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13 April 2012 @ 12:37 pm
five acts meme - round six  
... no, I can't resist this meme, okay? I can NEVER resist it.



+ Post a list of your five favorite acts/kinks to read about. Check out this list if you need some inspiration. At the bottom of your post, add what fandoms/pairings you're interested in.
+ Read other people's lists; the master list of lists is here.
+ Post comment-fic based off of other people's interests.



1. consensual d/s: or, bulletproof number one that never gets switched, apparently. Give me some fully/entirely consensual d/s and I'll love you forever. I don't care if it's some 24/7 thing or not, I don't care if it's sexual or not. If it's sexual, as long as long as animals aren't involved, feel free to go as far as you want.

2. crossdressing: bulletproof kink the second. Mostly, it's a favorite when it's men wearing female clothes (or underwear) but I'll really take anything, any degree. But any kind of gender-related theme is welcomed - you want to give me something where in a het ship the woman is totally wearing the pants in the relationship, I'm totally game for it.

3. touching: survivor from last round stolen straight from that list (again): stroking and caressing; cuddling or nuzzling; huddling for warmth; hugging; holding hands in public; touching as UST; brief brushes of contact either deliberate or accidental; PDAs; thighs brushing under a table; comic physical entanglements; someone gripping a wounded character's hand. Yes, that was thorough, but any of that is fair game.

4. AUs: my favorite flavors are western (WESTERN STUFF IS ALWAYS WELCOME), hookers and apocalypse, but don't let that stop you. Anything goes (also canon divergence).

5. Attention: I think I used this one some two rounds ago? Anyway, I'm in the mood, so. Singling someone out; treating someone specially in front of others; making a point of showing respect to or interest in someone who doesn't usually receive it. [Any of those is fair game.]

Lost: Jack/Boone, Desmond/Sayid, Jack/Sawyer, Boone/Charlie, any combination of Jack/Sawyer/Sayid/Boone, Desmond/Penny, Jack/Juliet, Daniel/Desmond, Richard/Miles, Frank/anyone and Jacob/Richard are my favorites, but I'm of open views. I'm not too big on Jack/Kate, Sawyer/Kate or Sawyer/Juliet (and on Locke and Ben shipped), but if it's set after the finale I'm okay with first and third.
Supernatural: Dean/Castiel, Dean/Sam/Castiel, Dean/Sam, Sam/Castiel (yeah, I totally have imagination), Ash/Andy, Ash/Pamela, actually Ash/everyone, Dean/Jimmy, Castiel/Jimmy (hell, Dean/Cas/Jimmy is totally awesome too) also Sam/Balthazar, Castiel/Balthazar and Dean/Castiel/Balthazar are most welcome.
The Dark Tower series: Roland/Eddie (I could give a kidney for Roland/Eddie, actually. *hints*), Cuthbert/Alain, Roland/Eddie/Susannah.
A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones: Jaime/Brienne, Robb/Theon, Jon/Sam, Sandor/Sansa, Asha/Theon (either sexual or just brother/sister stuff, but if you want to add Robb and make it a threesome I'm totally game), Jon/Ygritte, Jon/Theon/Robb, Stannis/Davos, Oberyn Martell/ANYONE, Jon Connington/any male who might appreciate him the way he deserves. Any of these people/happiness is also a good pick.
Good Omens: Crowley/Aziraphale, Newt/Anathema if you're feeling bold.
</>Chuck</i>: Chuck/Bryce, Ellie/Awesome, Jeffster. Platonic or not, as you want. XD
Deadwood: Jane/Joanie, Sol/Trixie.
The Three Musketeers (still hopeless but I try!): Athos/d'Artagnan, Porthos/Aramis, Rochefort/Richelieu (come on, OTP!). Also friendship and not-slash is awesome.
The Vampire porn Diaries: Damon/Alaric, Damon/any male character that isn't Jeremy or Tyler, Damon/John/Alaric and any combination thereof. Damon/Stefan/Alaric would be kinda awesome, too. Then, Stefan/Elena, Damon/Stefan, Tyler/Caroline, Jeremy/Tyler, Jeremy/Bonnie, Stefan/Elena/Damon, Tyler/Caroline/Matt.
Boardwalk Empire: Jimmy/Richard, Jimmy/Richard/Angela (or any combination thereof).
Sirens: Ash/Stuart, Ash/Stuart/Rachid.
Sherlock: Lestrade/anyone except Moriarty and Mycroft, though Lestrade/Sherlock is preferred.
Six Feet Under: David/Keith, Nate/Brenda.
Watchmen: Daniel/Rorschach.

Crossovers between any of the people in here that you see fit are welcome. Though if someone writes me Roland/Jaime I might love them forever. ;)

1. SPN, Dean/Castiel, time travel + h/c + sort of kissing, pg13 for pann_cake

2. ASOIAF, Jaime/Brienne, forced bed sharing + scars + weather themes, pg13 for ozmissage

3. SPN, Dean/Castiel, scars + oral + angst for joyyjpg

4. ASOIAF, Jon/Ygritte, cunnilingus + hands for ilfirin_estel

5. SPN, Dean/Castiel, h/c + talking + touching, for wandersfound

6. ASOIAF (GOT), Robb/Jaime, prison scenarios + humiliation + rough sex for greenhoodloxley

7. ASOIAF (GOT), Robb/Theon, h/c + water + inequality issues + schmoop for nightswhisper

8. oryx & crake, Jimmy/Crake, dub-con (... very weird flavor of it) for xarixian

9. ASOIAF (GOT), Robb/Theon, touching + angst for angeldylan628

10. ASOIAF, Oberyn/Jaime, seduction + gay sex virgin + attraction for zelda_zee


1. SPN, Dean/Castiel, apocalypse au + touching by xarixian

2. GOT, Robb/Theon, AU + touching, pg by lenina20

3. the man with the golden gun, SPN, Dean/Castiel, Western AU/touching/attention by pann_cake

4. to read between the lines, Lost, Richard/Jacob, touching + attention by angeldylan628

5. Absolutely Beautiful, SPN, Dean/Castiel, crossdressing by zelda_zee

6. SPN, Jimmy/Castiel, attention by wandersfound

7. I dressed you in green silk, ASOIAF, Jaime/Brienne, crossdressing by greenhoodloxley

8. The Client, Sherlock, Lestrade/Sherlock, crossdressing + hooker AU by nightswhisper

9. Visible, ASOIAF, Sandor/Sansa, touching + attention by nightswhisper
 
 
feeling: excitedexcited
 
 
 
Xarixianxarixian on April 13th, 2012 11:27 am (UTC)
Dean/Castiel. Apocalypse AU. Touching.

Bottles clink against one another, an unspoken toast. Dean is drinking to the past, simultaneously trying to forget it. Castiel is drinking to the future, that there might be one small glimmer of hope left in this broken, ravaged world.

Their knees brush together, the warmth of Dean's thigh settling against Castiel's. A few years ago and Dean would have pulled it back, closed himself off. These days, Dean has nothing left to be scared of. He's lost everything and he's resigned himself to losing Castiel too, to losing himself, if he hasn't already.

Both of them are little more than shadows of what they once were. Dean's smile is broken and weak. Castiel's fierce gaze is clouded with amphetamines and alcohol.

Dean's fingers crawl over Castiel's hand, wrap around it and squeeze tightly, and Castiel rests his head on Dean's shoulder as the sun sets.

Even now, in a world that has been slowly smothered and raped, in a world that is dying, the sunset is still beautiful, and Castiel thinks that maybe, maybe that's enough; that this is still something worth fighting for.
the female ghost of tom joad: supernatural dean/cas have a little faitjanie_tangerine on April 13th, 2012 08:12 pm (UTC)
Omg this was so good! I love how you wrote them here and that while very similar they're not totally the same as the 2014 counterparts - at least Castiel has some hope left and Dean instead of closing himself off is being like 'who cares about it anymore', even if I guess it's not for any good reasons. But I really liked the atmosphere and that there still was a glimmer of hopefulness even if the overall situation is definitely bleak. Thanks, I loved it! :D
(Deleted comment)
the female ghost of tom joad: asoiaf >> robb/theon 5.0janie_tangerine on April 13th, 2012 07:59 pm (UTC)
.............

appropriate gif is appropriate

OMG COME HERE LET ME LOVE YOU FOREVER OMG if you want dibs on my firstborn or something of the kind I'll be here ready to offer it to you. No seriously WHAT IS THIS PERFECT THING OF BEAUTY, you totally killed me. (See, that's why I envy you people who can do it without writing novels, but let's not digress.)

I just. OKAY THIS HAPPENED. I can't. I was dead at the 'all kings have their favorites' line, pretty much, but then

“You don’t have to,” he insists. “You’re a hero, now. You saved the North. We are forever bound in gratitude—”

that sound you just heard was me having a flailing attack. I just - MY HEART, YOU'RE DOING THINGS TO MY HEART THAT I CAN'T EVEN DEAL WITH (and makes me want to kill either GRRM or Theon's dad, but let's not digress again). And oh gosh Theon looking actually happy (OF COURSE YOU WOULD) but still being kind of a jerk is just so perfect and

I am loyal to my king

DYING, I'M DYING. in the way I was dying when in adwd he was 'I should have died with Robb' except that here I'm not doing it in UTTERMOST DESPAIR And the ending - SERIOUSLY NOW AND ALWAYS - I can't. This is flawless, you're flawless and this is the best thing ever and I'll be here drawing hearts around it. Also I just realized that this comment was absolutely NOT coherent but I can't.

♥♥♥♥♥♥

ETA: I totally forgot to say that Robb was so IC in this that I could cry, from how he totally was trying to be proper in the beginning to how he lasted exactly one minute at most. ;) (yes, I'm re-reading and apparently this time I'm coherent enough to comment for real XD)

Edited at 2012-04-13 08:15 pm (UTC)
(no subject) - unavoidedcrisis on April 14th, 2012 04:28 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Pan: SPN- smirky Deanpann_cake on April 14th, 2012 08:14 pm (UTC)
the man with the golden gun- Dean/Cas, touching, AUs, attention
(This may be more than one comment, I got a little excited about it, lol. Feel free to listen to this while you read. ;D)

“I’m startin’ to think we have a little something special here, Cas,” Dean drawls with a smirk, “considering all the times you’ve arrested me.”

Castiel huffs across the fire. “Someone has to arrest you.”

“And somehow it’s always you.” Dean is grinning now, his face lit up orange in the glow of their campfire. “I gotta admit, this is the longest relationship I’ve had in a long time.”

“Perhaps because your usual acquaintances are saloon girls.”

Dean tips his head back and laughs, loud and echoing throughout the desolate landscape. It’s a quiet night, apart from Dean’s mouth, but Castiel is vigilant against coyotes and other such animals that come out at night. The last thing he needs is a distraction, a moment for Dean to slip away from him again. He’s not the only Marshal that has gone after Dean Winchester for his various transgressions, but Castiel has taken it on as a personal quest. He hunted Dean across three states before finally catching up with him again, and Castiel feels a sense of satisfaction at getting the outlaw in irons. He’s taking him across state lines to answer for the murder of a man in Texas. Dean will go to the gallows for it, if they make it there this time.

“How about you loosen up these chains?” Dean asks lightly, holding his bound hands up. “It’s hard to get comfortable with these on.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Castiel says with a glare. If he lets Dean escape his grasp again he may well be out of a job. And he quite likes being a Marshal, he doesn’t think there’s anything else he’d be good at.

“You a bettin’ man, Cas?” Dean asks, and Castiel just raises an eyebrow. “How ‘bout this. You go over there and take a piss, if I’m still here when you get back, you take the irons off.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m leaving you alone for a second.”

Dean holds up a hand in truce, his other wrist flopping down from the chains. “Fine then. Close your eyes and count to ten.”

Castiel looks Dean over. He’s surprised to note that the cocky grin has gone and Dean has grown serious. Castiel shouldn’t trust him—he has a hard time trusting most people, let alone murderers and criminals—but Dean is looking at him earnestly, and the man suddenly feels like an equal. Maybe it’s time Castiel treated him as such.

He says nothing, just closes his eyes and breathes slow as he counts. The seconds tick by excruciatingly slow, and Castiel suddenly hears so much in the darkness. The crack of the fire is like an explosion, making him flinch. A nighttime bird of some kind hoots in the distance, a breeze rustles the dried ground. He hears everything—everything except the sound of a man running.
Pan: SPN- tie fixpann_cake on April 14th, 2012 08:16 pm (UTC)
Re: the man with the golden gun- Dean/Cas, touching, AUs, attention
When he opens his eyes, Dean is lounging on one elbow, looking at him sidelong, his hat slung low over his eyes. Castiel digs into his pocket for the key.

“You and I both know why you’re letting me free,” Dean murmurs as Castiel turns the key, unclasps the irons.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m innocent,” Dean says with conviction, catching Castiel’s wrist before he pulls away.

Castiel pauses, crouched on his haunches in front of Dean, and Dean holds his gaze. His fingers grip Castiel’s wrist, and the touch is almost hot against Castiel’s skin. Castiel swallows, trying to dissipate the sudden tension. “Innocent men don’t run.”

Dean huffs impatiently and drops Castiel’s wrist. “Of course they do,” he says. “I don’t wanna hang for something I didn’t do.”

Castiel’s brow furrows. “There are witnesses that saw you kill that man.”

“True. But he wasn’t a man.” He fixes Castiel with a pointed look. “He was a werewolf.”

“That’s a myth,” Castiel says. “They don’t exist.”

“They sure do, and I killed one before it could kill innocent people.”

Castiel rubs a hand down his face. He doesn’t have the patience for tall tales.

“I’m tellin’ the truth, Cas,” Dean insists, settling onto the ground, his arms folded up behind his head. He tips his hat so it covers his eyes. “By the time we get to Texas, you’ll believe me.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Castiel murmurs, but Dean doesn’t reply. Castiel thinks he might be asleep already, and he sighs.

He crosses his legs and stays next to Dean, one hand resting on the ornate gun at his hip. It’s Dean’s, confiscated when he arrested him. He thinks back to that moment, the odd bullets that were in the chamber. None of them were regular lead bullets; some made of melted down silver, some filled with salt. The gun of someone hunting monsters, not men.

Castiel casts his eyes back to Dean, a fugitive sleeping peacefully in the middle of the desert, next to the Marshal who’s bringing him to the gallows. Castiel watches Dean and tries to stay awake, thinking in the back of his mind that this was all a ruse, that Dean will surely escape.

Eventually Castiel falls asleep. When he wakes, Dean is cooking them breakfast over the fire. Castiel exhales a laugh and shakes his head; there’s something to be said for conviction.
angeldylan628: Lost - Richard/Jacob2angeldylan628 on April 15th, 2012 05:09 am (UTC)
to be read between lines (1 of 2) - richard/jacob, touching and attention
apologies in advance seeing as I haven't written these Lost characters in like 2 years and I'm probably terribly rusty

Richard was never meant to be his favorite.

It is one of the few things that Jacob didn't see coming, but then he's always been focused on a bigger picture. Sometimes the details seem insignificant. The things that change along the way go undetected. Richard's affect on him is just an example. An important example, but just a small detail.

This is what Jacob tells himself.

But deep down he knows that it's not insignificant. Richard was supposed to be a piece to the puzzle, a pawn in the game. He was supposed to live and die, be buried or burned, haunt the corners of this island like those that came before. Instead, Jacob gave him immortality. Tethered Richard to his side so that as the years passed he came to know him better than he had ever known an outsider. The others, the chosen ones, they arrive and then they die, and Richard always remains. Each cycle they go through Jacob learns a little more about Richard, trusts him a little more, tells him a little more. Never enough that Richard knows more than he should, but enough that Richard starts to trust him a little more. Jacob thinks the mortals have a word for this.

"You shouldn't do that." Richard's voice shakes Jacob from his thoughts. It's late, judging from the darkness he spots over Richard's shoulder as he lets himself into Jacob's home. Richard looks worn out, but then he has spent the whole day rebuilding their newest inhabitants campsite.

"Do what?" Jacob asks. His smile dares Richard to call him out on it, but he doesn't.

Their latest guests had seemed promising. They liked Jacob and his sense of purpose well enough, but they didn't like Richard or the idea that they had to speak to Jacob through him. Jacob's pick for leader had gone as far as to threaten Richard with physical harm if he didn't take him to see Jacob.

Not that Richard had told Jacob this. Richard put his duty to Jacob's cause above his own well being, which Jacob knew should have been a good thing, but instead left an unpleasant feeling in his stomach. Still, Jacob had seen it happen and responded in a flashy, destructive way that was more akin to his brother's style. No one was killed but the message had been received. Threatening Richard wouldn't get you very far on the island.

"You know what," Richard says simply. He sits beside Jacob, close enough that their hips and shoulders brush. Jacob says nothing. Maybe before he would ask Richard to move, but before is in the distant past - an echo of a memory even for someone like Jacob who never forgets.

"They need to learn their place," Jacob says quietly, his eyes focused on the wall ahead, and then with a tilt of his head adds, "And yours."

"They know now," Richard says. Even without his eyes on Richard, Jacob can picture the grin on his face. The subtle quirk of his lips that's tainted by guilt for joking about someone's suffering.

Jacob thinks about saying something but hesitates. They've been doing this for two hundred years now. This is not the first time someone's had a problem with Richard. It's not the first time he's done something about either. The more it happens the worse he reacts.

Richard sighs. It's almost too quiet to hear, but Jacob's sitting close enough that he could count every exhale. This is a cue, the point in their conversations where Jacob changes the subject.

Jacob finally looks at him, and he sees the exhaustion he's caused, both today and always. If he was in the habit of sighing, he'd mirror Richard and do it now. "I'll be gone for a few weeks. Recruiting."

Richard nods, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin there. He looks young in that moment. "The adulterer or the orphan girl?"
angeldylan628: Lost - Richard/Jacob2angeldylan628 on April 15th, 2012 05:09 am (UTC)
Re: to be read between lines (2 of 2) - richard/jacob, touching and attention
"I haven't decided." Jacob tells Richard stories about the people coming to the island. He never says when they'll show up or how. Once he touches a recruit, it can be days or months or decades. He never gives names or physical descriptions but pieces of their background. Then he sees how long it takes Richard to spot them because he always figures it out. And this is one of the many reasons Richard is his favorite - he's a quick learner and people are his favorite subjects to study.

Like right now, Richard is staring at him, but it feels like his eyes see right through him. He can feel the gaze curling around his spine, twisting down into the pit of his stomach and spreading out through his veins. It feels as if there is no part of Jacob that Richard can't see and that is terrifying sometimes.

"Do you ever regret it?" Richard says suddenly and for all his omniscience, he is caught off guard. The silence he's met with makes Richard smile. He jostles Jacob's knee with his own before elaborating. "Not leaving."

"I do leave," Jacob says, still off guard. His voice is shaky. He hasn't sounded this way since he was a boy and his brother was the one with all the confidence.

"I meant for good," Richard says, "Starting a life out there in the real world." Richard's eyes are bright, the way they always are when he's remembering the pleasant times in life outside the island. He has not forgotten all the darkness that came with his mortal life, but the more time passes the more moments he has where he can focus on the good. "You could settle down. Get married and raise a family. Die."

"I will die some day." Jacob hears the catch in Richard's breath and tries to ignore it. He places his hand on the knee dangling in his space and squeezes tight. "And I have a family."

Richard places his hand over his and for a moment Jacob's sure he's going to push his hand away but he doesn't. Instead his fingers curl and his thumb strokes a steady pattern over the skin there. "It's not the same."

Jacob wants to argue that it is, but then he realizes that's not what the real issue is here. He has asked Richard a thousand times if he regrets being his intermediary, if he wishes he could go back to being normal and ordinary. Every time Richard says no with a smile so warm it outshines the light at the center of this world. Today Richard saw Jacob's relationship with him cause a chasm between Jacob and his people. Something that could be avoided if Jacob just cared less.

Jacob shifts closer to Richard so that their sides are pressed completely against each other and then twists his hand up so that his fingers can intertwine with Richard's.

"I don't regret this life," he whispers, bringing Richard's hand to his lips so he can brush a kiss over the knuckles. "I love it."

Richard smiles as he turns and presses his lips to the shoulder next to his before laying his head there and murmuring, "I love it too."

Love, Jacob thinks, that was definitely the mortal word for it.
Zelda: SPN - Dean and Cas with the tiezelda_zee on April 16th, 2012 03:09 am (UTC)
Absolutely Beautiful, SPN, Dean/Castiel, cross-dressing, 1/3
(I always know you’ll be good for a cross-dressing prompt! Um, this got long – sorry?)

“Well?” Dean said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, his voice wavering uncharacteristically. “Say something, Cas. Don’t just leave me –” he broke off, making a vague little gesture, possibly indicating himself, naked but for a pair of pink satin panties tastefully trimmed with bits of lace, a tiny bow sewn in the center of the band that hugged his hips, or possibly at Castiel, who had been sitting, fully clothed, at the foot of the bed, waiting for Dean to emerge from the bathroom, and who was now carefully considering his next move.

Castiel had known, of course, what to expect when Dean opened that door and stepped into the room. It had been a topic of conversation just two nights before, when Dean had accused Castiel of not having a single kinky bone in his body and Castiel had countered by informing Dean that he had never been able to forget the sight of Dean in pink panties all those many years ago when Dean was just 19 and yes, of course Castiel had bee watching him then, and Dean’s mouth had dropped open then snapped closed and his face turned pinker than those well-remembered panties. It had all come out then, and it had been so obvious that Dean had wanted this, wanted some excuse to do it again, and Castiel was quite certain that he would do much more than that to make Dean happy, and it was such a simple thing, and after all, Dean had looked very fetching in those feminine undergarments.

And now he stood before Castiel, looking beautiful as he always looked to Castiel, and scared and vulnerable as he never did. Castiel realized, a bit late, that this was an Important Moment, a moment that he had to get right, the difficulty he had with understanding human sexual “kinks” notwithstanding. One wrong word now and Dean would shut down tight and never let him in so far again.

So Castiel didn’t speak, he just held out his hand, and after a few seconds’ hesitation Dean stepped forward and took it. Castiel pulled him in close, so that Dean was standing between his thighs, and he leaned forward, planting a kiss on that little pink bow, then above it, on the trail of fine hairs that led down from Dean’s navel.

“You are beautiful like this.” He looked up into Dean’s face, catching the flare of red across his cheekbones, the glassiness in his eyes. Castiel could see his chest rising and falling so much more rapidly than normal, hear his heartbeat speed up.

“You like it?” Dean’s voice was low, still a little shaky. “Don’t fuck with me, Cas, I don’t think I could stand it, not now.”

“I mean it,” Castiel said, and he did, even if he did not truly understand why wearing those undergarments was so fraught with significance for Dean, why it affected him so deeply, yet he did not need to understand in order to find the sight of Dean in them beautiful.

The scent of arousal rose up off of Dean suddenly, as if Castiel had broken through whatever it was Dean had used to keep himself tamped down. Castiel mouthed over Dean’s cock and it stirred in its tight cage of smooth fabric, lengthening and thickening so that the constriction grew more pronounced and every ridge and vein could be seen in silhouette, he head of his cock pushing at the elastic waistband, threatening to pop out. Castiel slid his fingers beneath the elastic at Dean’s thighs, over the firm muscles of his ass, and Dean’s head fell back on a groan, his hands going to Castiel’s hair, fingers trembling against his scalp. He was trembling everywhere, Castiel realized, little tremors in the muscles of his thighs and abdomen that he fought by locking his knees and sucking in his stomach.
Zelda: SPN - Caszelda_zee on April 16th, 2012 03:11 am (UTC)
Absolutely Beautiful, SPN, Dean/Castiel, cross-dressing, 2/3
Castiel slid his fingertips into Dean’s cleft, finding, to his surprise, that he was already loose and wet with lube. This was… different. But Castiel was inexperienced, not naïve and not unobservant. He knew enough about human behavior to understand what was being asked.

“You want to be fucked in those panties, don’t you Dean?”

Dean didn’t answer, just nodded his head, eyes dark with lust, staring at Castiel as if he was the only thing he could see. It was, Castiel mused, quite pleasant to have Dean’s full attention, to feel that he was finally as aware of Castiel’s power as he should have been all along.

Castiel pushed two fingers inside. Dean was warm and very slick, offering only the slightest resistance. He must have spent some time and effort getting ready. The noise he made as Castiel’s fingers delved inward was desperate but stifled, like he was trying to hold it back. That would not do, Castiel thought. Not at all.

He lifted Dean up, turned and deposited him on the bed. Dean uttered a startled shout, reminding Castiel that he really should have warned him first. It was easy to forget that humans were not used to such treatment.

With a thought, his own clothes vanished and he leaned down over Dean, one hand braced on the bed at Dean’s shoulder. The other he dragged down Dean’s torso hooking his fingertips in the waistband and drawing it down just below the dark, shiny head of his cock. There was a smear of wetness at the tip and Castiel rubbed with his thumb, spreading it around. Dean arched, his hands flying to Castiel’s hips and holding on, fingernails digging in, bright points of pain that sparked along Castiel’s nerves.

“C’mon Cas, please, just fucking do it…”

“Do what, Dean?” Castiel asked, though he was already carefully tucking Dean’s cock back into the panties and nudging him to turn over. He rolled onto his stomach and Castiel helped him into position, drawing him back onto his knees, legs widely spread.

“You know, just do it,” Dean grumbled.

Castiel said nothing, sitting back on his heels and admiring the sight of Dean’s satin-clad backside. There was a wet spot from the lube. Dean would have said it was obscene, but Castiel just found it sweet, that Dean had been so eager for this that he’d used more lube than he could keep inside him.

C’mon.” It wasn’t quite a whine, but very nearly.

“Tell me,” Castiel said, laying a hand on the small of Dean’s back. He stroked along his spine, pushing him down until Dean had to turn his head to keep his face from being smashed into the pillow. Castiel’s hand splayed across his cheek, thumb hooking into the corner of his mouth. Dean licked it and Castiel rubbed over his bottom lip, feeling Dean’s quick, panting breaths against his skin.

“I want,” Dean licked his lips, tongue passing over Castiel’s thumb. “I want you to fuck me.”

“What else?” Castiel knew there was more. There was always more with Dean.

“Wanna – oh fuck.” Castiel drew down the back of Dean’s panties, just far enough to expose his hole. It was pink and shiny like the panties, just as pretty. Castiel bent forward and kissed it, not minding the lube, and Dean made a noise that was part sob, part laugh, rolling his face into the pillow so his voice was muffled when he spoke. “Wanna come in these – in these – all over these p-panties,” he gasped. “Make a mess in ‘em. F-fill ‘em up with c-come.”

“You will,” Castiel said, “I promise you that.”
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Re: Jimmy/Castiel - Attention (2/2) - janie_tangerine on April 18th, 2012 04:12 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
I was thinking of a series of dreams...: Jaime - collargreenhoodloxley on April 19th, 2012 11:10 pm (UTC)
I Dressed You In Green Silk - Jaime/Brienne - crossdressing

She expects him to laugh.

“It was the only thing I could find.” Even then she was reluctant to steal it from the washing line of the inn she'd found a few miles back. Some poor servant will be punished today because she stole a lady's dress.

Brienne expects him to laugh, to refuse, to throw the garment she holds out back in her face. Any other man would tell her to take off the armor she's wearing and put the dress on herself. But Jaime Lannister has never been like other men.

“I dressed as my sister once.” He muses. “It was a long time ago.”

He takes the dress with his good hand, gazing at it. “Of course, it was much better silk than this.”

“Of course,” Brienne says stiffly, though she knows that he knows she's unable to tell good silk from poor. Moreover, she doesn't care.

“I'll be over there while you change.” She starts to turn her back.

“Why?” Jaime asks, the hint of bitterness back in his voice. “I'll only have to call you back again if I need help.” He waves his stump at her mockingly.

“Very well.” Brienne turns to face him, folding her arms across her chest.

She waits.

Jaime sighs.

They're in a forest. In the middle of nowhere. His clothes are worn to shreds, from time and the stink of imprisonment and travel. No one else is here to see him wear a dress, and it hardly matters if they were. Jaime sighs again and tosses the dress back to Brienne to hold while he undresses.

He strips awkwardly, grateful that at least they're near a stream. Once he's naked (Jaime counts himself lucky to maintain his manhood under the stare of a woman such as Brienne), he washes as much grime from his body as possible.

Brienne observes the process silently.

“Like the look of me?” Jaime grins at her. He is no longer beautiful. (Cersei will hate that, he thinks.) What's left of his golden hair is matted and filthy, a quick douse in the stream does some good, but Jaime longs for a proper bath, like the one they shared at Harrenhal.

“Do you ever dream of that bath?”

“No.” Brienne says immediately, yet her cheeks flush.

Jaime grins, and she looks away.

“I am as clean as I can possibly be. For now.” He shakes the water from his hair and leaves the stream. “Here, hold it out for me.”

Brienne hesitates, then holds the dress awkwardly so Jaime can slip his head through the collar, then his good arm, and then his stump. She's conscious of his naked body below, his cock damp against his thigh. The curls around it are still golden. Jaime clears his throat, and she steps back, letting the dress fall and cover him.

Jaime pulls at the material, smoothing it out. “As soon as we reach another inn, you'll fetch me some proper clothes.” His legs are still damp, the dress sticks to them. He's conscious of the outline of his cock through the silk, even though he knows Brienne will not mention it.

Still, the dress is clean and warm enough at the moment. He feels marginally better, even with skirts swishing around his legs. It strikes Jaime unsurprisingly that he's not ashamed of wearing a dress in front of Brienne, though he can't explain why.

“Come on...we should be going.”

Brienne remains silent as she follows. If she were to voice the thoughts in her head, Jaime would most likely laugh. For she thinks Jaime looks strangely beautiful in the green silk dress she stole for him.
the female ghost of tom joad: asoiaf >> jaime/brienne 4.0janie_tangerine on April 19th, 2012 11:41 pm (UTC)
Re: I Dressed You In Green Silk - Jaime/Brienne - crossdressing
..... Okay, this was so brilliant I couldn't even. I just - I think my brain got stuck on Jaime wearing a silk dress, but it's the good kind of short circuit. Seriously, this entire thing was brilliant - I loved that Jaime was like 'what, silk dress? Oh well, whatever' something tells me he knows he could pull it off. And that he didn't exactly mind it too much eventually. Also the bit where he asked Brienne if she ever thought about the bath at Harrenhaal and she totally gave away that she did was awesome. And the dialogue was just so spot-on. Also I loved Brienne in this (of course she'd feel guilty for stealing the dress...) - and of course she'd like him wearing green silk. ;) and I'd probably quote the entire thing back at you if I had to pick favorite lines. Seriously, thanks so much - I loved it! Also I'll admit I had secretly been hoping someone would pick this ship for this prompt so double thanks ;) ;) <3
Elven Ranger: fanficnightswhisper on April 21st, 2012 04:40 am (UTC)
The Client - Sherlock (BBC)- Sherlock/Greg- PG-13- AU, cross dressing
No actual smut, just wasn't feeling it tonight. So I hope two fills can make up for that a little!
-----
They had said he was perfect-- discrete, striking. Everything had its price, but his limits were broader than your typical runners. It had taken a few strings to pull, but Greg was tired of this itch. He needed to fix it. It had gone on too long.

He had been given strict instructions. His ‘host’ for the evening had given him an address of a respectable looking home. One of several of select locations which were rotated to best fit the discursion of a client. Still the inspector couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. Perhaps he was. He gave two quick knocks as was instructed. A middle-aged man with tawny blond hair cropped in a military fashion greeted him and escorted him to the lounge as he recited the terms of their arrangement.

Greg fumbled with his wallet when payment was requested. The bills--fuck this was going to hill his allowance for the month. Oh well. His wife would just get it anyway. Bitch. What he didn’t have she couldn’t take. As the gentleman who had escorted him in counted the amount Greg stammered about reinforcing that his privacy be kept known.

“We can’t have the public knowing their dear inspector is seeking the comfort of someone other than his wife, now can we?” A rather sharp but surly voice filtered into the room, gaining Greg’s attention. His mouth went dry at the sight.

The man in the doorway lounged lavishly at the arch. Twining arms poised against the frame as he inspected his client. He had sharp cheek bones and feline eyes. He was a strange type of beauty. But what was most striking was the black gown that hug his chest and draped down over narrow hips. The fabric flowed to the ground barely revealing the large heels that clicked across marble flooring as he carefully took steps towards the inspector. The fabric swayed with each intentional step, just sheer enough to give Greg a hint at what laid beneath. He nearly cursed aloud, paying full attention.

“Nor should they be made aware that such an upstanding person of public interest would pay for such company…or what the details of what he’s paying for.” The entertainer placed one hand on his hip as he looked down his nose skeptically.

“N--Ngh” Greg coughed to clear his throat. “No.”

“Ah. No.” A grin that spread only half way across the worker’s face responded. “No it shall be then, Inspector.”

“Good.” Greg nodded, licking his dry lips.

“The amount is accounted for. Shall I prepare anything else?” The assistant was waived off.

“Shall we get started then?” It took a moment for Greg to respond, his eyes trailing his entertainer’s collarbone as the other ran a finger along his shoulder.

“Yes.” Greg finally squeaked.

“Yes….what.” The employee said sharply.

“Yes, sir. Please, sir.” He snapped to attention.

“Better. “ He wrinkled his nose with disinterest.

As it turned out, it was the best money Greg had spent in a long time. A very long time. Even if he had been left hanging. It didn’t matter. He could only count the days until he’d be able to make It back to that place. To that man. It didn’t eliminate an itch, it inflamed it.
This would be the end of him.

He’d go down grinning.
the female ghost of tom joad: sherlock (bbc) lestrade 2.0janie_tangerine on April 21st, 2012 08:32 pm (UTC)
Re: The Client - Sherlock (BBC)- Sherlock/Greg- PG-13- AU, cross dressing
... so, uh. You might have read my mind, because er. I might have had a quite OMG reaction when I saw some pictures floating around where Benedict Cumberbatch is wearing this little black dress/heels/stuff so when I realized WHO was wearing the dress here I might have had a small brain short circuit. And oh my gosh this was gorgeous. I loved the Lestrade POV and how Sherlock was.... still so very much Sherlock in this. Distaste and immediate deductions included. (Also I loved that John is the assistant. Oh god, I could watch an entire show like this.) Also omg that sounds like a gorgeous gown. And haha I can totally bet that in the end the itch wouldn't go away *cough* thanks so very much really, I loved this to pieces. And this pairing with those two acts = I died. thanks again! ♥
Elven Ranger: erza- stunningnightswhisper on April 21st, 2012 04:42 am (UTC)
Visible - GoT - Sansa/Sandor- PG- Touching, Attention

He had always been ignored. He had been ignored because he was feared. Him, or his family. But between his appearance and less than gentle methods in which he conducted his business. He kept to the shadows and to his work--unless it served him to make himself very known.

It was his life. He dealt with it in his own manner. But while he had his priorities it didn’t mean that he was as ruthless as the people would believe. War, business, that was one thing. Society was another matter. Even still he knew he wasn’t one destined for the love of the people.

She wasn’t meant for that life. And while it seemed that everyone adored her, sang her praises, he had been around the hypocrisy of nobility long enough to see what was going on. Her fear was as transparent. She reeked of it. He had tried, in his own way, to make things a tad easier on her, in what little ways he could.

He thought she would brush them off. He wouldn’t blame her. He expected it, even. Who was he to the young woman who mattered more than he ever would? But as she grew used to this political game, to those around her, she did start to notice. Her eyes would seek him out were their paths to cross. She would accept things he would pass instead of a page. No longer did she tremble in his presence.

For the first time since his very young childhood, someone saw him.

He found her looking out over the city. The tension floated up from the streets to the highest hideaways in the palace. Her perpetual state of concern sank her shoulders. He didn’t speak, but she turned over her shoulder to look at him. For the first time he noticed her eyes were red. When she made no comment he stepped forward, offering to wipe away a tear for her.

He didn’t condone weakness, but he couldn’t condemn her for this. She wasn’t a warrior. Not yet. She should have never been.

She caught his hand. The Hound prepared himself to be struck. Instead she held it there. She closed her eyes as she hung on to the touch. More drops of frustration escaped from her eyes. Sandor stood motionless.

“You shouldn’t let them see you like this.” He cautioned. Just like that she snapped her eyes open, in control again.

“That shouldn’t be a problem. They don’t see me at all.” She snapped.

“They see everything about you.” He corrected. He withdrew himself. The king he was loyal to ahs spies everywhere. He didn’t want to be cause for further violence towards the young Stark.

“But they don’t see me.” She corrected with emphasis on the indicator of herself.

“I do.” He offered, barely a whisper.

“…But you don’t matter.” She stumbled over her words. He stood stiff. He was shocked to feel her hand come back to find his again. “But neither do I. We’re just pawns- elaborate, but children’s toys all the same.”

“Thank you.” She whispered. Her fingers were soft, gentle. They did not recoil even if he did. The ghost of them lingered.

“You shouldn’t stay long. His majesty would dine with you tonight.” He snapped back to his orders.

She nodded and turned back to the skyline. But as Sandor faded back into the shadows, he felt uneasy. He felt exposed. He felt…noticed. He didn’t realize he had been holding his breath.

the female ghost of tom joad: asoiaf >> sandorjanie_tangerine on April 21st, 2012 08:26 pm (UTC)
Re: Visible - GoT - Sansa/Sandor- PG- Touching, Attention
Omg this was so perfect! I loved the parallel you had between the two of them because it's totally true that they are nver really noticed by others, even if in different ways. Also I really loved how you wrote Sandor here, you totally have him down pat. And omg between the hand holding and Sandor wanting to wipe her tear away (THANKS FOR REMINDING ME OF THE MOMENT WHEN I STARTED SHIPPING IT SHAMELESSLY) I was dying here. ;___; And Sansa's lines, all of them omg ;____; And the ending, THE ENDING. It makes so much sense that the attention would make him feel uneasy. I totally loved this, thank you! <3333
(Deleted comment)
the female ghost of tom joad: supernatural dean/cas THEY HAVE A BONDjanie_tangerine on May 4th, 2012 04:29 pm (UTC)
Re: Give it up, SPN, Dean/Castiel, consensual d/s, cross-dressing, touching
Okay, first: SORRY FOR BEING SO HORRIBLY LATE, you posted this in the pre-convention week and I managed to get back to comments just now. ABSOLUTELY SORRY :(

that said: OMG. THIS. IS. SO. GOOD. First, I can never have enough of Cas being the top with this kind of kink so YES TO EVERYTHING. And ngh Cas asking for permission in Enochian and Dean being totally into it - HI LANGUAGE KINK, I didn't list that one but thanks for the extra. ;) And nnngh Dean fighting his nervous reactions was just delicious. As CAS GIVING HIM THE PINK PANTIES - okay, I died at that. Nngh. Seriously I needed a cold shower the first time I read this. And I love that Cas manages to get the authoritative tone even if he speaks casually. JUST. YES. EVERYTHING. I loved this to pieces, thanks so much! :DDDD and sorry again for taking me one week to answer at you *cough*
ozmissage: GOT. Jon. look back with no remorse.ozmissage on May 1st, 2012 02:54 am (UTC)
Jon/Sam, touching, PG
Sorry this is dreadfully late and also kind of schmaltzy, but I couldn't resist attempting Jon/Sam for you.

-

Sam looks for excuses to touch Jon.

When his friend strays too close to the edge of The Wall, Sam catches Jon’s gloved hand to pull him back and when they’re out in the yard training while their brothers sleep, the bitter winds of the coming winter burning their faces, Sam relishes the clash of their bodies even as he winces at the sound of steel meeting steel. He knows he won’t get any better at fighting, even though Jon is a skilled and patient teacher, but he wouldn’t dream of stopping their lessons.

Sometimes Sam thinks Jon must know. He gets a look in his eyes when they’re warming their hands by the fire and Sam inches closer and closer until his shoulder touches Jon’s. But he never moves away. If Sam still allowed himself the luxury of hope, he’d take that as a good sign.

He would like to tell Jon that he craves his touch. In truth he craves any touch. When he was a boy his mother would cuddle with him, drawing him onto her lap when father wasn’t looking and whisper to him as she smoothed down his messy hair. Then he grew older and fatter, and his father’s watch--his disgust--became ever present until even his mother’s hugs disappeared.

His father made him wary of reaching out for contact from anyone. He made Sam believe that he didn’t deserve it.

But Jon…Jon never recoils.

When Sam hugs Jon, Jon hugs Sam back without a thought. And that feeling is better than a glass of strong summer wine. It makes Sam dizzy; it makes him laugh like a fool.

It makes him want more.

-

Jon is asleep. Sam knows because he can hear the soft whistle of Jon’s breath. It’s become a familiar sound since they came to The Wall. It often lulls Sam off to sleep himself.

Not this night though. This night the cold is like something from a story. Every breath he exhales turns to mist and no amount of furs could stave off the chill that is seeping into his bones, let alone the paltry two covering his bed.

Many of the men have already bedded down together out of necessity, but Sam could not ask any one of them to share his bed. They would mock his girth, tell him he barely fits on his own.
He’s even afraid of asking Pyp or Grenn. They’re probably already sharing with one another anyway. And Jon has Ghost to keep him warm.

He wouldn’t turn Sam away though. Sam is certain of it, but even when he’s confident on a matter he’s still craven deep down.

“Sam?”

Sam jumps at the sound of Jon’s voice.

“Did I wake you?” Sam whispers. He’s not sure how he could have, unless his shivering sounded as loud as it felt.

“I can’t sleep without your snoring,” Jon teases. “It reminds me of Winterfell. Robb snored too.”

“I have a chill is all,” Sam says through chattering teeth.

Jon gets up without a word and Sam listens as the sound of Jon’s feet padding across the wooden floor draws closer, the sound of Ghost’s paws are close behind.

“Turn to your side,” Jon says prodding Sam slightly and Sam obliges. He had a dream like this once and the memory of it still makes him blush.

Jon clamors onto the bed behind him, tossing his furs on top of Sam’s. He fits his knees into the back of Sam’s knees and drapes an arm across Sam’s waist as Ghost settles across their feet.

Sam can feel warmth returning to his body almost instantly.

“You should have climbed in with me ages ago,” Jon says, his breath tickling Sam’s ear.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know if you’d want…” Sam trails off.

“Don’t be stupid next time,” Jon replies.

Jon’s hand is resting on top of Sam’s and craven though he may be, he wants to be brave just this one. He holds his breath as he slides his fingers through Jon’s. Jon says nothing and for one terrifying moment Sam thinks he’s made a terrible mistake.

Then Jon’s fingers curl around Sam’s, his grip strong and sure.

the female ghost of tom joad: asoiaf >> jon/samjanie_tangerine on May 11th, 2012 01:40 am (UTC)
Re: Jon/Sam, touching, PG
First: OMG I'M SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE :( I totally lost this in the notification - I got it but it was one or two days after the convention ended and I had a pile of mail to go through and totally didn't notice this being posted. *hides in shame*

And I was an idiot because seriously OMG THIS IS SO PRECIOUS and omg Jon/Sam \o/ and THIS IS EVERYTHING THOSE TWO SHOULD BE REALLY <333 I just - your Sam is so perfect. I love that he's totally wanting to touch Jon at any time (and oh gosh of course he's totally touch-starved, I loved the bits about his mother and his family) and of course it'd be the one reason he'd totally go to sword practice. ;) And omg the second part was just so LOVELY I wanted to squish both of them. I love that Jon is totally matter of fact with the 'you totally should have shared with me, DUH' and that Sam can't ask even if he knows he'd say yes ;_; and oh gosh the end I might have melted in a puddle of squee. It was just so perfect, I'm totally in love with this. Thank you so so much for writing it and sorry for having taken me ten days to realize it actually was here *facepalms forever*

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥