grey's anatomy/private practice smut-a-thon

[maddisonislove]

This a smut-a-thon. Crack!Ships are encouraged. RL ships are as well. All is acceptable but mark/lexie and addison/sam. Comment with prompts and reply to fill them!

Let's write some porn.

Completed Porn (For easy access):

Self Porn

Addison: Vibrator

Couple Porn

Mark/Addison: "Your husband is sleeping in the room next to us"

Mark/Addison: "

Comments

[winter_machine]

It's tradition, like the pecan pie no one really eats or the silly paper chains on the tree that each generation of obnoxious nieces and nephews hangs in turn. It's Christmas, which means everyone's there and it's loud and Amelia's scowling from the cross-country flight, the hormones that still haven't settled down, and the irritation of just being there.

Being there means she has to put up with everyone fussing over her. She knows Addison told them everything. Addison has a big mouth - of that she's intimately certain. One more how are you doing? or are you okay? and she thinks she's going to scream. She checks her cell phone. Sheldon's called her twice. She veers back and forth on whether to throw him a pity fuck; she only half believes the rumors of his incredible prowess but when she gets like this she needs something, so she texts to let him know he can pick her up at the airport when she flies back. Knowing him he'll treat it like a fucking gift. It's not her fault that people keep offering her things when they

[winter_machine]

"Derek still calls you Amy."

"Derek's different." He saved her life twice, after all. Some part of her always hoped she could try once more, and that he'd mess up this time. But he's Derek, the golden boy, and he doesn't mess up. He saves her when she doesn't want it, ignores her when she does. She can't get what she wants from him - never could - so she gets it from the people close to him instead. It's like clockwork, whoever he's fucking. It's like they give out a signal or something. She's only told one therapist, some fucking Freudian who wanted to take it somewhere disgusting.

"I promise you Derek isn't the one I actually want to fuck." She rolled her eyes. "Have you seen him? Have you seen MarkOkay, that wasn't the world's best comeback, but in her defense she was high; the life coach at the stupid overpriced facility was more than welcome to trade blow jobs for pills

[winter_machine]

Amelia lets her, pretends Meredith's in charge for a minute, enjoys the taste of tequila in her mouth. She wrestles her way out of the other woman's grip, grabs those bony shoulders and pushes Meredith down in plaid flannel. She remembers Addie talking about flannel sheets once - babbling, crying, sobbing that Derek had left and caught them and what-the-fuck-ever. They weren't exactly keeping it a very good secret. But she likes the idea of flannel as betrayal so she pushes Meredith down and straddles her on the soft fabric. Meredith is still giggling when she yanks her sweater up, leans over, captures her lips to shut her up. Her skin is cool, interrupted with faint freckles. Her ribs are still visible: Amelia traces them with her fingers, then with her tongue. Meredith's breathing is husky, louder than it was before. She doesn't ask what are we doing? And she doesn't say stop and Amelia decides she was right to like her

[winter_machine]

The black lace annoys her now; it's not sexy, it's a barrier, so she yanks it out of the way, pushing two fingers into the source of the heat against her thigh. Meredith makes a keening noise, animal, and sinks her teeth into Amelia's shoulder. Bitch. That'll bruise. She curls her fingers anyway, skating her thumb over sensitive flesh. There's no way to pretend she's not enjoying this; she's soaked to the wrist, Meredith straining against her fingers, her own hands knotted in Amelia's long hair. Amelia pulls and tugs, the smaller body beneath hers yanked to and fro until her legs seize, thighs clenching so hard around Amelia's arm she thinks it might break.

Fuck, Meredith says and Amelia figures it's factually accurate if not particularly eloquent. She shakes out her aching fingers, resists an impulse (see, doc, she can resist impulses sometimes) to shove them in her mouth. She settles for brushing them across her lips instead. Taste is just an enhanced sense of smell, they told her in middle school science class. She'll

[permeated_words]

OMFG OMFG I LOVE THIS AND NEW OTP OK. But this:

"-Mark, you know. Whatever."

"Mark?" Meredith squeaks.

"Tradition."

Oh god. That exchange KILLED ME DEAD. I was looking for a Mark mention and guh. You nailed this like Amy nailed Meredith.