Smut Picture Prompt Meme

[sockitymcsock]

the  smut picture prompt meme
SIMILAR TO THE PICTURE PROMPT MEME ONLY FOR NSFW/SMUT PROMPTS INSTEAD

i. COMMENT WITH CHARACTER
ii. OTHERS LEAVE A PICTURE (OR TWO OR THREE....)
iii. REPLY TO THEM WITH A SETTING BASED ON THE IMAGES.

THIS POST WILL BE IMAGE HEAVY AND NSFW.

Link to an image:   <a href=IMAGEURL>TEXT</a>

Embed an image in your reply:   <img src=IMAGEURL>

You can control width and height of your pictures:   <img src=IMAGEURL width=500> OR <img src=IMAGEURL height=INSERT>

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Comments

[polyglot]

[tricorders]

[ he's pretty sure that what nyota gets and what she deserves are two entirely different things. but he's a gentleman, he's convinced himself, so he doesn't inject himself into conversations in which jim babbles about spock and uhura's relationship as though they're some tragic, romeo and juliet couple that will bounce right back together just as soon as spock figures out how to treat a woman right, and when jim says he's going to be the one to offer advice, leonard nearly chokes on his coffee.

but he had noticed that she was surprisingly away from spock more often. he's not sure what exactly that means, he's not sure if by the fact that they're apart even means she's looking for someone, so he's tried to keep that mostly to himself. except that it's hard to do that when she glances his direction every so often, and he finds himself oddly protective. when hendorff mentions her in his quarterly physical he gives him a stern talking to and a bit harder than usual hypospray full of vaccinations, and when he hears jim still trying to patch up that relationship, mccoy nearly hits him on the side of the head.

she doesn't deserve spock.

never did, in his opinion. she may've wanted him, but no one deserves to fall in love with a vulcan, a damn person who can't even respond to your love the way she deserved, and that's the final straw, that's when he's managed to come up to her quarters and knock and tell her just how much she deserves, that she's a beautiful young woman and she's gonna find someone who's going to give her the world one day, just you wait and see. and when that attempt goes forward, he finds himself suddenly in her quarters and her lips pressed against his, and she's warm and soft and beautiful and feminine and everything he hasn't barely touched since he's divorced his wife nearly four years ago.

but she's different, and he finds himself kissing her desperately, tenderly, trying to give her just as much emotion as she's used to not receiving, pouring in as much as he possibly can. and then he's pulling back and cupping her jaw, brushing over her lips. ]

I just wanna...make sure you're okay. We don't have to do anything you don't want to.

[polyglot]

[ she'd often heard before joining starfleet and upon enlistment that the problem with actual stationing on a ship was that it was like a mini-ecosystem; there was no such thing as a personal life. she'd waved that away, initially. after all, they were all adults. surely they would be able to keep their hands (and rumors) to themselves. or at least, she'd thought that before she and spock had begun having problems. she'd barely even known they were having problem before the women of the ship had begun approaching her en masse, offering condolences (they weren't broken up?), telling her she deserved better, etc. meanwhile, the men were huddling together, chatting on their own.

it was enough to make her scream.

it seemed like the only thing that would keep her sane was hiding out on the communications deck (sure to be deserted, she'd dismissed her lackeys in hope of quiet) and translating the obscure signals they received from all corners of the universe. normally, she had other people to do that for her; but the work soothed her. it gave her something to think about other than the shambles of her relationship -- what did "too vibrant" mean? why was it a bad thing? -- and the impending trip that spock was making back to vulcan. without her. the first time he'd left the ship without taking her with him.

nyota surprised even herself, however, with how often she found herself glancing at other people - namely dr. mccoy. she'd heard, through the ever busy rumor mill, that he'd given hendorff one of his famous hyposprays after her name came up and that kirk had been on the receiving end of a few shouting matches. her name had come up on the bridge more than a few times, when both she and spock had been absent. someone was championing her cause -- but why?

there was no time to ponder that; it was the day spock was leaving, the day that the communications deck was closed for repairs and the day that she didn't have a shift until much later. she'd finally escaped to her quarters and was settling in for a long nap (perhaps aided by some brandy that she'd snuck aboard) when the door bell had rung and she'd opened it and all of a sudden.

kissing. she was being kissed. kissed like she'd dreamed about in those stupid dreams you clung to in the quiet moments just after waking, where you could still feel the hint of a dream clinging to your consciousness and you thought you could just slip back into it. nyota couldn't hesitate; her hands came up to grip mccoy's uniform, tugging him forward, into her quarters so that the door could slide shut (no more fuel for the rumor mill, please), fingers tangling in the fabric as her tongue twined around his, body softening against. god, it was like everything she hadn't known she missed, everything she hadn't been aware she'd needed for those long months.

and then it was over and she was left blinking, somewhat dazed, eyes hazy with muted desire. ]

You're just going to stop? [ she said, finally, nudging his hand with her lips, brushing them against his fingers. rough, but not unpleasantly so. in fact, it was .. perfect. ] You can't. Don't. Not now. Not after..

[ she can't say it and she refuses to beg, instead nipping at one finger and glancing back at him, eyes somewhat pleading. ]

[tricorders]

[ he looks guilty for a minute; because christ, he doesn't just kiss girls all that often. doesn't come up in polite conversation much, and it certainly shouldn't come up with uhura while they're both in her room with the door closed and Spock off to new Vulcan somewhere, god knows where and god knows why. he feels horrible because he doesn't just do that, no matter how much he thinks the guy's an unfeeling robot, he has no idea. but he's looking down at her and he's pretty sure he's breaking all rules here, because he's still holding her gently, he's dropping a hand down to the middle of her back and just pulling her close for a minute.

she deserves better than spock, but that doesn't mean it's him, 'cause jesus he's got jocelyn's voice in his ear telling him again that he's worked too much lately, that he never has time for her, and he never even noticed she was unhappy. and maybe that's why she ran into the arms of another man, and maybe that's what nyota is doing now, because she's certainly clinging to him, she's gently brushing her lips against his hand, and he gently strokes over her jaw with a soft, anything-but-clinical touch.

he feels horrible for it, but he's moving forward, kissing her anyway. because dammit, it's not really fair, not fair for her to beg him to stop, because he doesn't really want to. he doesn't want to say no, and he wants to give her what he needs, and if that means letting her tug him forward into her room and if that means slowly dropping his fingers down to her waist, that's what they both need.

she deserves this, she deserves the feeling of being cared for and adored and appreciated and needed.

he can't imagine spock is very tender, and he can't imagine he does this - he can't imagine that he murmurs that she's beautiful against her lips, that he crumbles with her against the mattress like a tidal wave crashing down, his fingers seeking to slide through hers and clench their hands together. ]

I don't want to stop. [ he murmurs, and that slow southern drawl is touched with honey and sex and something all together separate, sensuality and acknowledgement that she hasn't gotten what she needs.

but he's still a gentleman, (at least he'd like to fancy himself one) and so he stops himself as he looks down at her. ]

You better let me know if I go too far. You say the word and I'll stop straight off. [ his brows lift and he pauses, stroking his fingers through her hair. ]

Don't wanna do anything you don't want me to.

[polyglot]

[ the guilt she sees in his eyes chills her to the very core and for a moment she rethinks her begging, rethinks all of this. then, the part of her that had been sleeping for so long returned to life shouting, didn't she deserve this? to be held, to be loved by someone who looked at her gently and cared about what she wanted and that she was hurting? and didn't she deserve just one night where no one was staring at her like she was a wounded animal, and someone actually cared?

at the very least, she wasn't doing anything wrong. maybe she hadn't been able to admit they were over because saying it aloud made it true, but spock would never come back to her. not when she knew what his trip to vulcan was for, and what he was going to do.

once she's pulled close, her arms curl around his neck and she sighs, melting into his arms and abandoning the sense of hurt and betrayal that had followed her around lately, abandoning the sense of being anything other than nyota, with anyone other than leonard. as soon as her back hits the mattress, she's arcing against him, hands applying pressure to his to show that she was still with him.

god, it was everything until he pulled away and her eyes searched his for some sort of approval, fingers curling in his hair, her palm brushing over his cheek as she gently explored his features. ]

Yes. Yes. [ she insists, twining a leg around his hip insistently and rolling against him, tilting back her chin with some of her old fire. ] Don't stop, or I swear to god I'll shoot you.

[ there. that sounded more like her, and the fire in her eyes was familiar. it may have been burning low for a while, but it couldn't now, not when he was on top of her. ]