Anonymous asked: Supernatural, Dean Winchester/John Winchester/Sam Winchester, They like to team up on their father, sucking and rimming him open before taking turns fucking him.
Under a cut for incest.
Under a cut for potential dubcon, taking advantage of mentally unstable character.
Michael is on his back, papers and books scattered under his shoulders on the surface of the desk, sticking uncomfortably to his skin as he grips Gabriel’s hips just that much tighter and moans as he pumps up into him. This is Gabriel’s favorite position, and Lucifer’s too, for that matter – they both like watching Michael’s normally expressionless face blossom in his ecstasy, those full lips parting on every gasp and soft cry, brow creased, long lashes fluttering when he closes his eyes, everything open and on display as Gabriel moves, the smaller archangel stretched wide as both Michael and Lucifer fuck him.
This position also affords him the luxury of being the first to notice Chuck standing in the doorway to his office, openly staring, and by the low snicker and sudden press of teeth against the curve between his shoulder and neck, Gabriel’s sure Lucifer noticed too, but not Michael, and that’s fine; Michael would freeze up, humiliated, if he noticed. Chuck doesn’t look away, just stares at them, gape-mouthed, while Gabriel uses spit-slick fingers to stroke himself, moaning with his head tilted back against Lucifer’s chest. Chuck only stops staring at Gabriel and Lucifer to look down when Michael cants his head back and moans his name, surprising all three of them and bringing both of his younger brothers to shuddering climax.
Bruce pulled his glasses off and rubbed his palm down his face with the same hand, fingers curled tightly around the bow as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing… really to absorb the scene in front of him; he looked back at Hank, naked and fur-covered across his bed. Bruce was the Hulk and he’d come to terms with that finally — truly, with Hank’s help both in and out of the lab — but it still surprised him that he’d let himself fall in love with a half-man, half-beast genius that was volatile in his own right. Bruce had been alone for so long, building up walls between himself and everyone else for his own safety and theirs, that it still amazed him to find a willing (and fully aware of Bruce’s other side) man in his bed with his hand slowly moving on his cock in invitation. Pink skin stood out starkly against Hank’s fur, foreskin pushed up and then retracted with every leisurely stroke and claws careful as Hank jacked himself, and Bruce rubbed his eyes again like Hank would turn out to be a trick of his lonely mind.
“Hey,” Bruce said, voice gravelly and full of emotion and lust; he discarded his glasses on the side table and unzipped his pants, letting Hank’s long, smart tongue wrap around him in a confident invitation.
The first time Michael forced himself to keep walking past the open bedroom even when Gabriel’s deliberate, pornographic moans threatened to draw him back into their clutches. The second time he clenched his fists and teeth and watched without touching as Lucifer pulled Gabriel’s head back and sucked a livid mark upon his neck while he drove into him, Michael’s cock throbbing in time safely in his trousers.
Three, however, was one time too many, and Michael would not stand this intentional provocation of his jealousy. Lucifer had Gabe bent over Michael’s desk, atop his records of the Winchesters’ every move, generations of surveillance and they were defiling it right in his face with their lascivious looks in his direction, taunting him, angling to break him.
“That is enough,” Michael snarled, and both of them felt the thrust of his cock, both of them came in looping gouts of come upon his length before the night was through.
Under a cut for potential dubcon.
Fili knew the thief was hiding here somewhere—he saw the shadow duck into the smithy, heard the clinking of metal—and it was up to him to catch him; his Uncle Thorin had worked long hours that day, and he was already abed. Fili clenched his short sword in his hand, searching the dim forge for the intruder…and found no one.
"What are you doing sneaking about, little son of Durin?" A voice—it was Nori, one of his uncle’s friends, he realized—purred into his ear, and he felt his breath on his skin.
"there was an intruder…" Nori pressed up behind Fili, his hardness nudging up against the back of his thigh, and he felt his own cock stirring.
"What makes you think, young Fili, that the intruder was not me?" Before Fili could answer, Nori had slid his hands into his breeches, his hands stroking and probing, and Fili’s heroic quest long forgotten.
Bruce wasn’t sure what it was about Bucky that had drawn them together; perhaps it was that they were both rejected, in a way, Bruce a monster and Bucky a traitor. Nevertheless, when the two of them crashed together it was basic physics: every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Bucky raked teeth along Bruce’s ear, Bruce shoved him up against the wall of his lab and ground their hips together; Bucky knelt and took Bruce’s cock into his mouth, Bruce ran his hand through his hair and teased the skin of his neck with his fingertips; Bucky spread his legs and Bruce entered them. He had Bucky up against the wall, Bruce’s strength limited but thankfully not failing him now, and as he buried himself again and again in Bucky’s heat, Bucky smiled in a way that Bruce understood. Being filled with something was better than being empty all the time.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean says, seriously tempted to roll his eyes at the pink scrap of fabric hanging from Lucifer’s fingertip.
“I never kid, Dean. You know that,” Lucifer replied with his slow smirk. “Tonight, however, these aren’t for you.”
Dean’s eyes went wide as Lucifer slid the panties onto himself, the lace straining around his cock, dark blond curls spilling over the low waistband. Lucifer spun in a slow circle so Dean could see how the tight back seam of the lingerie had slid into the cleft of his ass making the panties a second skin — a friggin’ weird as hell second skin, and one that had Dean’s cock throbbing in his jeans — and he looked at Dean over his shoulder as he popped his hip.
“Or perhaps they really are for you,” Lucifer said, and he climbed onto the bed, rubbing and squeezing his cock through the thin lace as Dean watched a wet spot darken them to a deep red.
She didn’t even notice him at first; she was too busy scanning the souq’s tables for spell ingredients (she really needed this exact kind of goat pelt, or everything was going to go all wonky and Xander would end up with that high voice again like Alvin the Chipmunk — that was funny, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled about having it last a whole week). But then Oz called out her name and his quiet voice cut straight through all of the hubbub and pierced into every part of her body. Her magic resonated in one loud burst for a second; wind blew down the market’s aisle, sending dried fruits and candy-colored scarves whistling past and Willow into Oz’s wiry, tattooed arms.
“Hey,” they greeted each other as he slid into her upon a pile of pillows in the room of her inn, his orange hair too long and his skin turned golden from years in the wild. But he was still her Oz — gentle and fierce in one awesome little package — even if they both knew their way around a bed a little better than they had back then. Willow sighed as he made her come, pulling him tight and letting her pleasure roll over them both in a red-tinged wave of power.