Updated Fic Rec List


I’ve updated my fic rec list again, at last! Because nothing says America’s birthday like gay incest porn. I’ve added Destiel and Wincest this time around; fics new to the list are tagged: **

There’s a dearth of new RPS on said list, et c’est triste. If you’ve read any such lately you liked, I’d welcome your recommendations.

Before We Can Speak

Part V [jesus] in the Stray No More series. Standard warnings for RPF, knotting, and the possibility of mpreg.

In this story, Jared accidentally tells the truth and ends up in Jen’s arms.

Before We Can Speak

You lean on the freaking doorbell as hard as you can. Inside, you can hear the chime sound again and again, this tinny awful sound that hits your nerves just wrong, ratchets up your teeth that much higher.

He’s here. He’s gotta be.

His car’s in the driveway, for Christ’s sake.

But more that that, deeper, you know he’s here. You can feel it. Your body can.

So you lean and you wince and you pound on the door, now, one fist heavy against the wood and steady: pound. pound. pound. Continue reading “Before We Can Speak”

My Time of Day

So this thing features knotting, J2, and a world where mpreg is possible.

If these terms are unfamiliar, you should probably skip this one.

Part of me wants to apologize, and part of me’s just like: Hey. This happened. Sometimes stories go where they want and don’t ask your permission first.

Heh.

In this story, Jay loses track of time in a way that’s kind of important. Jensen is highly amused–until it’s clear that they’re not gonna make it back to civilization, to Gen, anytime soon.

Continue reading “My Time of Day”

A Goddamn Decathlon

Second in the “thanks for the fic rec” series. This one’s for bellisle-destiel, who asked for: 

I’d really like a Cockles fic where they have a pillow fight.

Here goes. Hey, fanspired: stop reading now.

A Goddamn Decathlon 

The first blow catches you by surprise.

The second catches you in the face.

You stumble, your knees knocking the coffee table, and you get a snap of green as you reel.

Ok. Ok. If that’s the way he wants to play it.

You duck the next blow, go to your knees and snag the nearest pillow from the couch.

He’s swinging, too much energy in a single direction and there it is, your opening.

You jerk up, plant the paisley right in his beautiful mouth and howl as he falls back in surprise.

His eye finds yours and for a moment, there’s detente.

You can hear the Moose in the kitchen, singing to himself as he shuffles around at the bar and you’re kind of glad he’s not here to see this.

Because this is between you and Jen.

Whatever this is.

Continue reading “A Goddamn Decathlon”