~~Send me a prompt and a ship, and I’ll write it.~~
—
Gabriels bored. This usually results in one of two things. Death. Or sex. Never in that order, whatever rumours went around, Gabriel was not into that.
Unfortunately for him, the death thing wasn’t an option anyway. He was still rejuvenating, and couldn’t afford to spend his grace on killing someone just for the ‘lols’.
Which meant he was going to do the only other thing he was good at. Thankfully for Gabriel, the whole gang was shacked up in the bunker together, no hunt on the horizon.
Swinging open the doors to his wardrobe, Gabriel hummed in thought. His eyes settled on a nice little number, one he was sure would get his partners interest.
Smirking, Gabriel fingered the fabric. Yes, this was going to be satisfying.
—
When Gabriel saunters into the library, he attempts subtleness. It’s immediately ruined, of course, by Castiels sharp intake of breath, and Deans eyes staring so intently at his legs, Gabriel wondered if he should have worn a garter.
Clearly the Lacey black skirt had made the impression Gabriel was after. Still, Sam hadn’t noticed him yet, and that irked Gabriel. He wanted to be the centre of attention, which meant subtlety with Sam Winchester wasn’t possible.
Gabriel eyed the man up. He had to get the attention off that stupid book, which meant he’d need help. Gabriel glanced at Castiel, giving him unspoken permission to stand and follow.
Stepping forward, Gabriel wondered if he should get some stilettos, he was sure the sound of them on the floor would have gotten the bookworms attention.
Walking behind Sam, Gabriel wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders, leaning down to press his lips against Sams ear.
“Not now, Gabriel, I’m reading on a kits-“ Sams attention was snapped away from his book, the second he heard Gabriels shaky breath. The weight on his back stopped him from moving, but judging from the way Dean licked his lips, and spread his legs, Castiel was doing something very naughty to the elder angel.
“Gabe?”
Sam’s voice was husky, and it made Gabriel smirk against his neck. “Sam…” a gasp “Cas..!”
“Fuck.” Dean growled, pushing from his chair so violently it clattered behind him. Next thing Sam knew he was free to move, the sound of wood slamming against concrete making him swivel so fast his head spun.
It was that, or the image of Gabriel pinned to the book case, underwear hanging off one of his ankles with his skirt hiked up around his hips, grinding hopelessly against Dean, had finally driven him insane.
More than 10,000 reptile species in every shape and size scurry and
slither across Earth, from garter snakes to crocodiles — and their
nether regions are just as wildly varied.
“”EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry yelled. Nothing happened. Harry gripped his dick tighter and shook it up and down until a thick, whispy white substance protruded from the end of it.”
“Panting, Harry fell forwards over the hydrangea bush, straightened up and stared around. There were several faces peering through various nearby windows. Harry stuffed his dick hastily back into his jeans and tried to look innocent.”
“He had not been this close to Malfoy since he had watched him muttering to Crabbe and Goyle during Dumbledore’s speech about Cedric. He could feel a kind of ringing in his ears. His hand gripped his dick under his robes”
“My dick.” Said Ron. “Look at my dick.” It had snapped, almost in two, and the tip was dangling limply, held on by only a few spare splinters.
I’ve got this…
“Twelve and a quarter inches…pleasantly springy. It’s in fine condition…You treat it regularly?“
“Polished it last night,” said Cedric, grinning.
Harry looked down at his own dick. He could see finger marks all over it.
He gathered a fistful of robe from his knee and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously. Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it.
Fleur Delacour gave him a very patronizing look, and he desisted.
“No volunteers?” said Voldemort. “Let’s see…Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a dick anymore.”
Lucius Malfoy look up. His skin appeared yellowish and waxy in the firelight, and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.
Anders and Nathaniel are both used to people not believing in them. It’s weird for them to realize that they believe in each other. That trust isn’t shared by the Templar following Anders’ trail.
Jembax!AU. Nathaniel/Anders with an unpleasant side of Rylock.
Warnings: Isolated instances of physical abuse and almost-sexual-abuse, plus larger patterns of the Circle being an unhealthy place for Anders. A little self-loathing from both characters. Tropes everywhere. This story has a happy ending.
A dalish mage by the name of Merrill is joining the Inquisition, and Krem can’t take his eyes off her.
Warning: This is literally the highest concentration of disgusting romantic fluff that I have ever subjected the internet to. If you want 4000 words of Krem and Merrill flirting like they’re in a risque romcom, this is the fic for you. Also they bang.
Against his better judgement, Hawke lets Isabella drag him to the Black Emporium for some heavily boozed-up window shopping. What he finds is a risque statue of Andraste that probably wouldn’t turn him on quite as much if he was sober.
thisacelovesheadcanons 