Porn. Just Porn
So today I pretty much just decided to just write pr0n. It's one of those days, you know? Grabbed a bunch of centi_porn prompts and did a bunch of drabbles.
We've got a variety of fandoms, pairings and kinks. So...be warned!
Pretty much everything under the cut is NC-17 or R, except a couple of the Naomi/L ones because L + sex = Very Difficult to Manage.
He afforded her no privacy.
Naomi bit her tongue when the door of her hotel room opened and he shuffled in, hands in his pockets, body angled forward, until he stood before her. Naomi crossed her arms over her breasts, holding her towel up. She was dripping on the floor.
He stared in that vacant way of his. Naomi flushed. A water droplet rolled down her jaw and pooled in the hollow of her throat.
She froze when he leaned forward, his lips pressing against her neck.
He licked the water from her throat.
“Forgive my impulsiveness.”
Naomi forgave him.
The first time she saw him naked, she was taken aback. She expected anorexia thinness, brittleness, fragility. Not lean, slender muscles beneath pale skin. But she should have known. He had mastered the same martial arts as she.
But it still shook her, to see him without the overlarge white shirt and loose jeans that she had seen him in every day for years. He almost didn’t look like L anymore.
But he was always L. When she took him into her arms and breathed ‘Ryuzaki’ against his skin, he put his lips to her ear.
“Call me L.”
She had fed him strawberries with her fingers. His eyes remained on the screens in front of him, flashing through news stations and private feeds at a rate she couldn’t keep up with. Juice from the fruit dripped down her fingers and Naomi sighed. Ryuzaki’s priorities never changed. His fingers moved over the keyboard, ignoring her save to open his mouth for the sweets she offered.
She had known he would lose interest eventually.
But then the screens slowed, and his hand gripped her wrist. He sucked her fingers into his mouth, sensually licking the juice from them.
“Delicious.”
Misa’s legs were spread, her hands gripped the headboard, her taut buttocks lifted and jerked off the pillows beneath them. Naomi’s head was buried between her thighs, hands gripping Misa’s hips, pulling her down onto her questing lips and tongue.
Misa twisted, her back arched like a bow, girlish breasts thrust out, nipples hard. Her pale body was slick with sweat and her cupid’s lips parted in an ‘O’. It was almost torture! She squealed as she was urged further and further up the headboard, Naomi’s hands tight on her hips.
No boy could ever do this to her!
In the shelter of the muted staircase, Henry wrapped his arms around Eileen. She trembled against him, muttering strange things in her madness. It felt so wrong, that she felt so good against him. Her arms gripped his neck and he could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest, the heat of her thigh against his leg.
He tightened his grip on her, feeling her mouth moving on his skin as she spoke in tongues. Hot and wet, something he hadn’t felt in so long. God this was so sick, that a part of him felt aroused at the way she moved against him….
He had just wanted to offer her comfort.
Max’s body looked damn good, bent and stretched over the wide table. Muscles in her back and buttocks twitched and flexed and Jack ran his hands all over her lithe, tight body. God but she looked amazing. Felt amazing. Black curls tossing, back dipping, thrusting and writhing against him as he took her, slick flesh tight around his cock.
He leaned over her, taking her earlobe between his teeth and tugging. She pushed back against him, hard.
His teeth found her neck, sinking into her where her barcode tattoo stretched across her skin.
James was the only warm thing in the entirety of Silent Hill.
Maria’s forehead pressed against the cold material of the stage in Heaven’s Night, her hands gripped into fists. James’ hands were on her breasts, his hips rubbing against her. She could feel his erection through the double layers of his pants and her skirt. He was bent over her back, face in her hair, hands both tentative and hurried at the same time.
This was real. Maria squeezed her eyes shut, feeling James shudder against her, hands tightening on her breasts, the back of her skirt growing damp and stained….
He turned away from her then, spent, and said nothing.
“This how you like it, Marty?” Alec’s voice was teasing as he ripped open the older man’s shirt, tearing the fabric and sending buttons flying across the office.
“Alec!”
He ignored his partner’s protests. He ran his hands over Martin’s smooth torso, to his pristinely pressed trousers. He pulled the buttons open with his teeth.
“Alec!”
Alec grinned. He felt Martin’s hands in his hair and when he took Martin’s cock into his mouth, there were no more protests.
In the tiny cave, the rain pounding outside, Valyn’s skin felt like ice. Shana strained against him, behind him, pressing herself to his back. She felt him tense, but he remained. It was too cold and they were too exhausted to move. Shadow was asleep, Keman dozing at the cave’s entrance in the form of a shaggy mountain wolf.
Emboldened, Shana pressed her breasts against Valyn’s back. He was frozen against her, perhaps feigning sleep. Her hands moved over his chest, cautiously, curiously. Down his abdomen. Lower, feeling a warm swell of flesh between the elven lord’s legs….
Even as Shana’s hands moved hesitantly into the opening of his trousers and wrapped around his arousal, Valyn didn’t move.
“Alec, I do not enjoy games!”
Martin Landel was handcuffed to his office chair, a blindfold across his eyes. He felt his clothing being removed, felt calloused fingertips brushing over his skin. His eyes moved in the darkness, his jaw tight. This was humiliating! What if someone walked in, it was the middle of the day for god’s sake!
But despite his discomfort and outrage, as Alec’s fingers moved like ghosts over his flesh, he felt himself grow hard.
Sick, sick, sick. Mio bit her lower lip as her fingers moved between her legs. She had to muffle her cries as she touched herself in her bedroom, the handmade noose around her neck and tied to the headboard. It pulled against her throat and she pushed into it, shaking and spreading her legs. She felt sick and dirty but so good….
It was wrong that she had to choke herself, and wrong that as she cupped her small breasts and teased her aching flesh, she thought of her sister.
But it made her feel so alive.
It wasn’t quite right. Maria stared at her reflection in her dressing room mirror, hair pinned up. She slid the cardigan off her shoulders. She slipped the skirt down her legs. She pulled off the tank top. She stood in bra and panties and black leather boots and she narrowed her eyes at her reflection.
She almost looked like another woman. In the mirror, the image shifted. Blond hair darkening, hard eyes softening. Maria touched the surface of the mirror and her not-reflection did the same and she felt a jolt go through her body. Electricity that tightened her nipples and made her panties grow wet.
She parted her legs, rubbing herself against the arm of her dressing room chair, her hand pressed to the cool glass of the mirror. The not-reflection smiled.
Maria could almost feel warm skin against her own.
We've got a variety of fandoms, pairings and kinks. So...be warned!
Pretty much everything under the cut is NC-17 or R, except a couple of the Naomi/L ones because L + sex = Very Difficult to Manage.
He afforded her no privacy.
Naomi bit her tongue when the door of her hotel room opened and he shuffled in, hands in his pockets, body angled forward, until he stood before her. Naomi crossed her arms over her breasts, holding her towel up. She was dripping on the floor.
He stared in that vacant way of his. Naomi flushed. A water droplet rolled down her jaw and pooled in the hollow of her throat.
She froze when he leaned forward, his lips pressing against her neck.
He licked the water from her throat.
“Forgive my impulsiveness.”
Naomi forgave him.
The first time she saw him naked, she was taken aback. She expected anorexia thinness, brittleness, fragility. Not lean, slender muscles beneath pale skin. But she should have known. He had mastered the same martial arts as she.
But it still shook her, to see him without the overlarge white shirt and loose jeans that she had seen him in every day for years. He almost didn’t look like L anymore.
But he was always L. When she took him into her arms and breathed ‘Ryuzaki’ against his skin, he put his lips to her ear.
“Call me L.”
She had fed him strawberries with her fingers. His eyes remained on the screens in front of him, flashing through news stations and private feeds at a rate she couldn’t keep up with. Juice from the fruit dripped down her fingers and Naomi sighed. Ryuzaki’s priorities never changed. His fingers moved over the keyboard, ignoring her save to open his mouth for the sweets she offered.
She had known he would lose interest eventually.
But then the screens slowed, and his hand gripped her wrist. He sucked her fingers into his mouth, sensually licking the juice from them.
“Delicious.”
Misa’s legs were spread, her hands gripped the headboard, her taut buttocks lifted and jerked off the pillows beneath them. Naomi’s head was buried between her thighs, hands gripping Misa’s hips, pulling her down onto her questing lips and tongue.
Misa twisted, her back arched like a bow, girlish breasts thrust out, nipples hard. Her pale body was slick with sweat and her cupid’s lips parted in an ‘O’. It was almost torture! She squealed as she was urged further and further up the headboard, Naomi’s hands tight on her hips.
No boy could ever do this to her!
In the shelter of the muted staircase, Henry wrapped his arms around Eileen. She trembled against him, muttering strange things in her madness. It felt so wrong, that she felt so good against him. Her arms gripped his neck and he could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest, the heat of her thigh against his leg.
He tightened his grip on her, feeling her mouth moving on his skin as she spoke in tongues. Hot and wet, something he hadn’t felt in so long. God this was so sick, that a part of him felt aroused at the way she moved against him….
He had just wanted to offer her comfort.
Max’s body looked damn good, bent and stretched over the wide table. Muscles in her back and buttocks twitched and flexed and Jack ran his hands all over her lithe, tight body. God but she looked amazing. Felt amazing. Black curls tossing, back dipping, thrusting and writhing against him as he took her, slick flesh tight around his cock.
He leaned over her, taking her earlobe between his teeth and tugging. She pushed back against him, hard.
His teeth found her neck, sinking into her where her barcode tattoo stretched across her skin.
James was the only warm thing in the entirety of Silent Hill.
Maria’s forehead pressed against the cold material of the stage in Heaven’s Night, her hands gripped into fists. James’ hands were on her breasts, his hips rubbing against her. She could feel his erection through the double layers of his pants and her skirt. He was bent over her back, face in her hair, hands both tentative and hurried at the same time.
This was real. Maria squeezed her eyes shut, feeling James shudder against her, hands tightening on her breasts, the back of her skirt growing damp and stained….
He turned away from her then, spent, and said nothing.
“This how you like it, Marty?” Alec’s voice was teasing as he ripped open the older man’s shirt, tearing the fabric and sending buttons flying across the office.
“Alec!”
He ignored his partner’s protests. He ran his hands over Martin’s smooth torso, to his pristinely pressed trousers. He pulled the buttons open with his teeth.
“Alec!”
Alec grinned. He felt Martin’s hands in his hair and when he took Martin’s cock into his mouth, there were no more protests.
In the tiny cave, the rain pounding outside, Valyn’s skin felt like ice. Shana strained against him, behind him, pressing herself to his back. She felt him tense, but he remained. It was too cold and they were too exhausted to move. Shadow was asleep, Keman dozing at the cave’s entrance in the form of a shaggy mountain wolf.
Emboldened, Shana pressed her breasts against Valyn’s back. He was frozen against her, perhaps feigning sleep. Her hands moved over his chest, cautiously, curiously. Down his abdomen. Lower, feeling a warm swell of flesh between the elven lord’s legs….
Even as Shana’s hands moved hesitantly into the opening of his trousers and wrapped around his arousal, Valyn didn’t move.
“Alec, I do not enjoy games!”
Martin Landel was handcuffed to his office chair, a blindfold across his eyes. He felt his clothing being removed, felt calloused fingertips brushing over his skin. His eyes moved in the darkness, his jaw tight. This was humiliating! What if someone walked in, it was the middle of the day for god’s sake!
But despite his discomfort and outrage, as Alec’s fingers moved like ghosts over his flesh, he felt himself grow hard.
Sick, sick, sick. Mio bit her lower lip as her fingers moved between her legs. She had to muffle her cries as she touched herself in her bedroom, the handmade noose around her neck and tied to the headboard. It pulled against her throat and she pushed into it, shaking and spreading her legs. She felt sick and dirty but so good….
It was wrong that she had to choke herself, and wrong that as she cupped her small breasts and teased her aching flesh, she thought of her sister.
But it made her feel so alive.
It wasn’t quite right. Maria stared at her reflection in her dressing room mirror, hair pinned up. She slid the cardigan off her shoulders. She slipped the skirt down her legs. She pulled off the tank top. She stood in bra and panties and black leather boots and she narrowed her eyes at her reflection.
She almost looked like another woman. In the mirror, the image shifted. Blond hair darkening, hard eyes softening. Maria touched the surface of the mirror and her not-reflection did the same and she felt a jolt go through her body. Electricity that tightened her nipples and made her panties grow wet.
She parted her legs, rubbing herself against the arm of her dressing room chair, her hand pressed to the cool glass of the mirror. The not-reflection smiled.
Maria could almost feel warm skin against her own.