Lady Drace

Things I adore in sabriel fics:

  • Sam calling Gabriel “gorgeous” or “beautiful”.
  • Gabriel calling Sam “kiddo”.
DS9 ficlet - “Favorite Side”

bmouse:

For taejira’s giant prompt list of two weeks ago. Satisfying the ‘Lizard People doing Lizard Things’ prompt a bit, hopefully.

Atrociously fluffy, post-canon, pg-13 for bed-sharing and all things implied therein.

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*happy murmuring*

I think I love Porn Monday…

I think I love Porn Monday…

Some Garak / Bashir fanfiction

absolutlylostmymind:

Some Garak / Bashir slash recs and lists (BTW most of them are in the ladydrace’s list). 

and there are many other homeless fics somewhere but i can’t remember now

FYI, all my fics should be on AO3 now. :o)

ilcuoreardendo-fic:


Julian didn’t get sick often, but when he did, he got sick. It was as if his body collected every illness he encountered, melted them down and combined them into one Super Virus. He knew that was absolutely ridiculous, but with everything he’d eaten (tea and a piece of wheat toast) coming back up for the fourth time that night and his head pounding and his skin feeling as though it was both too tight and twenty degrees too hot, he had trouble believing it to be false.
A splash of cool water on his face and he left the bathroom, tossed his sweat damp night shirt in the vague direction of the refresher and fell into the rumpled sheets of his bed.
When he woke again, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed but his head was ringing again, his throat felt like he’d swallowed a cactus and when he sat up he fell back against the headboard as the room decided to make an ungainly counterclockwise spin.
He made a pitiful noise and jumped when a cool, dry hand slithered across his forehead, fingers gently stroking his temple.
“It’s me, Doctor.”
“Garak?” he croaked, then sighed as the smooth lip of a glass pressed against his mouth, cold water sliding down his throat like ambrosia. When he’d drank enough, Garak took the glass away, then pressed a hypospray to Julian’s neck.
“Wha-?” “It is time for your next dose of antivirals.” 
Julian nodded, wondered how the man knew his dosage schedule, how long he’d been in the room…
“Garak…” he said again, voice slurring as the sedative included in the antiviral compound began to grab hold. Garak caught him as he slid sideways, maneuvered him with the ease of an adult putting a small child to bed. (Julian would admit, if only to himself, the tailor’s strength was a turn on. Having a lover who could manhandle him made his insides go hot and a little wibbly. Or maybe that was the fever….)
“Hm?” “Why’reyou here?”
“I’ve heard it rumored among the medical staff– of various species, mind you—that have passed through this space station, that doctors make the worst patients. Is that true?”
Julian snorted. Tried to keep his eyes open.
“Close your eyes.”
“Mmmph. Stay?” Garak had never stayed. They’d been doing this dance for weeks. He was always gone before morning shift. “Know…know I’m a snotty…hacking…gross mess. S’not the least bit in it for you….”
“Sleep. Julian.” It was a command. Julian could do commands….
He slept.
The image of Garak sliding into the bed followed him down into the darkness.
______________________Exploring the mundane. I think I’ll do that more often. 

I adore mundane Garak/Bashir things. Speaking of which, I should really poke at my own mundane verse thing. 
Loved this!

ilcuoreardendo-fic:

Julian didn’t get sick often, but when he did, he got sick. It was as if his body collected every illness he encountered, melted them down and combined them into one Super Virus. He knew that was absolutely ridiculous, but with everything he’d eaten (tea and a piece of wheat toast) coming back up for the fourth time that night and his head pounding and his skin feeling as though it was both too tight and twenty degrees too hot, he had trouble believing it to be false.

A splash of cool water on his face and he left the bathroom, tossed his sweat damp night shirt in the vague direction of the refresher and fell into the rumpled sheets of his bed.

When he woke again, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed but his head was ringing again, his throat felt like he’d swallowed a cactus and when he sat up he fell back against the headboard as the room decided to make an ungainly counterclockwise spin.

He made a pitiful noise and jumped when a cool, dry hand slithered across his forehead, fingers gently stroking his temple.

“It’s me, Doctor.”

“Garak?” he croaked, then sighed as the smooth lip of a glass pressed against his mouth, cold water sliding down his throat like ambrosia. When he’d drank enough, Garak took the glass away, then pressed a hypospray to Julian’s neck.

“Wha-?”

“It is time for your next dose of antivirals.” 

Julian nodded, wondered how the man knew his dosage schedule, how long he’d been in the room…

“Garak…” he said again, voice slurring as the sedative included in the antiviral compound began to grab hold. Garak caught him as he slid sideways, maneuvered him with the ease of an adult putting a small child to bed. (Julian would admit, if only to himself, the tailor’s strength was a turn on. Having a lover who could manhandle him made his insides go hot and a little wibbly. Or maybe that was the fever….)

“Hm?”

“Why’reyou here?”

“I’ve heard it rumored among the medical staff– of various species, mind you—that have passed through this space station, that doctors make the worst patients. Is that true?”

Julian snorted. Tried to keep his eyes open.

“Close your eyes.”

“Mmmph. Stay?” Garak had never stayed. They’d been doing this dance for weeks. He was always gone before morning shift. “Know…know I’m a snotty…hacking…gross mess. S’not the least bit in it for you….”

“Sleep. Julian.” It was a command. Julian could do commands….

He slept.

The image of Garak sliding into the bed followed him down into the darkness.

______________________

Exploring the mundane. I think I’ll do that more often. 

I adore mundane Garak/Bashir things. Speaking of which, I should really poke at my own mundane verse thing.

Loved this!

Anonymous asked: Supernatural, Sam/Gabriel, wing!kink- they both get off when Sam fucks Gabe’s wings

fivesentencesmut:

“Wannadrrggkggthm,” Sam mumbled the first time, and it was only through a helluva lot of coaxing from Gabriel that he finally admitted to meaning, “I want to drag my cock against them. You know, to see how they feel — they’re so smooth and silky, and—”

Gabriel’s “fuck, do it, DO IT” was far more response than Sam expected, but then again, Sam expected to be laughed at.

And here, again, the reality outdoes the expectation by far — Gabriel’s wings are almost painfully smooth, and the drive of Sam’s hips against the satin sheen of them is like being enveloped in water every time. All that, and they’re hot, and they curl about Sam and envelop him, take his cock into a dimension that’s simultaneously totally solid-textured and light-fluid, and it doesn’t make sense except for it’s just the best thing Sam’s ever felt. He can lose himself, thrusting against one wing, his cock wrapped up in the feathery softness, and he’d look and feel a fool if Gabriel weren’t moaning along with him, begging, “Please, c’mon, Sam, fuck that wing of mine, shit, so good,” until he’s fucking his own fist and coming hard as Sam does the same into the enveloping warmth of Gabriel’s feathers.

Okay, see, I’m… that’s… I…

I’ll be in my bunk.

imabtastic:

fan·fic [fan-fik]  
 noun, Informal

    Porn that makes you cry

erewolves:

weirdnessloveandscifi:

I love how when fan-fiction writers have friends in the fandom, to demonstrate their friendship, they dedicate porn to one another.

I think that’s lovely.

#i love you bro #have this dirty fucking

I smut because I care.

Ficlet: Quick n’ Dirty

winny-the-writer:

Sam/Trickster!Janitor!Gabriel (from Tall Tales) for Rox and Kenzie. Pretty much shameless PWP.

image

Sam really can’t say for the life of him how he ended up here — how they ended up here. He’ll regret this, he’s sure, and Dean will have an absolute cow if he ever finds out (not that he has to).

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OMG you have NO idea how much I wanted exactly this. Oh… my… god.

Marry me.

Is it weird…?

Is it weird to find comfort in super kinky porn when my life is fucked up?

I feel like I should be seeking comfort in fluff or something. But no. Porn. The smuttier, the better.

Weird?