FIVE ACTS
The Five Acts Meme runned by toestastegood is closed.
I was happy to take part because it was fun to write about all those kinks for my flist and even for other people. I wish I had more time to write more ficlets because I haven't been that productive...even if it could have been worst xD
So, here you are the ficlet I succeeded to write:
Gwen/Morgana (-MERLIN-), kink : Holding hands, rating : PG, for toestastegood
It is dark, so dark.
She is trying to focus her eyes, to see something, anything, but she just can’t.
She is barely able to stand on her shaky legs, her breath; a wet cloud against her cold cheeks.
The noises in the wood are terrifying. She knows those woods. She was used to come sometimes to pick flowers or fruits and medicinal roots to help Gaius. Now, in the pitch of the night, those woods are nothing but terrifying. She wishes she can see at least a little ray of light, anything, but she can't.
The only thing keeping her walking is this strong hand holding her, a cold, white and protective hand.
She doesn't want to run after that shadow, she doesn't want to get out of these woods. They're terrifying like the blackest pitch of Hell but she doesn't want to get out. She came here to find her, to see her.
She missed her mistress so much. She was so worried, not able to sleep or rest for days. Nobody seemed able to find her but she knew, deep down in her heart, that she was alive, that her breath sang with the wind against the newborn leaves. She followed the wind, she followed her breath.
She came here, in those hostile forests alone; just to find her, to take her home.
And, now, she is following this luminescent dark figure, holding on that hand like his life depends on it and it perhaps does.
"Please" she whispers out of breath still running "Please, come back with me"
The tall figure stands in front of her, a beautiful hooded face looking at her with sorrow.
«I can't, Gwen. I wish I could but I can't. My life isn't there anymore"
She missed that beautiful and gentle voice too.
She takes both those cold white hands between hers.
"Let me help you, my Lady, please"
She is crying now, knowing she'll lose her unique treasure.
"You're the only one who is keeping me sane, my dearest Gwen; you're the one keeping from Darkness"
Morgana smiles at her, that beautiful and warm smile she always kept for her.
"I won't take you with me, Gwen, you're too precious"
Morgana kept her shivering though warm hands in hers for a long time.
"You have to go back to Camelot" she finally says when the day is breaking "This is the place you have to be"
"I don't want to go back without you" she pleads again, uselessly.
"You have to."
There is nothing left to say.
"Take care of Arthur, He'll need you" Morgana finally says, her beautiful grey eyes wet, kissing both Guinevere’s hands lovingly.
"I promise" Gwen cries, tears in her eyes.
And I promise I'll take care of Merlin, Morgana whispers her dark wish, a spell against Guinevere soft skin, his love for you will be the end of him.
Lucifer/Sam (-SUPERNTURAL-), kink : Wings!Porn + claiming, rating : PG-13, for mithrel
Sam is looking through the car's window into the darkness around him.
Dean is driving for hours now but doesn't want to let him drive. He said he had to rest.
More easily said than done.
Dean was the one to wake him up tonight. He heard him whimper, cry, and plead.
He knew who Sam was dreaming about again. The very same person since that first time a few weeks ago.
Sam can't remember his dreams anymore, unless he is part of them.
He still can feel the burn on his body, the flames licking his skin, tearing teeth through the sweat of his cold limbs.
His hands on him. His promises. That warm and friendly voice. Deep whispers against his neck, warm breath against his ears, burning hands on his heart. His everything.
He is driving him insane.
Dean knows about the nightmares.
Dean has seen the ashes pattern on his little brother skin.
Dean has burnt all the dark wings that the demon has left behind every time, like a promise, like a remembrance.
Dean has swore to protect Sammy whatever he takes him and his little brother is trusting him to keep in safe, to keep him sane.
Dean doesn't know that Sam never felt better in his life than when Lucifer is visiting him in his dreams, a gentle lover, a warm ghost, a future he wished he could embrace.
Dean doesn't know that Sam has kept one of those ink black feather, he doesn't know that he is keeping it against his heart in his Bible.
Blasphemy!
Dean doesn't know that the only thing darker than this perfect black feather is Sam's blood.
Lucifer is stronger than Sam; Sam is weak to Lucifer's presence only.
But Sam will never surrender because of Dean.
Even if Lucifer makes him feel alive for the very first time it is Dean that is keeping him alive.
Because between wants and need, it is love that is stronger.
His body could be Lucifer's, his soul is all Dean's.
Unstained.
Castiel/Dean (-SUPERNATURAL-), kink : foot fetish, rating : PG-13, for emerald_embers
“Can't you feel it?” asked Castiel for the umpteenth time.
"No" grunted Dean "You know pretty well I can't!"
"You should be shortly" answered Castiel really serious while drawing strange patterns on Dean’s unresponsive skin, patterns Dean couldn't catch the meaning of.
They fought tonight. It has been a really messy and bloody fight again.
One of their enemies actually succeeded to catch him out of guard and bit him on the calf. First, Dean had just feel queasy and then, little by little, he couldn't feel his legs anymore, he couldn’t move them, let-alone stand. Really, Dean had never felt so ashamed in his all life, having his baby brother carrying him around and now Castiel babysitting him.
Sammy is sleeping, tired of the night and Castiel was looking carefully at him like a lioness is keeping her babies safe. Nothing could be worst.
"Stop doing that!" Dean growled again, clearly annoyed. Dean wasn’t very nice when he was feeling his pride was stained. And wouldn’t Castiel just stop doing that? His finger playing with his foot and toes!
This was weird and creepy as hell, not to even say embarrassing! Dean was pretty sure an angel shouldn’t actually sit on the floor playing with his feet and toes and looking at them as if they where some kind of universal treasures.
Castiel sighed.
"Are you sure you're not feeling anything, you should by now”
"I'm sure so... Ouch!" cried Dean "Why did you that for?!"
Dean was now trying to remove his foot from the angel grasp, an angel who actually just bit his big toe!
"You did feel that!" cheered Castiel.
"Who wouldn't?! You tried to rip my toe off" accused Dean.
"I didn't" answered solemnly Castiel.
"You did" pouted Dean.
Castiel didn't add anything else. He just began to play with Dean’s feet once again, letting his strong fingers travelled along the now sensitive feet's skin, helping to make them move and feel once again. Castiel was doing a really good job because, now, Dean’s skin felt like on fire and it was actually really hard for the hunter not to moan like a professional whore. Though, moan he did.
"Stop it... God!" Dean tried to breath, his feet have always been very sensitive, too sensitive, but no women he frequented did actually take on her to discover that weak point.
Castiel seemed to find that fact really fascinating tough.
"I'm not sure He'll come and help, you know... So, you better believe you’ll be safe in my hands" Castiel answered smiling like the devil, because really an angel should not be so tempting.
Dean bit another moan not wanting to wake Sam up. Castiel was really talented with those warm and strong hands of his, stroking all the soft points, sending electric waves of pleasure through Dean’s body.
“Better make sure everything is working properly, do we?” asked the angel in his very serious voice before his lips came to rest on Dean’s skin, his tongue coming to play with the molested toe.
It'll be a really long night Dean thought, he’ll have to try and resist and not moan…too loudly.
Merlin/Morgana (-MERLIN-), kink : blow-jobs, rating : NC-17, for cs_whitewolf
"My Lady... I... Don't" Merlin stutters when he feels like he won't be able to last anymore.
Morgana smiled her devilish smile, licking one more time the length of Merlin's cock before pulling away not fast enough not to prevent Merlin from splitting on her beautiful face.
"I'm...I'm sorry" Merlin whispered not really able to talk when being so satisfied and ashamed at the same time.
"Don't worry, Merlin" she smiled at him licking her lips, sucking on the stains Merlin left on her skin.
*****
"Lady Morgana, I’m really sorry for looking that curious but what are you doing to have a so soft and pearly white skin?" asked Lady Helen one evening at a banquet.
Morgana smiled gently, took her time to drink some wine and gave the lady her most pleasant smile.
"I do use milk every day, applying it really smoothly, some would say it doesn't work but it seems it is a really good nutriment for my skin"
"What milk are you using?" asked Lady Helen really interested.
Morgana looked at Merlin under her long eyelashes. He was standing next to Arthur trying really hard not to spill his wine.
"Whatever milk you can find, Lady Helen” answered Morgana, her eyes locked on Merlin’s very red ears “you just have to apply it on your skin still warm from the milking and massage your face some time."
"Thank you!" smiled the young lady "I'll try it as soon as I come back home".
"You do that and let me know about your improvement."
*****
"My Lady..." Merlin stutters once again just not getting used to the overwhelming feeling of having those beautiful pink lips around his cock.
Morgana frees him and waits as always for him to empty himself on her beautiful face, smiling like an angel.
Merlin gently puts his sensitive cock on her face and massages her as gently as he can manage to. He loves feeling Morgana's skin, ruined by his juice, though so soft under his cock.
"Would you like me to swallow next time, Merlin?" she asks him smiling devilishly.
"Why is that my lady?" he asks smiling "Would you like to improve your singing skill as well?"
Jason/Tim (-BATMAN-DC-), kink : scar biting & toys, rating : R, for shiny_glor_chan
"You better untie me" growled Jason trying to rip off his bond but not succeeding that well until now.
"Why would I? I wasn't the one doing a naughty job again in the first place" teased Tim.
"Because if you don't I'll cut that fragile neck of yours" Jason threatened.
Tim was looking at him through his mask, knowing that Jason could actually be serious. But it was a too tempting occasion to annoy the guy senseless.
"You mean with this?" teased Tim again, pulling Jason's knife from his scabbard.
This was a really beautiful and sharpened blade, a blade that already killed and hurt so many people. Criminals would say Jason, none the less human beings.
"Don't fuck with me boy!" Jason was fuming now.
Tim was not playing anymore though, the blade in his hand, singing against Jason's bare chest. A really strong and well defined chest. Tim could see Jason's breath accelerated, his heart beating faster. He was the one actually making Jason feels in danger. It was overwhelming.
"Don't you remember?" began Tim while the blade cut through Jason surprisingly soft skin "How you beat me up some years ago? How you marked my skin forever with your fists, with your blade? How you tried to destroy my mind with your hate?"
"You better stop now, Drake, or believe me Robin or not, team or not, I am killing you" threatened Jason again.
"You wouldn't, I'm not the criminal around here, am I?" answered Tim far too calmly.
He cut again the reddened skin, drawing a perfect cross across the man's chest.
"Now, we're even, blood for blood, scars for scars"
He thought it'd be enough, Tim should have known it would never be enough with Jason. He just couldn't understand why he was now sucking on the bleeding flesh, filling his hungry mouth with the man’s blood. Why he is biting around the open wounds making Jason gritted his teeth not to scream, not to cry aloud.
He was hurting him and liking every second of it.
The man was his now.
Jason would wear his mark on his skin and remember that moment forever.
"I'll kill you!" Jason spat angrily.
"You already did" answered Tim now gently kissing the man's chest listening to every beat of this strong heart "You already did"
Maxxie/Tony (-SKINS-), kink : coming without being touched, rating : R, for oximore
He is doing it. Again.
You know Tony too well to know it was not on purpose. Everything that Tony is doing is always calculated. Always.
The guy is now sitting on the most comfortable couch in the room with Michelle panting in his laps. Everybody is just so drunk, dancing like crazy on a terrific music, sleeping wherever they found room to or just fucked around.
You are left alone, sitting on the floor with your laps full of your sick best friend’s head and arms. He shouldn't have drunk that much, you told him so.
Unfortunately for you, you aren't drunk or high enough. You wish you could be so you would have an excuse for gazing at Tony and Michelle making out in front of you.
Michelle is clearly enjoying herself with her pants full of Tony's skilled fingers. She is kissing him like tomorrow will never comes, biting on his lower lips while moaning from deep in her throat.
Tony is certainly enjoying himself too with that beautiful girl straddling him, her cute little ass dancing against his tight jean. He lets her open his fly and knowingly looks for her prize; she is certainly used to have that cock of his in her petite hand by now.
You just can't look away when Tony's long and gorgeous cock comes into view, as you just can't stop from thinking about what you would do to that beautiful piece of art.
You know you should be ashamed to think about that because Michelle is your friend and she is Tony’s girlfriend but you know too that you could do so far better than her to please Tony. You definitely could teach her some stuff.
But you wouldn't. Tony wouldn't let you. Or perhaps he would.
Michelle comes in a soft cry you can't hear from the loud music but you still know when she comes, thanks to Tony's skilled fingers.
Though, even when she kisses him, Tony's eyes never left yours and he smirks at you while Michelle is working hard on his cock now.
"Bathroom" he murmurs to you, his mouth full of Michelle's tongue, promising what you are wishing for since the day you lent eyes on him.
You come yourself in a soft cry not even being touched by him. You really feel ashamed and pathetic with your underpants all wet from your own come with your friend trustfully sleeping in your laps.
But you know that you won't resist going to the bathroom now just to know what will happen. Whatever Tony asks from you, you'll give him.
Happily.
And, here you are, ficlets people wrote me!
Thank you so much, guys!♥
I love all of them!
^_______________________________^
Edward/Jacob (-TWILIGHT-), kink : vampires, rating : R, from toestastegood
Jacob doesn't struggle. He should - he wants to. Edward is one of them. The enemy: a vampire (the cold ones). His people have taught him better than this. Never let your guard down. Never trust a word they say.
Technically, Jacob could argue, he isn't even listening to him. They're not speaking. There is silence.
Instead Edward is gripping onto his arms, holding on tight with the kind of strength that only a wolf could take. If he touched Bella like this, she would break; if either of them stopped holding back, they could kill her. It isn't like that when it's just the two of them. He doesn't have to worry.
It hurts when Edward shoves him back against the wall of his bed-less bedroom, but Jacob takes it; he allows himself to be pinned there, trapped there. Allows Edward to hold onto his arms so tightly that even he will have bruises there for days. Allows Edward's mouth to float close to his lips, breathing in his air without touching him yet.
"What are you waiting for?" Jacob challenges. This close to him, Edward's pale face is hard to get in focus. That's good; he prefers it like that. When he can see Edward clearly, everything gets - confusing. He's beautiful, as all vampires are supposed to be. He doesn't look evil at all, even though all that Jacob knows about vampires tell him the truth.
Edward still doesn't kiss him, holding himself at bay instead. "Are you scared of me?" he asks; he sounds neutral, as if he inquiring for a science project, but that means nothing. He has had several lifetimes of perfecting how to lie, after all. Unlike Jacob, he will always know how to cover his tracks.
Jacob tilts his head back, as defiant as ever, an arrogant cock of his chin. "I could rip you to shreds if I wanted," he says. He could. He would, if Edward ever spilled a drop of human blood. It's his duty.
Edward's mouth quirks as if the threat is amusing (it isn't a threat anyway: it's a fact, cold and true). It seems to satisfy him, because he surges forward finally to kiss Jacob, pinning him back against the wall while his cold mouth urges Jacob to open up for him. He kisses as if he has hardly ever done it before; it's new to him, even newer than it is to Jacob. A hundred years and never been kissed, never really been kissed. It's sad, in its own way.
It's the hunger that gives Edward away, the way that he pushes and shoves at Jacob as if he is trying to climb inside him. His fingers tangle in Jacob's newly-short hair, what little of it there is, and he makes little sounds in the back of his throat - quiet and broken, as if he doesn't know if he can take much more. Jacob loves hearing it.
He brings a hand down to Edward's ass, pulling him in close so that they are flush against each other. He can feel the firm bulge of Edward's cock pushing against his thigh through his trousers, and he encourages it, both of them rubbing against each other in open desperation, sweet friction and an outlet of pointless emotions.
He breaks the kiss easily (they're both too distracted now) and turns his head away from Edward, looking towards the door of his bedroom instead. He's in a den of vampires here; they're so dangerous, all of them. He should be terrified.
Edward's head dips and Jacob can't help but flinch when he feels the clumsy nuzzle of Edward's cold lips against the skin of his neck. Vampire, his instincts scream, telling him to get away from him, but he stays still.
"Do it," he hisses, not giving himself time to think.
Edward goes completely still, statue-like in a way that only the undead can achieve. "You don't mean that," Edward says. His voice is thick, as if he is forcing himself to say every word.
"I'm a shifter. I won't let you hurt me." He'll push and break him before it all goes wrong. They were made for this; built for it.
Edward's hands tighten their grip on Jacob's arms to the point that he cries out in pain, unable to stop himself; he feels like his bones are grinding, and the pain overwhelms the sensation in his neck when Edward bites him, breaking through the skin of his neck and allowing the blood to flow.
It hurts. There's no denying that.
It hurts more than Jacob could have imagined, but Edward is still rutting against him through their clothes, strong friction against his cock. The wolf is strong enough to overcome any venom from Edward's teeth; he won't become a vampire like this. It's sweet agony, and Jacob's fingernails dig into the nape of his neck. His breathing comes in stuttering gasps, blood trickling down his neck and below the hemline of his t-shirt. Edward's a messy eater, it appears.
He can hear the slurping sounds of Edward's satisfied moans, caused by a combination of the stimulation of his dick and the taste of blood, real blood, in his mouth. Jacob knows he might have created a monster by allowing this, but in the heat of the moment he can't make himself feel too bad about it.
He feels bad to be getting off on this pain, this consumption, but he can't help himself: he comes before Edward does, going rigid then slack in his grip. Edward keeps drinking, on and on, and Jacob feels light-headed - it's too much, making it hard to see a thing. Edward grunts as he spills inside his trousers, but it's not enough to make him stop. He drinks anyway, still moaning, thirst fuelling him on.
Summoning his strength, dazed as he is, Jacob places his hands on Edward's chest and shoves. It's enough to make Edward fly backwards, hitting the wall on the other side of the room hard enough to leave a dent. He slips down onto the floor, blood staining his chin as he looks up at Jacob, almost feral. Jacob holds his ground, holds Edward's gaze, and waits for the rationality of humanity to return. By the time Edward is himself again, the wound on Jacob's neck has already healed: he's okay. They're both okay.
This is the first time that Edward drinks from him.
It's not the last.
Lucifer/Michael (-SUPERNATURAL-), kink : beauty, rating : PG, from mithrel
Lucifer had always been the brightest, always been the most beautiful. The lesser angels couldn’t look at him, and even Gabriel and Raphael paused whatever they were doing when he walked by.
Everyone in Heaven wanted to be near him, but few had the courage to initiate contact. They simply counted themselves lucky if he graced them with his presence.
Michael was the one who appreciated Lucifer’s beauty the most, since he was the one who spent most time in his company. They were seldom seen without one another, and all of Heaven knew that they shared something special.
Few of them knew the other side to the Morningstar-the one that longed for companionship, for camaraderie. As an archangel he was already set apart; his beauty set him apart further.
He lay his head on Michael’s shoulder and sighed. Michael’s hand came up and ran through his hair.
“I know, brother. I know.”
Blackwood/Coward -SHERLOCK HOLMES-), kink : bruise, rating : PG, from toestastegood
In the mirror, Coward inspects the damage.
There is a bruise upon his hip like the shadow of Lord Blackwood's hand. Purple turns to yellow; if anyone else had caused it, it would have been a foul, sinful mark. Degrading.
What he and Blackwood have, it is beyond that.
It transcends mortality.
Blackwood asks and he gives: everything that he has and is. When the time comes, Blackwood will repay him for his loyalty. The world will bow before them and they will rule, harsh but fair.
For today, Blackwood can only offer him bruises. Tomorrow, the world will come.
Kyle/Marcus (-TERMINATOR SALVATION-), kink : foot fetish, rating : PG-13, from emerald_embers
It's a long time between Marcus picking up the habit and working out why he enjoys it, but it's there; when he and the kid camp out on their own, whenever they've stopped walking and found themselves time to rest, Marcus normally finds himself with Kyle's feet in his lap while he keeps watch. He rubs them idly with both hands, Kyle no longer jumping the way he used to at the touch of metal, and sometimes Kyle falls asleep, sometimes Kyle stays awake and watches him.
Well, stays awake until Marcus reminds him that if Kyle's too tired to walk tomorrow he'll leave him behind. It's a lie, they both know it, but Kyle listens to instructions nonetheless.
He thinks at first it's a practical thing, that it's a way to make sure Kyle's feet are well rested, and he does find himself treating blisters and cuts when they occur; Kyle's boots might be good but grit had a way of getting in anywhere. The kid never complained while they were walking, and Marcus was always torn between telling him off and being proud whenever he took off Kyle's boots and found small streaks of blood, minor injuries that Kyle could have been walking on for hours without complaint.
But it's not just practical, he realises some time after when he starts to get annoyed by his first answer not satisfying him. It's human contact, plain and simple; it had been a long time since anyone let him touch them casually, without any real need or intent.
It isn't until one of the automated robots catches them off guard and nearly takes Kyle out that he realises; Marcus doesn't bother with any bullshit after he rips the machine's head off and kneels over Kyle, checking him for injuries, and finds himself with Kyle's arms wrapped around his shoulders, shaking.
He kisses Kyle and Kyle kisses back, hard and desperate and so sweet it hurts.
Marcus doesn't just like massaging Kyle's feet because of practicality or skin hunger, he likes it because it's Kyle, it's something of Kyle's he could touch without guilt or concern for the consequences, it was something that didn't have to mean anything if friendship was all they had.
When Marcus next rubs Kyle's feet he pauses before lifting one and kissing it, trailing his fingers lightly over the sensitive skin in the arch of the foot, and Kyle shivers.
Marcus smiles before pressing a kiss to Kyle's ankle, and Kyle could have asked anything of him, Marcus already knew he'd risk death for this kid, but all Kyle says is, quietly, "Please."
It's all the instructions Marcus has ever needed, and he's happy to obey.
Luke/Percy (-PERCY JACKSON-), kink : bruise/wound, rating : PG-13, from oximore
Percy tried to reason himself. It was just a little scar after all, a stupid harmless scar on Luke’s face. Still, Percy couldn’t take his eyes of it. It was not because it was ugly, not at all, Luke was one of the most handsome boys in the camps, and the scar wasn’t making it any less true. Although, it moved something deep inside Percy, and he could feel the urge to touch it, growing, getting stronger as time passed them by.
He started to dream about it too, about how the oddness of that skin would feel under his fingers. The dreams were imprecise, foggy, but they left him hard despite the lack of sex in them. Percy was so ashamed he could have cry.
He couldn’t understand why he got so worked-up over something so petty. Then it went worse. In his dream, Luke face was relax in he way he had never seen in reality, though it seemed right and natural here, Luke looked beautiful, and Percy bended over him, licking the stretched skin of the scar carefully, tasting it. He woke up with his pants disgustingly sticky with his own jizz, wishing to disappear. He wasn’t able to look at Luke in the eyes for the rest of the week.
In a way, Luke’s betrayal made thing easier.
(The dreams kept happening though… they were just easier to ignore.)
I was happy to take part because it was fun to write about all those kinks for my flist and even for other people. I wish I had more time to write more ficlets because I haven't been that productive...even if it could have been worst xD
So, here you are the ficlet I succeeded to write:
Gwen/Morgana (-MERLIN-), kink : Holding hands, rating : PG, for toestastegood
It is dark, so dark.
She is trying to focus her eyes, to see something, anything, but she just can’t.
She is barely able to stand on her shaky legs, her breath; a wet cloud against her cold cheeks.
The noises in the wood are terrifying. She knows those woods. She was used to come sometimes to pick flowers or fruits and medicinal roots to help Gaius. Now, in the pitch of the night, those woods are nothing but terrifying. She wishes she can see at least a little ray of light, anything, but she can't.
The only thing keeping her walking is this strong hand holding her, a cold, white and protective hand.
She doesn't want to run after that shadow, she doesn't want to get out of these woods. They're terrifying like the blackest pitch of Hell but she doesn't want to get out. She came here to find her, to see her.
She missed her mistress so much. She was so worried, not able to sleep or rest for days. Nobody seemed able to find her but she knew, deep down in her heart, that she was alive, that her breath sang with the wind against the newborn leaves. She followed the wind, she followed her breath.
She came here, in those hostile forests alone; just to find her, to take her home.
And, now, she is following this luminescent dark figure, holding on that hand like his life depends on it and it perhaps does.
"Please" she whispers out of breath still running "Please, come back with me"
The tall figure stands in front of her, a beautiful hooded face looking at her with sorrow.
«I can't, Gwen. I wish I could but I can't. My life isn't there anymore"
She missed that beautiful and gentle voice too.
She takes both those cold white hands between hers.
"Let me help you, my Lady, please"
She is crying now, knowing she'll lose her unique treasure.
"You're the only one who is keeping me sane, my dearest Gwen; you're the one keeping from Darkness"
Morgana smiles at her, that beautiful and warm smile she always kept for her.
"I won't take you with me, Gwen, you're too precious"
Morgana kept her shivering though warm hands in hers for a long time.
"You have to go back to Camelot" she finally says when the day is breaking "This is the place you have to be"
"I don't want to go back without you" she pleads again, uselessly.
"You have to."
There is nothing left to say.
"Take care of Arthur, He'll need you" Morgana finally says, her beautiful grey eyes wet, kissing both Guinevere’s hands lovingly.
"I promise" Gwen cries, tears in her eyes.
And I promise I'll take care of Merlin, Morgana whispers her dark wish, a spell against Guinevere soft skin, his love for you will be the end of him.
Lucifer/Sam (-SUPERNTURAL-), kink : Wings!Porn + claiming, rating : PG-13, for mithrel
Sam is looking through the car's window into the darkness around him.
Dean is driving for hours now but doesn't want to let him drive. He said he had to rest.
More easily said than done.
Dean was the one to wake him up tonight. He heard him whimper, cry, and plead.
He knew who Sam was dreaming about again. The very same person since that first time a few weeks ago.
Sam can't remember his dreams anymore, unless he is part of them.
He still can feel the burn on his body, the flames licking his skin, tearing teeth through the sweat of his cold limbs.
His hands on him. His promises. That warm and friendly voice. Deep whispers against his neck, warm breath against his ears, burning hands on his heart. His everything.
He is driving him insane.
Dean knows about the nightmares.
Dean has seen the ashes pattern on his little brother skin.
Dean has burnt all the dark wings that the demon has left behind every time, like a promise, like a remembrance.
Dean has swore to protect Sammy whatever he takes him and his little brother is trusting him to keep in safe, to keep him sane.
Dean doesn't know that Sam never felt better in his life than when Lucifer is visiting him in his dreams, a gentle lover, a warm ghost, a future he wished he could embrace.
Dean doesn't know that Sam has kept one of those ink black feather, he doesn't know that he is keeping it against his heart in his Bible.
Blasphemy!
Dean doesn't know that the only thing darker than this perfect black feather is Sam's blood.
Lucifer is stronger than Sam; Sam is weak to Lucifer's presence only.
But Sam will never surrender because of Dean.
Even if Lucifer makes him feel alive for the very first time it is Dean that is keeping him alive.
Because between wants and need, it is love that is stronger.
His body could be Lucifer's, his soul is all Dean's.
Unstained.
Castiel/Dean (-SUPERNATURAL-), kink : foot fetish, rating : PG-13, for emerald_embers
“Can't you feel it?” asked Castiel for the umpteenth time.
"No" grunted Dean "You know pretty well I can't!"
"You should be shortly" answered Castiel really serious while drawing strange patterns on Dean’s unresponsive skin, patterns Dean couldn't catch the meaning of.
They fought tonight. It has been a really messy and bloody fight again.
One of their enemies actually succeeded to catch him out of guard and bit him on the calf. First, Dean had just feel queasy and then, little by little, he couldn't feel his legs anymore, he couldn’t move them, let-alone stand. Really, Dean had never felt so ashamed in his all life, having his baby brother carrying him around and now Castiel babysitting him.
Sammy is sleeping, tired of the night and Castiel was looking carefully at him like a lioness is keeping her babies safe. Nothing could be worst.
"Stop doing that!" Dean growled again, clearly annoyed. Dean wasn’t very nice when he was feeling his pride was stained. And wouldn’t Castiel just stop doing that? His finger playing with his foot and toes!
This was weird and creepy as hell, not to even say embarrassing! Dean was pretty sure an angel shouldn’t actually sit on the floor playing with his feet and toes and looking at them as if they where some kind of universal treasures.
Castiel sighed.
"Are you sure you're not feeling anything, you should by now”
"I'm sure so... Ouch!" cried Dean "Why did you that for?!"
Dean was now trying to remove his foot from the angel grasp, an angel who actually just bit his big toe!
"You did feel that!" cheered Castiel.
"Who wouldn't?! You tried to rip my toe off" accused Dean.
"I didn't" answered solemnly Castiel.
"You did" pouted Dean.
Castiel didn't add anything else. He just began to play with Dean’s feet once again, letting his strong fingers travelled along the now sensitive feet's skin, helping to make them move and feel once again. Castiel was doing a really good job because, now, Dean’s skin felt like on fire and it was actually really hard for the hunter not to moan like a professional whore. Though, moan he did.
"Stop it... God!" Dean tried to breath, his feet have always been very sensitive, too sensitive, but no women he frequented did actually take on her to discover that weak point.
Castiel seemed to find that fact really fascinating tough.
"I'm not sure He'll come and help, you know... So, you better believe you’ll be safe in my hands" Castiel answered smiling like the devil, because really an angel should not be so tempting.
Dean bit another moan not wanting to wake Sam up. Castiel was really talented with those warm and strong hands of his, stroking all the soft points, sending electric waves of pleasure through Dean’s body.
“Better make sure everything is working properly, do we?” asked the angel in his very serious voice before his lips came to rest on Dean’s skin, his tongue coming to play with the molested toe.
It'll be a really long night Dean thought, he’ll have to try and resist and not moan…too loudly.
Merlin/Morgana (-MERLIN-), kink : blow-jobs, rating : NC-17, for cs_whitewolf
"My Lady... I... Don't" Merlin stutters when he feels like he won't be able to last anymore.
Morgana smiled her devilish smile, licking one more time the length of Merlin's cock before pulling away not fast enough not to prevent Merlin from splitting on her beautiful face.
"I'm...I'm sorry" Merlin whispered not really able to talk when being so satisfied and ashamed at the same time.
"Don't worry, Merlin" she smiled at him licking her lips, sucking on the stains Merlin left on her skin.
*****
"Lady Morgana, I’m really sorry for looking that curious but what are you doing to have a so soft and pearly white skin?" asked Lady Helen one evening at a banquet.
Morgana smiled gently, took her time to drink some wine and gave the lady her most pleasant smile.
"I do use milk every day, applying it really smoothly, some would say it doesn't work but it seems it is a really good nutriment for my skin"
"What milk are you using?" asked Lady Helen really interested.
Morgana looked at Merlin under her long eyelashes. He was standing next to Arthur trying really hard not to spill his wine.
"Whatever milk you can find, Lady Helen” answered Morgana, her eyes locked on Merlin’s very red ears “you just have to apply it on your skin still warm from the milking and massage your face some time."
"Thank you!" smiled the young lady "I'll try it as soon as I come back home".
"You do that and let me know about your improvement."
*****
"My Lady..." Merlin stutters once again just not getting used to the overwhelming feeling of having those beautiful pink lips around his cock.
Morgana frees him and waits as always for him to empty himself on her beautiful face, smiling like an angel.
Merlin gently puts his sensitive cock on her face and massages her as gently as he can manage to. He loves feeling Morgana's skin, ruined by his juice, though so soft under his cock.
"Would you like me to swallow next time, Merlin?" she asks him smiling devilishly.
"Why is that my lady?" he asks smiling "Would you like to improve your singing skill as well?"
Jason/Tim (-BATMAN-DC-), kink : scar biting & toys, rating : R, for shiny_glor_chan
"You better untie me" growled Jason trying to rip off his bond but not succeeding that well until now.
"Why would I? I wasn't the one doing a naughty job again in the first place" teased Tim.
"Because if you don't I'll cut that fragile neck of yours" Jason threatened.
Tim was looking at him through his mask, knowing that Jason could actually be serious. But it was a too tempting occasion to annoy the guy senseless.
"You mean with this?" teased Tim again, pulling Jason's knife from his scabbard.
This was a really beautiful and sharpened blade, a blade that already killed and hurt so many people. Criminals would say Jason, none the less human beings.
"Don't fuck with me boy!" Jason was fuming now.
Tim was not playing anymore though, the blade in his hand, singing against Jason's bare chest. A really strong and well defined chest. Tim could see Jason's breath accelerated, his heart beating faster. He was the one actually making Jason feels in danger. It was overwhelming.
"Don't you remember?" began Tim while the blade cut through Jason surprisingly soft skin "How you beat me up some years ago? How you marked my skin forever with your fists, with your blade? How you tried to destroy my mind with your hate?"
"You better stop now, Drake, or believe me Robin or not, team or not, I am killing you" threatened Jason again.
"You wouldn't, I'm not the criminal around here, am I?" answered Tim far too calmly.
He cut again the reddened skin, drawing a perfect cross across the man's chest.
"Now, we're even, blood for blood, scars for scars"
He thought it'd be enough, Tim should have known it would never be enough with Jason. He just couldn't understand why he was now sucking on the bleeding flesh, filling his hungry mouth with the man’s blood. Why he is biting around the open wounds making Jason gritted his teeth not to scream, not to cry aloud.
He was hurting him and liking every second of it.
The man was his now.
Jason would wear his mark on his skin and remember that moment forever.
"I'll kill you!" Jason spat angrily.
"You already did" answered Tim now gently kissing the man's chest listening to every beat of this strong heart "You already did"
Maxxie/Tony (-SKINS-), kink : coming without being touched, rating : R, for oximore
He is doing it. Again.
You know Tony too well to know it was not on purpose. Everything that Tony is doing is always calculated. Always.
The guy is now sitting on the most comfortable couch in the room with Michelle panting in his laps. Everybody is just so drunk, dancing like crazy on a terrific music, sleeping wherever they found room to or just fucked around.
You are left alone, sitting on the floor with your laps full of your sick best friend’s head and arms. He shouldn't have drunk that much, you told him so.
Unfortunately for you, you aren't drunk or high enough. You wish you could be so you would have an excuse for gazing at Tony and Michelle making out in front of you.
Michelle is clearly enjoying herself with her pants full of Tony's skilled fingers. She is kissing him like tomorrow will never comes, biting on his lower lips while moaning from deep in her throat.
Tony is certainly enjoying himself too with that beautiful girl straddling him, her cute little ass dancing against his tight jean. He lets her open his fly and knowingly looks for her prize; she is certainly used to have that cock of his in her petite hand by now.
You just can't look away when Tony's long and gorgeous cock comes into view, as you just can't stop from thinking about what you would do to that beautiful piece of art.
You know you should be ashamed to think about that because Michelle is your friend and she is Tony’s girlfriend but you know too that you could do so far better than her to please Tony. You definitely could teach her some stuff.
But you wouldn't. Tony wouldn't let you. Or perhaps he would.
Michelle comes in a soft cry you can't hear from the loud music but you still know when she comes, thanks to Tony's skilled fingers.
Though, even when she kisses him, Tony's eyes never left yours and he smirks at you while Michelle is working hard on his cock now.
"Bathroom" he murmurs to you, his mouth full of Michelle's tongue, promising what you are wishing for since the day you lent eyes on him.
You come yourself in a soft cry not even being touched by him. You really feel ashamed and pathetic with your underpants all wet from your own come with your friend trustfully sleeping in your laps.
But you know that you won't resist going to the bathroom now just to know what will happen. Whatever Tony asks from you, you'll give him.
Happily.
And, here you are, ficlets people wrote me!
Thank you so much, guys!♥
I love all of them!
^_______________________________^
Edward/Jacob (-TWILIGHT-), kink : vampires, rating : R, from toestastegood
Jacob doesn't struggle. He should - he wants to. Edward is one of them. The enemy: a vampire (the cold ones). His people have taught him better than this. Never let your guard down. Never trust a word they say.
Technically, Jacob could argue, he isn't even listening to him. They're not speaking. There is silence.
Instead Edward is gripping onto his arms, holding on tight with the kind of strength that only a wolf could take. If he touched Bella like this, she would break; if either of them stopped holding back, they could kill her. It isn't like that when it's just the two of them. He doesn't have to worry.
It hurts when Edward shoves him back against the wall of his bed-less bedroom, but Jacob takes it; he allows himself to be pinned there, trapped there. Allows Edward to hold onto his arms so tightly that even he will have bruises there for days. Allows Edward's mouth to float close to his lips, breathing in his air without touching him yet.
"What are you waiting for?" Jacob challenges. This close to him, Edward's pale face is hard to get in focus. That's good; he prefers it like that. When he can see Edward clearly, everything gets - confusing. He's beautiful, as all vampires are supposed to be. He doesn't look evil at all, even though all that Jacob knows about vampires tell him the truth.
Edward still doesn't kiss him, holding himself at bay instead. "Are you scared of me?" he asks; he sounds neutral, as if he inquiring for a science project, but that means nothing. He has had several lifetimes of perfecting how to lie, after all. Unlike Jacob, he will always know how to cover his tracks.
Jacob tilts his head back, as defiant as ever, an arrogant cock of his chin. "I could rip you to shreds if I wanted," he says. He could. He would, if Edward ever spilled a drop of human blood. It's his duty.
Edward's mouth quirks as if the threat is amusing (it isn't a threat anyway: it's a fact, cold and true). It seems to satisfy him, because he surges forward finally to kiss Jacob, pinning him back against the wall while his cold mouth urges Jacob to open up for him. He kisses as if he has hardly ever done it before; it's new to him, even newer than it is to Jacob. A hundred years and never been kissed, never really been kissed. It's sad, in its own way.
It's the hunger that gives Edward away, the way that he pushes and shoves at Jacob as if he is trying to climb inside him. His fingers tangle in Jacob's newly-short hair, what little of it there is, and he makes little sounds in the back of his throat - quiet and broken, as if he doesn't know if he can take much more. Jacob loves hearing it.
He brings a hand down to Edward's ass, pulling him in close so that they are flush against each other. He can feel the firm bulge of Edward's cock pushing against his thigh through his trousers, and he encourages it, both of them rubbing against each other in open desperation, sweet friction and an outlet of pointless emotions.
He breaks the kiss easily (they're both too distracted now) and turns his head away from Edward, looking towards the door of his bedroom instead. He's in a den of vampires here; they're so dangerous, all of them. He should be terrified.
Edward's head dips and Jacob can't help but flinch when he feels the clumsy nuzzle of Edward's cold lips against the skin of his neck. Vampire, his instincts scream, telling him to get away from him, but he stays still.
"Do it," he hisses, not giving himself time to think.
Edward goes completely still, statue-like in a way that only the undead can achieve. "You don't mean that," Edward says. His voice is thick, as if he is forcing himself to say every word.
"I'm a shifter. I won't let you hurt me." He'll push and break him before it all goes wrong. They were made for this; built for it.
Edward's hands tighten their grip on Jacob's arms to the point that he cries out in pain, unable to stop himself; he feels like his bones are grinding, and the pain overwhelms the sensation in his neck when Edward bites him, breaking through the skin of his neck and allowing the blood to flow.
It hurts. There's no denying that.
It hurts more than Jacob could have imagined, but Edward is still rutting against him through their clothes, strong friction against his cock. The wolf is strong enough to overcome any venom from Edward's teeth; he won't become a vampire like this. It's sweet agony, and Jacob's fingernails dig into the nape of his neck. His breathing comes in stuttering gasps, blood trickling down his neck and below the hemline of his t-shirt. Edward's a messy eater, it appears.
He can hear the slurping sounds of Edward's satisfied moans, caused by a combination of the stimulation of his dick and the taste of blood, real blood, in his mouth. Jacob knows he might have created a monster by allowing this, but in the heat of the moment he can't make himself feel too bad about it.
He feels bad to be getting off on this pain, this consumption, but he can't help himself: he comes before Edward does, going rigid then slack in his grip. Edward keeps drinking, on and on, and Jacob feels light-headed - it's too much, making it hard to see a thing. Edward grunts as he spills inside his trousers, but it's not enough to make him stop. He drinks anyway, still moaning, thirst fuelling him on.
Summoning his strength, dazed as he is, Jacob places his hands on Edward's chest and shoves. It's enough to make Edward fly backwards, hitting the wall on the other side of the room hard enough to leave a dent. He slips down onto the floor, blood staining his chin as he looks up at Jacob, almost feral. Jacob holds his ground, holds Edward's gaze, and waits for the rationality of humanity to return. By the time Edward is himself again, the wound on Jacob's neck has already healed: he's okay. They're both okay.
This is the first time that Edward drinks from him.
It's not the last.
Lucifer/Michael (-SUPERNATURAL-), kink : beauty, rating : PG, from mithrel
Lucifer had always been the brightest, always been the most beautiful. The lesser angels couldn’t look at him, and even Gabriel and Raphael paused whatever they were doing when he walked by.
Everyone in Heaven wanted to be near him, but few had the courage to initiate contact. They simply counted themselves lucky if he graced them with his presence.
Michael was the one who appreciated Lucifer’s beauty the most, since he was the one who spent most time in his company. They were seldom seen without one another, and all of Heaven knew that they shared something special.
Few of them knew the other side to the Morningstar-the one that longed for companionship, for camaraderie. As an archangel he was already set apart; his beauty set him apart further.
He lay his head on Michael’s shoulder and sighed. Michael’s hand came up and ran through his hair.
“I know, brother. I know.”
Blackwood/Coward -SHERLOCK HOLMES-), kink : bruise, rating : PG, from toestastegood
In the mirror, Coward inspects the damage.
There is a bruise upon his hip like the shadow of Lord Blackwood's hand. Purple turns to yellow; if anyone else had caused it, it would have been a foul, sinful mark. Degrading.
What he and Blackwood have, it is beyond that.
It transcends mortality.
Blackwood asks and he gives: everything that he has and is. When the time comes, Blackwood will repay him for his loyalty. The world will bow before them and they will rule, harsh but fair.
For today, Blackwood can only offer him bruises. Tomorrow, the world will come.
Kyle/Marcus (-TERMINATOR SALVATION-), kink : foot fetish, rating : PG-13, from emerald_embers
It's a long time between Marcus picking up the habit and working out why he enjoys it, but it's there; when he and the kid camp out on their own, whenever they've stopped walking and found themselves time to rest, Marcus normally finds himself with Kyle's feet in his lap while he keeps watch. He rubs them idly with both hands, Kyle no longer jumping the way he used to at the touch of metal, and sometimes Kyle falls asleep, sometimes Kyle stays awake and watches him.
Well, stays awake until Marcus reminds him that if Kyle's too tired to walk tomorrow he'll leave him behind. It's a lie, they both know it, but Kyle listens to instructions nonetheless.
He thinks at first it's a practical thing, that it's a way to make sure Kyle's feet are well rested, and he does find himself treating blisters and cuts when they occur; Kyle's boots might be good but grit had a way of getting in anywhere. The kid never complained while they were walking, and Marcus was always torn between telling him off and being proud whenever he took off Kyle's boots and found small streaks of blood, minor injuries that Kyle could have been walking on for hours without complaint.
But it's not just practical, he realises some time after when he starts to get annoyed by his first answer not satisfying him. It's human contact, plain and simple; it had been a long time since anyone let him touch them casually, without any real need or intent.
It isn't until one of the automated robots catches them off guard and nearly takes Kyle out that he realises; Marcus doesn't bother with any bullshit after he rips the machine's head off and kneels over Kyle, checking him for injuries, and finds himself with Kyle's arms wrapped around his shoulders, shaking.
He kisses Kyle and Kyle kisses back, hard and desperate and so sweet it hurts.
Marcus doesn't just like massaging Kyle's feet because of practicality or skin hunger, he likes it because it's Kyle, it's something of Kyle's he could touch without guilt or concern for the consequences, it was something that didn't have to mean anything if friendship was all they had.
When Marcus next rubs Kyle's feet he pauses before lifting one and kissing it, trailing his fingers lightly over the sensitive skin in the arch of the foot, and Kyle shivers.
Marcus smiles before pressing a kiss to Kyle's ankle, and Kyle could have asked anything of him, Marcus already knew he'd risk death for this kid, but all Kyle says is, quietly, "Please."
It's all the instructions Marcus has ever needed, and he's happy to obey.
Luke/Percy (-PERCY JACKSON-), kink : bruise/wound, rating : PG-13, from oximore
Percy tried to reason himself. It was just a little scar after all, a stupid harmless scar on Luke’s face. Still, Percy couldn’t take his eyes of it. It was not because it was ugly, not at all, Luke was one of the most handsome boys in the camps, and the scar wasn’t making it any less true. Although, it moved something deep inside Percy, and he could feel the urge to touch it, growing, getting stronger as time passed them by.
He started to dream about it too, about how the oddness of that skin would feel under his fingers. The dreams were imprecise, foggy, but they left him hard despite the lack of sex in them. Percy was so ashamed he could have cry.
He couldn’t understand why he got so worked-up over something so petty. Then it went worse. In his dream, Luke face was relax in he way he had never seen in reality, though it seemed right and natural here, Luke looked beautiful, and Percy bended over him, licking the stretched skin of the scar carefully, tasting it. He woke up with his pants disgustingly sticky with his own jizz, wishing to disappear. He wasn’t able to look at Luke in the eyes for the rest of the week.
In a way, Luke’s betrayal made thing easier.
(The dreams kept happening though… they were just easier to ignore.)