

I want to be like, “bb, bb, go talk to the man you’ve been having mind-blowingly hot phone sex with, you deserve it,” but he won’t.

I have PSO!Dean open and all of my PSO related tumblr tags and tags of Jensen Ackles because we’re at a pivotal “Cas sees Dean for the first time” moment and I am TRYING TO WRITE BECAUSE I WANT TO FINISH THIS AND SHARE IT.

Come-play with Dean and Castiel?

Or Steve and Tony?

DEAR WRITERS:

ryface:

IT’S OKAY TO USE “SAID” A WHOLE DAMN BUNCH.

IT’S OKAY TO USE PRONOUNS REPEATEDLY SO LONG AS YOU STRUCTURE YOUR SENTENCES SO AS TO KEEP IT FROM BEING CONFUSING

FUCK, IT’S EVEN OKAY TO USE COMMON SAYINGS AND CLICHES SPARINGLY.

DON’T PURPLE UP YOU PROSE JUST BECAUSE YOU THINK IT’S NOT OKAY TO DO THESE THINGS BECAUSE IT IS

DON’T TAKE AWAY FROM YOUR PLOT TO MAKE ULTIMATELY UNIMPORTANT DETAILS OF YOUR NARRATION LOOK FLASHIER.  

(via castielwillavengesherlock)

owlcritic:

List of Smut Writing Guides

Below is a list of guides that have been written on how to write smut. Credit goes to their original writers. This list will be updated each time I find a new smut guide. [Each link below is titled as the topic it covers]

• Accurately Write Gay Sex
• Bare Bones [Step by Step/Stages]
• Boners
• Casual Sex
• Erotic Horror
• Gay Sex
• Guide to Bottoming
• In General [and details]
• Kisses
• Kissing
• Language in Smut
• Lesbian Smut
• Making Love
• Planned Sex [Girl POV]
• Sex Between Virgins
• Sex Scene
• Sex Scenes
• Sex Scene References
• Terms [Vocabulary]
• The Basics
• The First Time
• Words for Sex
• Writing a Sex Scene
• Writing from a Male’s Perspective
• Writing Tips
• 12-Step Program [How to Write Sex]

Yes, some of these may not relate directly to smut or cover the topic, but they can be helpful when writing smut.

The updated list can always be found here. If there are any broken links, please let me know.

(via suavebadass)

PESSIMISTIC HOPEFUL: lielabell: emilytea10: and if i die today…: Because of the... →

lielabell:

emilytea10:

and if i die today…: Because of the Times

youneedtolookatthis:

thehappyfangirl:

makingfists:

It’s like this…

You’re fourteen and you’re reading Larry Niven’s “The Protector” because it’s your father’s favorite book and you like your father and you think he has good taste and the creature on the cover of the book looks interesting and you want to know what it’s about. And in it the female character does something better than the male character - because she’s been doing it her whole life and he’s only just learned - and he gets mad that she’s better at it than him. And you don’t understand why he would be mad about that, because, logically, she’d be better at it than him. She’s done it more. And he’s got a picture of a woman painted on the inside of his spacesuit, like a pinup girl, and it bothers you.

But you’re fourteen and you don’t know how to put this into words.

And then you’re fifteen and you’re reading “Orphans of the Sky” because it’s by a famous sci-fi author and it’s about a lost generation ship and how cool is that?!? but the women on the ship aren’t given a name until they’re married and you spend more time wondering what people call those women up until their marriage than you do focusing on the rest of the story. Even though this tidbit of information has nothing to do with the plot line of the story and is only brought up once in passing.

But it’s a random thing to get worked up about in an otherwise all right book.

Then you’re sixteen and you read “Dune” because your brother gave it to you for Christmas and it’s one of those books you have to read to earn your geek card. You spend an entire afternoon arguing over who is the main character - Paul or Jessica. And the more you contend Jessica, the more he says Paul, and you can’t make him see how the real hero is her. And you love Chani cause she’s tough and good with a knife, but at the end of the day, her killing Paul’s challengers is just a way to degrade them because those weenies lost to a girl.

Then you’re seventeen and you don’t want to read “Stranger in a Strange Land” after the first seventy pages because something about it just leaves a bad taste in your mouth. All of this talk of water-brothers. You can’t even pin it down.

And then you’re eighteen and you’ve given up on classic sci-fi, but that doesn’t stop your brother or your father from trying to get you to read more.

Even when you bring them the books and bring them the passages and show them how the authors didn’t treat women like people.

Your brother says, “Well, that was because of the time it was written in.”

You get all worked up because these men couldn’t imagine a world in which women were equal, in which women were empowered and intelligent and literate and capable. 

You tell him - this, this is science fiction. This is all about imagining the world that could be and they couldn’t stand back long enough and dare to imagine how, not only technology would grow in time, but society would grow. 

But he blows you off because he can’t understand how it feels to be fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen and desperately wanting to like the books your father likes, because your father has good taste, and being unable to, because most of those books tell you that you’re not a full person in ways that are too subtle to put into words. It’s all cognitive dissonance: a little like a song played a bit out of tempo - enough that you recognize it’s off, but not enough to pin down what exactly is wrong.

And then one day you’re twenty-two and studying sociology and some kind teacher finally gives you the words to explain all those little feelings that built and penned around inside of you for years.

It’s like the world clicking into place. 

And that’s something your brother never had to struggle with.

IMPORTANT READING

Oh yes, so much this.  SO MUCH this.

This breaks my heart so much because it’s so damn true.

(via popkin16)

I want to write porn.

:(

anglosexual:

misandryinhaiku:

“women are weaklings!”

i’m strong enough to carry

your corpse to the woods

this haiku is my favorite haiku

(via cautionzombies)