Wednesday - Love in the Afternoon

[johnboy91719.livejournal.com]

Hello everyone!! I'm johnboy91719 bringing you a brand new theme today.

In honor of Wednesday being sometimes referred to as Hump Day, let's have some love in the afternoon. That's right, folks. Let's see some fics about sex. Events leading up to it, the act itself, or whatever happens afterwards. It can be sweet and innocent or naughty and raunchy. Let your mind take you wherever it wants to go, even if it's found a nice home in the gutter like mine has.

Please remember the following:

* Post no more than three prompts per fandom and no more than five prompts in a row. If someone fills a prompt, you're more than welcome to post some more prompts later in the day.

* No spoilers in prompts for at least seven days after the original airdate or publication date. If you have spoilers in your fic, please warn in bold and leave at least three spaces.

* Show some love to the code monkeys and format your prompts correctly. Examples below (last one is for crossovers):

• Star Trek XI, Kirk/Bones, quickie in the sickbay
• One Life to Live, Oliver/Kyle, afterglow
• Dollhouse/author's choice, Victor/author's choice, Victor is the dominant one in an engagement

If none of the prompts left today trip your trigger, feel free to take a peek at the Lonely Prompts. Now have fun and prompt away!!

"[tag=LoveInTheAfternoon]"

Comments

[waysm.livejournal.com]

SPN, John/Dean, It's getting harder to pretend.

[darthbatgirl.livejournal.com]

DCU, Dick/Roy/Tim, Tim gets yanked into the bedroom

[darthbatgirl.livejournal.com]

DCU, Jason/Tim, "Lets take the afternoon off"

[lady-sarai.livejournal.com]

DCU, Tim Drake/Tam Fox, reassurance

[darthbatgirl.livejournal.com]

DC/Marvel, Clint/Roy/Tim, fun with archers

Filled: A Shoulder Thing (Clint/Roy/Tim)

[zarabithia.livejournal.com]

When Cassie had found out that Tim was dating Roy Harper (approximately the same time that Dick had, and approximately 10 minutes before the entire Bat family had lost their collective minds over the idea of the Baby Bird dating someone so much older and "...more experienced") the first thing she had done was look discreetly over at Kon and then back at Tim and smile sweetly. "It's the shoulders, isn't it?"

Cassie - and the rest of Tim and Roy's universe - was a full dimension away, but Tim couldn't help but think, as he sat on the sidelines and watched Roy compete with Clint Barton, that perhaps Cassie had a point.

Because first, there had been Kon's shoulders. Which, while Kon hadn't been an archer, were wide and full and had been the exact catalyst that Tim had needed for his hormones to figure out that he liked members of his own sex.

Then, Roy had come along. Those were definitely archer shoulders, and pretty impressive ones, at that. If Tim thought Kon's shoulders had stirred something, there were no words for what Roy's shoulders were capable of doing.

Clint Barton's shoulders were a perfect match, and standing next to Roy, trying to outdo each impossible archery feat with one of his own, Tim's heart quickened a little more unfaithfully with each additional drop of sweat that clung to Clint Barton's sweat shirt.

Roy must have noticed, because he waited for Clint to take a bathroom break before he made his way over to Tim. "He's pretty good. Better than Ollie, I'd say, but don't ever tell anyone I said that."

Tim smiled. "Not better than you."

"You're biased." Roy grinned at the compliment, nonetheless. "So...he sweats nice. You noticed?"

"You noticed me noticing?" Tim asked softly.

"Noticing Batty people is what I do best," Roy answered. "Better than archery, even."

"I'm sor -"

Roy hushed him with a kiss. "Not necessary. I noticed, too, Tim. And I was thinking... he isn't Dick. But if you wanted what you and I had planned with him, well, I'd be okay with that."

Tim raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head, considering the possibilities. "Yeah," he said, as Clint Barton came back into view. "I'd like that."

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Gabriel/Sam, mark (preferably like the one Castiel gave Dean)

[psychedelicammo.livejournal.com]

The church is crawling with witches and Sam blinks in the dim candlelight as his blindfold is finally removed. They laugh as though the Apocalypse is a game and strip him bare on the cold stone floor. He's weak, disoriented and seeing doubles. He doesn't know where to punch, where to kick and his struggles are easily suppressed.

Sam recognizes demon blood when it's offered, but as the witch paints his lips red and gory, the demon blood running through his own veins senses the difference. It tastes all wrong, wrong, wrong on his tongue even as he tries to push the witch away.

But black dots explode behind his vision and his frantic mind recedes beneath the rising high off the blood.

In retrospect, Gabriel describes his entrance with dramatic flair and makes it sound like he was breaking up an orgy of witches with Sam as the creamy nougat center.

When in actuality the door of the church splinters and his human heart stutters and skips a beat. Dean Winchester swears softly as he peaks over the Archangel's shoulder at his brother and Castiel brandishes his sword.

The chapel's decorated for a gothic wedding and Sam's walking down the aisle.

Gabriel can smell the dark magic in the air and he's moving towards Sam, shrugging off his jacket as his wings unfurl without making a conscious choice. He ignores the ache in his back as human skin gives way to preternatural wings and grabs Sam's hand, turning the hunter to face him. But Sam isn't behind those eyes, he's barely a glimmer beneath the magicked demon blood.

The spell is hollowing Sam out, growing his addiction until that's all there is left. Sam fights him, turning back to the crowing witch, teasing his hunger with a chalice filled to the brim. Shocked by the sudden appearer of an angel, but not deterred, the witches seem to believe in the friendly reader's digest version of winged saviors with harps and halos. Gabriel allows Castiel and his human to set them straight.

Sam Winchester is his only concern. They will not have him.

Gathering his grace around him like a shroud, like armor, Gabriel wraps one arm tight around Sam's waist, holding him steady at the hip. Hugging Sam's back to his chest, Gabriel reaches through the haze of the hunter's demonic need to grab Sam's very essence, pulling it back to the fore.

Human skin blisters and burns beneath his power as Gabriel tethers Sam's soul to his body, owning them both as thoroughly as he can. Sam's mouth opens to yell, but no sound comes. Instead Gabriel turns him about to capture his lips just as the rest of his muscles give in and he falls like a rag doll.

He's caught by the berth of Gabriel's wings as the Archangel's lips move over his own, asking Sam to accept his claim. Begging silently, his hand still moored to the burning imprint on Sam's hip. Finally catching on, Sam gives, he tastes of demon blood, ancient sin and bad magic and Gabriel takes it all, owns it as he wraps the hunter's exhausted, groggy form in his own discarded jacket.

"Mine." He whispers against Sam's closing eyes, the brand still pulsing beneath his touch.

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Gabriel/Sam (or girl!Sam), making him beg for it

Walls, Sam/Gabriel, NC-17

[entangled-now.livejournal.com]

Sam is stuck researching, again.

Gabriel is supposed to be helping. But Gabriel is not helping, he's the other side of the room, being distracting and lazy and everything but helpful.

Dean and Castiel are...occupied.

Sam knows as much because the walls aren't exactly thick. So he knows that his brother is next door doing pretty damn un-angelic things to an angel.

Sam should probably be horrified, or scandalised or something, something that absolutely isn't sitting here surrounded by research books with a reluctant half-erection, which he's blaming entirely on the noises Castiel is making.

Gabriel is finding the whole thing hilarious. He doesn't seem to care that Dean is currently being all flavours of blasphemous with Castiel next door. Though he certainly hasn't missed the fact that Sam is desperately trying to ignore it and failing.

Because the universe hates him and clearly Gabriel has nothing better to do than notice humiliating things about Sam and point them out at every available opportunity.

God help him he thinks he's almost used to it.

"I could take care of that if you like," the words tumble out around a smile, and there's a dirty-quick push of tongue against his upper lip. "If you ask nicely."

Sam glares the glare of death at him.

There's a wet shaky moan through the wall, too deep and too stunned to be Dean, suggesting his brother has just done something particularly blasphemous. Sam quietly hates himself a little more when half-hard becomes a distant memory.

He moves the book up a little higher so he doesn't have to look at Gabriel any more and fails to take in one word about a paragraph detailing the mating habits of werewolves.

"I hate to see you suffering Sam," Gabriel drawls out, slow and pointed. "One little please, go on, and I'll let you do whatever you like to me to work out your issues."

Sam absolutely does not have any sort of reaction to that.

"I don't have issues," he says tightly

"Hmm, you seem pretty interested in the angel getting fucked next door."

Sam swallows.

"Go away," he says flatly.

He's fairly sure Gabriel is just screwing with him and Sam kind of hates him for it.

Really hates him for it.

Because he's about three more moans away from saying to hell with it and taking him up on it. And he's fairly sure that even in the universes where Gabriel actually intended to do something he'd find a way to make him pay for it somehow.

Sam's still paying the universe for too much stuff already.

There's a quick sharp thud against the wall, and then another. Sam swallows, digs his fingers into the book and hates his brother with a passion.

The book in front of him is suddenly gone and Sam abruptly finds Gabriel closer than he has any right to be.

"It's only fair after all."

Gabriel drags his belt open.

Sam lets him.

"Come on Sam," Gabriel says quietly. Encouragement and dare. "Beg me just a little bit."

Sam's mouth is too dry to say anything. His silence brings the long wet rasp of a zipper and Gabriel is slithering up the couch, mouth so close Sam can feel every warm exhale against his face.

He takes Sam's stunned inhale as consent, hand sliding inside, warm and strong and sure and Sam makes a noise, something low and desperate.

Gabriel's fingers slid round him and he's smiling that filthy smile. Sam's hand lifts, thumb catching at Gabriel’s mouth, pressing inside. Gabriel's eyes go dark, like he knows what Sam's thinking and he approves. Sam pulls his mouth open, dragging at his lower lip and the sharp edge of his teeth and then tangles a hand in his hair and pushes his head down.

Gabriel doesn't resist. His mouth is obscene and it slides all the way down, one quick-hot push of lips and tongue. It's wet and tight and so good. It's not going to last very long at all.

Oh God.

Fuck.

Sam can't breathe and then he's gone, all the way gone, making a wet mess of Gabriel's mouth and Gabriel lets him.

Sam's left breathing shaky, pathetic little breaths, twitching and gasping.

Gabriel slides off of him and raises an eyebrow in a way that manages to be both satisfied and insufferably smug.

Sam makes an appreciative noise that sounds drunk.

There's complete silence from next door.

"I think they heard you," Gabriel says helpfully.

[karahalliwell.livejournal.com]

Heroes, Claire/Sylar, Wednesday I'm in love.

[crazy4orcas.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Parker, he knew sex with Parker would be intense, but he hadn't expected it to be so much fun

[karahalliwell.livejournal.com]

Gossip Girl, Dan/Blair, What is it about a beautiful sunny afternoon that makes you wish you stayed in bed?

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

SPN, Dean/Castiel, by the end of the day he can't hold back anymore

We Break Each Other, Castiel/Dean. NC-17, Part 1

[entangled-now.livejournal.com]

[I've never had to cut a fic here into two parts before, but it's so hard to cut words out of porn...so, y'know, don't tell anyone *shifty*]


By the end of the day Dean can't hold back any more. He's too bright, too restless, adrenaline a wire in his spine that won't let him rest, won't let him relax.

Castiel lays a hand on his arm.

"You should calm down, this solves nothing."

"Maybe you should make me," Dean spits.

Castiel's fingers bite in, an edge of unexpected pain and Dean stills and gasps and, yeah, that's it. That flash of frustrated anger is what he wants and he pulls, gives one great jerk hard enough to hurt and Castiel...doesn't let go.

"Is this what you want from me?" Castiel demands, voice careful and heavy and flat. But there's a flicker of something almost wild in his eyes. Blue drowning in black - and Jesus Dean doesn't want to think that, can't think that.

But there in Castiel's face is something hard, something certain, something prepared to give him whatever he wants and Dean swallows, rough and hard, too quick.

"Yes." It's quiet and honest and stupid, damn stupid.

It's how he ends up on the floor, clothes stripped from him in quick, efficient movements. Not resisting any of it. Until he's left on his knees on the carpet, skin prickling in the cool air, breathing tension and anger and unwilling arousal.

Castiel's hand is so fucking strong on the back of his neck, impossible to push again, impossible to resist, and Dean almost chokes on trying. It pushes all the way down, presses until his forehead touches the floor

"Are you penitent?" Castiel asks smoothly.

"Cas-"

"Answer me." The fingers tighten, until they're points of fierce pain on the side of his neck and the fragile curve of his skull.

Dean drags a shocked breath in the darkness. He feels like his skin is burning, crawling with electricity and sweat.

"Yes."

Castiel hand relaxes, warm and human again and it slides down his neck, sweeps slowly over the long bending line of his back, then eases to a stop on the curve of his ass.

"Oh, Jesus, Cas -"

A sharp slap cuts the word off and Dean jumps under the force of it, ass stinging, fucking stinging.

"Blasphemy will not be tolerated," Castiel says simply, hard and certain that Dean won't need to be told again. Dean's too busy dragging breath after breath, cock heavy and hot and too hard. His thighs twitch when Castiel's hand glides over the back of them. The sensation is slow, curious. But Dean can feel the quiet tension.

"Do it, just fucking do it if you're gonna, don't leave me like this." The words are a garbled mess, mouth too wet and too desperate for air.

Castiel makes a soft noise.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Torchwood, any, the rest of them have gone home early...

[munnin-odanin.livejournal.com]

DCU, Bruce/Dick, waiting for the sun to go down

[shiny-glor-chan.livejournal.com]

DCU, Tim Drake/Bart Allen/Kon-El/Cassie Sandsmark, for all the brokenness they fit together better; the sex ain't bad either

[shiny-glor-chan.livejournal.com]

Marvel, Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, fixing what they broke with his body

Not Broken (Bucky/Clint)

[zarabithia.livejournal.com]

Bucky's touch is light, light as the feather at the end of Clint's bow. It's entirely too light, considering all the things the man giving the touch has done, and all that he has done. The hand giving the touch has slit Nazi throats and assassinated world leaders, the force he's using on Clint is too light.

"No," Clint says irritably, and Bucky stops, completely misinterpreting what Clint is trying to say.

Clint grabs Bucky's hand - hands, even the one that Bucky keeps trying not to use - before Bucky can pull away.

"Too light," Clint explains. "You're fucking Captain America, for god's sake."

"Actually, I think you're the one fucking Captain America," Bucky says, a ghost of a former cocky sidekick slipping in and out of place in the shadows of their cramped living quarters.

"Actually, he's supposed to be fucking me," Clint answers, with forced lightness. "Dammit, Barnes, I need you to not be gentle with me."

"They hurt you. It's okay for you to - "

"No." Clint is surprised at how angry he sounds, but he doesn't take it back. "No. I couldn't make them stop, but they didn't break me. I couldn't stop them from hurting my team, but I'm still me."

Clint's voice doesn't break, but it doesn't stop abruptly.

Bucky averts his eyes - he doesn't need to see the pain there, he's already seen it. He doesn't need to hear the plea that Clint is trying to get out - he's already heard it before, once on Clint's lips, and once from Mockingbird, giving her consent for Bucky to do what she couldn't.

It's why he's here. Because Winter Soldier ought to be able to handle things no other Avenger should.

Hands that have spilled as much blood as Bucky's shouldn't tremble when his partner tenses in bed.

Clint lets go of the hands. "The scars aren't even that bad," Clint argues softly. "You - you've had to have seen worse."

He's caused worse.

Bucky nods shortly. "You want me to stop, you tell me. Otherwise I'll keep going."

"Won't want you to stop," Clint mumbles. "Want you to fix me."

"You aren't broken - we already established that," Bucky corrects, before leaning down to silent Clint with a kiss.

His hands return, slowly, deliberately - but not lightly.

[shiny-glor-chan.livejournal.com]

DCU, Jason Todd/Tim Drake, Tim's adolescent sex dreams featured Jason much too often

Dream Come True

[dixid.livejournal.com]

Tim often had dreams of Jason, even before his first Samhain visit. The first dreams had been filled with childish nonsense. He’d spent many slumbering hours of his tween years dreaming of being rescued by Jason during the older boy’s stint as Robin. Luckily, Tim had never needed rescuing, even with the late hours and sketchy neighborhoods he’d track Batman and Robin through night after night.

After Jason’s death the nightmare replaced the dreams. Almost nightly he’d dream of Batman or Nightwing saving Jason from the Joker; then wake up shaking in terror to face the reality of Gotham’s latest loss.

During his first few months of training with Batman he hadn’t once dreamt of Jason. Intensive training has a funny way of making you too tired to dream most nights. When he did dream it was only an extension of the training. His mind would conjure up training and survival scenarios for the scant few hours he tried to sleep. He’d wake up more exhausted than when he’d gone to sleep.

Those dreams changed after his first meeting with Jason during his Samhain visit. He hadn’t met Jason before his death, unlike meeting Dick at the circus, and being introduced to Bruce by his parents at the country club. Tim’s nightly observation of Batman and Robin (not stalking, no matter what Dick said), hadn’t prepared him for Jason’s physicality. Tim had been practicing restraint and stealth from a young age, and while Jason could be sneaky, he was far from restrained. He reminded Tim of a documentary he’d seen on tigers. He was powerful, beautiful, and if provoked, very dangerous.

He’d been terrified that the nightmares would eventually come back. Once he’d learned that Jason had been assigned to be his guardian angel, or spirit guide, he’d demanded that Jason not guard him while he was sleeping. Or showering. Not that he was going to have a nightmare in the shower, but he was a teen boy, he had needs. Even if he was meeting all of needs on his own. Privacy was always good.

The new dreams began almost immediately after meeting Jason. While he was happy to leave the training dreams and usual nightmares behind, he was getting frustrated by the amount of extra laundry required to hide the evidence of his dreams from the housekeeper. For 364 nights a year, with very few exceptions it seemed, he’d have variations of the same dream.

The only night he could count on not having the dreams was Samhain when the entire Batclan stayed up 24 hours to maximize their time with Jason. It had quickly become Tim’s favorite day of the year. He knew the dreams would never become a reality, but for one night he could have Jason’s company. Then, on Jason’s sixth Samhain visit, things had changed and he’d gotten to experience some of things he’d been dreaming about. Before Jason had faded from view, Tim shyly told the older Robin he no longer minded if Jason wanted to watch him sleep. The subsequent kiss had signaled to Tim that Jason thought that was an excellent idea.

Tim had never been comfortable in the spotlight, at least not without the Robin costume, but he found he enjoyed performing for a private audience. Just the thought of Jason watching him touch himself made him hard.

He quickly established a routine that allowed him to indulge his newfound kink. After each school day, prior to his pre-patrol nap, he’d lock himself in him room and turn on some music. After ensuring his privacy, he’d strip and spread out on his bed. At first he’d touched himself the way Jason had touched him. Then feeling adventurous, he’d expanded his performance to include talking to Jason as if he was physically there. Then he’d added a little dirty talking. His experimentation with fingering himself had led to acquiring a few toys to play with. After all, Tim didn’t want his audience of one to get bored.

Now, the sun was setting, signaling the beginning of Jason’s yearly visit. Even though Tim was looking forward to fulfilling more of his fantasies, he now realized that his dreams had expanded beyond just the physical. His ultimate dream-come-true would be having Jason with him year round.

[shiny-glor-chan.livejournal.com]

Marvel, Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, essentially jumping Steve when he returns after Reborn and things have calmed down

[ziplocless.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jared/Jensen/Chris, we want to watch you come undone

[ziplocless.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, aftercare

[ziplocless.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Alec/Eliot, succumbing to temptation

[ziplocless.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Author's choice(s), not what you expect

[ziplocless.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jeff/Christian, slow and easy on a lazy afternoon

[bishojo-kitsune.livejournal.com]

Dollhouse, Ivy/Topher/Bennet, not wanting to share

[ziplocless.livejournal.com]

Kane RPS, Steve/Chris, flushed desperate and gorgeous

Just Like This

[melodious329.livejournal.com]

How about the aftermath of sex? This is undoubtedly NOT what you were looking for *smacks head on desk*

Steve watches Christian from the doorway of his room, the glass of water forgotten in his hand. Christian’s in the middle of their bed, on his hands and knees, the beads of sweat on his back glistening in the afternoon sunlight streaming in from the windows. Still, it’s the shadowed view of Christian’s distended belly hanging down towards the mattress that really makes Steve swallow hard.

Christian’s flushed, desperate, and gorgeous. He’s constantly shifting, clenching the old cream-colored sheets in his fists, tossing damp tendrils of hair away from his face, trying to get his knees wider as he rhythmically rocks his hips back. He’s panting and groaning and Steve loves Christian this way, so lost in the sensations that he doesn’t give a damn how he looks or sounds.

Steve is just thinking that it shouldn’t be surprising that this moment would remind him of how they got pregnant to begin with when Christian lifts his head to look at him, letting Steve see the tense lines of pain in his face, the beautiful blue eyes bright and wet and unconsciously pleading.

Stepping into the room then, Steve places the glass on the bedside table before kneeling on the bed with his Christian. One hand goes immediately to the stretched skin of Christian’s belly while the other is pushing the hair away from Christian’s face so that Steve can rest his lips against Christian’s temple.

Slowly, Steve pulls Christian up on his knees and Christian sags back against Steve’s also naked body taking the offered comfort, his restless hands kneading Steve’s muscular thighs like an overgrown cat. After nine months of varying levels of discomfort, Steve’s really tired of seeing Christian in pain.

With a sudden grunt, Christian is falling forward back onto his hands again, thrusting his hips back again like he wants to bear down. But it’s not time yet, so Steve runs his hands up Christian’s back to his hair and then sets about pulling the long chestnut hair back into a ponytail again, even though Christian keeps pulling it out in frustrated pain.

“Hey, c’mon let’s lay down,” Steve whispers as he’s already pulling on Christian’s broad shoulders to get him to lie down on his side, back to Steve’s chest, Steve’s hands curled around Christian’s belly. Yeah, Steve likes Christian flushed and panting and desperate for Steve’s touch, but he thinks Christian is the most gorgeous he’s ever been just like this.

rps Christian kane/Steve Carlson

[jazzyroses13.livejournal.com]

Steve visits Chris on the set of Leverage and has "lunch" in his trailer