stock: typewriter

Porn Me…erm…Prompt Me *closed*

So I stumbled across comment_fic and thought, ‘that could be fun’ and decided that I’d opening myself up to some bit sized bits of porn. Why, you ask? Because it’s been months since my muse has had the opportunity to play with the sweaty and she’s itching to write some.

So this is how it works. Give me a pairing, preferably a crossover, and a prompt and I will write as much or as little as I want, but it can’t be any longer then the comment section allows to be posted. I have the right to refuse any pairing so bear in mind the fandoms I like to write in. (I do admit that Damon on the Vampire Diaries has snagged by interest so you’re welcome us him in your prompts.)

Example: Buffy/Castiel; blue firmament
Title :: Ditto
Pairing :: Buffy/Damon
Prompt :: Blood

He plays her like a puppet, a cold hand between her thighs and soft innuendos in her ear.

Buffy welcomes it, welcomes him by spreading her legs wider and releasing that gasping moan that’s been tickling the back of her throat for a better part of a minute. Sharp teeth scrape her skin and she withers, back arching and the arm across her chest pins her to him.

Holds her immobile as his teeth pierce the tender skin of her throat and spills her blood as the hand between her thighs pivots and she screams. All coy pretenses gone as he’s suddenly gone from her back and kneeling between those spread thighs, a wicked smile curving the thin line of his mouth and just like that his mouth is pressed to her inner thigh, teeth already slicing through her skin and spilling more of her blood.

Buffy’s head lulls back a moment and she shudders as the sucking motion of his mouth pulls at deeper parts of her and she murmurs, voice languid, “Damon, are you planning to fuck me or kill me?”

His mouth sucks harder and it hiccups her breath before he pulls back and flattens his tongue against the wound and then her sex. Her hands fist, balling the sheets beneath her as Damon’s tongue explores her body, moving upward every few indelicate tastes until his face is hovering over hers and his gaze is searching her face before he states, “Maybe, both?”

A matching smirk lifts the corner of Buffy’s mouth before she agrees, “Ditto.”
Title :: I Get Off
Pairing :: Oliver/Buffy/Clark

It was odd, and not so odd, to watch them together.

To watch the play of their muscles, the straining in the wide set of their shoulders and the tension in their jaws as their mouths met, fused and that scene, that moment in time, always managed to catch Buffy’s breath. Force her hold it as she watched the first kiss between those two men, the two men in her life that had managed to replace all that she’d lost and still hold her when she yearned for more.

Green eyes narrowed when she noticed Oliver staring at her, his mouth curved in the most wicked way, instead of fused with Clark’s and she pouted even as he crawled his way forward. A sigh pressed her breasts forward, strained them against the soft, too soft, materiel of her bra and there were those shoulders again. She tracked his movements as he made his way across the wide expanse of the bed and caught her ankles, yanked her away from the mound of pillows she was leaning against and down the satin duvet.

He pulled her down and around him until her cotton-covered sex was pressed tight against his erection and he bent, hunching his shoulders so that his nose bumped hers as he asked, “Not feeling left out? Are you?”

A point chin rose, neck arching as she pressed her lips closer to Oliver’s and replied, “No and you know better.” She pushed up slightly, so that her lips rested against his as she added, “Besides you get off on me getting off on you.”

The arms caging her upper body stiffened and Clark was suddenly beside them, his hands between them, thumb pressed to her clit, his other hand wrapped around Oliver’s shaft and just as suddenly he appeared he was on. It was their third’s very effect, very quick way of shutting them up because Clark was a lot like a vibrator, but so much better since his batteries never died.

Oliver’s forehead pressed tight against her own and he gasped, voice strangled, “Jesus, Clark,” and their heated pants mingled. Sweat beading across their chests and Buffy withered beneath Oliver, who sought out her mouth, pressed his own tight against hers so that they captured each others moans and gasps. Swallowed them down until her mouth was filled with Oliver’s tongue and all the dirty, wrong, glorious sounds he could make.

Clark’s hand shifted, his thumb replaced by his palm and something close to sonic movement that had her reaching out, nails catching against Clark’s forearm and scoring him. Magic worked on Clark, could hurt him and while Buffy was a lot of things, magic was the most prevalent. The welts rose and the vibrations of his hand intensified with the slight pain—their boy did have a thing for it—and drove Buffy over that pristine edge.

She shattered, heat engulfing her body and her back arched. She broke from her kiss with Oliver to draw in deeper, harsher breaths and he used the freedom to rain kisses along her neck and chest as the world fell away and she collapsed against the bed. Not a moment later a sticky warmth spread her stomach and Oliver collapsed on top of her and she welcomed the heavy weight of him pushing her into the mattress.

A sated smile graced her mouth as her arms slowly rose to trace idle patterns across the sweat slick skin of Oliver’s back and she turned her head, smiled wider when Oliver placed a gentle kiss against the now exposed skin of her throat and looked to Clark. A brow quirking at his too pleased with himself expression before she stated, “I’m keeping you in my nightstand from now on.”

Oliver’s chuckle warmed deeper parts of her as he lifted his head and turned to Clark. “I second that since she lives with me.”

Clark’s oh so masculine laughter helped to chase away the pair’s, his pair’s exhaustion and they moved in unison to tackle the strongest among them.

Edited at 2009-11-29 09:40 pm (UTC)
*thud* I think I might be a little dead from the hotness of that.

*le sigh* What a wonderful, hot response to my prompt. :D You are the bestest. *snuggles*
How about a Vampire Diaries/BTVS cross?

Maybe Damon/Dawn?

Prompt would be. . .Surprise?

Damon/Dawn; Surprise ;D
Title :: Doe-eyes
Pairing :: Dawn/Damon
Prompt :: Surprise

She was pretty, all legs and glossed lips, the doe-eyes he could have done without, but what she was currently doing with that glossed mouth more then made up for them and was possibly saving her life. Damon’s hand tightened in the loose waves of her hair, held her immobile a moment as his hips thrust forward and a smirk twisted the corners of his mouth as he felt her throat constrict as she gagged.

He pulled out and her head back, lifting her with his tight grip and those wide eyes widened further as he shoved her back against the alley wall. His mouth found hers, tasting himself on her tongue as she returned the kiss eagerly, if a little sloppy, and she jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and forcing him to cup the smooth curve of her ass.

The rough texture of her jeans added a heightened sensation to his erection and her heartbeat increased with this new angle and Damon’s mouth left hers. Trailed kisses across her cheek and down her jaw to nuzzle the soft skin of her neck as the tempo increased until he could feel it pulsing against his mouth. Her hands fumbled with the buckle of his belt as his mouth opened and his teeth lacerated her throat.

She jerked, hands leaving his belt to shove at his shoulders and she began to murmur something about her sister and Slayers—like those were real—as he gorged himself on her blood. A knee worked its way down and between his legs, kneeing his exposed erection and Damon stumbled back, cursing and tucking his wounded pride back into his pants. “You little bitch!”

A shaking hand lifted a cross and she muttered, “Screw you, you bloodsucking asshole.”

“Isn’t that what you were trying to do?” His brow quirked and he took a painful step forward before stating, “And a cross? Really?” He knocked her hand away and caught her chin and the back of her neck effortless as those doe-eyes stared up at him shocked and frightened as he stated, “someone’s been reading too many fairytales,” and snapped her neck.
Title :: Frenemies
Pairing :: Buffy/Dean
Prompt :: Shower

They rolled, wrapping paper crinkling beneath their intertwined bodies as their mouths met and Buffy came to rest above him. Stubble abraded her cheeks and chin as Dean’s hand spanned her hip and inched upward, cupping her ass as he ate at her mouth. She hummed her approval and her legs spread, thighs falling to cup his sides as his chin dipped, teeth sinking into her lower lip and tugging as his free hand moved to cradle the back of her head.

Her tongue flicked out, tapping his teeth and making him laugh as he eased back, letting Buffy curl into his neck, raining random kisses over the quickly rising welts she’d inflicted. Her breath tickled his throat as she whispered, “I’m sorry,” and kissed another mark.

His voice rumbled, calm and nearly sedated as he stated, “S’okay. Scars of passion.”

Her head lifted, brows rising as she snarked, “That’s so lame.”

A snort shook his chest and Buffy. “I’d be more coherent had you not just fucked my brains out.”


“It’s cool, Summers, but I hafta say that jealousy makes you a wildcat in the sack.”

She rose, baring her breasts to his considering gaze as she glared down at him. “Jealousy?”

“You just fucked me the remnants of your little sister’s bridal shower.”

“Huh,” her head cocked, eyes narrowing, but his smirk of triumph quickly faded as she continued with, “You know what remnant means?”

His hands rose, cupping her under her arms and lifting her effortless into the air as he spun and pinned her beneath him, shutting her up the best way he knew how—with his mouth covering hers and his hand between her legs.
HEHEHE. Not the type of shower I had in mind, but this is awesome, lol. Jealously and snarkiness and porn, best combination ever :D

I am having a hard time working this into the T4-verse, what with John being married with a kid on the way and all, but would you be alright with just Buffy/John in the movie verse? I'll keep Christian Bale as inspiration, but this way would allow me to skip the angst of off'ing his wife.
Title :: Fuck Remorse
Word Count :: 495

A small hand catches his shoulder, shoves him back onto the flattened bedroll, that was barely any protection from the warm concrete at his back, as she snagged his boot, making quick work of the laces before tugging it off and turning on the other. He didn’t even bother to mutter a greeting—not anymore—instead he fumbles with his belt only to have her hands descend over his, shove them out of their way to free him of it.

His hips jerk up and off the floor as she yanks the bit of leather free and tosses it over her shoulder to clatter against the ground. He sits up, grabbing either of her wrists and yanks her down, knees cracking against the ground as she straddles his thighs and clamps her mouth over his. Blunt nails scrape the back of his head, teeth tugging at his lower lip before he pulls back enough to ask, “How many?”

Green eyes blink at him and he imagines, for a moment, there’s remorse in their depths before they close and she grabs his jaw and jerks his head to the side, teeth biting a hot path down his neck as she breathes against his skin, “Thirteen.”

His eyes close, face contorting in a grimace as he realizes they’d lost over half the men they’d sent out with Summers to safeguard the nuclear facility they obtained from the metal. Her fingers work beneath his shirt, nails scraping his sides as she tugs it up and over his head before repeating the motion on herself and snapping, “Don’t fret, boss, we still have our foothold.”

His head snaps towards her, eyes narrowing as he growls, “Is that all you think I care about?”

“Isn’t it?” Green eyes search his a moment before they widen and her next kiss is softer, sweeter, but no less desperate as she shimmies out of her fatigues and is in his lap covered in nothing more then cotton and dust.

Callused fingers thread through her hair and yanks her back, separating them and giving him, them a moment to think, to ask, “Why are you here?” A brow quirks and she sends a quick glance towards the bulge in his fatigues and the hand in her hair tightens as he repeats, “Why are you here?”

Her lashes dip, shadowing her eyes from him and her hand settles over his growing erection, squeezes it before her chin rises. Green eyes locking with his as she explains, “Because when I’m with you,” her hand leaves him and he just bites back a groan and suddenly that hand is down the front of pants, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth with his lack of underwear as her skin settles over his, “When I’m with you this isn’t hell,” she gives a sharp twist of her wrist that has him thrusting up into that waiting hand, “So fuck me, Connor, and shut up about it.”
Oooh, Ava-smutlets! Awesome.

I'd love either:
Buffy/Derek Reese: Sweet Revenge
Buffy/Cam Mitchell: Shadows
Not porn, but still fic'age. :)
Title :: Fire and Ash
Word Count :: 485

The Summers he knew had enough scars and tattoos to rival his own and could be a one woman army when given the right incentive. The Summers he knew didn’t welcome him with sweet smiles and humming whispers that did more to his libido then he’d like to admit. No, the Summers he knew barked orders and took on metal with a hand grenade and a crazed ass smile that had always twisted something sharp in his gut.

The Summers he knew certainly wouldn’t be weaving him drunkenly through a packed club and into the vacant hallway before climbing herself halfway inside his skin. Strong hands held him against a questionable wall as her hot mouth nipped at his stubble-covered jaw and he tried to place this date with the memories he had of her. Green eyes opened, his mouth turning down with a grimace as he remembered the why May nineteenth was so damn important. It was the one day a year Summers went past brave and into bat-shit crazy territory when taking on the metal.

It was on one of the nineteenths of May that he’d seen her use a flamethrower against a T-101 and laugh her fucking ass off when it actually went down under the onslaught of fire and smoke. He’d then watched, stunned, as she used an axe to take its head, smiling the whole while, before telling him that one was for an angel. The Summers he knew was fucking insane.

The Summers currently in his arms wasn’t, at least not yet, and she was also jerking his face down and claiming his mouth in one smooth movement. This Summers didn’t taste like ash. No, she tasted like fruity drinks and desperation and so much pain it twisted his gut in an entirely different way. The woman in his arms, with her tongue down his throat, wasn’t Summers, she was Buffy, she was someone he’d never met and yet here he was with his hands gliding up the back of her shirt like she was his Summers and no one else’s.

She pulled back, gaze searching his a moment before she demanded, “Come home with me.”

The Summers he knew wouldn’t have had to state that. She would have just known they were destined for each other’s bedroll. Derek found himself nodding and receiving a smile that tugged an answering one across his own mouth. The Summers he knew wasn’t born yet. She’d rise out the ashes of the woman sinking back into his arms and placing a gentle kiss on his chest, directly above his heart. This woman laughed, she lived and she cherished and she’d die.

She’d die and be replaced by something infinitely colder then the metal and nearly as destructive. She’d be someone, something else and Derek leaned over her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head and wished the other Summers dead.
I know, this is gonna be SUCH! a shocker *lol* ;)

Buffy/Dean - Wrong Window

(hope you 'get' that prompt ;))
*grin* that's ok, it's a bit confusing when only mentioned like that. But ok, imagine this. Dean or Buffy is supposed to sneak into one window during the night but accidentally goes in another perhaps stumbling over or into the bed of the person inside. (ever seen Back to the Future 2? ;))
Also... if I may...

Buffy/Dean - eggnog

'tis the season after all ;) (ignore if I am not allowed two *sammy-look*)
I has no clue where this came from...
Title :: Transcends
Pairing :: Dawn/Castiel

I remember a time when she was everlasting, when the world and I were young and her touch lasted eons. When she graced the heavens and shined upon my father’s creations, more brilliant then a mere star and brighter then my brethren. She transcended the physical and was eternal and now…

Now she is human. Human frail and human imperfect and still she preservers. Still she shines and I am drawn to her just as before. Drawn by the touch of her skin and the scent of her hair. The salt of her tears and the swell of her hips.

She is still beauty.

She is still everlasting and I am humbled.
Re: I has no clue where this came from...
I love you.

I just threw that pairing out there.

And you landed it and made me want more.