Since this journal seems to have become my smut archive . . .

Title: Wedding Night
Fandom: The Magician's Ward, by Patricia C. Wrede
Rating: S for Schmoop, Soulbaring, and Sex (in that order), and P for Purple Prose. AKA NC-17.
Warnings: Well, sex. And taking a long time to get to the sex. And first-time smutwriter.


“It’s traditional, you know.”

“If you ( Read more... )

Fore the 3/21/08 pornathon. Future!Nita Callahan/Jack Bauer.

THIS ONE IS KAREN'S FAULT.

( EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT BEHIND THIS CUT. )

For the 3/21/08 pornathon. Kim Merrill/Lilly Kane, Milliways.

Why yes, this is a totally inappropriate journal for the following ficlet!

( EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT BEHIND THIS CUT. )

For the 3/21/08 pornathon. Russ/Claire hatesex.

( EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT BEHIND THIS CUT. )

Russ escorts Anna outside, lets the door close behind her.

He returns a few minutes later.

*There are a few things that are always in the forefront of my mind when I'm playing Russ ( Read more... )

It's late by the time Russ returns to HQ, on the back of Journey's bike. She's supporting him when he comes in.

Heather's the first to greet him, looking him over silently. They talk quietly for a moment, and then Journey helps Russ towards the cot that Armand's resting in.

It's sunny and clear today, if on the cool side.

At the edge of the Pack's territory, Russ is working on his bike. It had been making a couple odd noises when he pulled in from patrol, and it's a quiet day in any case, so he figures there's no harm in tuning up the engine while he's out here.

His jacket lies on the sidewalk nearby.

He lost the scent when it started to snow.

Sarah was supposed to meet him an hour ago, and when she didn't show up he got worried and went to her apartment to see if maybe she'd gotten sick, and there was her scent on the front door handle and outside the apartment and then it started to fucking snow and her scent is getting buried and Russ hates ( Read more... )

". . . Ma, that bird's lookin' at me funny."

"No, it's not, Russell."

"It is."

"Just ignore it, then."

"Hey. Bird. Yeah. What kind of a color is pink for a bird? Huh? A stupid o-- OW!"

"Russell? Russ, are you okay?"

"It bit me, Mom, it bit me--"

"Oh, Russ . . ."

"I hate stupid flamingoons."

"Flamingos, Russell."

"Whatever."