five acts meme

[trillianastra]

+ Post a list of your five favorite acts/kinks to read about. Check out this list if you need some inspiration. At the bottom, 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.



Acts:

Threesomes

(preferably MMF or MFF but that's not prescriptive)

Toys

(the naughty kind...)

Hands

(holding hands, a kiss on the hand....)

Domesticity

(settling down together, moving into a new house, cooking, etc etc etc)

Masturbation

(solo/mutual/group)

Fandoms:

Doctor Who - Eleven/Amy/Rory, Amy/Rory, Eleven/TARDIS, Eleven/River

(and if anyone feels like it... Eleven/Canton Delaware)

Fringe - Peter/Olivia, Alt!Livia/Lincoln

Supernatural - Dean/Castiel, Castiel/Balthazar, Castiel/Fate/Balthazar, Meg/Castiel, Castiel/Meg/Crowley.... (oh, hell, as long as Castiel in there somewhere I don't mind...)

Criminal Minds - Morgan/Garcia, Hotch/Rossi

Battlestar Galactica - Leoben/Kara/Anders (also Leoben/Anders, Anders/Kara, Kara/Leoben)

Comments

Big Ocean, Tiny Boat

[princess-aleera.livejournal.com]

Also, hi. I just dropped by and liked your kinks, so I tried this one. Sorry for the lack of porn:P

~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


"I'm sorry it didn't work out," Dean said when they were back in the Impala. "But hey- we could always try another brothel. Lots of Chastity's out there."

"I appreciate the effort, Dean," Castiel answered, sounding tired, "but it's not necessary. I'm quite content dying a virgin."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but then shrugged and started the car. "Whatever you say, Cas." He slapped him on the shoulder, a touch that lingered just a second longer than intended- before he put the car in drive.

Castiel stared at him the whole way, and it was strange who comfortable Dean felt about that. He'd grown accustomed to the angel's blue, lingering gaze. Sometimes, in situations like these, it was pretty... nice, actually. "Something on your mind, Cas?" he asked anyway, not letting the silence turn awkward.

"Yes."

"Well, share," Dean prodded when it became clear the angel wasn't gonna say anything else.

Castiel hesitated, and then he stretched out a hand and put it lightly on top of Dean's.

"Um, Cas? What are you doing?" Dean didn't withdraw his hand.

"I don't know," Castiel answered, and it sounded painfully honest.

They arrived at the motel, and Dean parked before he looked down on their hands. "You don't know."

Castiel just shook his head, his eyes fixed on their hands as well.

"Okay," Dean said slowly and turned his hand over, palm up. He grasped the angel's smaller hand and tangled their fingers, before he squeezed gently. Then he looked up and frowned. "You okay, Cas?"

Castiel was breathing fast, eyes wider and bluer than usual, pupils blown. Even his cheeks were pink. He was stiff as a pole. "I'm... not sure," he said, and at least his voice was the same as usual.

Dean had a mental image of the two of them on a big ocean, in a tiny boat, and swallowed. "You... wanna come inside?"

Castiel frowned, as if confused by the question. He squeezed Dean's hand instead, testing the waters.

Dean just waited as the angel stared at their entwined hands.

Slipping out of his grasp to start exploring each of his fingers, Castiel nodded silently.

"Okay then," Dean said. His throat felt dry and his hands tingled. He slipped out of the car and locked it, and Castiel winked into existence right by him. He looked more like Jimmy than ever, and if Dean hadn't known the angel was alone in there now, he'd been feeling a lot guiltier for what the two of them were going to do.

When Castiel didn't move, just remained as stiff and hard to read as before, Dean slipped his hand into the angel's again. Something seemed to slot into place then; Castiel gave him an almost-smile, and something bright and beautiful flared within the man.

Dean grinned back. "Told you, Cas. Ain't letting you die a virgin."

Castiel squeezed his hand in answer, and they kept them entwined until they were safely inside the motel room.

~*~

Re: Big Ocean, Tiny Boat

[trillianastra.livejournal.com]

*squee* Oh, this is awesome, thanks!

(it's OK, my fills for porny-type prompts never turn out that porny either)

Re: Big Ocean, Tiny Boat

[princess-aleera.livejournal.com]

You're very welcomeX]

(I wrote five of these yesterday, though- so the two last ones actually had porn in them. Is that called progress? XD )

Re: Big Ocean, Tiny Boat

[mulder200.livejournal.com]

Ah! How sweet and tender!

Re: Big Ocean, Tiny Boat

[princess-aleera.livejournal.com]

Thank you! :D

And Hold on Tight 1/2; Doctor Who; Eleven/Amy/Rory ish; PG-13

[black-eyedgirl.livejournal.com]

[AN: little bit spoilery for The Impossible Astronaut/Day of the Moon. And sadly also no porn, only hand-holding]

*

*

He likes hands. Obviously there are other excellent appendages, and humanity tends to overrate the advantages of the opposable thumb, when there are species with a variety of exciting tentacles, and wings, and also antennae with pheromone emitting properties. And they all do just fine.

But there are decided advantages to a travelling companion with hands. For one thing, when he grabs their hand with his and pulls they usually come along. He thinks it’s something to do with the fingers. It doesn’t work if you grab their tails.

So anyway he’s very experienced in the benefits of hands and their uses in pulling companions out of danger. Or occasionally pulling them into danger. He’s not experienced, exactly, in the part where you’re supposed to pat them when bad things are happening, but he manages.

He’s less used to this: Amy takes the Doctor’s hand in one of hers, and Rory’s in the other. “Oh would you come on,” she says. There doesn’t seem to be any particular reason for it. There’s no danger, and no crowds to get through, and no one needs to be told that everything will be okay. Amy just threads her fingers through his and tugs. Her hand is small and warm, folded over his. He peers behind her to look at Rory, who shrugs with the air of a man who has done this all before. He half-smiles, and waves at the Doctor with his free hand. So the Doctor shrugs too. Amy pulls them along with her, going out to explore.

So that’s fine, and he puts that neatly into the ‘Amelia Pond’ box of strangeness and moves on. And he still takes their hands himself, sometimes, when they’re not running fast enough and people filled with justifiable but misplaced anger are throwing little green pointy darts at their heads. Maybe sometimes he does it when there’s no real reason except that he wants to point them somewhere. It’s… nice. And no one gets confused.

Only then Rory does it too, and Rory doesn’t start a lot of touching, apart from when it comes to Amy. Rory wraps his big hand very very carefully around the Doctor’s and says, “It’s- it’s going to be okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got both of you.” And Amy giggles, with her hand held tightly in Rory’s too.

She frowns, sudden like a rainstorm and he hates it when that happens. He hates it when she’s sad. She says, “I have to- Rory, I have to tell him.”

“No,” Rory says, “no no no. You can’t. Remember?”

The Doctor doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember why everything has gone blurry either though, so this is all quite new. He can’t think of anything that should affect human and Gallifreyan physiology like this. “You shouldn’t be drinking,” he says sternly, though he can’t quite remember why it’s important.

“No one was drinking,” Rory says. “You both got a faceful of… whatever the hell that stuff was. It’s fine. You’re both fine. Just don’t let go of my hands.”

And Hold on Tight 2/2; Doctor Who; Eleven/Amy/Rory ish; PG-13

[black-eyedgirl.livejournal.com]

Rory steers them both back to the TARDIS, waiting patiently while they trip over things and get distracted by the stars, and the flower, and that one flower that looks like a hat. Though he won’t let either of them try it on.

Rory fumbles in his pocket, using the hand still holding Amy’s, searching for his key. When he gets them both inside he locks the door behind them.

Amy says, “I have to-.”

“No,” he says. “Give me your hand.”

She holds up her hand and lets him match it, palm-to-palm. They’re fascinating things, hands. The Doctor looks at his. His fingers seem very long. And blunt, possibly. Is that normal?

“Yes,” Rory answers. “Perfectly normal. Now, we’re all just going to sit here and be quiet and no one is going to do anything… well, anything like the kind of things that usually happen. Okay?”

“Okay,” the Doctor says.

Rory’s eyes widen. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he says again. He gives his hand to Rory, since that seems to be the theme.

Rory looks at the hand like he’s not quite sure what to do with it. The Doctor knows the feeling, but Rory picks things up quickly. Rory has strong, quick hands, the kind of hands that try to make things safe. He holds on.

Amy takes the Doctor’s other hand, and now they’re a circle. Which is another thing hands are good for.

He wakes up with a headache, and when he tries to poke it with his finger, Rory is still attached. And Amy has all of his arm pulled to her chest. Rory blinks awake, and uses their joined hands to push the Doctor’s fringe out of his eyes. “Better?” Rory asks.

“Sssh,” Amy hisses, covering his mouth with her hand. “Sleeping.”

“No you’re not, Pond,” the Doctor points out. “Don’t be ridiculous. All the universe to see and all the time to see it in and you want to spend it asleep on the floor of the TARDIS?”

“Not all of it,” she says. “Just ten more minutes. Now shush.”

He makes a strategic decision to let her have the ten minutes. Anyway, she and Rory still have both of his hands.

Re: And Hold on Tight 2/2; Doctor Who; Eleven/Amy/Rory ish; PG-13

[trillianastra.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is perfect! And you made it Rory-centric as well, which is brilliant because he's awesome.

Rory looks at the hand like he’s not quite sure what to do with it. The Doctor knows the feeling, but Rory picks things up quickly. Rory has strong, quick hands, the kind of hands that try to make things safe. He holds on. = PERFECT.

So... thanks!

Settling Down, Dean/Castiel, Domesticity

[bballgirl3022.livejournal.com]

(So this is only a few months late, but I found it on my USB and thought I should post it for you anyway)

Eventually the Winchesters had to throw in the proverbial towel on the whole hunting thing. They were bruised, broken, and had very little left of themselves left to give.

They found a house for sale near Bobby’s. It was horribly decorated, but it came with furniture. If possible the furniture was worse looking than the house, but as they had no money of their own, they couldn’t complain about it too much.

They moved in a week later.

Sam spent his time working closely with Bobby doing online research for the hunters that frequently called Bobby for help. He also cooked most of the meals since Dean had a day job.

Honestly, Dean never thought he’d have regular job like other regular Joes, but here he was; working at an auto-shop in town because it was the only marketable skill he had. He made enough money for him and Sam to live on, so it worked out for them.

They lived this way for months; Dean working, Sam researching and Castiel popping in at more and more frequent rates.

Eventually Castiel’s visits became a daily thing. Dean isn’t sure where Castiel went when he left. It wouldn’t bother him so much if Castiel wasn’t zapping away while Dean was asleep. He was constantly waking up alone. Funny how that never bothered him until now. Maybe it was the sedentary lifestyle he adapted. Or maybe it was all those repressed feelings coming back to bite him in the ass, but Dean would really like to wake up snuggled next to Castiel. Not that Dean would ever use a word like ‘snuggled’.

Sam had astutely noticed Dean’s cranky early morning attitude and suspected the reason.

“Why don’t you just ask him to stay?”

Dean didn’t even look up from his cereal.

Sam continued, “Maybe he is waiting for an invitation. He says he feels like an intruder…”

“Wait! ‘He says’?” His brother and his angel were talking behind his back.

“Just talk to him Ok?”

Dean nodded before scowling into his cornflakes.

Castiel showed up that night as expected and began undressing Dean immediately. The tongue in Dean’s mouth was almost enough to distract Dean from having the conversation he planned for tonight.

“Cas,” he said, mumbling around the angel’s mouth. “Cas we have to talk.”

The angel froze. Castiel had not watched enough TV with Dean to be suspicious of that phrase.

“You wish to end our relationship.” He sounded so dejected that Dean just wanted to cuddle him.

“No I don’t. I wanted to ask if you’d consider moving in with Sam and me. You know, since you’re here every day anyway. We might as well make it official. And you shouldn’t have to feel like you’re intruding in our lives or some-“ The rest of his sentence was muffled by Castiel’s mouth.

“What was that for?” He questioned, more because he wanted to hear Castiel’s answer than general confusion.

“I’ve learned kissing is an excellent way to shut a person up.”

“You’ve been corrupted by television.”

“If I have, it’s entirely your fault.”

“So will you stay?”

Castiel’s smile lit up the room. “All you had to do was ask.”

The following morning Dean woke up warm and happy and wrapped around his favorite angel. Dean would totally get used to that.