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cold Hey there, folks. Welcome to the vaguely annual f_t porn battle. The rules are pretty simple, easy to follow and go as such:
- Pick a prompt, any prompt and write or draw or manip the steamiest thing you can from it.
- When you've finished your porn, post it in a comment to this post.
- If you wrote a story that is longer than 4,300 characters you can either: post it in a linked stream of comments to this post, or post it in your journal and link it here.
- If you created art and it's wider than 400 pixels, create a thumbnail and use it to link directly to the artwork, not to your journal or website.
- Use the subject line of your comment to label your fic/artwork. use this format: title, fandom, pairing, inspiration word.
DON'T FORGET TO TITLE YOUR WORK! - Once you've posted your piece here, feel free to post it anywhere else. Just make sure to link back to this main post.
- Repeat this process as many times as you'd like. As many people as are inspired can use each prompt, so don't worry if someone else has already used the prompt you've got your eye on - just go for it.
- You have until 2359 PST on Friday,
25 March1 April 2011 to post your piece. - Please post only submissions and feedback to this post. Feedback as much as you can, but make sure you've clicked the comment link that leads to the story you want to feedback, and not the main post before you click "submit"! Any questions or comments should be posted to the original post with a subject line of either QUESTION or COMMENT.
- There's a good chance some prompts went missing during the organization process - if you notice some of your prompts missing and want to make sure they get added in, just pm me with a link to your original prompt submission comment. I'll do my best to get them back on the list as soon as possible.
A masterlist of all of the pornorific fic and art created here will be posted up as a separate entry on
Remember, this is where you comment with your fic/art/etc. see the following for prompts...
← Ctrl← Alt
Ctrl →Alt →
March 19 2011, 01:24:19 UTC 1 year ago Edited: March 19 2011, 02:31:16 UTC
Till We Meet Again, Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, Foreign Language Fetish
Paris, France: August 15, 2011, 12:01 a.m.I’ve missed this; the feel of her skin against mine, so soft, so smooth, and her hands – God, her hands – the way they trace every contour of my body, sometimes soft and gentle and other times hard, bordering on rough. She knows what I like, she knows what I want; she’s the only one who’s ever known.
“Si doux,” she whispers as she kisses her way past damp curls to where I need her most. My wetness greets her, as it always does, and she smiles against my folds, hesitating only seconds before she spears her talented tongue inside me. I jerk my hips, beckoning her to hurry, to take me, to make me come. Instead, she slows her movements, leisurely working her tongue in and out and stopping completely each time I try to increase the pace. I moan in frustration and she takes pity on me as she slides one finger and then two deep inside. She builds a steady rhythm and swipes her tongue over my hard, swollen clit. I moan louder and she raises her head and pins me with those dark eyes.
I struggle to keep eye contact, so close to coming I could scream. She smiles and moves to hover above me, her fingers pumping faster and faster, the heel of her hand pressing down hard.
“Je t’aime, mon cœur,” she says softly, pushing me over the edge. I scream her name over and over again. God, I love it when she speaks French.
Barcelona, Spain: December 24, 2011, 11:15 p.m.
I’m like a woman possessed. Three months is an eternity, but it’s a price I’m more than willing to pay. One week, every few months, with her is more passionate, more intimate, than most people share in years and years of marriage.
She whimpers when I tease her nipple with the tip of my tongue, and I smile against pebbled flesh as I ease my hand lower. Lifting up slightly, she pushes her breast against my mouth and spreads her legs in invitation. I don’t hesitate to take her up on her offer. My lips eagerly wrap around her swollen bud and my fingers slide through her wetness. She whimpers again and I release her nipple and kiss my way down smooth, silky skin, stopping when I reach the scar that is responsible for keeping us an ocean apart. Gently, reverently, I run my tongue along its edge and she shivers. With one finger, I push inside velvety walls and her whimper turns to a moan. Two fingers and I run my tongue over the length of the scar.
“Por favor,” she begs and grips the sheet tightly, balling the fabric into the palm of her hand. I increase my pace and keep my focus on the edges of her scar, working my tongue around the rough skin. “Por favor, mi amor,” she says louder and I pump faster and faster until she finally comes hard.
Sitting up, I look down at her flushed face. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing hard. I push a lock of dark hair from her forehead and wait. Finally, she opens her eyes and looks up at me with a smile on her face.
“Te quiero,” she whispers as she reaches up to pull me to her. We kiss slowly, passionately. God, I love it when she speaks Spanish.
Rome, Italy: February 14, 2012, 6:37 p.m.
I show up at her hotel unannounced, probably not the best idea I’ve ever had, but my eye doesn’t hurt nearly as badly at the moment as it did when she first knocked the door into my face. No, at the moment, with her mouth sucking my clit and her fingers working me into a frenzy, my eyes doesn’t hurt one bit, not even when I screw it closed as tightly as I am now.
She hums softly and I spread my legs even further apart in anticipation of the most amazing tongue flick ever. Here it comes… 1, 2, 3!!! My hips almost shoot off the bed but she manages to keep her position – her glorious, finger-pumping, clit-sucking position. I come so hard I see stars behind my closed lids and I’m not actually sure what planet I’m on, much less what country I’m in.
When I become more aware, there’s a low, sexy voice whispering in my ear.
“Ti amo.”
Her hand moves between my legs and I become instantly wet. God, I love it when she speaks Italian.
Till We Meet Again...
March 19 2011, 03:12:48 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Till We Meet Again, Criminal Minds, JJ/Emily, Foreign Language Fetish
Holy UNFF, Batman!This was incredibly hot and alskdj. Prentiss + any foreign language = OTP. Exactly what I imagined for this prompt, thank you!
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March 19 2011, 16:00:47 UTC 1 year ago
Around the World with Emily Prentiss
God, I love it when she speaks French.You took the best part of that wretched series of episodes and ran with it! This was funny and sexy--a combination that isn't always done well, but you've succeeded quite, quite well with this one. I enjoyed this very much!
So many countries, so many languages...sigh....
March 20 2011, 01:29:43 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Around the World with Emily Prentiss
When Emily walked away at the end in that short white coat with that new short do, I chose to believe that there would be many, many rendezvous between her and JJ. Then, I saw this prompt and just had to give it a go. Bad porn, humor, and different venues. It was just too tempting. *g*March 19 2011, 18:22:12 UTC 1 year ago
Crossover, Doctor Who/Firefly, Amy/Kaylee, oil on nose
Amy hates it when the TARDIS materialises inside another spaceship. It's embarrassing.She has to deal with questions like, 'What the hell just happened?'
And, 'Who does he think he is, anyway?'
And, 'Would you like to see the engine room?'
Well, at least she knows the answer to the last one. 'Yes. Yes, I would.'
Actually, that's a lie. She has no interest in the engine room – beyond the engineer. And the engineer is gorgeous, all sunny smile and eyes that suggest fun. Not just suggest. Promise. Guarantee, with a gold seal.
'You know the best thing about this engine room?' Kaylee asks.
Amy doesn't. And she doesn't understand the answer. To be fair, she's not really listening. She tends to switch off when the conversation veers towards mechanics. Instead, she's watching Kaylee's face: animated, passionate, a smudge of oil on the nose. She loves people who love what they do.
'You know the second-best thing about this engine room?' Kaylee asks.
'Tell me.'
'The door locks.'
'Well, that is an advantage,' Amy agrees. 'Would you care to demonstrate?'
'Sure.' Kaylee grins, and sees to it.
'Come here,' Amy says. 'No, closer. Closer. I thought so,' she murmurs, 'you've got oil on your nose.'
And then Kaylee is kissing her. 'You were saying,' she says when she breaks off, 'that it was an advantage. The door locking.'
'Oh, absolutely. For example,' Amy says, 'if the door was open I would be hesitant about doing this.' She divests Kaylee of her blouse and vest top. 'I'd probably do it anyway, mind. But I would be hesitant.'
'That would be a pity.' Kaylee's hands are all over the place, under Amy's huge jumper. 'You must be far too hot in this.'
When it comes off, her shirt and bra come with it. 'That's better,' Kaylee says, and Amy rather agrees. 'Now...' Kissing her all the way, Kaylee guides her to the wall. The metal is chilly against her bare shoulders, and Amy shivers in anticipation.
Kaylee plants a string of kisses along Amy's collarbone, and slips a hand up under her skirt. 'I would ask where you came from,' she says, 'and what you're doing here, but I'll let the captain worry about the first question, and I know the answer to the second.'
'I bet you do,' Amy gasps. 'Care to explain to me?'
And, pausing to nibble leisurely at her earlobe, Kaylee tells her.
Amy hates it when the TARDIS materialises inside another spaceship. Still, occasionally it has its compensations.
March 19 2011, 18:33:56 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Crossover, Doctor Who/Firefly, Amy/Kaylee, oil on nose
Awesome, want more of this pairing!1 year ago
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March 20 2011, 02:28:03 UTC 1 year ago
Into the Black, Firefly, River/Serenity, calculation
Serenity wanted to be inside the girl and the girl knew this as she knew everything else. She’d devised a calculation for a few strategically timed maneuvers that would allow Serenity to experience the rush and pleasure that River herself was feeling. First, the gentle touch of the girl’s hands, seemingly everywhere, touching, revving her up. Then the press of naked breasts against her, taking in the increasing vibrations as she built up speed and pressure. Finally, naked legs splayed and met each powerful thrust of the engine. Serenity saw fingers reaching where she could not, mirroring the motions of her pistons, as they went faster and faster. Then, at last, when both Serenity and River had reached the point of climax, Serenity issued one high pitch scream and then fell silent, letting the currents of wind take her as she rode them into the Black.Serenity wanted to be inside the girl and the girl knew this, but Serenity was just as content to have the girl inside her – two as one, inseparable.
March 20 2011, 03:52:53 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Into the Black, Firefly, River/Serenity, calculation
So lovely!!!1 year ago
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March 20 2011, 06:36:58 UTC 1 year ago Edited: March 20 2011, 08:25:41 UTC
Vegetables Are Not Enough, Bitch Slap, (Mother Superior)/Sister Batrill, impure thoughts
Vegetables were no longer enough, nor was it prudent to continue using them. Cook had begun carefully stock taking and comparing the receipts of each week's groceries for the convent. It was probably also best to not volunteer for grocery duty too often. Cook might link two and two together. Well, if Cook didn't, Mother Superior certainly would.Oh... Mother Superior. How her face had contorted into a horrified expression when Sister Batrill had suggested giving each of the sisters a little pocket money each week. Mother Superior had immediately leapt into a lecture on the evils of economics, how the devil's language was etched into the edges of our currency. Sister Batrill had then promptly explained that in such little quantities, the pocket money would act as a vaccine to the disease of wealth. This was education, not temptation.
Lately Sister Batrill had been more than aware of Mother Superior's gaze on her. She was always there, at every corner, whenever an impure thought entered Sister Batrill's mind. Eventually thoughts of sweaty athletes and carrots gave way to thoughts of Mother Superior. She was tall and graceful. And she had the most beautiful hands, always folded neatly upon each other. Sister Batrill wondered what it would be like to see them tensed up, perhaps clutching white sheets, or even how they would feel pulling at her hair.
Strapping Latvian gymnasts were not enough. Only Mother Superior would do in her mind. So she would never tell Mother Superior about this new evolution in her impure thoughts. It would never do if she decided to remove herself from Sister Batrill's life. She would rather sentence herself to purgatory than never see Mother Superior ever again.
Sister Batrill always woke up a half hour earlier than the others for these moments to herself. For these moments of impure thoughts were dedicated to Mother Superior. She'd imagine that her fingers were Mother Superior's, tracing her thighs only to enter her deeply.
Sister Batrill didn't mind being on her knees during prayer. Perhaps it was because she was so young. Perhaps it was because when she closed her eyes, she was thinking of how wonderful it would be to do to Mother Superior what Sister Prudence Bangtail had been doing to Sister Sarah.
March 20 2011, 09:21:53 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Vegetables Are Not Enough, Bitch Slap, (Mother Superior)/Sister Batrill, impure thoughts
Oh, awesome! I love the little random beats (strapping Latvian gymnasts *giggle*), but she's still firmly on track with Mother Superior... thank you!1 year ago
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March 20 2011, 08:15:46 UTC 1 year ago
Yes, Angel (the series), Illyria/Nina, bite
Story at JournalMarch 21 2011, 01:07:40 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Yes, Angel (the series), Illyria/Nina, bite
Wonderful. I love how you make what seems to be a very clinical exercise by Illyria's point of view, so incredibly hot. Well done!1 year ago
March 20 2011, 16:49:37 UTC 1 year ago
Choose Your Weapon, Oglaf, lesbian mercenary/invincible shield maiden, dildo
Author's note: Based on this extremely NSFW comic strip The lesbian mercenary is named Greir, according to the creator's Twitter account. You can see Greir in this even more NSFW two-page comic strip.Greir looked at her wrists, pursed her lips, and looked at her prisoner. The invincible shield maiden was sitting in an ornate golden chair with a red velvet pad, her wrists bound to the arms of the chair by thick ropes. Ropes that were now chaffing Greir every time the invincible shield maiden pulled at them. "Huh."
"Were you not warned what to expect, thief?"
"I'm a mercenary. And I was told you were an invisible shield maiden. Kind of threw me when I walked in and could see you."
"Well, do your worst." She smiled.
Greir rounded the chair and then dug into her pack. She had just the weapon for a scenario like this. She rooted around until she found the right one - she tended to travel with an assortment; it got lonely on the road. She dropped her pack, unfastened her belt, and let her trousers fall. The invincible shield maiden looked at her for a moment, betraying her stoic resistance, and then quickly looked away.
"You will tell me where your treasures are, maiden. Or I shall be forced to torture you."
"I hope you enjoy the torture."
Greir flicked her tongue against the tip of the dildo. "Oh, I assure you I will. The question is, will you?" She stepped forward and flipped up the maiden's loincloth. She was shaved, and Greir licked two fingers and stroked her to get her wet. She felt the touch on her own pussy, closing her eyes and spreading her legs as the sensation was transferred from prisoner to torturer. Greir used the tip of her middle finger to circle the maiden's clit, just the way she herself preferred, and she cooed and purred at the sensation. It was like her body was masturbating itself, no touching required. It was splendid.
Once the maiden was wet, Greir shifted the dildo from one hand to the other. She used its blunt tip to tease the maiden's entrance. She had to force herself to speak. "I can prolong the pleasure for as long as I wish. And there is no risk of me succumbing to the torture first because..." She withdrew the dildo and placed it between her own legs. Her eyes closed and her lips parted in pleasure as she pushed it inside. "I... can finish myself off whenever I wish. And leave you high and dry. Phew..." She placed the dildo between the maiden's legs and drew circles over her thighs with it. Their juices made hieroglyphics on the smooth skin.
"I can go all night."
The invincible shield maiden whimpered.
#
Greir's tunic was loosened to reveal her breasts and she'd lost her helmet. Her hair hung limp around her face. The invincible shield maiden was drenched with sweat, her own clothing long since removed. Greir was crouched between the maiden's legs, inhaling the aroma of her arousal, hypnotized by the sight of her slick pussy lips. "The treasure."
"Let me come and I will... tell you..."
Greir let the dildo drop from her hands and leaned forward. The maiden cried out as Greir's mouth touched her, lifted her ass off the seat as Greir's tongue curled and pushed inside of her. Greir pressed a hand between her legs, her own sensitive flesh protesting at yet another invasion, yet another orgasm. She brought up her free hand and used two fingers on the maiden, freeing her mouth to suck the maiden's clit until, finally, the maiden shouted her orgasm.
Greir fell to the floor, spent. Her thighs slick from multiple orgasms, her lips wet with the maiden's first. She didn't even realize that her wrists weren't raw until the maiden rose from her seat and placed one pointed-heel boot on her chest.
"All that writhing loosened me up, I suppose."
"Ah, shi--" The boot to the head knocked Greir out.
#
She woke outside the tower, her pack by her side. She dug through it and saw that her biggest dildo was missing. She frowned, looked at the tower, and then slowly smiled. She stood up, adjusted her clothes, and slung her pack over her shoulder as she started walking down the path.
Some things were better than treasure.
March 20 2011, 23:33:34 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Choose Your Weapon, Oglaf, lesbian mercenary/invincible shield maiden, dildo
I didn't know I needed this in my life, but clearly I did. Awesome!(A part of me is still giggling at the fact that this is porn about porn. Hee!)
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March 20 2011, 18:49:03 UTC 1 year ago Edited: March 20 2011, 19:16:44 UTC
Perseverance, Oglaf, Princess/Cursed Slut, "I'm sure we just need to kiss more"
Author Note: Based on this NSFW comic. The surprise guest at the end of the story can be seen here (shockingly SFW).Well, that didn't work. She had taken off all of her clothing, and the Slut had as well. They were lying naked beside the well, their hair tangled and grass sticking to their naked bodies. The Princess was at a loss. If only some strapping prince could ride up, perhaps he could save them... the thought caused her an unexpected amount of apprehension and she sat up, looking quickly around in case a prince had ridden up and they had to hide. She didn't want some man invading her attempt to do a good deed. Yes. That was why she didn't want anyone disturbing them.
The Slut's cheeks were flush, and she was covering herself with one hand. Her breasts heaved and the Princess was hypnotized briefly by their movements.
"Perhaps if we kissed some more."
"It's worth a try," the Slut agreed.
The Princess parted her lips and the Slut's tongue slipped inside. She wondered why the princes and stable boys she was experienced with didn't do it this way. This way was much nicer and did much better things to her nethers. The Slut's fingers offered a much softer touch, and they spread her very pink lips with ease. One finger slipped inside and the Princess said, "Oh, my goodness!" before continuing the kiss.
Eventually, they had to attempt a new plan. "Perhaps if you were to kiss me elsewhere on my body. Perhaps here." The Princess kissed both of the Slut's breasts, sucking her nipples until the Slut arched her back with pleasure. "Or here?" The Princess ran her tongue over the Slut's stomach, circled her navel. "Here, here, here." The Princess kissed the Slut's thighs until they were shining wet, then kissed between her thighs.
Oh, if anything would end the curse, it was this! The Princess moved her tongue with renewed energy, her ass in the air as she thrust with her tongue and used her thumb on the Slut's clitoris. Pinching and rolling it, eyes wide to watch the Slut for any indication she was cured.
Alas, they both ended up on the grass, panting and spent, clinging to each other. Surely the Princess was now as cursed as the Slut; she feared she desired fornication even more than the Slut, if that was at all possible. She pawed at the Slut's body, aching for her to use her mouth but unsure how to ask.
So they wept, two cursed Sluts beside a well, the unwitting victims of a witches spell.
How long they lay like that, neither knew. But eventually they heard the sounds of movement through the forest. They sat up, not bothering to cover their nudity as the new arrival appeared. She was a buxom woman, her tunic gaping wide to reveal her décolletage, and a torn rag covered one side of her face.
"Well, now. What have we here?"
"A terrible witch has turned me into a slut, and I transferred the curse to this poor princess when she attempted to help me. Come no closer, stranger, I'll not have another on my conscience! Leave this place!"
But the woman had already spread open her tunic to reveal her breasts, and the Slut and the Princess Slut moaned with anticipation as she came closer.
"Not to worry, miss. Can't catch what I already have. C'mere. Let's see what we can do about this so-called curse."
The Sluts pounced on her.
March 21 2011, 00:51:01 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Perseverance, Oglaf, Princess/Cursed Slut, "I'm sure we just need to kiss more"
*resumes giggling* Ah, that surprise guest, I felt so sorry for her, I always get songs stuck in my head. Good thing she's found something to take her mind off it! XP Thanks for sharing!1 year ago
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March 21 2011, 00:23:56 UTC 1 year ago
Perks of the Job, Warehouse 13, Myka/HG, Invisible
It was well after midnight at Leena’s and the windows had all been opened to take advantage of a cool breeze that had seemingly come out of nowhere. Had her boarders not been physically and mentally exhausted from a week of doing nothing but inventory, it was highly probable that at least one of them would have heard soft moaning coming from the vicinity of Myka’s window.“Oh, Helena,” Myka whispered into the quiet of her bedroom. Her bedcovers were roughly cast aside and made a rustling noise, the strategic change in their position exposing Myka’s heated skin to the cool air and eliciting another low, satisfying moan from her lips.
She looked just like an exquisite painting created by one of the Masters; her hair fanned out across a silk pillowcase, as if each hair had been carefully positioned for maximum effect, her brow damp from perspiration, her lips moist and slightly swollen, and her mouth opened wide to draw in a much needed breath of air.
Spreading her arms outward, Myka grasped for purchase on the edges of the bed and splayed her legs further apart, her heels burrowing deeper into the mattress as she fought to control her body’s responses. “Please, Helena,” she pleaded breathlessly. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her nipples stood at full attention, and her hips undulated up and down in a steady rhythm. Her moans increased in number and rose slightly in volume as she turned her focus to the empty space between her knees and thighs.
If one of her colleagues were to walk in, he or she would wonder, after the shock of witnessing such a personal - and amazingly beautiful - act had worn off, which artifact had taken control of Myka’s body. It would be obvious to even an amateur that there was something amiss. There was no way the woman lying on the bed – completely alone – was in the driver’s seat. Not unless she had some kind of amazing internal control mechanism that could simultaneously manipulate her clitoris and cause her vagina to open and then contract at will.
Myka suddenly threw her head back and closed her eyes tightly; her hips raced up and down like a piston in a cylinder. She gripped the sheet so hard her knuckles turned white. “Oh, oh, oh…” she repeated over and over, her mantra drowning out everything else. She opened her mouth to scream, but a firm pressure against her lips caused her to let out a muffled groan instead. She shivered once, twice, and then went completely limp as a light, lilting chuckle filled the silence.
Moments later, Myka looked up into a pair of dark, teasing eyes. She reached out and lovingly stroked her lover’s cheek with the back of her hand. “I love you,” she said, lifting up slightly to kiss Helena. She smiled at the taste on her lover’s lips and reached over to finger the garment Helena had discarded.
“Okay, now it’s your turn,” Myka teased as she rolled Helena onto her back and once again pressed her lips against her lover’s. She hadn’t been too keen on Helena’s idea of using Death’s Invisibility Cloak but, now, having personally experienced ‘La petite mort’- compliments of Death himself - she couldn’t wait to try it out on Helena.
Inventory wasn’t so bad, after all.
March 21 2011, 01:04:31 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Perks of the Job, Warehouse 13, Myka/HG, Invisible
LOL oh what a charming, hot, (oh yes very hot) little fic. I love it :)1 year ago
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March 21 2011, 00:52:26 UTC 1 year ago
Macarons, Gossip Girl, Blair/Vanessa, macaroons (1/2)
"Can I help you?" The resident assistant in the dorm office sighs."I got an email saying I have a package."
"What's your room number?"
"206 A."
The resident assistant goes to the mail room and pulls out a yellowish, striped box.
"So someone got me a hat. Ruby."
"No. It's actually a box from..." The resident assistant looks at the top of the box, decorated with the bakery's name and a drawn portrait of a very fashionable Catherine de' Medici. "Pay-yard."
The resident assistant hands the box to Vanessa. Vanessa looks at the box; it's from Payard, a French bakery on the Upper East Side. Vanessa's seen the bakery sometimes on her outings to the UES.
"There wasn't a note attached to it or anything. The person who sent this box was told to send it to mailbox 206 A and leave."
"Okay...thank you?" Vanessa shrugs. She leaves the resident assistant's office, box in hands.
"Abrams! What are you doing eating my macarons?"
Vanessa is sitting on her bed in her New York University dorm room, eating a dark chocolate macaron. Blair barges into her room. She shuts the lid on the macarons and snatches the box from Vanessa's lap.
"If these aren't my macarons, Blair, then why were they sent to my mailbox instead of your apartment?"
"Chu--Dorota must've forgot my mailing address is no longer in these plebeian dormitories."
"I don't know, Blair. Chuck doesn't seem like the type to forget mailing addresses. Neither does Dorota. I know you would've sent her on a macaron run instead of coming to NYU to snatch your macarons back."
Blair stares at Vanessa before saying "Dorota's on vacation! Besides, do you think Humphrey would know anything about buying you a box of macarons?"
"Maybe my sister bought these macarons, Blair."
"Your parents actually spawned another Abrams child? Eww. Anyway, I have to leave before someone spots me and puts my photo on Gossip Girl. I don't want New York to know I've been slumming it with you. Again."
Vanessa gets up and shuts and locks the door to her dorm room before Blair can leave with the macarons. Her eyes widen. "Wow. I never thought the great Blair Waldorf was a thief."
"I may have...taken a few things from some stores before, but I'm not a kleptomaniac. And I'm just here to take what's mine. I never told you this, by the way, Abrams."
Vanessa reclines on the door. Blair opens up Vanessa's box and pulls out one of the pistachio macarons. Vanessa grabs the macaron. Blair eats the macaron, Vanessa's fingers still on it. Blair yanks Vanessa's finger out of her mouth; somehow the force pushes the two against the door, lip to lip. Their kiss begins between Blair finishing up the macaron. Vanessa's tongue darts in Blair's mouth, tasting the macaron she never got to eat. Blair takes a break from kissing Vanessa to put the lid back on the macarons and the box on the floor. She goes back to the kiss, this time swirling her tongue in Vanessa's mouth. Her hands grab Vanessa's tights. She stops the kiss to pull down the tights. Vanessa takes the tights as well as her shirt off. She fumbles before she can find the zipper to Blair's skirt. The skirt falls onto Vanessa's dorm room floor. Blair's purse and blouse follow shortly afterward. Vanessa kicks the macaron box to the bed. As Vanessa sucks on Blair's neck she leads them to her bed.
March 21 2011, 00:53:49 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Macarons, Gossip Girl, Blair/Vanessa, macaroons (2/3)
Blair wrestles Vanessa to get on top of her. She grabs the macaron box and pulls out another chocolate macaron. She stuffs the macaron in Vanessa's mouth. The two eat the macaron and French-kiss. Their hands explore their bodies: Vanessa grazes Blair's back with her fingertips while Blair traces Vanessa's stomach, dipping in and out of her belly button. Vanessa's hands travel all over Blair's arms. She unsnaps Blair's bra and turns her body over to remove it. Vanessa's tongue licks Blair's chest and stomach, now covered with little drops of sweat, carefully avoiding her breasts. Suddenly Blair pushes Vanessa's head to her right breast."Suck it, Abrams..."
Vanessa licks and sucks Blair's breasts as Blair's breathing increases and she begins moaning. Blair takes off Vanessa's bra. Vanessa briefly stops to take off the bra. Blair pulls down Vanessa's thong; Vanessa does likewise and the two briefly stop to throw their thongs on the ground. Blair turns over Vanessa; she licks and sucks Vanessa's chest, stomach and breasts just like Vanessa did to her earlier. Vanessa rolls her eyes. "Fuck..." She lets her voice trail off.
Blair takes a pistachio macaron and puts it in her mouth. She straddles Vanessa's right leg. Vanessa straddles Blair's leg. The two roll over and rub their cunts on each other's legs. The two eat the macarons and French-kiss while rubbing their cunts on their leg.
The box of macarons is finished before the two are done rubbing themselves on each other. Vanessa licks the sweat dripping off of Blair's neck. Blair licks the sweat off of Vanessa's forehead. Vanessa softly moans and pants on Blair's neck. Blair says "Yes" between licks.
Eventually Blair's legs give out. Her whole body shakes. "Fuck you, Abrams," she says as pulls away from Vanessa and loudly lets out a moan.
After she orgasms Blair gets up and walks to her purse. She pulls out a latex glove.
Vanessa raises her head to look at Blair putting on the glove on her right hand. The glove is coated with a small bag of lube.
"Where'd you get that glove?"
"Dorota gave a box of them to me after I complained to her about pulling Georgina's socks off of our dorm room. Eww. I still have a glove or two if in case I need to visit someone in the Columbia dorms."
Vanessa slides her ass to face Blair and her glove. Blair sticks her right index finger inside Vanessa's cunt. Vanessa gasps. Blair moves it slowly inside of her. The finger inside Vanessa is joined by Blair's middle finger. Blair strokes Vanessa's G-spot, her come hither motion getting harder and faster with each stroke. With her left hand Blair strokes the length Vanessa's clitoris. When Blair takes her fingers out to rest her hand Vanessa squirts a tiny puddle on the floor. Blair sighs.
"I wanted to show you what I could do, Blair."
"Ugh."
Blair continues stroking Vanessa's cunt and clit until her legs shake. Vanessa's body jumps up and shakes momentarily before stopping. She rolls her eyes and smiles.
Blair throws the glove in Vanessa's wastebasket. She walks over to Vanessa's closet and takes out a bathrobe.
"Abrams, can I borrow this bathrobe? And a towel? And your loofah? I don't want--"
"Dorota or Chuck or Gossip Girl to know you were fucking me over macarons. I know. Go ahead, Blair."
1 year ago
March 21 2011, 01:19:15 UTC 1 year ago
Whoops, Rizzoli & Isles, Jane/Maura, accident
Warning: Possibly could be considered, but not really, non-con.There's a warm body in her bed. She's not awake enough to ponder the reasons or the consequences, and she clings to sleep too strongly to put her brain to work. So instead she snuggles against whoever it is, sure it will all make sense in the morning. An arm goes around her - she loves arms around her, and she murmurs in her sleep. She's awake enough for a little fun. Not a lot, but maybe just a little. So she moves her hand over a surprisingly slender hip - "Oh, I do lover men with swimmer's bodies," she thinks - and pushes under the waistband of her sleeping partner's pants. Pants? Why is he still dressed? They were probably both too tired to undress, too tired for sex. That's why she didn't remember who it was, they just collapsed and passed out. Well, she owed her beau something for getting her safely to bed.
She moves her hand to find something to grab hold of. She thinks he must be very small, but that's okay. She doesn't need a lot. Her fingers brush over smooth underwear, seeking a cock, trying to prompt an erection and finding nothing. She is about to open her eyes to see what the problem is when she hears a moan.
Maura.
She's stroking Maura through her panties. Panic grips her. She wants to pull her hand away, but she's sure that a sudden movement would wake Maura. But they can't stay like this, she can't keep her hand--
"No, don't stop. Touch me." Maura's hand grips Jane's wrist. Jane turns her head and buries her face against the pillow. She is definitely awake now, and she definitely has her palm flat against the mound of her best friend's mound, and her friend definitely wants that hand to stay where it is. But she can't do that to Maura, she can't make her...
"Jane..."
It's a plea, and Jane blushes. Maura is asleep, dreaming. Dreaming about her. Jane's eyes are wide now and she licks her lips, mouths "What are you doing, Rizzoli?" and begins to move her fingers. She mimics what she does to herself, doing what she knows feels good when she masturbates. Maura groans in her sleep and writhes on her bed, and Jane feels her heart pounding as she watches Maura's reactions.
Suddenly it becomes very important to make Maura come. She wants it. Needs it. She pulls Maura's underwear down and gasps as she touches bare flesh. "Oh my God, oh my God." She presses her face into the pillow again, using two fingers and her thumb. She wonders how often Maura dreams about her. If it's usually Maura's hand between her legs during those dreams...
"Jane, oh."
Jane is close enough that she can rest her cheek on Maura's shoulder as she comes. She hears every quiet noise, every forced breath, and the quake underneath both of them as Maura settles back into slumber.
After a few minutes Jane uses her free hand to pull the blanket up over both of them. Now awake, now consciously cuddling her friend. Her fingertips are wet, but she tries not to think about that. She wants to keep her hand where it is, and she blushes because Maura's hand is still on her forearm. Maura sighs as she sleeps again, her "dream" ending.
Jane knows she won't get anymore sleep that night, but that's fine with her. She needs all the time she can get to think about what she'll say in the morning.
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March 21 2011, 05:18:16 UTC 1 year ago
Unnatural, Glee, Quinn/Rachel, unnatural
Original title is original, I know. Story at my journal because I like to archive my stuff, not because this is ridiculously long. It's not. :)March 21 2011, 06:17:11 UTC 1 year ago Edited: March 21 2011, 06:17:43 UTC
With My Mind, Marvel, Emma/Jean, psychic
“So, Jean,” said the blonde woman, she was dressed in all white and sitting across from Jean Grey, resting her head on her hand. She wore a sinister smile, “Have you ever thought to use your powers like this?”Jean was breathing heavily. Her legs were crossed tightly and she was grinding them against one another, trying to fight off Emma's influence. She could feel her thighs moistening. Emma was good at this. “No—no, I can't say that I--ah--thought of this. Oh my.”
“It's fantastic being psychic, isn't it?” Emma licked her lips, continuing to stroke all of Jean's pleasure buttons, not between her legs but in her mind, and she spread her own legs. “But I notice this has been a one-woman show. You should share with the rest of the class.”
“A bit hard to--to concentrate,” Jean managed between moans, “With everything you're--mmm-- doing.”
“Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way. You're Jean Grey, after all. Show me all that fantastic psychic power you're so famous for.”
Jean was writhing in her seat, a large plush chair, it felt like her body was getting itself off. Waves of pleasure went through her with every psychic thrust. But she managed to collect herself enough, just enough, to get into Emma's mind. “Oh, yes!” was all she needed to hear to know she was succeeding. “Just like that, Jean. Mmm, like that.”
They weren't touching one another, they weren't even naked, and they were on opposite sides of the room, but both women were slumped in their chairs, moaning loudly. The sensations they were giving each other were deeper and more intense than anything they could do with fingers or tongues. “A little more, Jean. Oh. A little more.”
Jean started to say something, but she was interrupted by an orgasm. Instead, all she did was call out Emma's name as her hips left the chair. “Oh... Oh my... That was fantastic.”
“Oh, I know, dear,” Emma said, and she didn't stop when Jean came. “I'm fantastic. Mmm, and you're not so bad yourself.”
Emma put a hand down her pants, sliding her fingers into her already wet pussy, adding physical stimulation to the psychic pleasure Jean was giving her. The nebulous pleasure from the other woman, in addition to the quick circling of her fingers on her clit sent Emma over the edge. “Yes!” she screamed as she climaxed.
It was a while before Emma spoke again. She spent some time catching her breath, slowly stroking herself on her comedown, and slowly “stroking” Jean as well. “Feel free to tell me how wonderful I am.”
March 21 2011, 13:04:42 UTC 1 year ago
Re: With My Mind, Marvel, Emma/Jean, psychic
This is appropriately gorgeous, but the last line MAKES IT. Oh, Emma.1 year ago
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March 21 2011, 15:22:06 UTC 1 year ago
Never Say Never, Sarah/Greta (Stacy Kiebler Greta), never again
Never again, she tells herself. This was a mistake. Sarah Walker wasn’t fooling herself. She knew why she did this. It was Chuck’s fault. Why couldn’t he just accept the relationship as it was? Why did he have to discuss marriage and… and… other things? Then the whole incident with the ring on the floor was just too much. She had to get out of there. She bolted and on the way out she ran into Greta. Or at least this week’s version of Greta.Sarah looked her over. The woman was statuesque to say the least. The nerd herd skirt was short on her even if she had legs that seemed to go on forever. She looked upset. Her ego must have been bruised when Hugo knocked her out. This was almost too easy. They ended up at a bar to drown their sorrows.
Next thing Sarah knew they were in a bathroom stall. Sarah was topless on her knees with her tongue buried deep inside Greta’s pussy. Those magnificent legs are wrapped around her head squeezing her head as she continued to lick up all the wetness she could gather. It had been so long since she had been with a woman. She had forgotten how good they tasted.
Sarah looked up at Greta. Her shirt was unbuttoned revealing her small breasts. Sarah reached up with her hands and began to play with the nipples. She pinched and twisted them. Greta’s hands were in Sarah’s hair. Sarah could feel the sting on her scalp as finger nails dug in. Sarah took her clit into her mouth and sucked on it hard.
“OH! SHIT! I’M CUMMING!” Sarah’s face was coated with wetness. She started to lick all the juices from Greta’s pussy. Sarah could feel Greta’s pussy still lightly tremor in orgasmic aftershock. The legs limply fell off Sarah’s shoulders. Sarah sat up and licked her lips. Greta moved to stand up. She pulled Sarah up with her. She pushed Sarah against the door of the stall and began to lick her own juices off of Sarah’s face. Then she moved to kiss Sarah. Sarah moaned into Greta’s mouth as Greta swirled her tongue in Sarah’s mouth. She pulled back. “Your turn.”
Before Sarah could react, she was turned around facing the door. Greta ground herself into Sarah’s backside as she nuzzled Sarah’s neck. She moved down kissing between Sarah’s shoulder blades. She kept placing kisses down Sarah’s spine. She unzipped Sarah’s skirt. As she got down on her knees, Greta pulled down Sarah’s skirt and panties. Sarah picked her up leg and allowed her skirt and panties to be removed completely. Her legs were spread out. Her upper half was pushed forward while her backside was kept where it was. Greta’s hand rubbed her pussy from behind. Sarah moaned and tried to move along with the hand.
“NO!” Sarah whimpered as the hand was pulled away. Soon she felt two hands on her ass. She moaned as she was spread open exposing her asshole. “Fuck!”
There was a long lick against her asshole. Then it was followed by another and then another. “You have a great ass. I have wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.”
March 21 2011, 15:22:53 UTC 1 year ago
PART 2
Sarah moaned as Greta’s tongue was pushed inside her asshole. Sarah almost wept. She had forgotten how amazing it felt having a tongue in her ass. She loved having her ass played with. It really got her hot. It was just that most men she knew just wanted to shove their dicks in her ass but seemed grossed out about playing with her asshole with their tongue. Sarah’s thoughts were cut off when two fingers pushed into her pussy.“Yes, oh yeah wiggle that tongue. Get it nice and deep. Shit!” Greta’s other hand reached around and began to rub Sarah’s clit. Sarah was now pushing back trying to get both fingers and tongue as deep as possible. Then Greta curled the fingers in Sarah’s pussy hitting just the right spot to cause Sarah to explode. “OH FUCK!!!”
Sarah felt like she was going to black out as the orgasm ripped through her body. She collapsed against the door as Greta continued to play with both holes drawing out her orgasm. As Sarah recovered, the two women silently got dressed. Greta left without another word and Sarah figured she would be on another mission before the next morning.
As Sarah finished getting dress, she saw there was a message from Chuck. Guilt wracked her body. Never again she told herself.
A few months later, Vicky, that turned out to be her name, was back. She had the Intersect taken out of her head and was awaiting new orders in Castle. As Sarah walked by, they caught each other’s eyes. Vic licked her lips and smiled. Fuck, Sarah thought as she felt wetness. One more time and then never again.
1 year ago
March 21 2011, 16:47:26 UTC 1 year ago
3 Strikes(Part 1), Warehouse 13, Helena/Myka, 'it's just not cricket'
Helena was hovering on the edge. She could feel the beginnings of her orgasm, like storm clouds gathering, the muscles in her abdomen tightening, the muscles in her arms tightening as her fingers dug a bit deeper into the plushness of the duvet. Through fluttering lids, she looked down the length of her body; her vision blurred, she just could make out the tangled curls of Myka’s hair spread across her thighs and stomach, the hair appearing darker than usual against the pale luminescence of her skin. Helena’s breath was coming in forced gasps now, as if each exhalation might be her last. The thought skittered across her mind that, as things went, it certainly wouldn’t be the worse way to go, before all coherent thought was reduced to a fallen house of cards as Myka’s tongue moved with renewed urgency across her clit.Helena’s back arched off the mattress, her sweaty skin sticking to the bottom sheet, her head forced back into the pillows as her body contorted, hovering as it waited for her orgasm to coming crashing down. Just as the sensations had almost reached their crest, she cried out, not in ecstasy, but in disbelief as the source of her pleasure suddenly disappeared. Forcing her eyes open, she could just make out Myka’s slender form as the other woman stood, calmly reaching out a hand and pulling on her thick flannel robe, one hand sweeping her hair from under the collar as she gazed down at Helena’s shocked face with a distinctly Cheshire grin.
“What….Myka? Darling….why the bloody hell did you stop??!” Helena managed to exclaim, her voice at least an octave and a half higher than normal. “What’s going on?!”
Myka smirked at her, reaching out a hand to run one finger along the silken, sweaty skin of Helena’s chest, along the curve of one breast, her touch teasing. Her level gaze took in Helena’s sex-ravaged hair, tangled around her head, the flush of exertion on her cheeks, the wide-eyed disbelief in those dark eyes and then, then Myka chuckled.
“So sorry about that, darling. If I’d known that you couldn’t live without it….,” Myka replied, her voice mocking as it trailed off, a slightly malicious gleam in her eyes.
The words rang a familiar bell somewhere in the sexual fog that clouded Helena’s brain. “What?” She stammered, trying desperately to grasp at the context as it sailed smoothly through her consciousness and out again.
(continued in next comment)
March 21 2011, 16:48:58 UTC 1 year ago
3 Strikes(Part 2), Warehouse 13, Helena/Myka, 'it's just not cricket'
“For the last four mornings, you’ve taken the last lemon poppy seed muffin. I love lemon poppy seed muffins. Every morning, Leena makes them, and every morning, before I’ve gotten a chance to have one, you’ve taken the last one. If it had been Pete, I would have understood,” Myka explained succinctly, tying the sash of her robe and moving casually toward the door. “But no, my own girlfriend has been taking the last muffin right in front of me and refusing to share.”Helena knew that, while she had lost momentum, if she could just coax Myka back into bed, and back into what had been a highly satisfying (for Helena, at least) position between Helena’s thighs, she could manage to re-attain the summit she had been so precariously snatched from and plummet very happily over. Easing up onto her elbows, she smiled her most dangerous smile, the one that usually left Myka in a puddle on the floor, the one that promised Nirvana and chocolate and fingernails raking down her skin.
“Darling, you know I was just teasing you. I thought it was a little game that we were playing,” Helena began, lips curving sensuously, willing her voice, the voice that she knew slipped inside Myka’s mind and resonated in her soul, to work its magic. “Don’t leave me like this. Come back to bed. Please?”
Myka’s words dispelled any hopes of that, as she chuckled again. “Oh, it is a game, darling. And up until now, it was Helena=4, Myka=0. But I’m thinking that leaving you like this, wet, ready and almost there is worth at least five muffins, don’t you?”
“But…but…,” Helena sputtered, indignation stealing over every line of her very gorgeous, very naked, very abandoned body. “But that’s…well, damn it, Myka! It’s just not cricket!”
Myka laughed, her hand on the doorknob as she pursed her lips in amusement as she regarded her very unhappy lover. “Nope. Probably not. But then, I’m not British. Over here, we play baseball, and you, my love, just struck out. I’ll see you at breakfast. I’ll be the one with the lemon poppy seed muffin.”
As the latch of the door snicked shut behind Myka, Helena’s voice could be clearly heard. “Bloody Americans!”
March 21 2011, 17:34:27 UTC 1 year ago
Re: 3 Strikes(Part 2), Warehouse 13, Helena/Myka, 'it's just not cricket'
Haha! Oh, poor Helena, I'm not sure she was quite ready for that much er... tit for tat. :-)1 year ago
March 21 2011, 16:49:37 UTC 1 year ago
Toe in the Water, Rizzoli & Isles, Jane/Maura, fantasizing
Author's Notes: This is a sort-of sequel to "Whoops," which I posted yesterday, but they can be read separately.Maura slept incredibly lightly. She wouldn't tell Jane that, because it would destroy her excuse for all the times they "accidentally" fell asleep in the same bed. The truth was that Jane fell asleep, and Maura just... didn't leave. She felt guilty about lying, felt that she should come clean about the fact that her staying was a conscious decision. But she thought maybe if she did that, then Jane would make her stop. And the times she shared a bed with Jane were the only nights Maura ever really slept peacefully.
Tonight, she felt a hand on her hip sliding across her stomach as slow as the sun trekked across the floor in the mid-afternoon. She remained still, knowing that it was just Jane reacting to a dream. She did that often. Dogs kicked when they chased rabbits, and Jane Rizzoli apprehended suspects. "Dun move," Jane sometimes murmured against her pillow. "Rye to... 'main silence."
Jane's hand slipped inside Maura's pants. Maura held her breath, her eyes open wide, and she remained very still as Jane began to sweep her fingers across the smooth material of Maura's panties. Maura swallowed and debated what she should do. The pressure of Jane's fingers through her underwear was very, very nice... she closed her eyes and focused on how it felt for future reference.
Jane suddenly went very still. Her breathing changed. Maura knew, crushingly, that Jane was awake and panicking. Of course, Jane didn't know Maura was awake. She put her hand on Jane's wrist and made quiet noises like someone speaking in a dream. "No, don't stop. Touch me." She hopes Jane doesn't pick up on the fact that she's awake. Let it just be a fantasy, a middle of the night occurance that doesn't have to mean anything. "Jane..."
Maura bit back a sigh of pleasure as Jane's hand began moving again. Maura couldn't help herself, her body reacted to the touch, and she began to move against Jane's hand. It wasn't exactly how she had always pictured; she wanted to face Jane, look into her eyes, see the desire and the want in them as they finally crossed this threshold. It was all right, though. This wasn't their real first time. This was just a toe in the water, a fantasy for the both of them to see how it felt to go too far.
She felt her orgasm, arched her back, and said, "Jane, oh!" as she climaxed. She heard Jane sharply suck in a breath, desperate to open her eyes and see what Jane's face looked like but not daring. She finally settled back against the mattress, Jane's mattress. Jane drew the blankets up over the two of them and Maura felt a warmth in her chest as Jane settled in next to her.
Maura could tell from the sound of Jane's breath that she was still awake, her mind most likely reeling from what had just happened. Maura feigned sleep, knowing if she faked it long enough that it would happen naturally.
The two friends lay next to each other, both pretending to be asleep so the other wouldn't know, and tried to think of what came next.
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March 21 2011, 17:13:38 UTC 1 year ago
If It's Gay..., Rizzoli and Isles, Jane/Maura, Rules
(Full title: "If It's Gay to Have Your Best Friend Go Down on You While You Watch Sports, I Don't Want to Be Straight")Jane started to pick up her beer can again, but she hesitated with her fingers on the sweat-beaded can. Her eyelids were half-closed as Maura did something particularly wonderfully naughty to her, biting her lip as she sagged against the back of the couch. She wet her lips and focused on the TV, letting go of the beer to stroke Maura's hair to let her know she was doing a good job. She didn't have to look to know Maura was smiling.
She still remembered her exact phrasing during the World Series: "No, a guy's fantasy would be the beer, the game, and a beautiful woman going down on him between innings." Maura, the cheeky woman, had knelt in front of the easy chair and spread Jane's knees apart. They both laughed, and Jane asked what Maura thought she was doing, and Maura began to touch her through her jeans, and Jane's smile faded quickly. Maura stopped laughing. The jeans came off, and Jane found it very difficult to pay attention to the game.
She came before the game ended, and she was able to watch the Boston Red Sox - against all probability - win the World Series. She was so thrilled she kissed Maura on the mouth. They weren't gay, she was just excited. And just because she tasted herself on Maura's tongue, well, that wasn't... that didn't mean anything.
But Boston superstitions were extremely strict. In order to get their boys back to the big game, Jane had to recreate the circumstances of their win exactly. The same T-shirt, the same brand of beer, the same spot on the couch, and Maura Isles between her legs.
They tried to make sure Maura kept it up the entire game, but Jane never made it through a handful of innings.
"You're too good."
"I haven't had any complaints in the past," Maura said, half-pouting.
"Oh, I'm not complaining." Jane pushed Maura's head back down for the third inning and closed her eyes, sighing blissfully.
The things she did for her team...
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March 21 2011, 19:40:49 UTC 1 year ago
Say "yes" in the wrong time, RPF, Naya Rivera/Dianna Agron, experiment
Dianna isn’t used to this. It’s mostly new and scary to her; she never looked at her girlfriends this way. When her friends were experimenting at high school, Dianna was the good girl with one boyfriend through the whole four years.The break up came naturally and she though the world should work this way.
So when she all of sudden notices the porcelain skin on Lea´s neck and the urge to touch it makes her hand itch, Dianna feels lost. But it isn’t only Lea, it´s Heather with her long lean legs and Naya with her ruby lips, it´s new and unnatural and she puts it down to all those talks about her sleeping with Lea, Naya sleeping with Heather and the general trend of making everyone gay. She isn’t, she likes the way Alex licks the skin above her stomach. Dianna loves to feel his muscles and sweat under her hands, thinks that stubble looks sexy on men.
She is a healthy heterosexual woman but there is always someone worth a longer glance.
…
“You’re staring at me,” Naya announces during a rehearsal. Heather is sitting next to her and grins, whistles and Dianna can’t help it, and she blushes like a little girl.
But Naya doesn’t mind, she can tell that.
“No worries, Di, I tend to have that affect on people and with you, is quite flattering too,” she says and she blushes even more, excuses herself to the toilet to splash some water on her face.
Dianna knows that Naya just made fun of her knows it means absolutely nothing, just two friends teasing each other. Naya does it all the time, feeds rumors about sleeping with everyone on the set. It’s their common joke but never ever did it leave her this aroused.
…
There is a knock on her trailer during their lunch break and Dianna expects Lea with vegan salad and complaints about the day. It’s her second nature and Dianna is quite used to play ears already.
“Come in,” she says and takes yogurt out of her fridge.
“Well, Agron, was that an invite?” Naya smirks from the door with a bra in her hand. She is grinning and Diana couldn’t help but notice that having her bra in her hand means having none on. The cold wind from outside make her nipples show themselves and she feels the strange craving all over again.
“Do you need something?” Dianna asks and hopes that this time her thought won’t betray her. She feels ashamed enough already.
“Hey, don’t be all barky at me, I just need some needle and stitch, my bra didn’t manage the dance number,” she says with another smirk and Dianna hates just a bit more for being so sure of herself, for all that pomposity and audacity, a thousand fan clubs couldn’t achieve that for her.
She turns around and takes her bag with stitching from a cupboard above her head. Anyone on set knew that Dianna owned anything daily useful, sometimes she felt like the only one responsible adult on set.
“Thanks, Di,” Naya says and adds in quieter voice, “but I still know you want to taste my pussy.” She winks and it’s gone and Dianna feels her words hit her like a leather glove and absolutely refuses to accept any truth in them.
The rest on my LJ
March 21 2011, 20:07:15 UTC 1 year ago Edited: March 21 2011, 22:06:53 UTC
Haloed Eyes, Tron, Gem/Quorra, betrayal
Gem is not a fighter.Not with her fists, and not with her disk -- her underlying programming is to be ornamental, and to prepare those who would fight. Sometimes, she chooses to go further, or as far as her programming will allow.
Dark Quorra is most definitely a fighter, though free of the grid and the games.
Gem watches, sometimes, out on the street leaning against a code-building, luminescent disk-lighted eyes drinking in Quorra's lean form as the other program slinks down the street, keeping herself from notice.
Sometimes, Gem thinks of following her into a network-blind alley, pinning her up against the wall, seeing if the code-shaped body she would trap between her own, softer, form and the hard brick has the flexibility she expects, the balance, if pressing their lips together would stiffen Quorra's tiny nipples as much as her back, if dampness would soak through the dark armor sheltering the heat between her legs.
Zuse knows what Quorra is, and so Gem knows. For now, knowing is its own power. Zuse will sell Quorra out to Clu when he feels the time is right -- or, better still, when Quorra brings The Flynn to them. Gem will not gainsay Zuse; Clu would be far too potent an enemy and she prefers resolution.
Quorra vanishes into the darkness of the grid. Gem tilts her umbrella back and smiles, stepping lightly along the ever-shifting street.
She would like to know how a miracle tastes.
March 22 2011, 00:40:25 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Haloed Eyes, Tron, Gem/Quorra, betrayal
You are awesome for writing this pairing. I really like how you characterized Gem.1 year ago
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March 21 2011, 21:42:47 UTC 1 year ago
Spin Me Like a Marionette, Black Swan, Nina/Lily, pirouette
Of course she’s shocked, they all are. They had pictured Nina as a sweet girl - prim, precise, kind of boring.When the Company realize what has happened they begin to circle the body, gaping at the mess. Lily thrums with energy. She can’t shift her eyes from how perfectly still Nina is in the middle of this chaotic pinwheel.
----
For a few weeks the theatre is shut down, however their investors can only condone mourning for so long. Lily, who still has faint tan lines from the San Francisco sun, thinks this is very New York. Cold calculations have been made, some asshole has said it straight - the show must go on.
So she dances in a loop, her arms gliding through positions, her feet sliding sensuously across the rehearsal room floor. When she moves the muscles in her back ripple. Her inked, dark wings unfurl.
To the surprise of absolutely no one, Lily struggles with the White Swan. She doesn‘t have the requisite control, she can not make her body tight enough. She feels like a train going round a track in the opposite direction to Nina. So she fucks Thomas to get him to lay off of her, but that was never the issue.
It’s just she has too much momentum when she pirouettes.
----
Lily, ‘relaxes,’ the night before the show re -opens. She drinks too much, takes a pill and thinks about when she went out with Nina. She remembers feeling she was doing the strange, little girl a favor. If Nina had actually had her hair up, Lily would have pulled out each and every pin .She had been in that kind of mood.
Now she gets buzzed, but goes home alone.
She flings herself backwards onto her bed. The ceiling spins as she slips a hand into her panties.
When they danced together, Nina had moved as freely as she could. Lily rubs small circles either side of her entrance and remembers strobe lighting pulsing around Nina’s body. She slides a finger in and out, thinking about how Nina went still every time Lily’s arms, looped in a cage around her body, accidentally touched her stomach.
After she comes, Lily wipes her hand on the comforter and wonders if she actually helped Nina.
----
When Lily was very young her ballet teacher taught her how to, ‘spot,’ a pirouette.
It is simple really. As your body turns, you must keep your head still, whipping your face around at the last moment to stare at a constant, fixed spot.
Before curtain-up Lily practices. She creates an eye line by imagining Nina standing stock still inside the mirror. Around this fixed point, Lily’s body balances, spinning faster and faster, like a top. Her reflection is a blur of white, with streaked, black wings.
She does not stumble and she does not stop.
March 22 2011, 04:40:56 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Spin Me Like a Marionette, Black Swan, Nina/Lily, pirouette
That was my prompt, and you gave me just what I was looking for! Thank you, great job!1 year ago
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March 22 2011, 06:56:42 UTC 1 year ago
Ruby, Bram Stoker's Dracula, Mina/Lucy, blood
Title: RubyAuthor: Pjordha
Prompt: Bram Stoker's Dracula (film), Mina/Lucy, blood
(a bit too long for the comments!)
Ruby, Bram Stoker's Dracula (film), Mina/Lucy, blood
March 22 2011, 19:54:18 UTC 1 year ago
When Anger Burns, Devil Wears Prada, Miranda/Andy, playing with fire
With a huff, Miranda tossed the Book on the footstool in front of her chair. The repeated ringing of the doorbell interspersed with the pounding of a fist against her front door had begun without warning. Whoever was doing so was highly impatient and only moments from death. Miranda stalked to the door and paused a moment to glance through the peephole. Furious at the identity of the lunatic on the other side, she threw open the door.“Andréa, have you completely taken leave of your senses?” she hissed. “What if my girls were here? You’d have woken the entire household as you most probably have most of the neighborhood. What could you possibly want?”
Andy pushed her back into the house and followed, slamming the door behind her.
“I have had enough of this crap!” Andy snarled. “I am sick to death of going to work only to have some idiot shove Page Six under my nose with yet another picture of some Valentino wannabe draped over you like a badly cut suit.”
“I have an image to uphold,” Miranda defended.
“You have a relationship to uphold,” Andy snapped back. “Or have you conveniently forgotten that?”
“I forget nothing. I simply choose not to make a public spectacle of myself with someone half my age.” Miranda sniffed and started back for her chair and the Book.
“Dammit, Miranda! That last bozo was younger than me!” Andy roared, stalking after her girlfriend.
“Yes, and just as gay,” Miranda snapped back. “I have no idea why you’re so angry. They have each and every one been gay. I have been seen with them and nothing more.” Settling into her chair, she picked up the Book and opened it to where she’d stopped when all the pounding began.
“And since when has some guy being gay every stopped them wanting to crawl into your bed? You’re not their girlfriend. You’re mine! It’s about time you were seen with me!” Andy paced across the room and back, too furious to be still.
“I invited you to each of those events and you always had an excuse. I told you I would not go unescorted. You have only yourself to blame. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Miranda then proceeded to ignore her.
Andy drove her fingers through the hair at her temples and pulled on it. Sometimes Miranda Priestly made her absolutely fucking crazy! “Escorting you is one thing. They don’t have to put their damned hands all over you!”
“Jealous, Andréa? Really?“ Miranda sneered without once looking up from the layout she was critiquing. “I have just as much right as any other woman to feel desired. Perhaps you should be more concerned about why you fail to make that happen recently, rather than throwing a tantrum because someone else is doing it for you.”
Andy could feel her face flaming with both anger and humiliation. She had been busy of late and the long hours had left her with little free time and no desire to be paraded around like the prize stud at a county fair. That she had inadvertently opened the door to every drooling pretty boy with their eye on Miranda only infuriated her more. Dammit, Miranda was hers!
March 22 2011, 19:55:14 UTC 1 year ago
Part 2 When Anger Burns, Devil Wears Prada, Miranda/Andy, playing with fire
“Get up,” Andy ordered hoarsely.“Andréa, I do not have time…” Miranda began only to be cut off.
“Get. Up. Now.” Andy bit out.
Miranda’s eyes widened as she gazed up at her lover and then narrowed dangerously. “I am tired. I have to finish the Book before I can even consider sleep. I do not have time for your little games,” she hissed softly.
Before either of them even realized, the Book went sailing across the room and Miranda found herself on her feet held tight to Andy’s body. “You want to feel desired?” Andy bit out. “I can fix that.”
“You’re playing with fire, Andréa,” Miranda warned her in the tone that sent clackers running for their lives.
“Yes,” Andy agreed, “and I’m going to burn you with it. Lose the skirt.”
“I beg your pardon?” Miranda hissed with a frigid glare.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Miranda. Lose. The. Skirt. Or I’ll lose it for you and you’ll have to send the new Emily to find you a replacement,” Andy growled. She could feel Miranda’s shiver in response to her words.
Miranda worked the fasteners and let her skirt drop. She lifted her chin and stared at Andy daringly.
Andy grabbed the hem of Miranda’s silk blouse, lifting it up and over her head. She tossed it over her shoulder negligently. She spun Miranda around and urged her up into the chair on her knees. Standing behind her, Andy reached around and pulled Miranda’s bra below her breasts, fingers milking the rapidly hardening nipples. It took less than a moment for her to have Miranda moaning. Hooking her fingers in the waistband of Miranda’s panties, Andy pulled them down to mid-thigh. Without warning, she pushed two fingers deep into Miranda’s core and smiled grimly when Miranda groaned.
“Do you feel desirable now, Miranda?” Andy asked as she pumped her fingers rapidly.
“Yes, yes, Andréa!” Miranda gasped, though it wasn’t clear if she was answering the question or responding to the strong movements of Andy’s hand.
Andy alternated between nipples, pinch and pulling, as she continued to drive her fingers deep. Swiftly adding a third finger, she began to twist and turn her hand on each stroke.
Miranda screamed, fingers digging in the back of the chair. Her back arched, lifting her hips and opening herself more fully to Andy. “Harder,” she moaned.
Andy complied with long strokes, loving the feeling of Miranda stretched tightly around her fingers. “No more pretty boy escorts,” Andy ordered, punctuating her words with hard, sharp strokes.
Miranda nodded and began to drive her hips back against the invading fingers.
Andy wrapped her arm around Miranda’s waist and began to rub her clit in time with the strokes. She could feel the muscles in Miranda’s thighs quivering, then tensing in a slow alternation that told Andy her lover was very close. She pressed down firmer on Miranda’s clit and her lover screamed her release. Andy shifted them until she was seated in the chair, holding Miranda in her lap. She gently stroked Miranda from shoulder to hip and down the lean line of her thigh as she whispered reassurances in one delicate ear until Miranda sighed.
“I need to make you angry more often,” Miranda purred into Andy’s neck.
Andy shouted with laughter. “Believe me, Miranda, you already do.”
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March 23 2011, 10:23:10 UTC 1 year ago
Re: Hers to control, The Good Wife, Alicia/Diane, control
Ooh! Okay, you've convinced me of the possibility! XP Thanks for sharing!← Ctrl← Alt
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