blue_eyed_1987 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blue_eyed_1987) wrote2011-09-05 09:18 am
blue_eyed_1987) wrote2011-09-05 09:18 amEntry tags:
- awesomeness,
- fandom,
- fest,
- pwp
blue_eyed_1987) wrote2011-09-05 09:18 am
Merlin Prompt
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warning: this might be dub-con
Gaius is not an affectionate man.
When Uther holds the back of Gaius's head, his fingers tight in Gaius's pale brown hair, he laments what they could have if Gaius wasn't so very prickly. He'd like to fuck the physician in his chambers, on his big bed where there's plenty of room for athleticism. But Gaius doesn't like it on his back, and he doesn't like it in bed, and he doesn't like to look Uther in the eye when he's being fucked.
Uther isn't even sure why he puts up with Gaius's finicky nature, though right now, he doesn't have the fortitude to complain. Not when he's sitting on his throne with his breeches unlaced and his cock pulsing come. Not with Gaius swallowing and swallowing, his tight throat convulsing around the broad, blunt head of Uther's prick.
"Good," Uther says, wiping Gaius's mouth with his gloved hand. Gaius nips him like an undisciplined pup, and Uther tugs his hair sharply until Gaius's flushed smirk becomes a wince.
"My lord," Gaius says, lowering his eyes, apology tangled up with insolence so tight Uther can't tell if he's being insulted or not.
Tonight, when he takes himself in hand, he'll picture Gaius in the stocks, spread open and paying for the distance he keeps between them.
Re: warning: this might be dub-con
"My lord," Gaius says, lowering his eyes, apology tangled up with insolence so tight Uther can't tell if he's being insulted or not. this. THIS.
::glomps you:: you're my hero.
Re: warning: this might be dub-con
I LOVE OLD SCHOOL GAIUS/UTHER.
Re: warning: this might be dub-con
Re: warning: this might be dub-con
Re: warning: this might be dub-con
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"Sleeping."
"Demonstrably untrue." John feels Sherlock slide into the seat next to him. "Bored."
"Entertain yourself."
A hand rests itself on John's knee, then slide upwards, finger tracing small circles.
"Sherlock. No."
"I'm entertaining myself." Clever fingers make short work of John's buttons. "We have the carriage to ourselves."
"We shouldn't." John gasps as leather encased fingers press against the swell of his belly. He's fairly sure this is cheating. "The conductor - they'll hear-"
"Then you'll have to be very quiet." Sherlock smirks, shoving further into John's pants. John whimpers, desperately trying to remember why this is a bad idea.
The angle is off, Sherlock's not able to stroke fully, but the leather soon slicks with pre-cum, and the seam of the thumb catches under the head just the right side of painful.
John stuffs his knuckles into his mouth, grunting, and watches himself spill all over Sherlock's leather gloves.
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I am bad at coming up with prompts, feel free to ignore it and come up with your own...
Merlin - Merlin/Arthur prompt
Re: Merlin - Merlin/Arthur prompt
Merlin lowers his basket and starts picking at the small patch of medicinal herbs, losing himself in the feelings of leaves under his fingers, the smells that always said home.
“Merlin.”
“Sire,” Merlin paused, looking up. “do you require anything?”
Arthur cups Merlin’s face, thumb following his cheekbone. Merlin swallows.
“We’ll be seen,” It’s not what he wants to say, he wants to say yes, anything, but he knows he should offer this piece of advice, a way out for his king.
Arthur pauses, sighs. He pulls Merlin up by his shoulders and moves him into a corner. The royal gardens are starting to lose their colours, turning from a celebration of life into mourning, before the cycle of life starts again. The smell of the remaining flowers is sweet, mixing with the sickly scent of rotting petals at their feet.
Merlin kneels and Arthur moves to shield him. If anyone looks they’ll see a king surveying his land. It’s been so long since they had done this, stowing away in nooks and crannies around the castle and it’s grounds, usually muffling their giggles in each other’s mouths.
Merlin runs his hands up Arthur’s thighs, trying to gauge his mood. when there’s no response ho mouths at Arthur through his trousers, feeling him stir. His mouth waters at the thought of having Arthur against his tongue.
He opens Arthur’s trousers and pulls Arthur’s cock out, fully hard now. Merlin laps at the end, tongue teasing the slit, heart skipping a beat when Arthur gasps. He takes Arthur into his mouth, moaning softly at the taste, warm and slightly salty. He feels clumsy, out of practice as he lowers his head, suckling gently.
Merlin moves his head up, tongue teasing at the head, lapping up the bitter liquid beading there. Arthur moves a hand to the back of his neck, not pushing just holding. Merlin’s hands grasp at Arthur’s legs. His jaw is starting to lock but he’s determined to have this, to have Arthur come apart in his mouth. He moans again and moves as low as he can go, almost down the back of his throat. Merlin scrapes his teeth gently under the head of Arthur’s dick as he moves back, and he makes a sound in response, half bitten off, maybe a word.
Merlin’s cock throbs, and he moves a hand to fist Arthur’s dick, wanting him to come. Arthur’s thighs start to tremble. Arthur’s fingers curl painfully into Merlin’s hair and all he can think is more.
Arthur grunts as he spills himself and Merlin swallows, pulling back to lap at the head, cleaning Arthur gently. He does this until Arthur pushes at his shoulders. Merlin watches as Arthur drops unsteadily to his knees.
He hesitantly reaches for Merlin’s trousers and cups his erection. Merlin shudders, fumbling at the opening. Arthur pushes Merlin’s hand out of the way and shoves his own into the opening. He manages exactly one stroke and Merlin keens, pulsing over his fingers.
He says Merlin’s name, low and unsteady and reaches out a hand to cup Merlin’s face again.
Merlin Prompt
Re: Merlin Prompt
Re: Merlin Prompt
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i just watched this movie for the first time, and i was totally overwhelmed by how much
tom hardyshinzon wanted picard. look, you guys, look:no subject
while our blood's still young 1/2 (warnings for public sex, and possible drug use)
Over the bright see-through red pushing down on her eyelids, a shadow fell. Morgana opened her eyes. Backlit by an aura of gleaming white sunshine, a woman stood at her shoulder, wild curly dark hair pinned back with strings of pearls and violets, brown eyes intent and warm, smile creases at the edges of kissable lips. A purple and white flowered sundress skimmed high above her dusky, strong thighs, and Morgana wanted nothing more than to peek under it, to taste her skin. The sweet silence that grew between them as they watched each other was the nicest way to say hello, Morgana decided.
The woman cocked her head, bit her full lip. “I like the way you dance,” she said dreamily, the words loose and smooth like thick vanilla ice cream on her tongue.
Morgana reached out to curl her fingers around the woman’s ankle, trailed up the soft muscle of her calf, kneaded behind her shin, ran the backs of her short fingernails over the tender flesh behind her knee. From this angle, Morgana could watch the quickening rise and fall of her breasts under the dress’s tight fabric. The woman closed her eyes, eyelashes dark and thick, and Morgana felt herself damp and hot between her legs, desire warm and lazy diffusing into her bloodstream like the heavy punch of too much wine.
“C’mere, then,” Morgana grinned at her, exerting just enough pressure on the warm skin of the woman’s thighs.
The woman held Morgana’s gaze, looked at her like she knew her, like she knew exactly what Morgana wanted, like her hands had mapped Morgana’s body a thousand times, like she could already taste her on her tongue. She sank ever so slowly to her knees, straddling Morgana’s waist. A needy, shivering sound keened from the back of Morgana’s throat, and she latched both arms around the woman’s neck, hauled her closer.
“Hi,” the woman sighed, lightly brushing the tip of her nose against Morgana’s twice.
“Hey there,” Morgana replied, tightness like spun sugar coiling in her core, in her throat, in her voice.
Re: while our blood's still young 2/3 (warnings for public sex, and possible drug use)
The beat changed, unhurriedly spiraling down from pitched happiness, lowering into something throbbing, steady, warm. Only feet away, a few hollers and catcalls broke the bubble of the wordless stare between the two of them.
Morgana moved to frown at them, to throw out a lazy curse, but the woman shook her head. “Don’t look at them. Look at me.” She swooped down, then, her lips meeting Morgana’s softly, gentling her as her fingers shifted to move deep in her, her hand pushing aside the denim over Morgana’s crotch, wedging the fabric against her sensitive, wet folds and the juncture of her right thigh.
Morgana clutched at the woman’s neck, twisting her fingers in her thick, soft hair that smelled like rain and grass and fireside and marijuana. Tingling was spreading through her twisting body, colonizing her from the arches of her feet, to the sides of her torso, to every single inch of her scalp.
The woman’s fingers were searching inside her, twisting, tapping lightly, when suddenly they pressed against that spot deep deep inside where everything came together, where everything fell apart. Morgana whined, suddenly thrashing under her, and lifted to pull the woman’s bottom lip into her mouth, to suck at her tongue, to clack their teeth together.
“Yeah?” the woman said against her lips.
Re: while our blood's still young 3/3 (warnings for public sex, and possible drug use)
Morgana could only whine in response, buck into her hand, try to pull her fingers farther in. The pressure of the coarse denim on her clit and the opening to her cunt, the twisting certainty of fingers filling her up, the closeness of lips, the skin of her neck, the wild grass-stained smell of her, it all whisked together inside her, like the slow steady churn of a whirlpool molding her body, her senses, into one aching column of need.
Morgana was flying, skimming over the surface of the ocean, reaching down to trail her finger through the water, and turning back to watch its wake. Loosening every muscle of her body, she sped faster over the frothy waves, not wanting to dive down, not yet, not yet. The sky was huge above her, the music her air, the steady tramp of feet nearby the pulse of her blood.
The woman was panting hot, sweet air against her cheek, and Morgana gripped her hair and tugged her head to the side, so she could reach the salty smooth flesh of her neck. She licked up and down the tendon there, tasting the warm summer on her skin, messily trying to get inside her, under her skin.
And then the waves splashed up to pull her under, tightening everything inside her, holding her deep down where the pressure on her skin exploded, where the world floated by in slow motion.
Morgana stilled, came back, after having passed through worlds.
The woman above her pulled up, soothed Morgana’s hair over her forehead. “I’m Gwen,” she said simply and then with a stuttering exhale she fell off Morgana, so they lay side by side, and fisted her hand in the soaking fabric at the crotch of Morgana’s shorts.
“Morgana,” she replied when she was able to find her voice, hoarse and scratched. Then something warm, easy, and happy became unmoored inside her, and she laughed, long and low, from her belly. She turned her head to find Gwen’s face close, so close all she could see were smile lines and pores. Morgana kissed her, mouth sloppy, tongue lazy, as though she were full but still wanted to eat because it tasted so good.
After long minutes, Gwen glanced up and squinted. She pointed skywards, the sunlight catching on her glistening fingers. “Hey look, it’s a dragon in the clouds. That’s good luck,” she said softly with a grin.
Re: while our blood's still young 3/3 (warnings for public sex, and possible drug use)
Re: while our blood's still young 3/3 (warnings for public sex, and possible drug use)