“Drill Sergeant” (Supernatural RPF; Misha, Vicki, Drilldo; Misha/Drilldo)
Title: “Drill Sergeant”
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Characters/Pairings: Misha, Vicki, Drilldo; Misha/Drilldo
Genres: PWP, crack, bad sex
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,283
Challenge: blindfold_spn, “Misha tried out the fucking machine, but then decided that they were better off as friends. He still uses it as a coffee table and conversation piece sometimes, but sometimes it can be a little awkward.”
Summary: Misha tried out the fucking machine, but then decided that they were better off as friends.
Notes: And so began my descent into RPF. My body is ready?
Mirrors: AO3
Misha isn’t a stranger to what most other people would call kinky sex. When your wife’s the author of a handbook on threesomes, you learn to raise your baseline for what’s considered “kinky” pretty quick. Threesomes, BDSM, pegging, foodplay, oilplay-all pretty routine in the Collins-Vantoch household.
So when he comes home to find a fucking machine sitting in the middle of the living room, he’s not surprised.
“And what do they call this one?” he says as he crosses the living room to get to the kitchen. He needs a cup of tea. Today’s filming session ran longer than expected, and he feels soreness beginning to settle in over his muscles already. He rummages through the cabinets-chamomile. Perfect.
Vicki turns the page of her magazine and doesn’t look up. “I believe they call it the ‘Drilldo’.”
“Cute.” He fills the kettle up to the MAX line and flips the switch.
“Yeah, I really wanted to get the Lick-a-Chick, but that one cost twice as much, and I didn’t think you’d get much out of it.”
Misha raises an eyebrow. “‘Lick-a-Chick’. What, is that like a bunch of silicone tongues attached to a chainsaw or something?”
“Actually, yes.” Vicki turns another page. “Would you be a dear and make me a cup of tea as well? Thanks.”
Misha snorts and grabs another mug. “Well, you know what they say-if you build it, they will come.” He smirks. “Literally, in this case.”
Vicki rolls her eyes. “Very clever. Anyway, feel free to try it out. I already had a go earlier, and let me tell you-” She looks up and makes an A-OK sign with her left hand before winking at him. “-fantastic.”
Misha sighs in mock hurt. “Dammit, the things I miss out on when I’m at work.”
“Yeah, yeah, grab yourself some cheese with that whine,” Vicki says, grinning. “Don’t worry; that won’t be the last time I use that thing. You’ll have your chance.”
The kettle hisses, and within a couple minutes, Misha hears the sound of water coming to a rolling boil as steam wafts out from the spout. The kettle switches off a second later, and he pours the hot water over the two teabags. The water takes on a faint yellow-green tinge almost immediately.
He sets a mug down before Vicki and sits beside her. The couch sags a little under his weight, and Vicki slides up close to him, her shoulder touching his. He smiles-ultimately, it’s not fame or money that make him happy. It’s little moments like these, with Vicki’s hair tickling his cheek, the warmth of her pressed up against his side, the scent of chamomile mixing in with her shampoo, that bring him joy.
He blows on his tea and eyes the Drilldo over the rim of the mug. True to its name, the fucking machine is just that: a silicone dildo attached to the end of a Black & Decker power drill, like some huge schlong-shaped bit. It’s comical, but, then again, he can’t imagine what a serious-looking fucking machine would look like anyway.
“I can grab the lube for you if you want,” Vicki says, a knowing smile on her face as she traces Misha’s gaze. She places a hand on his thigh and squeezes him gently. “If you need it.”
“Maybe later,” Misha says. He’s not really in the mood at the moment-his body’s still aching, and he’s enjoying this chance to sit and take a well-deserved break. He reaches for the TV remote and flips through the channels until he finds something tolerable. The sound of Sigourney Weaver’s voice narrating over an episode of Planet Earth fills the living room.
❧
10:32PM. Vicki’s already asleep-something about an early-morning meeting tomorrow-and the constant stream of @mishacollins replies is starting to bore him. He shuts down the computer, stands, and stretches. Might as well turn in.
Except-he steps into the living room. The Drilldo sits in the same place on the ground.
Well, he doesn’t have anything better to do. Carpe diem. He grabs a bottle of lube and a condom from the bathroom and sets them on the living room table, then picks up the Drilldo and places it on the couch. He tugs his shirt off over his head and tosses it off to the side; his pants and boxers soon follow. He’ll throw them into the hamper later. For now, he’s focused on this.
He falls onto the couch with a little bounce and flips open the cap of the bottle. He squeezes out a line of thick lube onto his fingers, deftly rolling them around each other to catch any stray drops before they drip onto the upholstery. With his other hand, he grabs the condom and rips the package open with his teeth, then slides the slippery latex over the dildo and sets it aside.
He takes in a breath and rubs a slick finger around his entrance, then slips it inside, following it soon after with another finger. He works his fingers in and out, slowly, allowing himself to relax into the sensations and to open up. By now, his body’s used to anal play, and it doesn’t take long until he’s sighing and his body’s ready for more.
Eyes closed, he reaches over and gropes for the Drilldo. His fingers wrap around it-the dildo’s a little thicker than what he usually uses, but he’ll manage. The head slips in easily, and his body gives a little twitch as the molded ridge pops into him. He keeps his breaths long and slow as he coaxes more of the dildo into himself, and a lazy grin spreads over his face as he squeezes down around it. Not bad.
He grips the handle of the drill-still powered off-and tries a few experimental strokes. Within seconds, he’s hard; his cock rests against his belly. He runs a thumb along his frenulum and lets a pleased sigh escape past his lips. This is good already-but the whole point of having a fucking machine isn’t to use it like a regular dildo; it’s to spare his arm the effort of fucking himself and to let the machine do all the work for him.
He pulls the Drilldo out and examines it. He snorts-this one does go up to 11, as the dial at the end indicates. He turns it until the dot lines up with the 1; he should probably start on the lowest setting. The power switch rests like a trigger in the crook between the dial and the handle. Might be a little awkward to maneuver, but, well, he’s been in more awkward positions (that time he hung from the ceiling when Vicki decided to try out shibari comes instantly to mind).
He lies down again and slips the Drilldo back into himself. He spreads his legs wide and uses his foot to keep the machine in place, then reaches around and fumbles until he manages to rest a finger on the switch. He has to twist his body a little to get all his limbs in the right place, but this position isn’t bad-the head of the dildo presses up against his prostate, and, oh, this could be good.
He holds down the switch, and the drill revs up. This setting is nice and slow, and the feeling of something twisting in him is new. He pauses to drizzle more lube over the dildo, and, well, there might be a small lube stain tomorrow, but the both of them are used to cleaning up mysterious stains all over the house. The rev of the drill overlays slick, wet noises, and Misha turns his face to the side and presses his mouth into his arm to muffle his moans.
He strokes his cock with his free hand. Tingles of pleasure shoot through his whole body, and, wow, he might come in record time with this thing.
He squeezes his eyes shut and arches his back, driving the dildo deeper into him. He presses down harder on the switch, and it clicks into a locked position, allowing his hand to roam. If this is just the lowest setting-he gropes for the dial and turns it up a notch; the Drilldo twists faster, and his hand trembles. He lets out a choked gasp as his body writhes, and he clings onto whatever he can-
His hand slips and swings the dial up to 11. His eyes snap open. This is way too fast, and his body’s already reacted-he pushes the Drilldo out and jumps away from it. The Drilldo falls to the floor with a clatter. With the power switch still locked to an on position, it scrabbles across the ground like it’s alive, leaving little latex and lube prints all over the hardwood floor in its wake.
Oh God. Cleaning this up is going to be awful.
Misha hops off the couch and slams his shin against the coffee table in his haste to run after the thing, which rattles against the floor. The dildo acts like a goddamn flagellum, propelling the whole thing like some kind of cock-foot, and, oh God, he’s going to have nightmares about this.
He darts after it. His dick’s still half-hard, and, fuck, running around naked with his dick smacking against him is awkward as hell. He’s gotta hand it to ancient Greek athletes for managing to compete in the nude with their junk waving around like a fucking banner.
Misha lunges for the Drilldo and pounces on it.
“Gotcha, you little fucker,” he hisses. The bedroom door clicks open, and Misha looks up, his eyes wide and just the tiniest bit crazed, one hand around the handle of the Drilldo, which is still rotating with a little whiz sound. Vicki steps out and rubs her eyes as she yawns.
“Thought I told you that I have to be up early, hun,” she says, sleep weighing her voice. She lowers her hand and squints down from the second-floor railing.
Okay, Misha’s always led a pretty unconventional life, but this-sprawled out naked in the middle of the living room with a ring of lube smears around him and a fucking dildo attached to a drill in his hand... even for him, this is a little awkward.
Vicki raises an eyebrow.
“Um,” Misha says, then switches off the Drilldo. It falls mercifully silent, and the dildo flops over, hanging like a sideways J.
“Just... keep it down,” Vicki says before going back into the bedroom and shutting the door behind her. Misha isn’t sure how she managed to keep a straight face, but he’s grateful for it. He’s not exactly easily embarrassed, but this-he’d rather forget about it.
He strips the condom off of the Drilldo and tosses it into the trash, then leans over and sets the Drilldo on the middle of the coffee table. He’ll admit that it did feel nice, but the sight of the Drilldo crawling around on the ground like some kind of animate being...
He shudders. Maybe it’s best if they stay in the friend zone. You know, Drilldo gets to fuck his wife every now and then, but as far as the relationship between Drilldo and him goes, he’d like to keep it strictly platonic. At least until he’s had enough time to shove the disturbing images out of his mind.
He straightens up and sighs. He tosses his clothes into the hamper, the goes to the kitchen to grab the mop. He runs the mop over the hardwood floor, erasing the lube-laden tracks of the Drilldo monster, and mentally composes tweets he’ll never post to pass the time until the chore is done:
Attacked by a drill sergeant of sorts. Real big dick.
Never listening to Vicki’s suggestions ever again. Might tear me a new one.
Mopping the floor rn. Does being an asshole make you the butt of all jokes?
When he’s done, he climbs the stairs two at a time and flops into bed, still naked, beside Vicki. With any luck, she’ll have forgotten this by morning.
❧
It’s Friday, and they manage to wrap up the shoots early. Misha can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like being a regular on the show-just playing Castiel is exhausting enough; he doesn’t know how Jensen or Jared manages to do it.
“Drinks at my place?” Misha says, loosening his tie and slipping out of the overcoat, and Jared grins.
“Sure,” he says.
Misha gets there first. He starts setting glasses out on the kitchen counter and pulling various liqueurs from the cabinets-he and Vicki had just stopped by BevMo the other day; they’ve got a lot in stock.
The doorbell rings. He crosses over to the front door in a few long strides and pulls it open.
“Thought you might’ve gotten lost,” he says, and Jared rolls his eyes.
“Come on, give us a little more credit,” Jared says before stepping inside, Jensen following close behind. Jared casts a glance over Misha’s house, and his eyes fall on the Drilldo, still sitting on the coffee table.
“What the-” Jensen says, his eyes tracing Jared’s gaze; Jared furrows his brow, and his mouth hangs open. Jensen shifts his weight, head tilted as if visibly trying to process what he’s seeing. “The hell is that?”
“You know,” Misha says, picking up the Drilldo and cradling the bottom in one hand as he pulls the switch with the other. Jared and Jensen’s eyebrows shoot up in unison as the dildo starts to rotate, and Misha lets out a little laugh. “Funny story...”
Fandom: Supernatural RPF
Characters/Pairings: Misha, Vicki, Drilldo; Misha/Drilldo
Genres: PWP, crack, bad sex
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,283
Challenge: blindfold_spn, “Misha tried out the fucking machine, but then decided that they were better off as friends. He still uses it as a coffee table and conversation piece sometimes, but sometimes it can be a little awkward.”
Summary: Misha tried out the fucking machine, but then decided that they were better off as friends.
Notes: And so began my descent into RPF. My body is ready?
Mirrors: AO3
Misha isn’t a stranger to what most other people would call kinky sex. When your wife’s the author of a handbook on threesomes, you learn to raise your baseline for what’s considered “kinky” pretty quick. Threesomes, BDSM, pegging, foodplay, oilplay-all pretty routine in the Collins-Vantoch household.
So when he comes home to find a fucking machine sitting in the middle of the living room, he’s not surprised.
“And what do they call this one?” he says as he crosses the living room to get to the kitchen. He needs a cup of tea. Today’s filming session ran longer than expected, and he feels soreness beginning to settle in over his muscles already. He rummages through the cabinets-chamomile. Perfect.
Vicki turns the page of her magazine and doesn’t look up. “I believe they call it the ‘Drilldo’.”
“Cute.” He fills the kettle up to the MAX line and flips the switch.
“Yeah, I really wanted to get the Lick-a-Chick, but that one cost twice as much, and I didn’t think you’d get much out of it.”
Misha raises an eyebrow. “‘Lick-a-Chick’. What, is that like a bunch of silicone tongues attached to a chainsaw or something?”
“Actually, yes.” Vicki turns another page. “Would you be a dear and make me a cup of tea as well? Thanks.”
Misha snorts and grabs another mug. “Well, you know what they say-if you build it, they will come.” He smirks. “Literally, in this case.”
Vicki rolls her eyes. “Very clever. Anyway, feel free to try it out. I already had a go earlier, and let me tell you-” She looks up and makes an A-OK sign with her left hand before winking at him. “-fantastic.”
Misha sighs in mock hurt. “Dammit, the things I miss out on when I’m at work.”
“Yeah, yeah, grab yourself some cheese with that whine,” Vicki says, grinning. “Don’t worry; that won’t be the last time I use that thing. You’ll have your chance.”
The kettle hisses, and within a couple minutes, Misha hears the sound of water coming to a rolling boil as steam wafts out from the spout. The kettle switches off a second later, and he pours the hot water over the two teabags. The water takes on a faint yellow-green tinge almost immediately.
He sets a mug down before Vicki and sits beside her. The couch sags a little under his weight, and Vicki slides up close to him, her shoulder touching his. He smiles-ultimately, it’s not fame or money that make him happy. It’s little moments like these, with Vicki’s hair tickling his cheek, the warmth of her pressed up against his side, the scent of chamomile mixing in with her shampoo, that bring him joy.
He blows on his tea and eyes the Drilldo over the rim of the mug. True to its name, the fucking machine is just that: a silicone dildo attached to the end of a Black & Decker power drill, like some huge schlong-shaped bit. It’s comical, but, then again, he can’t imagine what a serious-looking fucking machine would look like anyway.
“I can grab the lube for you if you want,” Vicki says, a knowing smile on her face as she traces Misha’s gaze. She places a hand on his thigh and squeezes him gently. “If you need it.”
“Maybe later,” Misha says. He’s not really in the mood at the moment-his body’s still aching, and he’s enjoying this chance to sit and take a well-deserved break. He reaches for the TV remote and flips through the channels until he finds something tolerable. The sound of Sigourney Weaver’s voice narrating over an episode of Planet Earth fills the living room.
❧
10:32PM. Vicki’s already asleep-something about an early-morning meeting tomorrow-and the constant stream of @mishacollins replies is starting to bore him. He shuts down the computer, stands, and stretches. Might as well turn in.
Except-he steps into the living room. The Drilldo sits in the same place on the ground.
Well, he doesn’t have anything better to do. Carpe diem. He grabs a bottle of lube and a condom from the bathroom and sets them on the living room table, then picks up the Drilldo and places it on the couch. He tugs his shirt off over his head and tosses it off to the side; his pants and boxers soon follow. He’ll throw them into the hamper later. For now, he’s focused on this.
He falls onto the couch with a little bounce and flips open the cap of the bottle. He squeezes out a line of thick lube onto his fingers, deftly rolling them around each other to catch any stray drops before they drip onto the upholstery. With his other hand, he grabs the condom and rips the package open with his teeth, then slides the slippery latex over the dildo and sets it aside.
He takes in a breath and rubs a slick finger around his entrance, then slips it inside, following it soon after with another finger. He works his fingers in and out, slowly, allowing himself to relax into the sensations and to open up. By now, his body’s used to anal play, and it doesn’t take long until he’s sighing and his body’s ready for more.
Eyes closed, he reaches over and gropes for the Drilldo. His fingers wrap around it-the dildo’s a little thicker than what he usually uses, but he’ll manage. The head slips in easily, and his body gives a little twitch as the molded ridge pops into him. He keeps his breaths long and slow as he coaxes more of the dildo into himself, and a lazy grin spreads over his face as he squeezes down around it. Not bad.
He grips the handle of the drill-still powered off-and tries a few experimental strokes. Within seconds, he’s hard; his cock rests against his belly. He runs a thumb along his frenulum and lets a pleased sigh escape past his lips. This is good already-but the whole point of having a fucking machine isn’t to use it like a regular dildo; it’s to spare his arm the effort of fucking himself and to let the machine do all the work for him.
He pulls the Drilldo out and examines it. He snorts-this one does go up to 11, as the dial at the end indicates. He turns it until the dot lines up with the 1; he should probably start on the lowest setting. The power switch rests like a trigger in the crook between the dial and the handle. Might be a little awkward to maneuver, but, well, he’s been in more awkward positions (that time he hung from the ceiling when Vicki decided to try out shibari comes instantly to mind).
He lies down again and slips the Drilldo back into himself. He spreads his legs wide and uses his foot to keep the machine in place, then reaches around and fumbles until he manages to rest a finger on the switch. He has to twist his body a little to get all his limbs in the right place, but this position isn’t bad-the head of the dildo presses up against his prostate, and, oh, this could be good.
He holds down the switch, and the drill revs up. This setting is nice and slow, and the feeling of something twisting in him is new. He pauses to drizzle more lube over the dildo, and, well, there might be a small lube stain tomorrow, but the both of them are used to cleaning up mysterious stains all over the house. The rev of the drill overlays slick, wet noises, and Misha turns his face to the side and presses his mouth into his arm to muffle his moans.
He strokes his cock with his free hand. Tingles of pleasure shoot through his whole body, and, wow, he might come in record time with this thing.
He squeezes his eyes shut and arches his back, driving the dildo deeper into him. He presses down harder on the switch, and it clicks into a locked position, allowing his hand to roam. If this is just the lowest setting-he gropes for the dial and turns it up a notch; the Drilldo twists faster, and his hand trembles. He lets out a choked gasp as his body writhes, and he clings onto whatever he can-
His hand slips and swings the dial up to 11. His eyes snap open. This is way too fast, and his body’s already reacted-he pushes the Drilldo out and jumps away from it. The Drilldo falls to the floor with a clatter. With the power switch still locked to an on position, it scrabbles across the ground like it’s alive, leaving little latex and lube prints all over the hardwood floor in its wake.
Oh God. Cleaning this up is going to be awful.
Misha hops off the couch and slams his shin against the coffee table in his haste to run after the thing, which rattles against the floor. The dildo acts like a goddamn flagellum, propelling the whole thing like some kind of cock-foot, and, oh God, he’s going to have nightmares about this.
He darts after it. His dick’s still half-hard, and, fuck, running around naked with his dick smacking against him is awkward as hell. He’s gotta hand it to ancient Greek athletes for managing to compete in the nude with their junk waving around like a fucking banner.
Misha lunges for the Drilldo and pounces on it.
“Gotcha, you little fucker,” he hisses. The bedroom door clicks open, and Misha looks up, his eyes wide and just the tiniest bit crazed, one hand around the handle of the Drilldo, which is still rotating with a little whiz sound. Vicki steps out and rubs her eyes as she yawns.
“Thought I told you that I have to be up early, hun,” she says, sleep weighing her voice. She lowers her hand and squints down from the second-floor railing.
Okay, Misha’s always led a pretty unconventional life, but this-sprawled out naked in the middle of the living room with a ring of lube smears around him and a fucking dildo attached to a drill in his hand... even for him, this is a little awkward.
Vicki raises an eyebrow.
“Um,” Misha says, then switches off the Drilldo. It falls mercifully silent, and the dildo flops over, hanging like a sideways J.
“Just... keep it down,” Vicki says before going back into the bedroom and shutting the door behind her. Misha isn’t sure how she managed to keep a straight face, but he’s grateful for it. He’s not exactly easily embarrassed, but this-he’d rather forget about it.
He strips the condom off of the Drilldo and tosses it into the trash, then leans over and sets the Drilldo on the middle of the coffee table. He’ll admit that it did feel nice, but the sight of the Drilldo crawling around on the ground like some kind of animate being...
He shudders. Maybe it’s best if they stay in the friend zone. You know, Drilldo gets to fuck his wife every now and then, but as far as the relationship between Drilldo and him goes, he’d like to keep it strictly platonic. At least until he’s had enough time to shove the disturbing images out of his mind.
He straightens up and sighs. He tosses his clothes into the hamper, the goes to the kitchen to grab the mop. He runs the mop over the hardwood floor, erasing the lube-laden tracks of the Drilldo monster, and mentally composes tweets he’ll never post to pass the time until the chore is done:
Attacked by a drill sergeant of sorts. Real big dick.
Never listening to Vicki’s suggestions ever again. Might tear me a new one.
Mopping the floor rn. Does being an asshole make you the butt of all jokes?
When he’s done, he climbs the stairs two at a time and flops into bed, still naked, beside Vicki. With any luck, she’ll have forgotten this by morning.
❧
It’s Friday, and they manage to wrap up the shoots early. Misha can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like being a regular on the show-just playing Castiel is exhausting enough; he doesn’t know how Jensen or Jared manages to do it.
“Drinks at my place?” Misha says, loosening his tie and slipping out of the overcoat, and Jared grins.
“Sure,” he says.
Misha gets there first. He starts setting glasses out on the kitchen counter and pulling various liqueurs from the cabinets-he and Vicki had just stopped by BevMo the other day; they’ve got a lot in stock.
The doorbell rings. He crosses over to the front door in a few long strides and pulls it open.
“Thought you might’ve gotten lost,” he says, and Jared rolls his eyes.
“Come on, give us a little more credit,” Jared says before stepping inside, Jensen following close behind. Jared casts a glance over Misha’s house, and his eyes fall on the Drilldo, still sitting on the coffee table.
“What the-” Jensen says, his eyes tracing Jared’s gaze; Jared furrows his brow, and his mouth hangs open. Jensen shifts his weight, head tilted as if visibly trying to process what he’s seeing. “The hell is that?”
“You know,” Misha says, picking up the Drilldo and cradling the bottom in one hand as he pulls the switch with the other. Jared and Jensen’s eyebrows shoot up in unison as the dildo starts to rotate, and Misha lets out a little laugh. “Funny story...”