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I've been seeing billboards for "Hawai'i 5-0" around the city. I think I want to be excited for it. Is anyone excited for that show?

Five Acts Meme: Round Two

+ 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 their lists to people's posts.

Kinks
1. object penetration
2. hand jobs
3. gags and restraints
4. nipple play
5. ritual sex

Ships
Merlin: Arthur/Morgana, Will/anyone
Supernatural: Dean/Castiel, Castiel/Anna, Sam/Castiel, Dean/Alastair, Dean/Dean, John/Dean, John/girl!Dean, Dean/Claire, Dean/Clairestiel, Sam/Becky
Captain Planet: Wheeler/Linka
Skins: Effy/Tony
SPN/Merlin: Dean/Arthur, Sam/Morgana, John/Arthur, Ruby/Morgause, Ruby/Morgana
Fight Club/SPN: Marla/anyone
SPN/RPF: Dean/Misha Collins, Becky/Jared Padalecki, Castiel/Judas, Gabriel/Jack Kerouac, Gabriel/Ken Kesey, Crowley/Sarah Palin (set in croatverse, YOU know)
Sandman/RPF: Death/Quentin Tarantino
SPN/X-Files: Castiel/Scully

[originally posted at http://whynot.dreamwidth.org/32929.html |

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Dean/Misha - Object Penetration, Handjob - 'A rose is a rose is a...Jesus fuck what are you doing with that thing?'

Misha's not sure exactly how he ended up in this situation. Actually, that's a lie. He knows exactly how he ended up like this, spread out naked on a bed in a cheap hotel with a complete stranger licking his thighs.

(And yes, he's going to start this story with a tantalizing detail like that and then bore you with a flashback. You want sex, go browse craigslist. This shit here is literary.)

It started, like so many good things do, in the park.

Misha was there handing out flowers for Random Acts, and was doing a very good job of pretending that he didn't know there were two teenage girls filming him from some nearby bushes. He was planning on ignoring them for another few minutes, then he'd accuse them of stalking and threaten to call the police. Then they'd probably all get donuts together or something. He hadn't thought that far ahead.

Anyway. He was in the park handing out flowers when he saw a guy who clearly was in urgent need the patented Collins Magic Touch.

So he sauntered up, sat down next to him on the park bench, and offered him his prettiest pink rose. "Here."

The guy was kind of butch, and Misha was expecting him to be confused, defensive, to wrinkle up his simian brow and completely fail to comprehend how lucky he was.

Instead, the guy looked up and stared like it was a ghost offering him a cheap plastic rose, instead of a C-list heartthrob.

"Jimmy?" he whispered.

"No, it's a flower." Misha thought maybe he was slow. Which was okay. Random Acts didn't discriminate. "It's to make you smile," he said and waved the flower under the guy's nose. "Go on. Take it."

The guy did, hesitantly, like it was going to bite.

"It didn't work," he said after a second.

But that wasn't going to discourage Misha. "It was worth a shot," he said, and shrugged. Then he handed the guy a flyer. "This is my charity. I'd tell you to spread the joy, but-"

(Meanwhile, back in real-time and out of this flashback, Misha is getting his cock sucked and it's awesome. Just thought you'd like to know, to keep you interested.)

The guy must have been an environmentalist who didn't care for Misha's flyer. Which was actually printed on recycled paper that Misha had made himself, but he didn't get a chance to explain that before the guy brushed it away and snapped, "I'm not a charity case."

"Right. So you just sit alone and mope for fun?"

"Okay, pal, you need to walk away before I shove this someplace really unpleasant."

The guy waved his plastic rose threateningly.

And here's the thing. Misha is altruistic. No, really. He would genuinely like the world to be a better place. But that doesn't mean he can't also be opportunistic, and just between you and me 'Getting a stranger to smile' had only been number two on the list of reasons to approach the moping guy. Reason number one had been: 'He's really fucking hot and I'd like to tap that'.

So Misha smiled. "Well..." he said, drawing out the word smoothly. "That would have to be in a personal capacity, of course. Not as an official representative of Random Acts." And he licked his lips. Just in case the message wasn't totally clear.

But apparently it was. The guy looked at him, and it was one of those really good looks, the sort that goes through your head and takes the express route down your spine straight to your dick.

"You're really not Jimmy?"

"You can call me that if you want. But I prefer Misha."

"Dean," the guy said, and held out the hand that wasn't holding his plastic rose.

Shaking hands. How charming.

And that's how Misha ended up here. Naked on the bed. Getting his cock sucked.

(Okay, there was some stuff in between - like a really awkward taxi drive and a woman at the hotel desk who'd glared at them disapprovingly probably because she wasn't invited - but you've waited long enough for the sex. Misha believes in rewarding his followers for their loyalty. Kind of like Starbucks.)

Dean is really good at this. It's probably the lips. They're tight and hot and moving up and down at just the right speed and Dean's doing this thing with his tongue where it presses up on the underside of the head on every dip and the suction is fucking incredible. Misha's got his hands on the back of Dean's head and it's all he can do not to really grab hold and thrust up into that slick heat.

He clenches his hands into fists, lets out a little breathless moan of encouragement and Dean moves up until he's got his lips wrapped just around the head, sucks like he's desperate for it until Misha's toes start to curl. And then Dean's moving his tongue, over the sensitive ridges, then little licks until he's lapping at the slit and it's so fucking awesome, white hot shocks of intense bright sensation and Dean's hands are firm on his hips… but then Misha remembers what he promised.

It almost fucking kills him to push Dean away, let his cock slip out of those spit-slick lips with one last jolt of heat. But he's got something even better in mind.

"Where'd your rose go?" he asks, when Dean looks up curiously from between his legs.

"Seriously?" Dean sits up, kneels on the bed while he retrieves his rose from where he'd put it on the bedside table. He's naked too, and Misha slips his hands behind his head and enjoys the view. A little pudgier than he'd expected. But that's okay. Gives him something to hang on to.

"Seriously," Misha says. And when he sees the rose stem, long and slender and delicate in Dean's rough hands, his dick twitches in anticipation. "Lots of lube."

Dean shakes his head incredulously as he coats the stem with KY. "I mean, I've tried plenty of stuff," he says, and then settles back down between Misha's legs. "But I don't think this is gonna do much for you."

He strokes a finger down the soft skin between Misha's balls, touches the rim of his asshole.

And even though it feels good, Misha laughs. "Not there."

Dean looks confused. For about two seconds, until Misha nods pointedly at the rose. At how long and slender the stem is.

It's blunt and thick when Dean pushes it against the head of Misha's cock. Everything's sticky with lube, and the only sound is their breathing, ragged and panting.

Then a long groan, "Mm," when the plastic stem slips into the Misha's slit, harder than Dean's tongue and it's so fucking intense, thick and weird and awesome.

Misha doesn't look away as the long, green stem begins to disappear down the length of his dick - the slide of it is all pressure, fuck, filling his up so he feels stuffed and impossibly hard and like he's going to come just from this. He can hear the hitch in Dean's breathing.

"That's good?" He sounds surprised.

"Fuck." It's better than good. "Fucking…fuck." He feels swollen, shuddering with little shocks of pressure, like he's going to explode and all that's stopping him is that hard length of plastic.

"This is so fucked up," Dean says, awed and breathless.

But he's a natural, doesn't force it too hard, just lets it slide in. And then pulls it back gentle and makes Misha's whole body spasm as he fucks it in and out, gently but it's hard and there's an ooze of lube and precome dribbling down the length of Misha's erection.

"This is nothing," he says, and if he wasn't sky-fucking-high he'd be kind of embarrassed by how wreaked his voice is. "You should see the things I can do with an eggplant."

Dean actually smiles at that - fucking finally - and he wraps his hand around Misha's cock, pumps it slowly in time with the little in and out motions of the rose stem so that the pressure is inside out and Misha bites down on his lip. His breath sticks in his throat, and every bit of him is trembling, fucking aching for release but Dean's hand is slow and the stem is lodged tight and hard.

"Fuck," he groans.

The rose bobs up and down, and it's obscene. Misha would laugh if it didn't feel so unbelievably fucking good.

Then all of a sudden Dean is pulling the stem out and it's like falling, plummeting off the edge and spinning into pure fucking madness. Misha's shout is wordless, he can feel the rush of hot, sticky wetness spill over in thick streams, Dean's hand on him pumping it out, but he's not so much coming as being released and it's enough to have him seeing fucking stars.

And yeah, the world is a fucking glorious place.

Misha feels dizzy, like he's floating about the world and his whole body is buzzing, but he pulls himself together enough to watch Dean jerk himself off. He offers a hand, but he's not good for much and so Dean twists their fingers together, wraps Misha's hand around him and uses him while MIsha just lies there, lax and sated.

Dean comes on his thigh, a hot splash, and he says Misha's name, which is always very much appreciated.

They both take a moment to recover some basic fucking dignity, to let their breathing settle back into 'human' rather than 'racehorse'.

Then Dean lies down next to Misha, sticky and sweaty and smearing all kinds of stuff over the scratchy hotel sheets.

(Misha likes to alliterate when he's sated.)

"So," Misha says, when he can trust his voice not to shake. "Feeling better?"

Dean turns his head to look at him. He really is quite unrealistically good looking, even if there are bags under his eyes, more lines at the corners than there probably should be. And he smiles. It's not really a grin or anything, but it's lazy and content and a million miles from the sullen guy Misha picked up on a park bench.

"I don't know how effective your charity's gonna be on a world scale," Dean says dryly. Then adds, "But yeah. I am."

"You're sure? Because it's too soon for me to go again but let me send out a tweet and I can probably get a girl aged eighteen to twenty four here in ten minutes or less."

"Tempting. But I think I'm good."

So Misha's work here is done. But even if he could trust his knees to support him right now, he thinks maybe he wouldn't get up and leave. It's kind of nice here. Warm. Even if there are bed springs poking him in the back.

Dean seems to think so, too. "Can you...stay for a bit?" he asks, reaches out a hand to Misha's sticky belly.

"Sure," Misha says, and he yawns. "If it'll make the world a better place."

It might not solve all the worlds problems. But every little bit helps.

OH MY GOD LEX OH MY GOD. I saw this in my inbox and I was like OH MY GOD. LET ME DEAL WITH MY OTHER EMAILS AND THEN I WILL READ IT. SO THAT'S WHAT I DID. AND I WAS LIKE OH MY GOD SOME MORE. Your cavalier attitude towards fic prompts continue to take me to stratospheric heights of joy on the wings of your glory.

AND THEN THEY'LL GET DONUTS OR SOMETHING, HE HASN'T THOUGHT THAT FAR AHEAD.

"JIMMY?!??? :("

But you know what is really awesome is these interjections of narrator to reader, it's almost like Lemony Snicket but with porn. DELIGHTFUL. (Dear reader, you are about to embark on a journey most pornful! Alas, it is so full of porn that my scrotum exploded as I wrote the foreplay, and venture not forth unless you are of strong of constitution and wet of vag, for this fic is only for the most pervy!)

Hee, yes, pudgy Dean. HEE YES CALLING MISHA'S NAME OUT IN BED HAHA. Misha, appreciative of so many things.

AND THEN

THE ROOOOOOOOOOOSE

:DDDDD

DDDDD:

:DDDD!

IS THERE GOING TO BE AN EGGPLANT PREQUEL?

You sure know how to cheer a girl up. <3 <3 <3 <3

CHEERING YOU UP IS THE BEST RANDOM ACT OF KINDNESS I CAN THINK OF DOING. <33333

Also if I can get this stupid law paper written and knock another few thousand words off my BB by tonight I am GOING TO WRITE YOU ANNA/CLAIRESTIEL EVEN THOUGH IT ISN'T A PAIRING YOU ASKED FOR.

BUT SERIOUSLY, OKAY, DEAN/MISHA. This shit is eating my brain. And Misha is not helpingggg I keep reading these recent interviews he's done and the CON REPORT OMG Misha said that he would ~MARRY DEAN~ (and fuck himself but the Misha/Castiel fic is going to have to wait) and IDK IS IT GOING TO A TRULY CREEPY PLACE if I write fic about wee Misha and his family living on the side of the road and it's John Winchester who pays for them to get a motel room and have a decent meal and Misha is the one who gets wee Dean to talk again? ARGH THAT'S GOING TOO FAR ISN'T IT? BUT I WANT IT. I WANT IT AND IT IS LIKE A SICKNESS.

I sweeeeeaaaar that before fandom I was a good person who did not write about people inserting plants into themselves. I SWEAR. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT. YOU DEPRAVED SICKO.

(<333333333333333333333)

ps. He was bullshitting about the eggplant. It was a cauliflower.

<3333333 DARLINGEST GIRL. ANNA/CLAIRESTIEL?! Hello, something I never knew I wanted.

Oh mannnnn, I don't even really do RPF (lol) and Mishalecki is winning over my heart BECAUSE I MEAN if people, JENSEN, are gonna be like he is like a cat and he is like a ball of string, then WHERE IS THE FIC WHERE JARED BATS MISHA AROUND AND THEN GETS TANGLED UP IN HIM. ALSO JARED AND MISHA MAKING DEAN SHRINES TOGETHER. <3333

and Misha is the one who gets wee Dean to talk again?
fjkafjslkfjldkjsf
OMGGGGG
HE WOULD. HE TOTALLY WOULD.

Aaaaah, the last tatters of John's non-doucheyness! Goes to sheltering wee Misha!

I can barely process all of this right now. I just... I love it. I could die in a happy, happy place right now. I'm going to have this fic buried with me. Or cremated with me.

Pudgy Dean! C-list Misha! Roses! *snuggles*

:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

ahahhahahahahhahahahha

Because it's too soon for me to go again but let me send out a tweet and I can probably get a girl aged eighteen to twenty four here in ten minutes or less.

ahahahaha oh god.

LOL! That is so hot and kinky but also sweet! Loved it!

Holy shit! That is both funny as well as hot and kinky.

WELL MY BRAIN IS FRIED FROM TEH HAWWWT.

-DEAD-

THIS FIC IS PURE GENIUS.

then he'd accuse them of stalking and threaten to call the police. Then they'd probably all get donuts together or something.

LMFAO

Misha likes to alliterate when he's sated.

New fanon.

I'm kind of excited for Hawaii Five-O, mainly because of Daniel Dae Kim. And also because I vaguely remember watching the original one when I was real little.

Edited 2010-08-30 04:14 (UTC)

yeah I am excited for the Asian actors, ngl. I forget if I ever watched the old show.

Most likely you haven't been born yet then. Unless you were watching the repeats :)

Though mind you, I was very young then *coughs*

I can't write porny fic for my life, but after reading:

Crowley/Sarah Palin

--> my face:

|:

):

D8

Maybe Crowley gave her the ability to look at Russia from her house as an added bonus for her political success.

That's not all he gave her.

...

*scrubs brain*

John lights the last candle and takes a long, last look at Sammy's comatose form across the room, then glances over at Dean's feet, like he can't make himself look his son in the eye. Uncomfortable about their state of undress, even though they've seen each other in nothing but boxers many, many times before, or maybe shamed by the thought of what they're about to do. "Look... Dean..."

Dean's throat feels like it's closing over, but he manages to grind out, "We haven't got time, Dad. You said yourself, it's the only way."

He sees John flinch at the mention of their relationship. "Christ, Dean, I..."

"It's for Sammy, Dad. If it was anyone but me standing here, you wouldn't even hesitate, and you know it. Just... pretend it's someone else, okay?" His voice cracks. "It'll be all right." Please don't make this harder than it already is, he thinks, desperately hoping his poker face holds out. Please don't make me beg you.

John stands for a moment, head down, his eyes screwed up, reaching for the courage to do what needs to be done. Dean can see the change, the moment he's ready. John's head snaps up, determination stamped across his face, and he beckons Dean to join him in the circle of symbols Dean spent the last half hour drawing out.

Dean steps through the candles, can't suppress a moment of dry-mouthed panic once he's in the circle and stuck there, bound to follow this ritual through to the end. He tries not to think about the end, tries not to wonder whether that shiver running through him is terror or desire.

John is chanting now, reading from his brown leather journal. Dean doesn't know what language, not Latin but something else, ancient and powerful, some kind of spell repeated over and over in his father's deep, whiskey-soaked growl. He wants to know what that chant means; wishes for the first time that he was better at the nerdy side of hunting, the arcane knowledge, the dead languages. But that's Sammy's thing, Sammy who's lying there cursed, a whisker away from death. He's gonna be so disgusted if he ever finds out what they did to save him. Always was prissy.

The air inside the circle is changing, becoming sharp and electric, like a lightning storm. John gets to the end of the chant again, closes the book and puts it down, picking up his hunting knife and handing a broken mug to Dean. He extends his left hand over the mug, pokes the tip of his knife into the pad of his thumb, and drips blood into the cup.

"Your turn, Dean," he says, and they swap implements. "We only need a few drops, no call to be digging deep."

Dean's had a lot more experience with blood than the average 18-year-old, has stitched a few wounds up even, and sticking his finger for a few drops should be a walk in the park, but as he watches his blood well out and run down to mingle with his father's, a swimmy feeling starts up in his head. He watches John as if from a distance as he chants some more, holds the "chalice" up in offering, then sets it aside on a specific symbol at the outer edge.

"That's the blood magic part out of the way," says John.

It's time. For a moment, Dean wishes he were anywhere but here, that he'd never started this esoteric shit, never set foot in a circle he can't get out of without... doesn't want to do it. Does want to do it. Has always wanted it in a secret place in his brain he's locked down hard for years. There's a roaring in his ears and he sways forward, lightheaded with panic and need and shame. He loses his balance, falls all the way forward into his father's broad chest, feels muscular arms go round him and hold him up. He tries not to think about how comforting the hot, bare skin against him is.

"Dean," murmurs John, "I know you've had your share of girlfriends, but have you ever...?"

Dean shakes his head, hiding his face. God, how did he not realize just how humiliating this was going to get?

"Well, then, maybe you'd better do this, rather than me."

It takes Dean a moment to work out what the fuck John means, and then he's shaking his head furiously, burning with embarrassment. Wrong way around, he thinks. It was always the other way around in his wet dreams. "No, no, I can't, I just... you. You have to."

"Are you sure? Dean... I'm a full-grown guy, it's gonna be pretty damn uncomfortable for you."

Dean's already looking downwards, but his father's words make him actually see; John's soft, but the bulge is still sizeable. For a moment, he's speechless, a shiver of something like excitement flashing through him. Then he finds his voice, finds the strength to look up and meet his father's eyes. "I'm sure. Dad, Chrissakes stop talking. Just, please."

John rolls his eyes, looking unhappy, but it's not like they have many options here. He buries his face in the crook of Dean's neck, not kissing but rubbing his cheek there, beard tickling and scratching. It sends a jolt of pleasure to Dean's cock, and he realizes that he's half-hard; has been for a while. The strong arms stroke up and down his back, warm in the chilly room, and crazy-ass blood-and-sex ritual or not, he feels safe within them. The last of the terror leaves him, and his own arms come up around John, smaller hands running over the wide back.

There's no sound in the room but the huffing of their breath as they stand for a few minutes, hands and arms stroking, moving, getting used to each other's touch. Dean's breath is coming faster, his head whirling with all the long-buried fantasies that have been unlocked by the feel of his father's skin, the loving touch he never thought he would ever get. He sways again, his hips fall against John. There's a frozen moment when John feels his son's hard-on pressed against him, and his whole body tenses, pulling away. Dean's just gone now, though, whines and clutches at his father, hauls him back close, fingers digging in and hips moving against him.

"Dean, God," groans John, the tension easing out of him as the friction of Dean's cock makes his own start to harden. "Okay, okay."

And then John's reluctance melts away and he commits fully. He's all over Dean, hands and mouth everywhere, hips grinding, and it's better than anything Dean ever dreamed of. He's panting, blood pounding around his body, skin too tight for him, crying out as John's teeth find a nipple.

John's hands move lower, working the waistband of Dean's boxers over his erection and sliding them down his legs. The feeling of his naked cock sliding against his father's with only a thin layer of cotton between them makes his head spin. Dean's hands stray downwards, palming John's ass, feeling the play of muscles under his skin as he shifts. Dean's shaking so hard he can barely hold up his own weight, and John lowers him to his knees, then takes a step back and works his own boxers off. There's a treasure trail of hair leading down from his navel, and his cock springs free, thick and meaty, surrounded by dark curly hair.

Dean's seen his father naked before, it's kind of unavoidable living in one motel room, but this is the first time he's seen his cock erect. He swallows nervously, thinking about where that's gonna be going soon, how big it is, but the nerves aren't enough to make much of a dent in the wild hunger running through his body. Before he knows it, he's reaching out a hand and curling it around John's cock, stroking upwards and causing a sharp intake of breath. He's only allowed a few strokes before John's moving again, grabbing a bottle of lotion Dean hadn't even noticed before, pushing Dean onto his back and kneeling between his legs, taking care to stay inside the circle.

"I'll try to take it easy. Tell me if you need me to slow down, okay? Dean?" John's looking at the bottle of lotion, at the symbols on the floor, anywhere but at his son's naked body spread out in front of him. Suddenly, Dean wants his father's eyes on him, wants it fiercely.

"Dad." That gets him eye contact. "Stop beating yourself up. We're doing this for Sam, remember?" Dean can't resist smoothing a hand across his neck, drawing John's eye, then slowly downwards, circling a nipple, and down down down to his cock, grasping and stroking. John's eyes follow, glazing over, and when Dean thumbs the head, shiny smear of pre-come on swollen skin, a low groan escapes him.

"It's okay to enjoy it. I want you to," whispers Dean, and John's eyes flutter shut on a moan.

John flips open the lotion and wets his fingers with it, looks down at Dean with eyes gone dark. "Knees up, Dean." There's John's accustomed tone of command in it which makes Dean shiver, has always made Dean shiver - including in some very inappropriate situations - and he obeys instantly, pulls his knees up and out, blushing as he exposes himself. For a moment it's too much and he shuts his eyes, turns his face away. There's a slide of wetness between his legs, skin sliding against him, and then a firm, warm finger circling his hole. He gasps, chokes on it, the rush of need through his body making his head spin, and then the finger's pressing gently in and he feels like he's going crazy with the sensation. He squirms, which just presses the finger deeper, and it's good, doesn't hurt like he was expecting, just keeps sliding in slowly till it's knuckle deep. There's a pause and then the finger's moving, slowly at first and then faster, and it feels sexy and filthy at the same time, sending shudders through him every time it pushes in. Then there's another pause, and then two fingers, which is kinda uncomfortable at first, but John's using plenty of lube on him so it's slippery and doesn't really hurt. As he loosens up, it starts feeling good, the movement inside him's driving him crazy, and he wants more, starts pushing back against the fingers, hips wriggling and moaning with need.

"Dean, Jesus," groans John, sounding desperate, and Dean sneaks a peep at his father. He looks completely wrecked, biting his lip hard, eyes on his fingers moving in and out of Dean. He starts twisting his fingers on each stroke, and Dean arches up off the ground.

"Please..."

John squeezes some more lotion on his hand and strokes his cock with it, then moves forward on his knees. He pushes against Dean's thighs to tilt his hips upwards, and leans over him, holding him in place with effortless strength. They look into each other's eyes for a few seconds which stretch into infinity, John's dark and intense, Dean's blown wide open and wanting.

Then Dean feels thick blunt pressure at his hole, so wide he wonders how it's ever gonna go in, but then the head of it's in past the ring of his muscle, and even with all the stretching it hurts, burns. Dean gasps and clenches up, wrenching a deep groan from John. He can see his father is fighting to stay still, give Dean a moment to adjust, then he starts to slide in, inch by burning inch, the pauses in between nowhere near long enough for Dean to get used to John's thickness. He's making small, helpless, pained noises; he thought he was used to taking pain, but this is too intimate, going deeper and deeper, and Dean wants to curl up into a ball and hug himself - but he's all splayed out and open, under his father, God, it's too much. He can't bear it, throws an arm across his face to hide.

At first, he barely feels it when John slides a hand between them and starts stroking his cock as he slides out of Dean, but then a gentle wave of pleasure rolls through him just as John pushes back into him, careful and steady, and this time it hurts a little less. John keeps going, slow-paced but inexorable, and as Dean opens up, the pleasure starts winning out over the burning. It still feels huge inside of him, but no longer unbearable.

John is speeding up now, little grunts of pleasure escaping him, head down and breath huffing out over Dean's chest, and then he puts a roll into his hips that sends a bright flood of sensation through Dean, fetching him up off the floor with a cry. John laughs, a hard bark of sound, and starts pounding into Dean at that same angle, over and over.

Dean's moaning continuously now, he can't believe it feels so good - it's like when he's fucking a girl, except it's in him, deep and intimate and filling him up until he wants to scream from it, too much but wonderful. He writhes against John, desperate.

John's really hitting his stride, strong battle-hardened body pumping against Dean, waves of heat and need washing over them both, taking them closer and closer to the edge. Dean goes over first, thrashing and yelling.

"Dad, oh God, oh fucking Christ, DAD!"

He clenches tight around John, who manages a few more thrusts before following him over, head buried in Dean's chest, deep groans bursting out of him as he works through it. There's a few moments of silence as they both come back down, comfortable and satisfied at first, but becoming a little strained as the real world starts to come back in on them. Finally, John heaves out a sigh and lifts up his head to look at Dean. Dean has to steel himself to meet his father's eyes, expecting to see disgust in them. After all, he's just seen his son writhing wantonly and begging to be fucked by him. But although John's looking shocked and worried, there's no disgust there.

"Dean... are you...?"

"'M fine, Dad."

A rustle of movement and a low murmur from across the room send them scrambling for their clothes.

"Not a word to Sam about this," hisses John. "As far as he's concerned, it was just blood magic!"

Dean nods frantically, but he can't help noticing that his father's eyes never leave his body as he dresses.

"Right, Dad. Sam need never know..."

OOHHHHH MY GODDDDD

<33333333

HELLO HOTNESS. Thank you so much for writing this, omfg. I love how Dean has been waiting for this and how he is SO READY. This hits the spot, yes it does. Thanks!! :DDDDD

HURRAY, I'M GLAD YOU LIKED IT!! John/Dean is such a niche pairing; so very very hot, but hard to write without it being sleazy or dubcon - even hardened Wincest gals think it's too near the knuckle because there's a perception that inter-generational incest must necessarily involve abuse, of power imbalance if nothing else. But I love it, and admit to bouncing in my seat and squeeing when I saw the pairing in your list!

ngl, sleaziness and dubcon will not turn me off a John/Dean fic. XD
I'm really fascinated by their dynamic in general, whether it's sexual or other. They both obviously care about each other, and have some kind of power over each other (John especially, whereas I think Dean doesn't even know the power he has over his father), but they repress it and they're both kinda nuts. GAH, JOHN AND DEAN. I LOVE 'EM.

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what does this button do?

I am way too busy for this but I just can't resist potentially traumatic porn

Part 2

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in conclusion, the world needs more Mishacest

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Re: Part 3

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Re: Part 3

Re: Part 3

Re: Part 3

Re: Part 3

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Blood Sugar Sex Magick John/Dean NC-17 1/4

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