Actions

Work Header

Five Sentences of Smut

Chapter Text

When Gabriel kisses it's angry, dominating, all clashing mouths and teeth catching lips and hands twisting into and pulling at clothes; Dean gives as good as he gets, though, grabbing and pulling and biting at the archangel with equal fervour.

"Boys," says Sam firmly, stepping forward and pulling them apart and kissing them, gently, each in turn, his lips soft and warm against theirs. He knows they don't like this, don't like each other at all, knows they're only trying this because he wants them both – but they need this, even if they can't see it, and Sam just has to work out how to prove it to them.

Dean and Gabriel scowl at each other as they undress Sam, peeling off his clothing piece by piece, and but when the tall hunter drags Dean's head down to his cock and Gabriel's up to his face, the expressions fade slightly. By the time they're pushing into him – both of them at once, huge and heavy and almost too much but perfect – Dean and Gabriel are gasping in sync, mouths pressed together in a sloppy, desperate kiss as they realise that if it will get them this, they're perfectly happy to share.

Chapter Text

When Gabriel comes, it’s with a broken yell that somehow manages to escape around the edges of the ball gag splitting his mouth open; he shudders, entire body going limp, and collapses forward onto the motel bed, with no way of getting himself upright due to the way his arms are bound behind his back and his legs trussed up and held open with a spreader bar. Sam waits, counts to ten like he knows Gabriel needs, gives him enough time to feel the aftershocks of his orgasm turn to oversensitised pain as the vibrator continues pressing up against his prostate, and then turns it off with a quiet sigh, murmuring, “shh, shh,” to the archangel as he unties him and unhooks the gag.

The noises Gabriel is making break Sam’s heart as he cleans him down with a warm, damp towel, wiping away the come and a few stray beads of blood where the flogger had broken the skin – he’s still smiling, still got that glazed, peaceful look on his face that means Sam’s done everything perfectly, but hearing the one he loves whimpering as he dabs at the bruises lining his back and buttocks and the insides of his thighs is not something he’ll ever get used to. The fact that they’ll be healed and gone by the next day is irrelevant, because they’re here now, and Sam can see them, and he wishes he didn’t have to; but Gabriel needs this, in a way Sam doesn’t pretend to understand but still respects, and he’ll keep giving Gabriel what he needs for as long as he can.

And anyway, the way Gabriel presses closer to him when they lay down together and Sam winds his arms around his neck, telling him how obedient he was and that he was such a good little boy, the way Gabriel nuzzles against his neck and whispers, “thank you,” in a voice of pure adulation – in some way, that makes everything worth it.

When Gabriel comes, it’s with a broken yell that somehow manages to escape around the edges of the ball gag splitting his mouth open; he shudders, entire body going limp, and collapses forward onto the motel bed, with no way of getting himself upright due to the way his arms are bound behind his back and his legs trussed up and held open with a spreader bar. Sam waits, counts to ten like he knows Gabriel needs, gives him enough time to feel the aftershocks of his orgasm turn to oversensitised pain as the vibrator continues pressing up against his prostate, and then turns it off with a quiet sigh, murmuring, “shh, shh,” to the archangel as he unties him and unhooks the gag.

The noises Gabriel is making break Sam’s heart as he cleans him down with a warm, damp towel, wiping away the come and a few stray beads of blood where the flogger had broken the skin – he’s still smiling, still got that glazed, peaceful look on his face that means Sam’s done everything perfectly, but hearing the one he loves whimpering as he dabs at the bruises lining his back and buttocks and the insides of his thighs is not something he’ll ever get used to. The fact that they’ll be healed and gone by the next day is irrelevant, because they’re here now, and Sam can see them, and he wishes he didn’t have to; but Gabriel needs this, in a way Sam doesn’t pretend to understand but still respects, and he’ll keep giving Gabriel what he needs for as long as he can.

And anyway, the way Gabriel presses closer to him when they lay down together and Sam winds his arms around his neck, telling him how obedient he was and that he was such a good little boy, the way Gabriel nuzzles against his neck and whispers, “thank you,” in a voice of pure adulation – in some way, that makes everything worth it.

Chapter Text

“Look at you, all spread out for me, so pretty and willing, your hole all open for me, fuck, so red and puffy and fuck , Sam, you’re so gorgeous...” Gabriel’s running his mouth again, talking when he should be doing, and Sam wriggles in response and spreads his legs wider. The answering groan he gets from Gabriel tells him that yes, that was exactly the right thing to do, and he grins at the slow, stretching burn as Gabriel pushes inside of him. “So tight, kiddo,” he mumbles, voice low and wrecked and they’ve barely even started, “so good, so pretty, love you so much, want you so bad, so fucking beautiful all stretched out on my cock, oh fuck.”

Sam’s fairly sure he should be telling Gabriel to shut up and move, but when the archangel starts thrusting, accompanied by gasps of, “so hot, such a pretty little slut aren’t you, my Sam, my gorgeous Sam, love you so much,” he can’t quite find the breath.

Chapter Text

Gabriel loves Sam when he’s like this, laid out on the bed all loose and naked and hard when Gabriel’s still fully dressed. “You going to be a good little boy for me tonight?” he asks softly, trailing a hand up the inside of Sam’s leg, rubbing a thumb at the base of his cock just to hear the hunter’s whines – he loves the noises Sam makes, soft and needy and child-like, so beautiful.

“Yes,” mumbles Sam, hips twitching up towards Gabriel’s hand, and Gabriel can’t help but indulge him, curling his fingers loosely around Sam’s swollen cock and watching with satisfaction as the human thrusts desperately up into his fist, “yes, promise I’ll be good for you, promise."

Gabriel tuts, rubbing a thumb over the head of Sam’s leaking cock and, because Sam sometimes forgets, prompts him, “Yes, I promise I’ll be good...?” and when Sam responds with a whimpered, “Daddy,” he almost purrs his approval.
“That’s right,” he says, hand curled more firmly around Sam’s cock, sliding easily over the slick precome that coats it, “you’re a good boy, aren’t you, so eager to please, gonna take me all, aren’t you, gonna just open up and take all of your daddy’s big cock in your little hole and say thank you for it-” and when Sam comes with a strangled sob all over his fist, he knows it’s going to be a good night.

Chapter Text

It hadn’t started off like this, thinks Crowley wildly – he’d only come to America to try and find the crossroads demon that was using his name, and he hadn’t meant for it to end up like this at all. He supposes it’s his fault really, though, considering he was the one that had crowded up in the demon’s space to start with. And then the other Crowley had started teasing, and he’d flirted back like the idiot he was, and one thing sort of led to another and now here he is pinned up against and wall with teeth biting at his lips and a tongue pressing into his mouth.

And he’s not going to stand for that, he’s just not, consequences be da- stuffed, so he presses forward against the one who stole his name and kisses back just as hard as he can, biting and pulling and grinding his hips forward although he can’t remember when he got hard.

The thing is, though, there’s only one possible escalation to that, so when Crowley’s pinned to the ground and the crossroads demon’s tugging his clothes off with remarkable impatience, one hand fisting his cock and the other slipping lower, slipping fingers inside him, Crowley only has himself to blame as he writhes and bucks and swears and comes with a snarl – and, from the look on the name-stealer’s face, they’re not anything like done yet.

Chapter Text

The first time it had happened, Moran had wondered if he was dreaming, because... well. Sex with Jim was angry, fierce, full of violence and desperation and teeth and nails and bruises, nothing tender about it at all. But after they’d both come down from their highs and cleaned themselves of a little, Jim had curled close to him and thrown a proprietary arm over his shoulder, nuzzling at the side of his neck and kissing the bitemark there before falling into an easy sleep. Moran had lain there for hours, watching the sleeping form of his boss and wondering how on earth anyone flipped a switch inside themselves that quickly, went from wild and gleeful to soft and needy in the blink of an eye.

This time, though, he’s not surprised at all when Jim presses closer, curling around him in a heavy-limbed grip and pressing his face against the solid weight of Moran’s chest. And this time, Moran curls an arm over him in return, pulling him closer, and the quiet, happy sigh he gets in return makes the uncustomary display of affection entirely worth it.

Chapter Text

Derek’s not sure how it started – probably with Stiles, as most things do because the kid’s a downright menace, when he bought Allison that red, hooded cloak for her birthday because, “You got caught by the big bad wolf, get it?” Derek had thought it was ridiculous, and had had to resist the urge to cuff Stiles around the ear and growl at him, but Allison had loved it.

Now, though, as he waits in the living room of his old, burnt-out house, restless with anticipation, he could practically sing his gratitude to Stiles for the cloak, even if it does mean he’s going to have some kind of strange fetish for the colour red now.

“Caught you,” whispers a voice from behind him, and it’s a testament to how distracted he was that he didn’t hear her enter, only registers her presence now when there’s something poking into the small of his back that can only be an arrow and– oh god, that shouldn’t make him hard, but it does, jeans suddenly feeling far too tight as his cock presses against the zipper.

“What are you going to do with me, now you’ve caught me?” he asks, rough and low, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know how Allison looks – bow in hand, cloak flared out behind her and hood pulled low over her face, eyes glowing out of the darkness below it, wet tongue tracing the line of her full lower lip – when she says, “Well, I can think of a few things, can’t you?”

Chapter Text

“Such a pretty little thing, isn’t he,” murmurs Balthazar, in that accent of his, the one that makes it sound as if he’s superior to everyone else even though he’s naked and hard and tracing the line of Dean’s lip with his thumb, eyes dark with want. “Fuck you, I’m not ‘pretty’,” spits Dean, deciding that out of ‘flattered’ and ‘offended’, the latter is probably the best way to go – although it’s hard to muster up any proper irritation, or any coherence at all for that matter, with Gabriel sliding three slick fingers in and out of his hole, curling and twisting in all the right places.

The archangel laughs at Dean’s irritation, and shakes his head, murmuring, “Going to look even prettier when you’re filled up with both of us, aren’t you, Dean-o, such a lovely mouth and a tight hole, all for us, our little human.” He leans his head down to nuzzle at Dean’s shoulder, teeth scraping lightly over the skin there, and slides in with a low groan that’s echoed by Dean as he rocks his hips back, wanting- needing more. He feels like he protesting that he’s not ‘their’ anything, but then Balthazar’s tangling hands in his hair and he’s opening his mouth obediently, and not only does he no longer have the ability to protest, he doesn’t think he can – after all, being here, between the two of them, feels entirely too much like home.

Chapter Text

“Oh, yeah?” asks Dean, keeping his voice as even as he can despite the familiar tightening in his belly at the rough gravel-rasp of Cas’s voice through the phone, “so how’re we gonna go about ganking this thing, then?” “The traditional method is a bone, soaked for seven hours in holy water, and then dipped in salt,” comes Castiel’s voice back through the line, and god, there must be something seriously wrong with him because even those few, completely unarousing words have gone straight to his dick.

Before he even knows what he’s doing, Dean’s palming himself through his pants, rubbing at the growing bulge there with the heel of his hand and thanking his lucky stars Sam is out as he says, “Any particular kind of bone?” and slips his hand inside his waistband, dragging it down and curling fingers tightly around his cock. “The bone of a holy person is traditional,” replies Castiel, completely unaware his voice is now being used as fodder for Dean’s sordid masturbation fantasies – he’s stroking himself in rough, tugging strokes, twisting his wrist at the end of each and biting his lip so as not to groan – and continues, “any bone should do, though, provided it is human and has been interred in a graveyard."

Dean’s getting close, already, just from the hot pull of his own hands and Cas’s sinful voice, rough like sex and smoke and arousal in his ear, and when the angel adds, “You had better come quickly, Dean, the creature will kill again soon,” Dean barely hears the last few words as he does as he’s told and comes in a sticky mess all over his hand and stomach.

Chapter Text

If there’s one thing Gabriel is absolutely, emphatically certain of, it’s that Dean is his – and anyone else who tries anything with him will be met with short and fierce anger from the archangel. But, every so often, the pros of sharing his mate outweigh the cons, which is why he’s here, arms wrapped around Sam’s waist, as he watches Dean on his knees sucking off his brother.

“That’s it, Dean-o,” murmurs Gabriel softly, tenderly, the gentle hand he has wound in Dean’s hair pushing the hunter forward slightly, encouraging him to take more of Sam’s cock in his mouth, “get Sam nice and wet for when he’s inside of you, huh?” They look so beautiful together, the perfect compliment to each other, and being able to admire Dean with his lips wrapped around a cock from every angle is definitely a pro. Sam’s not exactly hard on the eyes either, long limbs and hard muscle stretched out on the bed as his brother sucks on his cock enthusiastically, and when Dean’s just a little too enthusiastic, slides all the way forward and swallows Sam down, when Sam comes with a shout and the lines of his body tighten as he thrusts up into Dean’s face, Gabriel thinks he could get used to seeing the two of them like this.

Chapter Text

“D’you think that just maybe, for once, I could have a bath in peace?” groans Dean, but with Gabriel straddling him and rocking their hips together in slow, steady grinds, his words have no bite to them. Gabriel just laughs, cocks rubbing together in a dirty-slick slide through the water as he leans forward and bites his way up Dean’s neck.
“You love it, Dean-o,” he murmurs, leaning up to kiss Dean enthusiastically, mouth hot and sloppy against the hunter’s, and Dean moans his approval.
“Fuck yeah I do,” breathed Dean against Gabriel’s mouth, reaching one hand down to wrap around their cocks, pulling them both together, and the human and the angel groan in unison, Gabriel’s mouth falling open as he pants for breath against the side of Dean’s neck.

Dean’s close, so close, and it takes only a few more pushes of Gabriel’s hips against his through the warm water, their cocks sliding wetly through his fist before he’s coming with a low groan, entire body trembling and sending water slopping over the sides of the bath – Gabriel’s not far behind, and he claws at Dean’s chest as he shudders through his orgasm, and between the two of them, the bath’s suddenly not so clean any more.

Chapter Text

“You fuckin’ love this, don’t you,” growls Sam, tightening his hold on Dean’s hair as he drives into his elder brother and wrings gasps from bruised and swollen lips, still red from the blowjob he gave Sam in a dirty alleyway earlier. “Love being full up with my cock, love me filling you up with my come, don’t you, you dirty little slut,” and he presses down on Dean’s stomach, hard, hard enough to feel the little jumps it makes with his every thrust, and Dean groans, low and wrecked in the back of his throat.

“Bet you’d love it if I kept it all inside of you, huh, all that filthy spunk up inside you, all the time, use a plug to keep it all in,” and he should stop talking, he really should, but Dean’s making these obscene noises underneath him like Sam’s killing him slowly, deliciously, and he just can’t. He drags a hand across the flat of Dean’s stomach, imagines it full of his come, slowly growing with child, their child, and the words just fall out of his mouth as he continues, “fuck you ‘til you were dripping, breed you up nice and good, keep it all in there until your belly’s all swollen with our kid, keep fucking you while it grows, keep filling you up.” Dean’s making these wrecked little noises, broken gasps and these groans that sound like they’ve been dragged out of him, “yes, Sammy, fuck yes, please, oh god yes,” and when Sam growls, “gonna fuck you so deep, fill you up so much, you won’t even be able to help it, you’re gonna look so pretty when you’re pregnant,” he’s not surprised that Dean comes so hard his entire back arches up off the bed.

Chapter Text

It’s difficult to get Cas to say anything during sex, really – difficult to make him do much more than gasp or moan quietly, breath hitching. Even when Dean rides his cock hard enough he sees stars, or pins his hips against the wall and sucks him off desperately, the angel stays annoyingly quiet. For Dean, who takes a loud partner as a sign he’s done well, well enough to make them lose control of themselves, it’s frustrating.

So the first time he pushes Cas’s legs out and up and thrusts into him with a sharp push of his hips, filling the angel up with his cock, the soft, “fuck,” that Cas breathes out is ridiculously gratifying. He sets a punishing pace, grinding and driving into the angel, taking him hard and fast and hitting his prostate on every stroke, and the increasingly loud, “fuck, Dean, oh, oh, oh my, fuck, please, harder, oh fuck oh fuck, take me harder, please,” that falls from the angel’s mouth is nearly enough to make him come on its own.

Chapter Text

Dean Winchester likes women who are stronger than him; it’s a fact, even if it’s not a very well known one. He likes women who can take charge and push him down onto the bed and hold him there, whether he wants them to or not – that’s what gets his blood racing, the feeling of being controlled, of being helpless in the hands of someone else.

Just because he likes being told what to do, though, doesn’t mean he likes doing as he’s told; so when Martha cuffs him and pushes him to the floor, digging one booted foot into the small of his back and placing the other in front of his mouth to worship, he grins and says, “Sorry, sweetheart, don’t feel like it – what, are you too cheap to get someone to clean ‘em properly?”

He’s absolutely expecting the foot that comes down on the back of his neck, forcing his face into the leather, expecting the almost amusement in Martha’s voice from high above as she says, “You will lick until I tell you that you can stop, and then you will thank me for it, do you understand?” And for all his mouthiness and front, at the end of the day he just wants his Mistress to be proud of him, so this time he doesn’t argue – he lowers his head, opens his mouth, and does as he’s told.