We have loved filling your prompts, but real life has crept up on us. We’ll be going on indefinite hiatus. The blog will remain as is, with the archive accessible and the ask box closed. Thanks to everyone who has been a dedicated reader. Your kudos always made our days.
The one thing that Sam hated about being with Gabe was that he was never 100% sure if Gabe was being serious. There had been too many examples of Gabriel taking Sam right to the edge of ecstasy and then pulling back over and over until Sam felt like he was going insane; or the time where he stood Sam’s homecooked meal up just to show up three hours later with two girls and a guy for them to share in some kind of dessert apology-joke. That why Sam blurted out an emphatic and very loud “no” when Gabriel asked him to get married.
Proposal after proposal followed: down on one knee, in the middle of a fuck with Gabriel riding him until he wasn’t sure if he’d heard him right, with flowers, with weapons, with a diamond that Sam suspected was still supposed to be in the Queen’s jewelry box. And Sam always said no, until the time that Gabriel revealed the ring… pierced through the head of his cock.
“I did it for you, so now will you marry me?”
This was so much worse than that time he’d drunk the whole little bottle of V and he had to jerk off a thousand times. This felt like it was never gonna end, with Roman’s long tongue flicking over him and then pushin’ inside until tears were practically leakin’ out of Jason’s eyes.
“Please, man, just… please, you gotta—”
Roman slapped Jason’s ass cheek and laughed from behind him where Jason couldn’t see without craning around. “I don’t gotta anything, little human. You’ll come when I let you come,” he purred, sliding two fingers into Jason’s hole like nothin’, and this time the tears of frustration really did come.
A/N: Under a cut for season finale spoilers, gunkink.
His words were wind through the forest canopy, and beneath their sound Aragorn was cradled in the soft bed of the earth, Legolas’ whispers the slow touch of the grasses upon his bare skin. Warmth washed across his length as Legolas told him the many ways in which they’d make use of each other, and heat suffused his face as Legolas chose the most creative ideas from the sly depths of his Elven mind. Legolas’ words were a call to battle, to claim him and take what was his with muscles taut beneath their flesh and cries of passion about them in a pulsing wreath.
Aragorn held Legolas’ mouth against the side of his neck, listening to each gasped breath and smooth sound as Legolas took every bit of him inside himself. Finally, finally, when Aragorn thought he’d be unable to wait longer, Legolas sighed Aragorn’s name, his tongue caressing the sounds as though they were his body.
Dean’s brother was the one around whom vampires needed to exercise caution; but here Dean was, eyes stroking along the line of Godric’s neck and tongue wetting his lips.
“I feel your gaze,” Godric said softly, “and it speaks to my blood.”
He was upon Dean then, moving Dean’s clothes aside and dragging his fangs down the gently rippling expanse of his torso; a quick motion opened his jeans, and another abandoned them beside the bed. Godric’s tongue was not as gentle as his lips though, thrusting immediately inside of his hole and loosening him in seconds. Dean’s hands grasped, pulling at Godric’s back and then his waist, grappling to turn him and bending to push his own tongue across Godric’s ass; he trembled and convulsed with pleasure as Godric’s fangs slid into the flesh of his inner thigh, and Godric’s tender body went rigid when Dean’s blunt teeth did the same.
Seeing him stand at her door like this, a wounded puppy left out in the rain, made her feel guilty, like somehow she could have prevented all of this from happening; she couldn’t refuse him now, not like this…God knew where he’d end up if she did. She took him in, laid him down on the couch and hung up his wet clothes, fetched him a towel and coffee, and kissed him on the forehead when she had him carefully arranged, covered in blankets and surrounded by warmth.
"Alana…" He croaked into her hear when she tried to move away from him, and as he slipped his hand around hers she knew that her work wasn’t done. "Please…tell me what to do." She sighed and smiled kindly, allowing him to press his face into her bosom, instructing him on how to lick and massage her breasts and stomach.
"There, Will…ah! Yes…" She moaned as he applied the same technique to her womanhood, his tongue slick against her, each stroke of his fingers inside of her careful; she knew he was listening to her every word, waiting for a command, for he was lost, and she had found him, taken him where he needed to be most: inside of her guiding arms.
"I can’t imagine the trouble you’re going to get into when Daddy finds out about this, Gabriel." The sad fact was that Gabriel didn’t care, because this was what he wanted: not approval, or love, just the thrill of being pinned under something forbidden and dark and vile. Crowley leaned over him and bit his neck again, lapping at the swollen, bruised skin there; to be honest, Crowley was enjoying himself nearly as much as Gabriel was, never expecting an angel to be quite so much fun.
"Crowley, p-please…fuck me." Crowley put a hand to his ear, pretending not to have heard Gabriel, and the angel whined piteously.
"Oh, very well. You look so uncomfortable there, and yet…I think I’ve never seen any angel so suited to his position as you." With that, he slid his damp, damned hand over his cock, moistening it before pressing inside of Gabriel, giving him precisely what he wanted. Gabriel took it, too, even when Crowley humiliated him in ways he could not have imagined; so wrong it was right, so filthy it was pure.
"You piece of shit." Eric ground out as he thrust into Jason again, harder this time, as punishment for yanking at Eric’s hair with his greasy, filthy fingers; he’d have to give it an extra washing now. He was just like her, just like Sookie, so impetuous and fiery and…well, he supposed that was why he was here, cock three-fourths buried in his cornpone ass, digging his nails into his skin, impossibly tan for a boy as white as he.
"Why don’ you shut the fuck up and finish the job, bloodsucker? Didn’ come here to lissen to you insult me." Eric grinned and shoved Jason’s head back down into the concrete floor of the basement, thrusting again and again until he yelped.
"No, I expect you didn’t, but I also assumed you knew what you were walking into. I suppose that was too much to hope for a mangy, inbred lunatic such as yourself." Jason growled and, remarkably, shoved Eric onto his back and slamming down onto him.
"You’re just as mangy as me for fuckin’ me, ain’t ya?" Eric blinked and Jason continued to fuck himself on Eric’s cock, panting with every thrust. "So…just…do it…"
The rain beat and battered the men like thousands of tiny hammers, and if Legolas had not known better, he would have thought the force of it would dent their armor, pierce straight through metal and mail to their flesh. Before he could return to his place next to Gimli on the high wall, a hand brushed his, and he turned to follow the touch—Haldir glanced behind, his eyes full of that which he could not speak, and Legolas silently moved after him, let himself be led to a quiet place, where not even the refugees of Rohan had ventured.
"We must be quick, Legolas." Haldir breathed against his damp neck, and Legolas nodded, shucking away as little of his armor as necessary, Haldir doing the same for him, until he could lift Legolas into his arms and brace him against the wall. He thrust inside, his heat startling when the rest of him was damp and chilled to the bone, and Legolas laid his cheek against the hard metal of Haldir’s shoulder plate, his breath fogging its reflective surface. Only when they had finished, when Haldir had emptied himself inside of Legolas, did they hear the deep drums approaching, ringing in the air.