turps | (no subject)

(no subject)

Corey and James are going off to do scout stuff tonight, so I can play along.

Taken from

themoononastick where I've already asked for something, because I'm greedy like that.

Comment Porn Day!

The idea is a simple one

1. Give me a pairing (or character, or the name of a show or band) and a prompt (a word, a phrase, a situation, an emotion, a few lines from a song or, hell, even an entire song) and I will do my best to write you a snippet based on your request.

2. Post to your own little corner of LJ offering to write snippets for people, thus spreading the joys of comment porn.

3. Sit back, relax and enjoy the porny goodness. \o/

You should know what my fandoms are. So ask away

* You don’t have to offer to write snippets for other people if you leave a request, but it would be fun if you do.

** Snippets don’t necessarily have to be porny, comment fic is just as much fun. As is a rambling stream of consciousness type thing about how character x and character y meet and why they would get on like a house on fire – whatever comes bouncing into your brain is a-okay.

*** If you’re one of those people who have a big old ‘friend of’ list then you might want to put a limit on the number of requests you’re willing to write.

Adding in my own comment. I'm not a good porn writer, but I will try. But don't be surprised if I throw my hands in the air and give you hand holding instead. Hand holding is hot! Really it is.

ETA: Got plenty, thank you :)

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Hmm. How about the Supernatural boys hunting a wary, wily Kevin Richardson--he could be vampire or fey or shapechanger--something preternatural.

Why yes, I *am* evil. :-)

Can I be really cheeky?

Pairing: Choey. Prompt: "That's not funny."

Porn is not strictly necessary, but, you know... [g]

I can't write fiction to save my life (honestly!) but I'm going to ask you for Waycest anyway, prompt is "hand holding is hot!" :-)

Letterboys. Hand holding, or anything else, is totally fine.

Me? Predictable? Why I never.

How about Mikey/Pete with the prompt MIDNIGHT.
*g*

JC/Chace scarf porn. Preferrably disabilityfic but if you want to write scarf porn without owies I can live with that.

....Hm.. well.... I'm a sucker for Brendon Urie/Ryan Ross but I don't want to threaten you with them lol.

So...uh how about some Bobard ( aka Bob/Gerard )?

*cough* This is the prompt I'm giving, it's all the lyrics to a song but you can do whatever you feel needed with it. I'm only choosing this cause I'm listening to it.

The city is at a war
Playtime for the young and rich
Ignore me if you see me 'cause I just don't give a shit
The city is at war
Bless the young and rich
With designer drugs and designer friends

The city is at a war
Playtime for the young and rich
Ignore me if you see me 'cause I just don't give a shit
The city is at war
Bless the young and rich
With designer drugs and designer friends

Here's how it goes
It's about who you know
If you got money you get in for free
Get on your knees if you wanna reach the top
The party never stops (never stops!)
Don't stop now (don't stop now!)

Come on!
Stick around and see how it ends
Get the money and run
And meet me at the parking lot
Bang bang! Shoot 'em up, yeah

The city is at war
Playtime for the young and rich
Ignore me if you see me 'cause I just don't give a shit
The city is at war
Bless the young and rich
With designer drugs and designer friends
This little girl was alone in the world
Until she found a way to get a fix for free
Oh pretty please
It breaks my heart to see another tragedy
She finally got her picture on TV

Come on!
Live it up while you can
We all lose in the end
No you don't get another shot
Bang bang! Shoot 'em up, yeah

The city is at a war
Playtime for the young and rich
Ignore me if you see me 'cause I just don't give a shit
The city is at war
Bless the young and rich
With designer drugs and designer friends

The city is at war,
the city is at war,
the city is at war (war, uh oh)

Bang bang! Shoot 'em up,
shoot 'em up, yeah
Bang bang! Shoot 'em up,
shoot 'em up, yeah (the city is at war)
Bang bang! Shoot 'em up,
shoot 'em up, yeah
Bang bang! Shoot 'em up,
shoot 'em up, yeah.

howie /chris, sex manual :D

JuC - jealously

\o/

~~JC!~~ ~~Ryan!~~ ~~Scarves!~~ ;p

RyanRoss - hand holding (because, yeah, hand holding is hot!) with anyone that springs to mind. :)

(Or I'll happily take MikeyWay with the same prompt, if that's easier.)

Lambs, please! Prompt: summertime.

Thank you for this! YAY for porn day! :D

Oooooh. Could I please have some JC/Lance? [waits for shocked gasps to stop] With the prompt 'piano'. And it doesn't have to be porny at all, in fact I think like the hand holding type of thing even more. :)

You are evil! Though this is light in porn, I gave it a go.

~*~*~*~

Dean crouches low – one knee pressed into the damp grass, moisture seeping through the denim of his jeans. He’s still -- so very still -- and he breathes slowly, shallowly, a hunter in the still of the night.

He listens to the creak of the trees, the scrape of branches, looks up sharply when he hears the muffled sigh.

“I don’t think he’s coming,” Sam says suddenly, softly, frustration apparent despite his hushed words. He shifts slightly and pulls his hands into the warmth of his coat sleeves, his bangs tangling in his face as he leans against the gnarled trunk of the old tree.

“He’s coming,” Dean says, and he takes a moment to look at Sam, trying to convey how sure he is, that Kevin is out there. Dean can feel him.

“It’s nearly dawn, he never hunts this late,” Sam says, dubious, but he’s already settling back into place, alert and scanning the surrounding woods.

“That was before, he’s changing.” Dean shivers slightly, disguises the involuntary reaction by moving position, all too aware that Sam’s watching, assessing.

“Dean…”

“Not now, Sam.” Dean cuts Sam off, before the questions or the suggestions that they leave, because Dean needs to be here.

Sam frowns. “Listen.”

Dean does, and hears the wind, leaves rustling, then faintly; footsteps. They’re coming closer, and Dean stands, heart hammering, his expression set as Kevin appears.

He’s wearing black pants, a green shirt, silver bangles that wrap around his wrist. His hair is loose and he’s smiling, deliberately showing fang.

Dean wants him more than anything he’s wanted in his life.

“Dean,” Sam says, moving to intercept as Dean takes a step forward. Then Kevin casually moves his arm, and Sam is flying through the air, landing tangled in a thorny bush.

“Bastard,” Dean hisses, anger helping to weaken the intense rush of pure need. “If you’ve hurt him.”

Kevin laughs. “You’ll what? Kill me?”

Dean’s fingers twitch, he hates Kevin. Hates what he is, who he is, but that hate is bound with lust. Despite himself Dean is walking forward, and he thought he was ready for this, but all the charms, the spells mean nothing, swept away on a tide of want.

Kevin waits, smiles as Dean moves. Then, in one flash of movement, his hand is wrapped around Dean’s arm, and he’s pulling Dean close, their bodies pressed together, and Dean despises himself for grinding against Kevin’s hip, for opening his mouth willingly when Kevin presses his fingers against Dean’s jaw and tilts back his head.

They kiss, Kevin’s tongue in Dean’s mouth, forceful, Dean’s bottom lip nicked by a fang and there’s a rush of pleasure – of no, this is wrong – of need, and Kevin’s hand is against Dean’s back, holding him steady as he licks at the blood that beads on Dean’s lip.

Kevin pulls back slightly, looks at Dean. “You’re mine, Dean Winchester.”

All Dean can do is agree.

character: Tony (yes, from NCIS)
prompt: peanut butter
*g*

OOO. Thank you! I has a ficlet!

Ohhh!!!
I'll be Paris Hilton for a moment and say: That's hot.

This seems to be going around. :)

Erm.

Future!Out-And-Proud!Chris/Justin :P

and I swear I'm writing something super-fucking-cool for you in my spare time. ;)

How about Mikey with a side of Bob?
Prompt/s: crosswords, too much summer, fortune cookie

And um...I hope you don't mind if I friend you?

Friend away, and that's a fine prompt. Which I'll get to tomorrow now :)

That's not cheeky at all, sadly again, the porn is sadly missing. woe.

~*~*~*~

Joey doesn’t say anything. How can he? It’s embarrassing, and he’s not about to visit his doctor and announce he’s going bald, and not on his head. Just the thought makes him blush, and then pull at the waist band of his shorts and look down, hopeful that in the last minute some miracle has occurred and his pubes have returned.

They haven’t. Joey wants to cry.

Instead he settles down at his computer, turns it on and taps at the desk, scratches at his chest as he waits for things to load. They do, and he clicks onto Google, peers at the blank search term, and then slowly types in ‘male baldness’.

There’s like, a million hits, and Joey sighs, feeling defeated and worried and he snatches another quick look – still nothing there – before refining his search. ‘male baldness, pubic hair’. The results are fewer this time, only 84,700 returns, and Joey clicks on the first one.

Hours later and he’s discovered nothing of interest. Well, unless you count the side track to the balding fetish sites, which Joey doesn’t, because damn. He’s never been into bald chicks, or guys, especially when they’ve got no hair at all. It all kinds of depressing and Joey slumps back in his chair, imagining himself completely bald.

For the second time today, Joey wants to cry.

Later, and Joey’s in his bedroom, a towel held loosely in his hand. Naked, he’s looking in the full length mirror, at the smooth expanse of his chest, at his legs, at his poor dick, looking pale and exposed without its surrounding bush of hair. It’s all kinds of tragic, and Joey shoulders slump as he wraps the towel around his waist and flops down onto his bed.

It’s then he hears the front door. Joey doesn’t move, because anyone with a key is someone he doesn’t have to greet. Plus, Joey is having a crisis, if anyone wants to see him, they’ll have to come upstairs.

They do, and Joey listens to the footsteps, sits up when he hears Chris yell, “Joey!”

For a moment Joey contemplates hiding in his bathroom, is half way to doing just that when he stops and slumps back onto the bed. Because Chris will find out, he’s wily like that. Steeling himself, Joey adjusts his towel, rubs at the hair on his head for reassurance, then waits.

“Joey! Where are you?” Approaching footsteps, then Joey’s bedroom door is flung open, and Chris is standing looking at him. Joey takes in each fleeting expression, surprise, a brief moment of warring with himself, then Chris is laughing, doubled over, his face bright red.

Gathering his dignity, Joey prepares to wait him out, then leans forward when he hears words hidden amongst the laughter didn’t think, oldest trick, bottle and Joey’s reminded of a bottle of shower gel he found in his shower, one he couldn’t remember putting there at all.

Of course he’d used it, time and distance combining to dull Joey’s ability to discover a prank.

“That's not funny. I thought I had a disease!” Joey jumps up, grabbing Chris and twisting him around so they both fall onto the bed. “I thought I was going to be completely bald. I was looking up pube wigs!”

Trapped, Chris wiggles, still laughing as he presses his hands against Joey’s back. “You still could, something heart shaped, maybe?”

Which is ridiculous and Joey hates Chris; a lot, except in the way he doesn’t at all and there’s a glimmer of laughter brimming because Joey can appreciate a good joke with the best of them. It also helps that Chris is looking up at him, eyes wide and crinkled, his hair dark against the bedspread, and Joey’s moving close, mouth brushing against Chris’ own.

“I hate you,” Joey says, even as he runs his hand along Chris’ hip, runs his tongue over Chris’ bottom lip and presses down, enjoying the scrape of fabric against his bare skin, the way Chris is still amused, mouth curled up into a smile as he says, I know.

Would you like me to write one for you? (I'm pretty rusty now, you know; but I'll try)

Akfjdajfkldsafklsjafksajfds. Who knew Dean/Kevin would work SO WELL? Rowr.

Awwwwwwww Joey! Chris is so meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeean. :D

It's okay, I won't demand that you write. But I have. I hope it hits some of what you wanted, because man, I'm not the person you should ask for porn from!

~*~*~*~

Gerard loves his bedroom. It’s familiar, full of treasured possessions he can reach out and touch. He likes that it’s dark, the small window covered, leaving a small beam of diffused light. One that’s full of dust motes that Gerard watches as he curls on his bed, motionless, the thoughts in his head blanketed by drugs.

“Gee.”

Gerard shifts his head, cheek against his drool damp pillow, watches as Mikey walks down the stairs. He’s bundled in his coat, the furry hood against his back, and his cheeks are wind swept, cheekbones stark and made red with cold. His glasses are balanced at the end of his nose, steamed up and almost useless and Mikey blinks as he unzips his coat, shrugs it off and drops it onto the floor.

The bed dips when Mikey sits, and Gerard can feel the cold. It’s seeping from Mikey’s body, cold wind and snow, trapped in the fabric of his jeans, tangled in his hair. Gerard rolls closer, rests his cheek against Mikey’s thigh, smiles a little at the feel of Mikey’s hand in his hair.

“You’re cold,” Gerard says, and Mikey shrugs a reply, watches when Gerard shifts onto his side, and takes Mikey’s hand in his own. Mikey’s fingers are red, the tips white, and Gerard brings them to his mouth, tasting the cold against his tongue.

He sucks, cheeks hollowing as he runs his thumb across Mikey’s palm, slow unhurried strokes that pull at the beat in Gerard’s head, the reality of the moment momentarily pushing through the drugs, letting the melodies break free.

Mikey sighs and tilts back his head, exposing the line of his neck, the way his throat moves as he swallows. Gerard can’t look away, keeps watching as he licks along Mikey’s fingers, over the calluses and chilled skin. Slow, always so slow, and Mikey’s mouth is slightly open, his eyes closed as Gerard stops licking and presses a kiss against Mikey’s palm.

Mikey smiles, then curls his hand, his fingers damp against Gerard’s cheek, the heel of his palm against Gerard’s chin. He pulls his hand down, stroking over Gerard’s jaw, his neck, his chest. Mikey’s stops then, his hand splayed and it takes seconds for Gerard to entwine their fingers once more, neither saying a word, just holding on.

Chris is totally mean! I don't think he cares though *g*

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