InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "it's corn and corn alone day!"

telesilla (telesilla) wrote in porn_battle,
@ 2008-09-18 14:48:00

Entry tags:

round five

Prompt List: Round Five
And now...the moment we've all be waiting for!

Prompt Lists: Round Five

You'll notice that the Western Media prompts have been handled a little differently; we're experimenting still. Also, please excuse any mistakes; all told we had over 2600 prompts and even split up as they were, things will slip past us.

So, you have a week; at some point in the evening on Thursday the 25th, I'll close the battle. Until then?

*points down to the comments*

Porn goes here!

You must put the prompt in the subject header of your comment. If the prompt is too long, name the fandom and pairing and as much of the rest as you can. (This is so that at the end of the round, we can make a link back to your fic on the final Master List.)

If your fic is too long for one comment, post part one as a top level comment and then the second part in reply to that comment and so on.

Have fun!

ETA: I am aware that most of the lists off site are all scrunched together. They shouldn't be and I'm working on it. Thanks for your understanding.

As of now--1:10 PST--the Porn Battle is closed.

The list of fics will be up soon, hopefully by tomorrow evening unless my connectivity issues continue.

Thanks for playing, everyone!

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D. Gray-man, Allen/Lavi, atheism (1/3)

allira_dream
2008-09-21 05:14 am UTC (link)

There was nothing like the silence inside a church.

It was not peace, not exactly, but something close enough that allowed you to rest. Even before Mana, Allen had been fond of churches. They had always made good shelters, as long a she kept his arm hidden. Sometimes he even got lucky and had a nice priest or a compassionate nun giving him unspoiled food.

Some of the warmth he got from that before had been corrupted when he met his master, and that had only increased after he joined the Order, a quiet bitterness that Allen did his best to ignore, whenever he had the chance to sit inside one.

The chapel at the Order could be considered, almost, a small church. While it had no windows and thus there were no stained glass to gleam red and blue and golden with the sun (it would be too dangerous to have such kind of weaknesses in a place that could, perhaps, one day be attacked), the candles lit the place enough, lilies surrounding the cross upon the altar, the wood of the confessional made of warm, reddish oak.

He was sitting there, alone, sitting on the back row although he had more than enough space to choose. Few people in the Order actually followed the Roman Catholic Church, something that had surprised Allen a little, back when he had just met Cross, but after just weeks in the Order, he had understood: Innocence cared not for race or religion, and thus the Order cared little to nothing of the traditions held by the people it brought to it, as long as they were conformers.

Still, he sat on the back, hands linked together, index fingers against his lips, as if he was praying, leaning over his knees, trying to recall the sense of comfort that churches had brought for him when he had been a child, when he had thought that inside it, no-one could hurt him and he didn't have to fight. At least for a few hours, he had been save.

But you know that isn't true, right?

He did his best to ignore the voice inside his head, unsure if it was his voice or someone else's, instead unclasping his hands, moving one to pat Tim's head gently.

Allen didn't know any prayers, and even as he tried to recall the bits and pieces of the ones he had heard, he somehow doubted that his master would have liked having him praying for him.

“It's not as if he'd go to heaven anyway,” Allen muttered, annoyed at himself for the fact that he couldn't even say something true without feeling guilty for badmouthing someone that... “And it's not as if he is dead.”

Tim nuzzled against his hand, and Allen petted him again, sighing a little as he focused on the lighted tapers, taking slow, deep breaths to try and calm himself. He wasn't sure how long he had been inside trying to pray, just distantly aware that he was getting hungry. Still, he had no desire to be with anyone at the moment, and he had answered as many questions as he had been asked. Link was waiting outside for him, and Allen needed, desperately, some time alone.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: D. Gray-man, Allen/Lavi, atheism (2/3) -

allira_dream, 2008-09-21 05:16 am UTC

Re: D. Gray-man, Allen/Lavi, atheism (3/3) -

allira_dream, 2008-09-21 05:17 am UTC

Final Fantasy XII, Vaan/Penelo, muscle-memory

cetus_nightmare
2008-09-21 05:19 am UTC (link)

The way his hands move over her, late at night when there is no one to see, when the airship is on silent and resting in some spot in the desert, is so familiar to her and so comforting to him that even when he is blind and wounded and the blood leaking from great gashes in his back that only running his hand over that exact spot will calm him.

And only that exact spot, between her shoulder and her neck, will make her jerk from bandaging his wounds or healing them with her magic. Jerk, and knock over what she had been holding.

Later even in the darkness, even when he is half-dazed, his hands can still tread their way around her body, under her breasts and cupping her nipples, his hair down-soft against her body.

Later even when he cannot move she rolls over on top of him and he moans into her mouth and takes his pleasure after he gives her hers, and the only sound the both of them try to make are little whimpers.

And even in caves, pressed up in little cracks when only the faintest rays of light cascade through, his hands can still find the exact spot that makes her legs part, the exact run of skin between her ass and her delta that makes her putty in his hands, willing to be guided and shaped.

Of course, it isn't all his memory. It is hers, too, coming home after a night dancing in Rabanastre's streets, exhausted and mind half-blocked from the lecherous grins of the men there. Sometimes it is safer and more comfortable for her to hold his dick and move it in slow movements and feel the veins and the skin's texture and concentrate only on the way his voice is coming in short gasps and bring all the memories of the gropes and leers to the back of her mind where they can be lost forever.

And sometimes their muscle-memory and their subconscious comes out at the most awkward of times, when Vaan is just patting Penelo on the back and subconsciously finds the spot that makes her hips buck upwards, much to the consternation of Penelo and the delight of the man she is bargaining with.

(He wasn't so delighted after Penelo conked him one over the head with her staff.)

And even though their sex is almost homely, an everyday constant like brushing their teeth or taking a shower (only rare breaks when they don't, and they feel incomplete when they don't - or at least, Penelo does about the showers, Vaan's more about the sex) they try to make it different when both of them aren't mind-dazed and actually want to do something special.

The way they rock in each other - or, more precisely, the exact sequence Penelo clenches her muscles when Vaan takes her in any way he can - is all memory, too, albeit some of her best memories.

They repeat it many times over.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Final Fantasy XII, Vaan/Penelo, muscle-memory -

kristinmachina, 2008-09-21 04:27 pm UTC

Re: Final Fantasy XII, Vaan/Penelo, muscle-memory -

wei_jiangling, 2008-09-21 06:42 pm UTC

Black Cat, Creed/Train, stalemate

misura
2008-09-21 05:59 am UTC (link)

Train's tongue was like that of a cat, Creed reflected idly - clever, and quickly darting out between lips that were ever so slightly swollen, without the least sign of hesitation or shame. There was a glimpse of amusement in Train's gaze as it met Creed's, too, something that was not quite mocking him, but came closer than that of anyone else Creed had allowed to continue living.

Of course, it would have been no fun at all if Train had actually feared him; still, Creed felt something of an impasse had been reached. Train wouldn't kill him, and Train knew Creed wouldn't kill him either (at least, not today) and yet in order for them to both get what they wanted, one of them would have to give.

"Aren't you going to finish what you started?" Creed asked, when Train lifted his head (the better to look at him, no doubt).

"Why don't you free my hands first?" Train suggested. "Then, we'll talk."

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Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth/Zack/Cloud/Aries, 7th Heaven, (1/2)

cetus_nightmare
2008-09-21 07:14 am UTC (link)

The first level of heaven they reached was together. It was just Zack and Sephiroth at first, and then they collected Cloud and Aeris, and all the parts in their soul just got filled up, because Cloud and Sephiroth were broken in different ways but broken together, and having Zack and Aeris sleep beside them, someone for them to protect and be protected by, was just enough to send them all over the edge.

Dry and warm and cozy, up beside a fire on a winter night, the fire didn't do much to warm them, but the nuzzling of bare chests and necks against bare legs and arms was just about enough for the all of them. And even if Sephi was crushed under the other three's combined weight at the end, that didn't matter so much.

Oh, except for when he rolled over in the middle of the night and discovered that yes, there was still a finger up his asshole and it tended to clench periodically.

Dignified, he tried to stop it, but he came in Aeris' carpet and hoped she wouldn't mind.

The second level of heaven they reached was desire. Zack decided that they should all take a vacation, tricked them all into one car, pointed the car in a random direction and kept his foot on the accelerator. The way they all sprawled out around him, Cloud looking so determined to coil his hand around him and just make him feel good while Aeris moaned behind him and Sephi tried to stay as far away from all the happenings as possible but not quite succeeding, judging by the blush on his cheeks and the bulge in his pants.

The car might've swerved once or twice. And no, the ditch they'd fallen into had nothing whatsoever to do with the way Aeris' back arched in the rearview mirror.

The third level of heaven was just about relaxation. They lay together under the sun on a hill, the grass tickling their bodies through their clothing, Sephi resting with his back up against a tree, so much bigger than the rest of them, while Cloud and Zack brawled with each other, trying to get the upper hand and Aeris exasperatedly trying to get them to break it up. Eventually she turns to him, and there is frustration in her eyes, and she drops to her hands and knees and brazenly tugs down his pants.

As his cock is indulged by the head bobbing up and down, Sephi blows away an errant leaf and tries a small twitch of the lips, which grows broader when he notes Zack and Cloud staring at him wide-eyed.

It became a bit of a rictus when the other two joined in, though, their tongues battling and twining up his stomach and past his navel, over his nipples and, wait, no, staying at his nipples for a while.

The trust in all three of their gazes is enough for him to unburden himself a little, and as the tension flows out of him Cloud relaxes too.

The fourth level of heaven was simply about contentment. At any time whatsoever Aeris'd come in to the barracks and headquarters bearing a little basket of flowers and fruits. Watching her boys devour what she gave them - Sephi being a little more classy and usually getting out a knife, while juice dribbled down the Zack's chin, and Cloud took little nibbles, she'd smile and usually not object (indeed, why else would she come in?) when they took her up against a wall (Sephi being, again, a little more classy and using his desk) and lowered themselves into her.

Even when she pushed her head against the surface she was pressed to, her small frame arching and bucking over their thrusts, she was smiling.

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Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth/Zack/Cloud/Aries, 7th Heaven, (2/2) -

cetus_nightmare, 2008-09-21 07:15 am UTC

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth/Zack/Cloud/Aries, 7th Heaven, (2/2) -

felis_pardalis, 2008-09-23 12:26 am UTC

EQUILIBRIUM – Jürgen/Preston, scent 1/2

ennorwen
2008-09-21 07:31 am UTC (link)

ABSOLUTION

“What was it, John?” asks Jürgen, sliding the blindfold over Preston’s eyes. He tightens the cloth and kneels back, sitting astride Preston’s belly, watching as Preston strains naked against the knots at his wrists and ankles.

“What was the initial compulsion? The reason you never dosed yourself again? It wasn’t this,” said Jürgen, trailing a piece of soft cloth over John’s face. “Do you know what this is?”

Preston lifts his head, following the cloth as Jürgen pulls it upward. “What are you doing? Why?”

“Because you need it. Because… for Robbie and Lisa - for all of us, you need to move forward. Call it absolution. What is it, John?”

“I don’t know,” Preston says, and sadly, Jürgen knows that he doesn’t.

“How about this?” asks Jürgen, slapping Preston’s face with another texture, first one cheek, then the other. Pushing it into his nose and mouth. “Do you know what this is?”

Preston pushes for a memory, inhaling hard, the exertion showing on his face, in the tautness of his limbs.

“Leather,” he says. “It’s leather. A glove.”

“Yes, John, but what else?” pushes Jürgen, “Tell me more.”

“There is nothing else.”

“No, there isn’t, is there?”

“This then,” Jürgen says, reaching for a vial. Opening it, sprinkling drops carefully over Preston’s jaw. Wafting the small bottle under Preston’s nose.

Preston moans, trying to beat back the tears that form suddenly in his eyes.

“Please. Please. Don’t do this.”

“What is it, John?”

Preston gasps, licks at his lips, trying in vain to take a drop of it into his mouth, knowing the taste will be pungent and sour, wanting it nonetheless. He’s tasted it before.

“John?”

“It’s,” swallowing the lump in his throat, gagging, finally choking out the word. “Mary.”

Jürgen smiles ruefully. “Yes. And this,” he says, picking up the first piece of cloth, once again dragging it over Preston’s nose, “is Viviana. And this?” Picking up the glove, pushing it into Preston’s face. “This is Errol.”

Jürgen moves back, straddling Preston’s thighs, begins to stroke downward, digging his nails into Preston’s chest, raking them down toward his loins.

“What does this smell like, John?”

“I don’t know, what do you mean?”

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: EQUILIBRIUM – Jürgen/Preston, scent 2/2 -

ennorwen, 2008-09-21 07:33 am UTC

Re: EQUILIBRIUM – Jürgen/Preston, scent 2/2 -

helens78, 2008-09-21 10:15 am UTC

Re: EQUILIBRIUM – Jürgen/Preston, scent 2/2 -

ennorwen, 2008-09-23 03:13 pm UTC

Re: EQUILIBRIUM – Jürgen/Preston, scent 2/2 - (Anonymous), 2008-09-22 04:26 pm UTC

Re: EQUILIBRIUM – Jürgen/Preston, scent 2/2 -

ennorwen, 2008-09-23 03:15 pm UTC

Re: EQUILIBRIUM – Jürgen/Preston, scent 2/2 -

brushed_velvet, 2008-09-25 03:23 pm UTC

Re: EQUILIBRIUM – Jürgen/Preston, scent 2/2 -

ennorwen, 2008-09-25 04:21 pm UTC

Doctrine of Labyrinths Series, Mildmay/Felix, trust, "and in his mind, the monster's table with it's

ificouldfly
2008-09-21 09:01 am UTC (link)

I've been seeing Felix's dreams for about five days now, and let me tell you that his nightmares are just as fucked up as mine are. Last night was something about him and Strytch going at it and blood everywhere, and Kethe but if I never have to see that again it'll be too soon.

Anyway, I've mostly been ducking out of sight, because I don't know whether he can see me or not and I don't want to know. But as soon as I walk into Felix's dream this time I know that ain't gonna work. We're in a round room, all stone, and the only thing in there aside from the torches on the walls is this great big table. And strapped to the table is Felix. Around him are two...things. A fat man's body with a pig head, and another man's body- I recognize the rings as Robert of Hermione's and suddenly his head flickers into view. Felix is whimpering and fuck do I not want to be here.

I turn to leave, to hide, to do anything not to see this, but there's a wall in front of me and no doors out, none at all, and just as I've shut my eyes Felix starts /screaming/ bloody murder and I have to look.

The pig man is holding him down while Robert of Hermione does something hocus, grinning while he does it. Felix is screaming like somebody's cutting off his fingers and I just lose it. I run up, try to grab at the pig man, but my hands go right through him. Same with Robert of Hermione. I can't touch them and they can't see me-

And then Felix opens his eyes and looks straight at me.

"Mildmay," he whimpers, and I can see that he's choking himself trying to get at me. I immediately undo the strap around his neck, then those around his arms and wrists. As I unhook each tether, Felix bursts out like they'd been burning him. And maybe they had; after all, he'd been screaming loud enough. Finally I'm down to the ankle straps and by then Felix is clutching at me, sobbing a little, and then I'm rolling him off the table and against the wall, shielding him from the sight it.

"Felix?" I whisper. He's sobbing hard, gasping for breath and holding me tight enough to bruise. "Felix? C'mon sweetheart, answer me here." I pet his hair, which is short and spiky in the dream.

"M-Mildmay, y-you found m-m-me," he finally gulps, burying his head in my shoulder.

"Yeah, I did. So you're okay now, okay? I won't let Robert of Hermione or the pig- I mean, that other guy hurt you, okay? I promise."

"I know." His voice is almost too muffled to understand it. "I- I want to wake up, Mildmay. How do I wake up?"

Shit, fuck if I know. But that won't help. Instead, I say, "I'll find a way, trust me. Maybe if we leave the room?"

But he's already shaking his head. "No, no, there's no exit."

"Okay. Uh, if we can get your body to startle...but I can't get out until you wake up. Um, then, maybe if you pinch yourself?"

Again he's shaking his head but suddenly he freezes and looks up at me. He looks awful, cuts and bruises all over his face. His tears have made tracks through the dirt.

"I-I know how," he gulps. "Don't h-hate me, Mildmay, okay?"

"Okay," I promise without even bothing to consider.

He takes a deep breath and whispers, "Kiss me."

"...What?"

"Kiss me. I'll get hard, move in my sleep, and wake up."

Oh sacred bloody fuck, like that's something I want to do while our sleeping forms are about six inches apart. But I want to get out of this dream even more and I don't see any better options.

"Okay. Fine."

Then I lean forward and give him a peck on the lips. His eyes close as his brow unknits, but he doesn't look like he'll be getting hard anytime soon. Fuck, I have to do something more. Tentatively I pull him closer and open my mouth a little, pushing my tongue against his. He freezes for a moment, then slowly, slowly, begins to move his mouth in return.

Trying to think of things that always turned me on, I lean back on the floor, guiding him on top of me. He automatically spreads his legs over my hips, moving his tongue faster now. I let my hand slide down his side, to his hips, onto his thigh-

It works. Fucking hell it works, and he's hard against me and shit shit shit I'm hard against him and dammit I can't help pulling him closer as his hips grind me down painfully into-

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Con't: Doctrine of Labyrinths Series, Mildmay/Felix, trust, "and in his mind, the monster's table -

ificouldfly, 2008-09-21 09:02 am UTC

Re: Con't: Doctrine of Labyrinths Series, Mildmay/Felix, trust, "and in his mind, the monster's tabl -

mitsuhachi, 2008-09-21 12:04 pm UTC

Black Lagoon, Revy/Rock, smell like gunpowder and beer, "Under the Table"

badpenny
2008-09-21 10:48 am UTC (link)

Under the Table

Even after a shower, Revy still smells like a gun, of power and oil and steel. No wonder she claims to be a weapon. Even her own body's denying her humanity.

Maybe that should worry him more than it does. But Rock's failed to save enough people, and Revy was never his to save. And now he's too damn tired to care.

"Beer's like drinking water," Revy says, taking the bottle from his hand. She's still damn from the shower, and soon enough, she'll be damp from the humidity, slick with her own sweat, a well-oiled gun.

"A job might come in," Rock says, watching her drink. A drop of water falls from her hair, slides down her neck.

She snorts. "Yeah, right. You just don't want to see me drink under the table."

"I used to be a Japanese businessman. I'd drink you under the table." He's too hot and too tired to put much effort in the argument.

"Yeah right." She straddles his lap, takes one last pull from the beer, then flashes him one of her feral, challenging smiles. "What else you going to do, Mister Japanese?"

He fists his hands in her hair, blissfully cool from the shower, and she tilts her head back, offers her throat. Rock kisses, scrapes his teeth over her pulse point, smiles when she gasps, slides her hands up under his shirt.

It's a slow fuck. They have the time, and it's too damn hot to be frantic about it. Rock licks the sweat from her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. He traces her tattoo with his tongue, adds the occasional bite, and she shudders and claws at him, blunt nails scraping down his back.

"Come on, Mister Japanese." She hooks a leg over his hip, arches up into his thrust so he's buried deep inside her. "Try -- ahh -- fucking me under the table." She flashes him that smile again, though this time, there's a teasing edge.

She clenches her cunt around him, and fuck she's strong everywhere. Rock gasps, and Revy takes it as an invitation to kiss him, hard and aggressive, all overwhelming teeth and tongue. Rock moans, feels everything tighten, and then he's coming.

Revy rides him through it, doesn't let him withdraw right away, not until she's come too, quiet and breathless. Then she lets him pull away. "Guess I win." She flops down next to him, and even though they're not touching, he can feel her heat, smell the heavy musk of oil and power and metal.

"I can still drink you under the table."

"Later." She flung an arm over her eyes. "After the sun sets."

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Black Lagoon, Revy/Rock, smell like gunpowder and beer, "Under the Table" -

ladynero, 2008-09-21 04:53 pm UTC

Re: Black Lagoon, Revy/Rock, smell like gunpowder and beer, "Under the Table" -

badpenny, 2008-09-21 07:18 pm UTC

Black Lagoon, Revy/Rock, rum

ladynero
2008-09-21 11:05 am UTC (link)

Awareness crashed down on Rock like a bullet train from Hell, and he whimpered as his head reminded him that trying to out drink someone using rum was the worst idea he had ever had in a lifetime of bad ideas since arriving in Roanapur. He tried to remember what had happened after that guy from the Church of Violence had announced loudly that Mother Yolanda could drink the Black Lagoon Company under the table without trying. Rock had accepted the challenge, and after the first bottle of Captain Morgan’s, things were rather opaque in his memory. But that didn’t explain why he was lying on something soft with a heated weight on top of him, and he was scared to open his eyes and increase his misery.

*Click*

He froze as the all too familiar feel of a gun dug into his jaw while that *extremely* familiar sound of a Magnum cocking started a flash of memories from the night before. Revy accepting the challenge after expressing her opinion of Mother Yolanda and Sister Eda. The two of them draining bottle after bottle of rum. Laughing as they stumbled up the stairs to rent a room from Madam Flora. Clothes being removed as hands explored skin darkened by the sun, always seen but never touched. Revy laughing as she pushed him on the bed to climb on top. The look of ecstacy on her face as they moved together. Her hair sticking to her sweaty skin, making her seem even younger than normal as she cuddled close, worn out.

“This never happened and if you think otherwise, I’ve got a fucking bullet with your name on it,” growled Revy, her voice soft only out of respect for her own misery if her head felt anything like Rock’s. Cautiously, he opened his eyes to find her still sprawled on his chest like a blanket while her magnum remained gripped in a steady hand.

“”It never happened,” agreed Rock, knowing when he was outgunned and outclassed. Lying in bed naked with Revy Two-Hands, one of the most dangerous women in Roanapur, he was both. “It was fantasy dreams brought on by the rum.”

Yet, part of him would always remember the look in her eyes at his gentle touches. The raw and brittle hope that softened her sharp edges and turned her from Revy Two-Hands to a woman who wanted to be loved.

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RPF (actor), Jon Stewart/Denis Leary, "If I believed everything you said when you were drunk, I'd be

fenellaevangela
2008-09-21 11:15 am UTC (link)

"Aww, c'mon Jonny. It'll be fun!"

"You," said Jon, pointing a slightly-wavering finger, "are wasted. 'M not listening to you."

Denis, who was already sitting pretty close to him already, moved onto Jon's lap. "Pfft, you call this wasted? How long have you known me?" He took a clumsy swig of his beer, nearly knocking Jon in the ear. "I am pleasantly drunk. Get all my best ideas like this. Now, c'mon, lose the clothes."

"'Pleasantly drunk' my hairy Jewish ass. Get off me!"

Jon shoved and Denis, defeated, slumped back onto the couch next to him. "You're a fuckin' spoilsport, Jon."

"Yeah? Well, you're a two-beer queer."

"Hey! Asshole. I've had way more than two beers."

*

Denis rolled his head to the left, stretched his arm out, and wrapped it companionably around Jon's shoulder.

"Jon, you are one sexy motherfucker."

"Am I?" asked Jon, carefully shifting away from his friend. "Haven't fucked many mothers lately. How many of those beers have you had?"

"More 'n you," Denis insisted. He wiggled up closer to Jon and propped his chin on Jon's shoulder. "Maybe you should have a few more. Loosen up a bit."

"Oh no," Jon said. "No, no, no. I'm not letting you date rape me, Denis Leary."

Denis actually (sort of) pouted. "Why not?"

Jon smirked. "I promised God I'd be a virgin on my wedding day."

"Pfft," laughed Denis. "You're such a bullshitter." He placed a hand on Jon's thigh and started stroking lazily. Jon sighed and stood up.

"I'm gonna call a taxi. See you later, man."

*

"Jon?"

"These are our last beers, dude, don't even ask."

"No, no ... wait, what?" Denis looked down at his half-empty bottle. "Never mind. Jon, I wanna ask you something."

Jon looked at Denis sideways, suspicious. "I'm not having sex with you. Goddammit Denis, why do I even drink with you? Horny bastard."

"You are such a prude, Jon. No." He awkwardly got off of the couch and knelt in front of Jon, who immediately pulled his knees together. Denis ignored the gesture and tried to grasp Jon's hand. "Will you marry me?"

There was a beat of complete silence before Jon burst out laughing.

"Are you high?" he asked, biting his lip to hold in further laughter. "Are you fucking high right now?"

Denis sighed and flopped back onto the couch.

"No, I'm trying to get into your Goddamn pants. I'll marry your ass if that's the only way to get to it."

"Seriously?"

"Abso-fuckin'-lutely."

There was a pause. Then: "You're on."

*

The next morning, Jon found himself severely hung over. And, as evidenced by the crappy homemade ring on his finger, engaged.

"Oh my God," he said, groaning loudly. "Did we really do what I think we did last night?"

"Well," answered Denis, appearing at his side with a hot cup of coffee, "I proposed to you and we celebrated with a night of hot, ass-thumping sex."

Jon stared at Denis, then at the coffee, then back at Denis. He grabbed the coffee cup and chugged until it was empty.

"I am never listening to you when we're drunk, ever again. Here," he shoved the cup back towards Denis. "I need more coffee."

Denis laughed as he headed for the kitchen.

"Okay, I admit it," he said, returning quickly with the coffee pot in hand. "I don't really want to marry you. You fail to meet my criteria."

"What, my tits are too small?"

"Among other things," Denis agreed. He poured them both a cup of coffee and they sat, savouring the caffeine.

After a moment Jon pulled the makeshift engagement ring from his finger and crushed it in his fist. "At least the sex was good."

Denis raised his coffee mug in a toast. "Amen, brother."

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: RPF (actor), Jon Stewart/Denis Leary, "If I believed everything you said when you were drunk, I' -

kristinmachina, 2008-09-21 04:30 pm UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Jon Stewart/Denis Leary, "If I believed everything you said when you were drunk, I' -

fenellaevangela, 2008-09-25 08:56 pm UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Jon Stewart/Denis Leary, "If I believed everything you said when you were drunk, I' -

mrkinch, 2008-09-21 11:03 pm UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Jon Stewart/Denis Leary, "If I believed everything you said when you were drunk, I' -

fenellaevangela, 2008-09-25 08:53 pm UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Jon Stewart/Denis Leary, "If I believed everything you said when you were drunk, I' - (Anonymous), 2008-09-22 01:39 am UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Jon Stewart/Denis Leary, "If I believed everything you said when you were drunk, I' -

fenellaevangela, 2008-09-25 08:46 pm UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Jon Stewart/Denis Leary, "If I believed everything you said when you were drunk, I' -

the_reverand, 2008-09-22 04:55 pm UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Jon Stewart/Denis Leary, "If I believed everything you said when you were drunk, I' -

fenellaevangela, 2008-09-25 08:57 pm UTC

Black Lagoon, Revy/Rock, smell like gunpowder and beer

ladynero
2008-09-21 11:37 am UTC (link)

There was always the smell of gunpowder and beer in the Black Lagoon. It was the first thing Rock thought of whenever he smelled that combination, either in his clothes or in the almost inevitable gun fight that broke out in the Yellow Flag Bar with Bao screaming at them about paying for damages. They were starting to mean “home” to Rock, replacing the previous scents of sake, paper and toner.

As Revy moved over him, her hips thrusting down on his hardness and welcoming him into her body again and again, Rock was distinctly aware of the scent of gunpowder that clung to her skin like an exotic perfume. The tang of metal filled his nose and danced along his tongue as he traced a drop of sweat down her neck, their breathes coming out in excited gasps and pants as they strove to remind each other that they had survived another job that had nearly cost them their lives. A few empty cans and open bottles added the yeasty stench of beer to the air as Revy proved to Rock that she was a fighter, wrestling control of their fucking away from him even while allowing him to hold her, accepting the faint bit of comfort from a man who used words as weapons instead of guns.

Rock wasn’t sure what had brought Revy to him that first time, but each time she returned to him needing to be reminded that she was alive and whole, he was happy to help her. Because some day, he hoped that she’d come to him for a slightly more selfish reason. Such as love.

(Reply to this)

The Chronicles of Master Li and Number 10 Ox, Ox/Moon Boy, slipping into bedrolls

ladynero
2008-09-21 12:11 pm UTC (link)

Number Ten Ox shouldn’t have been surprised when Moon Boy decided to forgo his comfortable bed roll for Number Ten Ox’s own, but since Number Ten Ox had been in a quiet discussion with Grief at Dawn only a few moments before, he truly hadn’t been expecting Moon Boy so quickly. Grief at Dawn simply smiled at her soul brother, kissed Number Ten Ox, and slipped over to her own bedroll, straightening her own clothes as she went. Before Number Ten Ox’s bedroll could cool from the lack of a second body, Moon Boy was there, shedding his brightly colored clothes like a serpent shedding its skin.

It was a pleasant surprise to discover Moon Boy’s skin was soft as silk with none of the usual calluses Number Ten Ox was use to from his male lovers. There had been a couple of teen his own age back in his village that Number Ten Ox had joined in innocent exploration before the plague had sent him to Master Li’s place, but Moon Boy was silk skin and strong muscles. Long slender fingers stroked Number Ten Ox, sliding over skin roughened by the sun and elements, proclaiming that no matter what else he was, Number Ten Ox was of farmer stock, handy with a plow and hoe instead of a ink brush and stone.

“Lovely strong Ox,” murmured Moon Boy, continuing his exploration of Number Ten Ox with his lips as slender fingers stroked and petted, spreading cool oil that got a startled gasp from the distracted Number Ten Ox. When Moon Boy slipped between legs strengthened by miles of plowing fields and carrying Master Li, Number Ten Ox cradled the more slender man with his body, enjoying the feel of Moon Boy playing his body as if he were one of the props used for Moon Boy’s unique performance.

Moans were muffled by soft lips on chapped ones, gasps swallowed between them, and the soft sounds of flesh sliding together was a harmonious counterpoint to the crickets’ chirps and the wind whispering through the trees. He couldn’t understand why anyone would run from Moon Boy’s attention, the feeling as if Number Ten Ox was the center of Moon Boy’s world and the most important thing there. He supposed some people couldn’t take that intensity of attention, but Number Ten Ox could find no reason not to enjoy it.

Together, they slowly climbed that Celestial Staircase before stepping off together to float back to the mortal world wrapped in each other’s arms with legs tangled together as they slipped into Slumber’s soft embrace. When he awoke in the morning alone, Number Ten Ox had the strange scent of a unique flower in his bedroll to announce that it hadn’t been a dream the night before.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: The Chronicles of Master Li and Number 10 Ox, Ox/Moon Boy, slipping into bedrolls -

copracat, 2008-09-27 07:08 pm UTC

Re: The Chronicles of Master Li and Number 10 Ox, Ox/Moon Boy, slipping into bedrolls -

ladynero, 2008-09-27 08:56 pm UTC

The Chronicles of Master Li and Number 10 Ox/Saiyuki, Moon Boy/Gojyo, a bottom like a peach

ladynero
2008-09-21 01:35 pm UTC (link)

Sorry for the slight angst in this. Couldn't be helped....

Gojya wasn’t certain where the lovely young man named “Moon Boy” had come from, but there was no denying that he was a skillful and attentive lover. The half youkai had never encountered someone so lovely and skilled that he was willing to spread his legs for. At least until Moon Boy came along. There was something about the words Moon Boy whispered in his ear, the strange floral scent Gojya could just make out under his natural scent, the whisper of petal soft fingers down Gojya’s arm that made the redhead feel like he knew this human before.

When they had fallen in bed after a bit of discussion that was actually flirting between them, Moon Boy had laughed with delight and ran his hands over Gojya’s backside.

“A bottom like a peach,” he purred before spreading those cheeks to lean in and taste Gojya. That had gotten a surprised moan as Gojya’s hips jerked at the feel of that wet muscle stretching him. There was something about that phrase and the way Moon Boy said it that made Gojya feel like he had been paid the highest of all compliments. When Moon Boy had slid into him, it had brought tears to Gojya’s ruby eyes as he stared up at the beautiful creature covering him. Moon Boy made him feel like he had returned to a forgotten home where he was accepted, faults and all, and he tried to hang on to that feeling through their joining. It was something he had been searching for since his brother had been forced to kill his step-mother to prevent Gojya’s own death.

When he woke in the morning, it was to a cold bed with the fading scent of that strange flower on the pillow, and Gojya buried his face in that scent, allowing his heartache at being abandoned by Home to fall in his tears.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: The Chronicles of Master Li and Number 10 Ox/Saiyuki, Moon Boy/Gojyo, a bottom like a peach -

copracat, 2008-09-27 07:09 pm UTC

Re: The Chronicles of Master Li and Number 10 Ox/Saiyuki, Moon Boy/Gojyo, a bottom like a peach -

ladynero, 2008-09-27 08:57 pm UTC

The Chronicles of Master Li and Number 10 Ox/Kingdom Hearts, Moon Boy/Organisation 13, "Come here, s

ladynero
2008-09-21 02:19 pm UTC (link)

Axel had wondered where the strange man had come from. He wasn’t Heartless the way those of the Organization were, but he seemed to have a piece missing from him just the same. The man, who was named “Moon Boy” which was one of the craziest names out of all the crazy names Axel had ever heard, had walked into the room where their esteemed leader had called them all together for some planning or discussion about hearts again. He had stopped, a brightly colored peacock among a flock of black ravens, looked at all of them with wide eyes, before smirking.

“Come here, sugars,” he had purred before pouncing the closest person. After that, Axel wasn’t sure of much except the sounds of panting moans, flesh striking flesh, and the feeling of unimaginable pleasure as the meeting descended into an orgy centered around Moon Boy. Everyone wanted to get closer to him, to drink down the sounds that emerged from his lips as they tasted the sweat on his skin or the even softer skin that Axel found his lips wrapped around while slender fingers stroked through his hair.

He moaned as Demyx slid into him, filling him as Moon Boy groaned above him. Even though none of them were closer to filling the emptiness in their bodies or their lives, Axel was hardly going to complain about the results of Moon Boy’s visit.

(Reply to this)

RPF (actor), Viggo/Sean Bean, using both hands

mrkinch
2008-09-21 02:31 pm UTC (link)

[set in the Rev's Cowboys universe]

It was a plain fact that when it came time to drive a few head off to be sold, one man had to stay behind and see to everything else. Sean figured they might take turns but he also figured the first turn was his. Viggo didn't say no.

The meet-up place wasn't far though Sean expected it would take some time to finish the business. At suppertime he was still dickering with the agent so he fetched his plate and cup and they kept at it as they ate, hunkered down by the chuck wagon. About halfway through the meal they stood and shook hands.

The drive would start in two days and the hands were hired and eating at the chuck wagon, too, telling jokes and stories between mouthfuls of bread and beans and coffee. Up at the shack where the agent's temporary office was a fiddle tune leaked into the twilight.

* * *

Sean stabled his horse and washed his face at the big pump before he came through the kitchen door late the following afternoon. He grinned at Viggo as he hung up his hat and Viggo appeared to think Sean's grin was bigger than could be justified but he grinned back.

"Got paid about what we figured, though I had to work for it some. Ballard did us a good turn. If that agent knew the country better he might have gotten the better of me."

"I'll have to look sharp, next year."

Sean put away the proceeds, removed his boots and washed his hands again. The lamp was lit and supper put on the table. A quiet contentment settled in with the darkness outside.

With coffee Sean turned to what had been on his mind on the way home. "Took supper with the hands last night. Learned a thing or two, all those stories and such."

"Lies mostly, I reckon."

Sean laughed but kept on. "More than the stories. A fellow there was fiddling. Been a long while since I heard tunes like that."

Viggo sat still a moment, then set down his coffee, rose and padded out of the kitchen. He soon came back, tapping a mouth organ on his palm and whuffing at it from the bottom. He looked a little sheepish but offered no excuse for the late revelation. He leaned against the door frame and blew a few notes of a song Sean half remembered then switched to something quick that made Sean want to tap his foot.

But Sean had something else to get to. "There was another kind of tune, too." He stood. "I'll show you," he said but he didn’t.

Viggo played the waltz all through although the reedy music was at odds with the graceful tune. When the tune ended he stepped into the room to set the mouth organ on the table and Sean was moving too. One hand on a shoulder, one on a back and two entwined. Sean began to hum and slowly they circled the yellow-lit kitchen.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: RPF (actor), Viggo/Sean Bean, using both hands -

helens78, 2008-09-21 02:59 pm UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Viggo/Sean Bean, using both hands -

mrkinch, 2008-09-21 03:09 pm UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Viggo/Sean Bean, using both hands -

the_reverand, 2008-09-21 05:36 pm UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Viggo/Sean Bean, using both hands -

mrkinch, 2008-09-21 11:15 pm UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Viggo/Sean Bean, using both hands -

telesilla, 2008-09-21 06:09 pm UTC

Re: RPF (actor), Viggo/Sean Bean, using both hands -

mrkinch, 2008-09-21 11:24 pm UTC

The Chronicles of Master Li and Number 10 Ox/Vagrant Story, Moon Boy/Sydney, desired

ladynero
2008-09-21 02:38 pm UTC (link)

Sitting in a corner of the ruined Cathedral, Master Li smirked as he watched Moon Boy and the Sorcerer Sydney move together in the oldest dance of mankind. The dark fall of Moon Boy’s hair contrasted with the sunshine gold of Sydney’s even as the silver arms of the sorcerer chimed with each movement, the pure notes ringing through the air in a pleasant harmony to the breathy gasps and murmured compliments. Master Li might not be ninety any longer, but that did not mean he was blind to beauty whenever it presented itself to him.

The two men, young in body but ancient in soul, were quite beautiful, sunlight and moonlight dancing together, twined limbs and skin shimmering in the firelight. Neither one was bashful or shy, not with the sly feline smile curling Sydney’s lips as he was aware of the eyes that followed him or the lustful fires that never seemed to die in Moon Boy’s bright eyes, reminding all that the rabbits that ruled that Celestial Body his name came from. Even now, Master Li was sure they could feel the eyes that burned with desire for them watching them from the shadows, especially with the way legs were spread to give unobstructed views of where their bodies joined while backs arched and heads moved aside in artistic ways.

The Sun and the Moon twined together, teasing and taunting their watchers in a display fit for the Emperor’s Court, all the more beautiful for the mortal shells they wore and in the surroundings of the ruined Cathedral where they could be worshiped properly.

Ah, to be ninety again, Master Li mentally sighed with a wistful smile on his wrinkled face as he watched the Celestial Bodies dance together.

(Reply to this)

Claymore, Helen/Deneve, too damn cold

branewurms
2008-09-21 03:17 pm UTC (link)

"C-c-cold!" Helen grumbled through chattering teeth, jerking Deneve out of a light doze. Then Helen was worming her way into Deneve's bedroll and glomming onto her like a leech. "It's too damn cold!"

Deneve sighed, long-suffering. "We don't feel cold," she said patiently. "Or had you forgotten? Go back to your own bed, there's no room to breathe here."

Helen's grip only tightened, one arm wrapped so securely beneath her breasts that Deneve found it difficult to inhale. "Screw that!" she exclaimed, voice muffled into Deneve's shoulder. "I feel it! Just because it doesn't hurt anything doesn't mean I can't get sick of it. All this white. It's like it's seeping through my skin. Soon I'll be bleeding white, you know?"

"No," said Deneve. "I don't know."

"Can't it ever warm up around here even a little?"

"Yes," said Deneve. "And then there are avelanches."

"And there's never enough food!" Helen blustered, unhearing. "I'm hungry! This isn't funny!"

"You're being childish. At least we're alive," Deneve said. And together, she did not say. "You eat too much, anyway."

Helen puffed unhappily, her breath warm and ticklish against Deneve's neck. But her tirade had ended, and the silence stretched out so long that Deneve began to wonder if the other woman had fallen asleep. Maybe, just maybe she would get some peace this night after all, she thought.

That was, until a sharp set of teeth began chewing on her ear.

"Hey," said Deneve. "I'm not food."

"So hungry," Helen mumbled indistinctly, tongue sneaking behind Deneve's earlobe. Deneve felt her own breath catch, despite her best intentions. The soft press of Helen's breasts shifted against her side as the woman wiggled impossibly closer. "So cold."

Deneve sighed again, giving into the inevitable. Turning to face the other woman, she found Helen's mouth with her own, thus saving her poor ear from the threat of cannibalism - but then Helen just started chewing on her bottom lip instead. She felt Helen's lean hands sliding up the curve of her back, bony fingertips feeling out the shape of each vertebrae.

At a particularly sharp nip, Deneve pulled back, tasting a trace of blood. "Hey," she protested. "I said I'm not food."

Helen grumbled at the chill air between them and burrowed her face back into the curve of Deneve's neck. "Well, if you can't feed me, you can at least warm me," she said, her tongue flicking out and lapping at Deneve's pulse as if to drink up the warmth it held.

Deneve's breath hitched again, and she felt a sharp twang somewhere deep in her belly. The corner of her mouth quirked with wry amusement. "Fine," she said, letting one hand smooth down over the curves of Helen's body, fingers finding their way between Helen's legs. "But next time you get to do all the work."

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Claymore, Helen/Deneve, too damn cold -

magicnoire.livejournal.com, 2008-09-21 05:36 pm UTC

Re: Claymore, Helen/Deneve, too damn cold -

branewurms, 2008-09-22 03:43 pm UTC

Re: Claymore, Helen/Deneve, too damn cold -

skadders, 2008-09-22 09:13 am UTC

Re: Claymore, Helen/Deneve, too damn cold -

branewurms, 2008-09-22 03:41 pm UTC

Black Cat, Train/Saya, regret

ladynero
2008-09-21 04:09 pm UTC (link)

“Don’t you have regrets?”

Train watched Saya as she stared out over the lights of the city, a smile on her face and dancing in her eyes. She always seemed so happy and content as if she never had a worry or regret, and that attitude made him more curious about her. They had only met a few days before but he found himself drawn to her cheerful nature, the bright smile that encouraged people to smile along with her even if they didn’t know why.

She nodded, her short hair moving with the sharp action and drawing Train’s eye again. Part of him wondered if it was as soft as it looked while the rest of him jumped on that thought, reminding him that he couldn’t be a successful Number of Chronos with thoughts like that. It would only distract him while on a job.

“Everyone has regrets, but if you let them weigh you down, then how can you enjoy life?” she replied, spreading her hands as if releasing her worries to fall away. She shook her head. “I don’t want to live a life full of regrets that constantly remind me of could haves, should haves, and would haves. That’s not a life. I prefer to live my life as if everyday might be my last, with as few regrets as possible.”

Absently nodding, Train felt his heart clench at the thought of this vibrant young woman dying, but considering her profession as a Sweeper, it was always a strong possibility. He found himself leaning towards her and told himself that he shouldn’t do this, that he couldn’t, but her lips were soft against his. She made a sound that was less ‘stop’ and more ‘continue, and Train reached up to bury his hands in her hair. He discovered to his delight that her hair was indeed as soft as it looked, and he whimpered as his desire flared hot and bright.

Her laughter floated above them as he pressed her down onto the roof, his long coat providing some protection and padding, before she showed him how to open her strange kimono. His golden eyes ran over her bared body, drinking in the sight of her stretched out before him as he tugged off his own clothes. Hades was laid on his shirt with respect for the weapon even as her gun joined the unique gun before his full attention was turned to her. His hands roamed across her soft skin as he bent to kiss her, and her hands callused from using a gun swept across his skin, catching just enough to remind him that she was a fighter in her own right.

Panting whispers brushed across his ears, encouraging him to touch, to taste, to indulge in his senses as slender legs wrapped around his hips, guiding him into tight, wet heat that gripped him with an almost frightening intensity. He shivered as she lightly scratched her nails down his back before she taught him how to move, their bodies rocking together as he felt his pleasure grow slightly with each thrust into her pliant and willing body. He growled against her throat, his teeth seeking out the soft skin there, and she laughed, light and breathless as he raised a dark bruise that left a sense of satisfaction in him. It was as if he were marking her for all to know she was claimed.

All too soon, they were tensing and shuddering against each other before collapsing in a sweaty, gasping tangle of limbs. This time when Saya’s laugh danced across the air, Train’s joined it in a breathy and satisfied manner. Once they had caught their breath, she leaned up and whispered in his ear, getting another of those breathy laughs Train was still trying out before he moved to cover her again.

Neither one noticed the pair of jealous eyes glaring at them a few buildings away.

(Reply to this)

	Loveless, Seimei/Ritsuka, somnophilia nanthimus 2008-09-21 04:10 pm UTC (link)
	Fanart, and probably not entirely safe for work, which is why I didn't post in directly in the comment. :) here. (Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Loveless, Seimei/Ritsuka, somnophilia -

ificouldfly, 2008-09-21 06:50 pm UTC

The Dark Knight, Bruce Wayne/Harvey Dent, recovery

the_reverand
2008-09-21 05:06 pm UTC (link)

The first of four stories that are, um, one story.

At first Harvey won’t speak. On the occasion that he’s awake he only cries from one eye and stares with the other, out the window, at the door, the ceiling. Never the mirror.

He doesn’t speak until Bruce visits and that’s only to shout invective at the man until the well-paid and very discreet nurses come in along with the big men in white coats and even when he’s so doped up a wet stain of drool forms on his pillow, the one eye, that familiar villain glare, fixes Bruce with blame.

Bruce stays away until he can’t and he finds a different Harvey altogether. Docile with the nurses, pleasant to staff, joking a little about the predicament he’s in, remarking on the fragility of the political mind. Joking.

He speaks to Bruce like they are old friends and Bruce needs it so much, aches for forgiveness, needs it to be okay, that when Harvey touches his face he leans in gratefully for a kiss.

On his next visit he locks the door on a not-so-whim and after the kissing Harvey’s hand traces Bruce’s cock through slacks and Bruce pushes aside hospital gown to take Harvey into his mouth. It feels like amnesty, like absolution, the white behind his eyes when he comes and when Harvey comes for him and when Harvey kisses him with patience and understanding. And every week he comes back for this, sometimes more often when the need is too great. Not for release, for repentance.

And then Harvey is gone.

There’s a little blood on the sheets but not enough, and a note on construction paper, written in crayon that says, “Get your own, Wayne. This Pinocchio’s mine.”

He’s shaking when he washes his hands, his face, in the sink in the bathroom in the room in the asylum which he thinks should probably be his room and his sink, and in the mirror when it fogs from the steam is the word, “killer,” and he isn’t sure that he’s not the one who put it there.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: The Dark Knight, Bruce Wayne/Harvey Dent, recovery -

helens78, 2008-09-21 06:55 pm UTC

Re: The Dark Knight, Bruce Wayne/Harvey Dent, recovery - (Anonymous), 2008-09-22 02:08 am UTC

The Dark Knight, The Joker/Rachel Dawes, after the fire

the_reverand
2008-09-21 05:11 pm UTC (link)

Second of four stories

When Joker escapes it’s like he was never locked up and he might as well be frolicking through a meadow of flowers for all he seems to care about cops or even Batman. He enjoys seeing the city turn its back on the Batman. It’s a little weight off his shoulders but it will make it less satisfying when he clips the bat’s wings.

He all but skips into the Narrows and meets with the man he’s paid an awful lot for this, a man he can trust to be bought if nothing else. But there’s less satisfaction in killing him than there is in seeing what he’s been keeping.

She lies on a plain bed in a plain room with too-bright lights reflecting off of once-white sheets now discolored with filth and blood. She hadn’t been awake when he saw her last. He didn’t know what her mind was like, so it’s such a pleasure, such a great pleasure when she looks up at him without recognition or fear or distrust and asks him for help. Please. He touches the bandaging on her head and warm tears slip from her eyes when she closes them. He removes old bandages and inspects the burns, the barely there fuzz where what little hair could still grow makes the effort.

“I’ve got you, pumpkin,” he says. She seems grateful.

He bathes her, gives her a rubber ducky, and when she’s relaxed he slips his hand into the water and fondles her clit until her head rolls and she grips the sides of the bath and says simply, “oh”. When she opens her eyes it is with trust and lust and, he thinks, admiration, though it’s not something he’s likely to recognize. And then a strange thing happens.

She laughs at him.

And laughs.

And when she cries beneath it all he begins to laugh back.

He buys her clothes from a costume shop, a suit with a full cowl and head piece to keep her from being so self conscious or to keep the world from seeing the beauty he’s made, he’s not sure. He calls her Harley and she giggles, strutting, showing off her body in the black and red lycra. She giggles again, spinning to look at him and says “hah!”, and to his great delight she begins to dance about and as suddenly and easily as walking she is backflipping from one end of the room to the other while he claps for her, rises from his chair and embraces her from behind while she breathes frantically, giddily, turns to him, face in his neck and laughs. And laughs.

He holds her by the waist and the base of her skull, the bells on her costume tinkling in time to her high, desperate laugh, hot and wet and beautiful against his neck, and says simply, “Oh.”

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: The Dark Knight, The Joker/Rachel Dawes, after the fire -

helens78, 2008-09-21 06:57 pm UTC

Re: The Dark Knight, The Joker/Rachel Dawes, after the fire -

the_reverand, 2008-09-21 08:41 pm UTC

Re: The Dark Knight, The Joker/Rachel Dawes, after the fire - (Anonymous), 2008-09-22 02:15 am UTC

The Dark Knight, Joker/Harvey, laughter is the best medicine

the_reverand
2008-09-21 05:16 pm UTC (link)

Part three of four stories that are one. Part four is also in comment to this because I am a goober.

“I have something for you,” he says to Harvey when he steps through the door of Harvey’s hospital room dressed as a doctor, a shapely nurse by his side that Harvey doesn’t recognize nor pay much mind to. A shame, the Joker thinks. Can’t see the forest for the incinerated trees.

He’d left the nurse’s costume up to her this time. She wears it better. Only a little. She’s taken to villainy as wholeheartedly as she did the law. She excels at it. She lives for him.

Harvey still isn’t talking, only staring, even when Joker slaps his face, the clean half, happy to redden the perfect cheek and honestly a little disgusted by the other.

“You’re not paying attention, Mr. Dent,” Joker says, pulling Harley by the arm an into Harvey’s unwavering line of sight. “I’ve come to pay the Piper, so start blowing.”

She’s wearing a wig and some makeup to cover what facial scarring has yet to heal. It’s a good look for her. He only had to slit one throat on the way into the heavily-guarded hospital. But it struck a different picture than Harvey had in his album of memories of her and took a little time for his eyes to shift, focus.

Waiting, arm in Joker’s grip she seems unsure and Joker feels her shake. This isn’t like his Harley, this fear. He wonders if it’s the face, or the memory, or if this was a mistake. “Pumpkin,” he says to her, “what did I tell you about being nice to Uncle Harvey?”

Eyes on Joker now she smiles, laughs suddenly, and unbuttons the front of her dress.

“Good girl,” Joker says. He crawls onto Harvey’s bed and pulls her with him, positions her in front of him to straddle Harvey’s waist. He moves behind her, sound of a zipper. Harvey still only stares, wide-eyed and disbelieving and the first words he says, broken and quiet are, “look at me”, but she doesn’t and she won’t and after a while she closes her eyes.

“You can’t have her, Harvey, not yet,” Joker says, “we’ll save that for your comeback party. But for now we’ll pretend and you can touch if you want,” he takes Harvey’s hand and places it on her breast, looking down over her shoulder, both at the contact and at Harvey’s wild expression. The plan was to fuck her on top of him but plans are like personalities, ever changing, and when his pants are off he puts her hand over Harvey’s mouth and tells her not to let the noise out, and he sinks himself onto Harvey’s erection, takes in the muffled cry with more than a little satisfaction.

If Harvey’s never fucked a man his cock doesn’t know the difference and anyway Joker’s knows a trick or two. His own moves against her smooth back and he wonders if he could get her up onto it but it seems like too much trouble because he’s going to come any second anyway, he’s sure of it. He feels her tremble against him, reaches to her cunt but she’s already helping herself. On her breast he finds Harvey’s hand where he placed it, and he fondles breast through hand. She’s laughing and he can feel her tears as they land on his fingers and when he cups his palm to catch them he comes, and Harvey after. Harvey’s been chanting “look at me” and Joker only now pays it any mind, leans forward, smiles down over her shoulder.

“She can’t see you, Phantom,” he says. “You’re not here.”

They visit him once more. Harvey stabs him with a pen before she can sedate him, but Joker only considers it Harvey’s funny idea of a greeting. After all, they were in this together now. The three of them.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

The Dark Knight, Batman/Joker, two sides to every story -

the_reverand, 2008-09-21 05:21 pm UTC

Re: The Dark Knight, Batman/Joker, two sides to every story -

mrkinch, 2008-09-21 05:55 pm UTC

Re: The Dark Knight, Batman/Joker, two sides to every story -

the_reverand, 2008-09-21 08:43 pm UTC

Re: The Dark Knight, Batman/Joker, two sides to every story -

helens78, 2008-09-21 07:01 pm UTC

Re: The Dark Knight, Batman/Joker, two sides to every story -

the_reverand, 2008-09-21 08:44 pm UTC

Re: The Dark Knight, Batman/Joker, two sides to every story - (Anonymous), 2008-09-22 02:26 am UTC

Re: The Dark Knight, Batman/Joker, two sides to every story -

the_reverand, 2008-09-22 04:50 pm UTC

	Bakuman, Moritaka/Takagi, it doesn't count if it's with a guy myrafur 2008-09-21 05:43 pm UTC (link)
	Note: Goddamn, I love whoever prompted for this. click it; it gets bigger ;) (Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Bakuman, Moritaka/Takagi, it doesn't count if it's with a guy -

glossing, 2008-09-21 05:48 pm UTC

Re: Bakuman, Moritaka/Takagi, it doesn't count if it's with a guy -

myrafur, 2008-09-21 05:50 pm UTC

Re: Bakuman, Moritaka/Takagi, it doesn't count if it's with a guy -

kyuuketsukirui, 2008-09-21 09:38 pm UTC

Re: Bakuman, Moritaka/Takagi, it doesn't count if it's with a guy -

myrafur, 2008-09-22 07:51 am UTC

Re: Bakuman, Moritaka/Takagi, it doesn't count if it's with a guy -

daniela_lynx, 2008-09-22 03:23 am UTC

Re: Bakuman, Moritaka/Takagi, it doesn't count if it's with a guy -

myrafur, 2008-09-23 06:45 am UTC

Re: Bakuman, Moritaka/Takagi, it doesn't count if it's with a guy -

mllesatine, 2008-09-22 03:29 pm UTC

Re: Bakuman, Moritaka/Takagi, it doesn't count if it's with a guy -

myrafur, 2008-09-23 06:47 am UTC

Re: Bakuman, Moritaka/Takagi, it doesn't count if it's with a guy - (Anonymous), 2009-05-10 07:23 pm UTC

Trinity Blood, Seth/Astha, yes, my empress

ladynero
2008-09-21 05:59 pm UTC (link)

Shota warning!!!!

Astha smiled at the child-woman that was sprawled on the bed in the Embassy and found it strange that she had been trusted with the true face of the Empress Augusta Vradica, the Eternal Mother of the Empire. It still seemed odd that this girl-woman that looked no more than thirteen human years old was actually over nine hundred and that her brother was Father Abel Nightroad. A quick glance at the clock showed that the Empress needed to get up and moving if they were to make their dinner date with the good Father.

“Seth, time to wake up,” Astha called, moving over to the bed to gently shake the small shoulders. That got a grumbling pout as Seth Nightlord, the Empress of the Methuselah, snuggled farther into her covers despite the heat that had descended on Rome. Shaking her head, she lightly tugged on the blankets. “Father Nightroad is meeting us for dinner.”

“Don’t wanna and you can’t make me,” grumbled Seth, causing Astha to chuckle. A bleary green eye popped open to glare at her before a smirk stretched across her young face. “Why Duchess, are you trying to seduce me?”

That got a confused look before Astha glanced down to find that her robe had slipped open, revealing that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath the silk. A soft blush spread across her cheeks as she moved to close the robe only to halt when strong fingers wrapped around her wrists. She looked down to find Seth kneeling before her on the bed, a curious expression on her face as her eyes roamed over Astha’s body. “You are quite lovely, Astharoche Asran.”

“Thank you, my Empress,” murmured Astha, her blush heating even as she looked at the ceiling to keep from staring at the small girl-woman. The thin nightgown that Seth wore did nothing to conceal the child’s body that was barely blooming into a woman’s. Astha gasped in surprise when a small hand reached out to cup her breast, fingers sliding over a nipple that tightened in response, and she whimpered softly as lust flashed through her. She shouldn’t feel these things, not for a child, but her logical mind argued that not only was this the Empress but that she was much older than Astha herself.

“No one has touched me since Abel,” confessed Seth, and that get’s Astha’s attention as her eyes snap down to stare at the kneeling girl. “Back during Armageddon. That is the downside to this body. Everyone sees a child instead of a woman.” Green eyes looked up into Astha’s ruby gaze. “What do you see, Astharoche Asran?”

“A painfully lonely young woman,” confessed Astha, her words soft as she realized she could be describing either of them. Slowly, she reaches down and cups Seth’s face in her hands, daring greatly. Instead of being reprimanded, Seth turns her face and brushes a kiss across Astha’s palm, emerald eyes watching and hopeful, making the Duchess of Kiev realize just how lonely the Empress truly was. Forced to hide behind masks and voice synthesizers with only a select few knowing who she truly was.

“Will you touch me?” Seth asked, her voice soft, inviting instead of commanding, and Astha let a smile cross her lips.

“Yes, my Empress,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss soft lips. Hopefully Father Nightroad would understand their lateness.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Trinity Blood, Seth/Astha, yes, my empress -

branewurms, 2008-09-22 04:53 pm UTC

Re: Trinity Blood, Seth/Astha, yes, my empress -

ladynero, 2008-09-24 10:44 am UTC

Re: Trinity Blood, Seth/Astha, yes, my empress -

branchandroot, 2008-09-23 01:28 pm UTC

Re: Trinity Blood, Seth/Astha, yes, my empress -

ladynero, 2008-09-24 10:43 am UTC

Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Cloud, I'll make you a deal 1/2

ladynero
2008-09-21 06:56 pm UTC (link)

“I’ll make you a deal.”

Cloud blearily glared up at the smug face of Rufus Shinra before snorting and returning to his bottle. All he wanted to do was sit in the ruined Shinra Tower and forget his most recent battle with Sephiroth by way of a crate of strong alcohol. “You don’t have anything I want.”

There was a rustling of cloth before something was dropped next to Cloud on the blanket in a clink of metal. Curious, Cloud glanced over before freezing at the sight of the leather and mithryl collar laying there. Tears prickled in his eyes as he stared at the item that stated he had once belonged to the most powerful man on Gaia, that he had been wanted enough to claim even as subtle as this collar.

“It’s amazing what you can find in old records and forgotten inventory,” remarked Rufus, his voice casual but with a triumphant note to it, and Cloud reached out to wrap his fingers around the collar. “Sephiroth left a great deal of useless items behind when he went to Nibelheim.”

Unable to help it, Cloud flinched at that little dig because he had been left behind when Sephiroth had turned to Jenova, but he wasn’t useless. He hadn’t been since he arrived at Midgar and Zack introduced him to Sephiroth, knowing that Cloud could give the Silver General what Zack himself couldn’t. Only those two had known that Cloud had been eleven instead of fourteen when he enlisted. He held the collar in his hands as he stared at it while Rufus continued talking.

“It’s a simple arrangement, Cloud. You become my pet, and I will treat you like Sephiroth and Zack did while keeping your secret,” purred Rufus, his voice thick with lust, and Cloud could feel those ice blue eyes traveling over his body as if he were actually touching Cloud.

Laughter spilled out of Cloud as he rose to his feet, harsh and mocking. He raised the collar to his neck, fastening it with practiced eased as he heard Sephiroth whispering in his ear, claiming him and stating only Cloud could remove the collar and return it when the boy grew tired of being a pet. With the last lock clicking into place, a disturbingly loud sound in the silent ruins, Cloud felt something settle within him, a rightness that had been returned to his life. He straightened and turned to face Rufus, his whole manner changed from the melancholy man that Rufus was familiar with after Meteor to the proud warrior that had been trained by the best of Shinra’s Military.

“You are forgetting your place, Rufus Shinra,” purred Cloud, the words familiar but strange on his lips as he stalked towards the other blond who had suddenly paled. A small smirk curled the corner of Cloud’s mouth as he stalked towards Rufus, forcing the other man to back up into a wall. Rufus swallowed hard even as his eyes grew wide when his back hit the wall, and Cloud glanced behind Rufus when he caught sight of glimmering green. There was a cracked mirror partially hidden behind the crumbled wall that reflected materia green eyes with slitted pupils instead of mako blue.

There was a slight movement from Rufus, and Cloud’s eyes snapped back to him as the blond SOLDIER leaned his arms against the wall, trapping Rufus between the wall and his body. “Something wrong, Rufus? You’re acting like you don’t want my company anymore. What happened to wanting your own pet SOLDIER?”

Rufus opened his mouth to speak when Cloud shoved his leg between Rufus’, and his smirk grew at the feel of heated flesh pressed against his thigh. “Are you enjoying this, Rufus? The fact that you’re helpless if I should decide to bend you over right here and treat you as you wanted to treat me. Like a toy, a dildo with legs and a ready hole or two. After all, I’m sure that’s how you imagined what I was to Sephiroth.”

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Cloud, I'll make you a deal 2/2 -

ladynero, 2008-09-21 06:56 pm UTC

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Cloud, I'll make you a deal 2/2 -

mitsuhachi, 2008-09-21 07:29 pm UTC

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Cloud, I'll make you a deal 2/2 -

ladynero, 2008-09-21 07:53 pm UTC

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Cloud, I'll make you a deal 2/2 -

mitsuhachi, 2008-09-21 07:57 pm UTC

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Cloud, I'll make you a deal 2/2 -

wei_jiangling, 2008-09-21 09:21 pm UTC

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Cloud, I'll make you a deal 2/2 -

aikonamika, 2008-09-22 12:47 pm UTC

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Cloud, I'll make you a deal 2/2 -

ladynero, 2008-09-22 09:00 pm UTC

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Cloud, I'll make you a deal 1/2 -

shimyaku, 2008-09-21 09:41 pm UTC

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Cloud, I'll make you a deal 1/2 -

ladynero, 2008-09-26 09:56 pm UTC

Re: Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Cloud, I'll make you a deal 1/2 -

shimyaku, 2008-09-26 10:14 pm UTC

(1/2) Coming Out, Live Free or Die Hard, John/Matt, shy

nanthimus
2008-09-21 08:19 pm UTC (link)

John was an awesome kisser. Pushed up against the couch’s arm, Matt did his best to keep from swooning like a teenage girl as John pressed close, hands gripping Matt’s hips as he ate at his mouth.

Matt didn’t quite know how they’d gotten in this position. One moment, they were sitting on the couch, watching a football game - well, John was watching; Matt was texting everyone he could think of to keep from dying of boredom - and the next, John was crowding Matt up against the arm of the couch, shoving his tongue in his mouth.

The harsh whisper of a zipper had Matt turning, cheeks reddening. John mouthed Matt’s chin as he pulled himself out, stroking roughly.

“H-hey,” Matt stuttered, taking in the size of John’s cock - holy shit - before looking up, a helpless grin on his face. “Man, I, uh, didn’t quite prepare for this.”

John pulled back, the lustful haze over his eyes lifting as confusion and mild irritation set in. “What’s to prepare for? You jerk me, I jerk you, easy.”

“Y-yeah.” Matt was pretty sure his face was glowing and he couldn’t stop fucking stuttering. “It’s just that, you know, I-I kind of like some warning. I mean, I haven’t used any kind of skin moisturizer or anything and hey, you’re missing the game-”

“Fuck the game,” John said, “and where the hell would you get calluses from?” He stared at Matt for a moment before his eyes changed; they didn’t soften, Matt wasn’t sure that was possible, but something in them shifted. “You a virgin, kid?”

“What?! No way!” Matt had had plenty - well, several - girlfriends in high school and college. “I seriously can’t believe you just asked me that, man.”

John rolled his eyes. “Sorry for offending your masculine pride,” he said. “What I meant was have you been with any guys?”

Matt was sure the gay porn he’d snuck peaks at didn’t count. “Well, not exactly.” John laughed and Matt winced. “Yeah, laughing is definitely helpful. Let’s go with that.”

“Calm down,” John said, still smiling. “So you’re a little shy, big fucking deal. What will make you feel better?” He gestured down at his swollen dick. “Because this isn’t going away. You want me to close my eyes?”

“Yeah, make fun,” Matt said, definitely not pouting now. “That’s…actually, that’s kind of a good idea.”

John frowned. “What? Are you serious?” He snorted. “Sure, fine, whatever.” He sat back, resting over Matt’s thighs and closed his eyes. “Good enough?”

“No.” Matt stretched out and grabbed a piece of cloth he‘d been meaning to throw away but never got around to. “You’re a peaker, I know. Tie this around your eyes.”

“Ha! You’re serious? That’s kind of kinky, kid. ” John took hold of it and smirked, doing that eyebrow thing that always got Matt hot, before tying it around his head. “Okay, ready.”

(Reply to this) (Thread)

(2/2) Coming Out, Live Free or Die Hard, John/Matt, shy -

nanthimus, 2008-09-21 08:23 pm UTC

Re: (2/2) Coming Out, Live Free or Die Hard, John/Matt, shy -

vzg, 2008-09-21 09:34 pm UTC

Re: (2/2) Coming Out, Live Free or Die Hard, John/Matt, shy -

nanthimus, 2008-09-21 10:01 pm UTC

Re: (2/2) Coming Out, Live Free or Die Hard, John/Matt, shy - (Anonymous), 2008-09-22 01:45 am UTC

Re: (2/2) Coming Out, Live Free or Die Hard, John/Matt, shy -

nanthimus, 2008-10-01 09:03 am UTC

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