Five Acts

[theinsaneeraser]

My Five Acts

1. Sensory Deprivation

2. Collaring

3. Tempature!Kink

4. Tentacles

5. Spanking


My Fandoms

Haven, Legend of the Seeker, Supernatural, Supernatural RPF


My Pairings

Supernatural: Everything but Cas/Dean, Dean/Gabriel, Dean/Sam and Sam/Lucifer (no Ruby or Zacharaih or Cassy ANYTHING.) Bonus points for Femmeslash and the pairings: Anna/Young!Mary, Balthazar/Dean, Balthazar/Lucifer,  Castiel/Gabriel/Sam, Castiel/Meg, Castiel/Sam, Dean/Lucifer, Dean/Uriel, Gabriel/Sam and Jo/Pam.

Supernatural RPF: Jared/Richard, Jared/Richard/Sebastian, Jensen/Sebastian, Jim/Mark, Richard/Sebastian, Misha/Sebastian.

Haven: Audrey/Duke, Audrey/Duke/Nathan, Audrey/Julia, Duke/Nathan.


Have fun my dears!

Fills

Given
A Little Dress-up: Supernatural, Balthazar/Gabriel/Sam, PG-13, Clothing!Kink
Unexpected: Supernatural, Orias/Zachariah, NC-17, Tentacles
 Love Shouldn't Hurt Like This: Supernatural, Dean/Lucifer, PG, Love
A Proper Gift:  Supernatural, Castiel/Gabriel/Sam, NC-17,  Phone!Sex

Recived

Comments

Dean/Lucifer tentacle fic!

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

There are layers to hell, dimensions upon dimensions of torture, and the deepest ones teach a kind of zen, an acceptance of pain that distorts it, turns it to pleasure. Lucifer has watched Dean go through the first several layers. He’s watched the Righteous man give in to Alastair, discover the pleasure in inflicting pain. And oh, how good he is at it. So good that Lucifer wants to reach out and take him for his own.

And when Lucifer wants, there’s a hell full of ways for him to get.

The spiderweb strands that hold Dean in place when he’s not torturing thicken and tighten around him. And then they start to grow, tendrils wrapping around his legs, sliding up past his knees to his thighs and parting them. Dean’s eyes open wide, and he shouts, hoarse, for help. After this long, he knows there is none to be found, but it doesn’t stop him from shouting, a deep human instinct. He’s still human, he’s no demon yet. Of course the Righteous Man would be harder to break. That’s all right; Lucifer is good with just bending him, for now.

The tendrils are tentacles now, they pulse and rush with blood as they slither up Dean’s thighs, and Dean gasps as they slide up across his hips to his stomach, brushing him in sensitive places that make his nipples harden and his cock stand at attention. He gives a whimper -- pleasure of any sort is such a hard-won commodity in this place of torment, it’s impossible to resist -- and when the tentacles withdraw, the noise he makes is desperate, longing. Already he’s addicted to the sensation.

Lucifer is reaching out from the cage now, and these are his arms, his feelers. He’s a creature of perverted ambition and desire and love, and as he wraps around Dean, squeezes and suffocates his integrity, need is rising in him as well. This creature, all sunlight and rugged, stubborn goodness, is just what Lucifer wants to conquer. He’ll have Dean begging.

He extends two more limbs, these thick and hard and engorged, and they take Dean’s mouth, leave sticky trails down the hardness of his chest and stomach. One surges up to breach his lips again, muffling his cry when the other slides into him, stretching him as it snakes inside and expands. He’s being torn apart, again, but it was never this good before, and now there are more tendrils tearing away the bare film of clothes that he wears, sliding around his cock and teasing-stroking. They’re just barely wet and hot , and Dean reaches out to try to touch them; tentacles slide around his fingers, and he clutches them and strokes them with his fingertips. Lucifer shudders with the unexpected sensation. Even here, even now, Dean is giving. That’s how good of a man he is. His virtue fills Lucifer with lust and rage, and he roars want from his prison.

The tentacles pound hard into Dean’s mouth and his ass, wind unceasingly around his cock and waist and thighs and fingers. Dean’s writhing, suspended in space, and Lucifer’s groaning. They’re stuck in separate nowheres, but still entwined in each other. They’re unable to see each other’s faces or hear each other’s groans, but it’s still “Lucifer” that skims on the surface of Dean’s busy tongue, still “Dean” that Lucifer gasps out between heavy breaths and frantic rub-thrusts. In their separate hells, they’re ascending together.

Dean comes with a wild cry; the tentacle throat-fucking him erupts as he does, and he swallows the bitter salt, cock pulsing into the wet embrace of Lucifer’s tentacles. They all open, spurt poison and darkness into him, and the waves of orgasm go on and on, as Lucifer screams and nearly breaks through the cage wall, his body slamming against it as he’s flooded with a kind of pleasure he’s forgotten existed, that instant of connection with something you hate and love all at once. He and Dean black out in unison, their hell-bound bodies still pulsating warm

Eventually, they will both find their way back to earth. And they will both claim not to remember a thing. But as sure as dark finds light, they’ll find each other again.

A Different Kind Of Grace, SPN, Anna/Young!Mary, Tentacles

[synnerxx.livejournal.com]

Hrm, never written tentacle!fic before, but then I had an idea and yeah. So. Off we go.

--

Anna's Grace is nothing like Mary expects. She's not entirely sure what she expected, but it most certainly wasn't this. The bright blue-white tendrils of Anna's Grace remind Mary of tentacles and she should be repulsed by this, but it's pretty hard to be repulsed when you're laying naked on a bed, arms pinned down and those tendrils are teasing your nipples into hardened peaks.

Mary moans and writhes on the bed while Anna stands at the foot of it, fully clothed and watching her, eyes dark with lust and a smirk curling the edges of her mouth.

Another tentacle of Grace strokes down Mary's bare stomach and caresses Mary softly before sliding against her clit, a barely there sensation that sends fire spreading through Mary. She arches her hips, rocking up into the touch and moaning wantonly.

"Please, Anna, please." Mary begs, breathless, as Anna continues to tease her mercilessly.

"Please what, Mary?" Anna asks calmly, as if she doesn't have Mary writhing on the bed before her.

"Fuck me, please. Let me come." Mary groans, hips pressing upward again.

"Since you asked so nicely..." Anna flicks her wrist and another blue-white tentacle of her Grace appears and thrusts into Mary with one smooth motion.

Mary cries out in pleasure, loving the feeling of being filled and stretched so completely by Anna. The tentacle that's teasing her clit begins to rub harder, sending more fire throughout her body as the one inside her thrusts hard and fast, making her scream.

Her orgasm slams into her and she wails, vision whiting out as she comes harder than she ever has before. Towards the end, she hears herself screaming and for a moment, she thinks she's going to black out as Anna keeps fucking her, forcing her to take it, forcing her to handle the most intense orgasm she's ever had.

When she calms, she sags against the sheets and moans as the tentacle slides out of her.

Anna lays down next to her and strokes her sweaty hair out her face. "I'm not done with you yet."

Mary moans as Anna toys with her nipple and kisses her hard.

Anything for her Angel.

Supernatural, Lucifer/Dean, NC-17, Mafia AU noncon, gun kink [1/2]

[zekkass.livejournal.com]

[ooc: Set in the same 'verse as this (http://zekkass.livejournal.com/439369.html), and is basically how Lucifer caught Dean before he walked into that hotel room with Gabriel and Castiel. Also, sorry for not hitting any of your listed kinks. Oops?]

It's cold out, but that's nothing compared to the heat of the muzzle of the gun on his skin. It burns, and Dean hisses even as he raises his hands. His stomach is flip-flopping, and he can't see a way out of this one.

Still, he's be calm. Pretend that there isn't a gun against his neck. Pretend that there isn't a casual killer behind him.

Which leads to the question of: which one is it? He's been helping Sam work on this case for ages and he knows the names of the Angelus brothers (most of them, anyways. The major players) and which one is it now?

"Don't I at least get to know who you are?" Dean asks, false bravado filling his words. "It'd be nice to know who I'm going to haunt."

"Ghosts have never bothered me," and Dean can hear the smirk.

Oh, hell. It's Lucifer. His chances for bullshitting his way out of this just went to zero. Still, he swallows and debates making a move for his cellphone. (Have to warn Sammy)

"Turn around," Lucifer says, nudging his neck with the gun before stepping back. "I'd prefer not to kill you, and I won't need to if you behave."

Dean turns, gaze flicking from the gun to Lucifer's face. Yeah, he's afraid, but he can't let that show. They're all predators in the Angelus family, and Lucifer is one of their finest. Dean knows, because he's been working on putting together a list of as many murders he can attribute to the Angelus family, and if possible name exactly which one did the deed, and Lucifer's list...it's not the worst of the lot (that honor rests with Michael, and may Dean never meet that freaky bastard without a SWAT team) but it isn't exactly short either.

Not that he can actually prove they did more than a handful of the murders, and not that he can actually prove beyond a doubt that it was them at all (yet, Castiel may be the key to bringing them all down) but -

He doesn't like the way Lucifer's looking at him.

He's not expecting the blow when it comes, either: Lucifer gives him a solid punch to the jaw, and Dean's hands are up and coming away from the wound with blood, and ow.

Lucifer drives his fist into Dean's stomach then and kicks his side when Dean curls up on the ground. There's a flurry of blows and Dean wheezes from the pain - he's bleeding and bruised and not in fun ways and he didn't like the sound of that last kick. Not that he can do anything about it.

"There," Lucifer says from above him, and the gravel of the parking lot is digging into his cheek.

"Wha - " Dean tries to ask a question, but Lucifer bends down and uncurls him, rolling him onto his back, and the gravel is assuring him that everything he does here is going to hurt in the morning, if he gets out of this alive. (He's not listening to the pain from his injuries, he can't, he can't - )

Lucifer puts the muzzle of his gun on Dean's chest and Dean goes still.

SPN, girl!Dean/girl!Lucifer, temperature!kink [1/2]

[theycallmegabe.livejournal.com]

[also included a bit of sensory deprivation and who doesn't love being tied up so]


The metal of the cuffs is cool on Deanna’s wrists, a sharp contrast to the heat between her legs. She can’t see anything through the silk tie covering her eyes, but her ears are sharp as ever. Lucy is being strangely quiet, however, Deanna straining to discern the slightest bit of sound.

She’s lost count of how long she’s been lying there, a pillow propping her hips up. Lucy enjoys making her wait for things, bring her to edge upon edge until she’s nearly incoherent, begging for any type of release.

The soft drip drip of cold water on her back is enough to make Deanna jump. She whimpers a bit as the handcuffs bite into her wrists, hips wriggling to try and displace the sensation. All at once, something cold drops onto her back and Deanna lets out a yelp.

“Cold, huh?” Lucy speaks for the first time. Deanna can picture the smirk; God knows she’s seen it enough times before. Deanna just suppresses a shiver, trying to find a more comfortable position.

The coldness (she figures it must be ice; what else would it be?) slides down to the small of her back and settles there. Deanna moans quietly, skin going numb, nipples hardening from the cold. Lucy chuckles and trails a finger over one of the hardened nubs. Her fingers are cold, and Deanna’s always been sensitive, which only heightens the sensation.

All at once, the cold changes to a burn as something clamps down on each of her nipples. Deanna yelps, but all she receives in return is a tug on the clamps. The ice is almost fully melted, water pooling in the small of her back. Deanna shifts a little and it spills, cold slicking its way down her sides, between her legs.

“Gonna make you scream,” Lucy whispers, suddenly right next to Deanna’s ear, “Gonna make you forget your own fucking name, aren’t I.” Deanna whimpers and shifts as Lucy nips playfully at the sensitive spot under her ear.

“Y-yes,” Deanna whispers, trying to find something to distract her. Cool fingers trail down her back and over her ass. Lucy spreads both hands over the smooth skin before bringing one hand down. A loud slap echoes through the room and Deanna yelps, surprised by the sudden blow. She can already feel her ass warming form the slap. Lucy chuckles and brings her other hand down.

“Count for me, sweetheart.”

“Two,” Deanna responds immediately. Lucy smirks again, hands rubbing over the twin handprints on Deanna’s ass. The spanking continues until Deanna’s ass is red and sore, almost glowing. Lucy watches her girlfriend panting for a few moments before retrieving the glass of ice water she stored next to the bed.

Lucy doesn’t dump it out all at once; she barely even uses the water itself. Instead, she places the glass on Deanna’s back, settling it and warning the other girl not to spill. Deanna merely whimpers in response. Lucy chuckles and dips her fingers into the water, holding them there.

Deanna tries her best to stay completely still, not wanting to spill the water. It’s bad enough having the glass on her back; she hopes to God she won’t have to experience being drenched in ice water. Lucy removes her fingers from the glass after a minute, then paints a stripe down Deanna’s ass, teasing her with the coldness. Deanna yelps, the cold of Lucy’s fingers harsh on her skin.

Still, Deanna spreads her legs wider when prompted, the glass wobbling dangerously. All at once, two cold fingers slip into her, and a thumb presses against her clit. Deanna whines, not daring to buck her hips for fear of moving the glass. Lucy chuckles and starts moving her fingers slowly, thumb circling Deanna’s clit. The smaller girl whimpers, fingers clenching and unclenching.

Normally Deanna considered herself rather in control, but this was almost too much. She was already growing close, muscles tensing, thighs clenching around the fingers inside of her. She could practically feel Lucy’s grin and gritted her teeth, determined to hold off. That seemed to make the blonde even more determined.