Korra (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thelegendof) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2014-01-10 10:16 pm
thelegendof) wrote in bakerstreet2014-01-10 10:16 pm
THE POSSESSIVE SEX MEME
THE POSSESSIVE SEX MEME
In nature, animals can be territorial. This makes sense; it's a cutthroat world, and you have to keep what's yours just to survive. They keep a close watch on lands, food supplies, and even sometimes mates. Pet owners can tell you that this instinct doesn't just go away - try getting that chew toy from your poodle. But what about people? Aren't we just animals, too? But for us, possessiveness is not a good social trait to have. That's understandable. Nobody likes someone so hung up on owning things. Especially not owning their lovers, since you can't simply have another person like that.
Yet even the most benign, most monkish of souls have possessive streaks at some moments when it comes to the person they're sleeping with. It's only natural. Usually, it comes from jealousy. You like having what's yours (even if it's a cruel way to think about things, that's the reptile brain peeking through), and you'd want it to stay that way. That means you want to show up the competition and remind the object of your desires that you're the apple of their eye. Of course, possessiveness doesn't always come from jealousy. Some people are just very, very...how do we say it...protective of them and theirs. How can they help that they want to show that in intimate ways?
In relationships, possessiveness throughout isn't healthy; still, a little bit of it can be actually arousing, especially in the bedroom. Today, the hotel is awakening that side of characters: the part that wants to screw their partner mercilessly to show them that they are the ones to touch them, to love them, to fuck them.
But my character isn't the possessive type, you say? Really? Really? As we've mentioned before, even the most kindhearted types feel it every once and a while. This meme never mentioned that it had to be a HUGE show of possession. It can even be a playful attempt in order to get their partner going or try a new kink in bed. Or, you could say the "influences" made them do it.
After all, there's plenty of prompts here to influence you.
HOW TO PLAY
- Comment with your character and preferences. You also may want to include if your character is more or less likely to be the possessive or jealous party, but please note that all characters have the potential to be that in this meme. Otherwise, you'd get a lot of passive pillow queen characters to be fawned over so be mindful of that.
- Reply to others!
PROMPTS
HOW
1. Induced Jealousy: Whether by taunting or misunderstanding, one partner is jealous and wants to make sure their lover knows that they're the worthy - and only - one.
2. Insecurity: There's no outside source here, only self-worth issues that cause a need for possession.
3. Pushed by the Other: "Man up!" "Show me you want me!" "Grow a pair!" You can only take so much.
4. Making up for Losses: You can't be together outside the bedroom, so you have to make up for it here and you want the bed to be your domain.
5. Rivalry: People of a certain age will remember a certain song about rivalries. The boy/girl is yours.
6. Necessity: You live in a society where you must show a certain amount of possessiveness over your lover.
7. Nature: Breeding and mating urges, oh my!
8. In the Mood: No particular reason, you woke up feeling like a lion in their terrain.
9. Hate You...but Don't Want Anyone Else to Have You: What it says on the tin.
10. Virginity: You want to claim what no one else has, and that will be you and you only.
11. Playfulness: All this is simply fun between the two of you.
12. Cruelty: You want to humiliate your partner by reminding them that you're the one in charge here.
13. WILDCARD.
HOW
1. Intense, desperate sex (not necessarily rough).
2. Rough sex.
3. Marking - either discreet or in places that could easily be seen.
4. Clothing (jewelry, lingerie, slutty clothing, and in some cases, collars and other trappings).
5. Reminding your partner that only you can bring them this much pleasure (overstimulation).
6. Public or semi-public sex.
7. Cheating, cuckholding, or netorare - essentially showing your lover that they may not be with you, but you're the one who gets them off.
8. Orgasm or pleasure denial.
9. Non-consensual.
10. Making them say who they belong to / dirty talk.
11. WILDCARD.
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o7
He bopped his head along with the music and hoped Will wouldn't force him out on the dance floor.
But then his gaze landed on a woman. She was...beautiful. Very beautiful. Merrill polished off his pint and tapped the counter for another one. Oh he was going to need a lot of liquid courage to talk to her.
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Morgana, on the other hand, was very much the type to go out to the clubs, not least because she always enjoyed the frenzy of hormones she could whip up. There was something powerful about making people want her by her mere presence alone: in her sheer ivory blouse and short black skirt - Italian leather - she cut a striking figure amidst a sea of mediocrity. It made her feel wanted, made her feel normal, which had been something she'd craved ever since she was a little girl. The nightmares had always made her feel just a little bit too different.
Nights like these, though, they were just for fun and decompression. She sipped her margaritas and laughed and chatted with her girlfriends, enjoying the beat of the music and the advances of those poor hopefuls. In fact, she was just finishing her second drink of the evening when she felt a new pair of eyes on her; they made her turn, scanning the crowd for whoever it was who'd noticed her.
Tall. Pale. Dark-haired. Morgana felt something about him immediately - something familiar that drew her closer - but she thought it best to brush it off before her thoughts could run away with themselves. Instead of stepping towards him she moved to the bar and placed down her empty glass. Perhaps it was time to order another; get her attention back on those all-important cocktails.
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HeGwen pulled out a dark blue silk button down for Merrill, saying that it brought his eyes out and would get the girls swarming around him. Paired with dark fitted jeans, Gwen cooed over how proud she was happy that he was coming out with the rest of them. FINALLY.Oh no. Oh no, she was walking over. Stay cool, Merrill, stay cool, he reminded himself. That buzzing underneath his skin got stronger and stronger as she walked toward him. He wondered if it was the pint that hit him that caused the warmth to come through him.
She brushed past him to order a new drink. His own pint arrived and he gulped it quickly down to calm the buzzing in his veins. There was something familiar about her that made him not able to pull his eyes away. Before long, he was right next to her, within earshot.
"You wanna dance?" he asked.
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Despite her best efforts to ignore him, Morgana found she just. Couldn't. It was almost impossible when, upon closer (and incredibly subtle) inspection he was drop dead bloody gorgeous: Gwen could be proud, because the shirt worked wonders for his high cheekbones and startling eyes. The proximity, however, was too much for her to remain comfortable with. She had to slip away, get back to her friends before--
You wanna dance?
Gods, yes, did she want to dance. She gave him a cool once-over, just to tease, before leaning close to respond.
"All right, but you're paying for my next drink," she teased, tossing a flirtatious little smirk in his direction as she let him lead her to the dance-floor. It was crowded and sticky and hot but Morgana didn't seem to mind: her cocktail was cool, and her stranger's presence was oddly comforting. Natural, even, if such a word could be used at such a time.
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He took her hand and led her to the crowded floor. His eyes never left hers. Merrill was aware at how packed the dance floor was, and wasn't particularly sure of how he suddenly was able to move like he did (probably the two pints). But he pulled her close, so close that they were pressed top to toe against each other. Then he began to move with the music.
It was hot. The music was thumping and pounded out a rhythm that numbed his mind (again, could be the pints) and Merrill found himself holding her tight against him, moving to press his kisses along her neck. He wasn't like this. He wasn't normally like this. The buzzing and burning beneath his skin seemed to intensify from her scent, her presence, and the music around them.
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Morgana felt it from the moment their bodies touched; a tangible split second in which the balance between them shifted. This man was a stranger - she didn't even know his name, for goodness' sake - and yet she found herself unable to keep from pressing herself close. He was hypnotic. More than that, he was bloody addictive, and a low sound rolled from her throat when he began brushing kisses against her neck.
She wasn't like this either. She'd never let someone hold her so tight; mouth at her so freely; and yet there she was, sliding her thigh against him as though inviting him to grind between her legs.
"Who are you?" Her hips moved with his to the sway of the beat. Dimly, she remembered her friends, and that they'd be wondering where she'd gone, but then the club fell away into an unimportant blur so she could focus on her partner. Scarlet lips quirked at the corners, flashing a smile equal parts charming and predatory; "Morgana Penn. A pleasure to meet you, I'm sure."
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"M-Merrill," he choked out. He pulled back and pressed foreheads against her, moving to lift her leg against him and fitting himself in the cradle between to grind closer, to be pressed closer to her.
Those lips were so inviting and Merrill ducked his head to snog her. He hauled her closer and closer to his body, the burning and buzzing beneath his skin surging and pulsing harder and harder, making him dizzy and hard and--by the Gods, he wanted her.
"Merrill Fort."
he ducked to press more hot kisses along her neck, wanting and needing to touch her and taste her.
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Morgana's leg went easily, curling around his hip and supporting some of her weight as they rocked together. She was no prude - she'd had sexual partners in the past - but this was already topping them, like there was something matching in their blood that made each touch a thousand times better. That sweeping kiss only re-enforced those hazy thoughts: Morgana shuddered, pressing closer against him as wetness made the lace of her panties dark and damp.
She couldn't even blame the alcohol. Two and a half cocktails was nothing, and she'd abandoned her latest margarita in favour of holding onto Merrill tighter. She could feel the hear of his erection through his trousers and wanted to rub herself against it; to push up her skirt, audience be damned, and let him grind against her core.
"Merrill," just a breath, barely audible over the music. They'd start attracting attention soon if they didn't find a dark corner to make their own. Morgana lapped at his lower lip; "Gods - should we ..."
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He pulled her toward him and set her leg down. Merrill took her lips in another passionate kiss, leading them off the floor and toward the back, where he hadn't seen too many people go into. The buzzing and burning under his skin felt unbearable; not unless he kissed her and touched her and he needed her.
Once they were out of sight, he pulled her against him once more, kissing her passionately, knowing that he was smearing the beautiful lipstick on her. He was hard in his jeans, straining aginst the zipper and moaning against her lips. The scent of her made him dizzy.
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The dark was a comfort. The music was still loud, yes, and there was the chance that they could be discovered, but at least they weren't making a spectacle of themselves on the dance floor anymore. Merrill's kisses were possessive and dominant - they made her own kisses even more yielding - and when she eventually broke the liplock for air she backed up until her arse bumped the edge of a table.
Good. That was good. It'd make the rest of it easier - the ache easier to soothe.
Morgana seated herself on the edge and spread her thighs wide, pulling Merrill closer, and this time when her skirt slid up her legs she didn't bother trying to pull it back down. That's she'd worn stockings with suspenders instead of pantyhose was one of those small mercies she'd thank herself for later: she needed Merrill, needed him, and the less clothes between them? The better. Nimble fingers reached for his zipper as she mouthed at the front of his throat, her nipples pert and her breathing hard as she coaxed him closer between her legs.
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He went to her willingly. Merrill kept kissing her, moaning when he pressed tighter against her and feeling the heat radiating off of her as well. The snaps for her suspenders undid themselves and her stockings rolled down on their own. Merrill's hands were at her hips the entire time as he leaned into her more, and more, wanting to spread her out onto the table before him. His right hand left her hip, moving to brush his fingertips against the soaked lace between her legs.
Merrill moaned deeply and moved to kiss bruises into her neck as he kept moving his fingers against the lace, against the wetness and thrust toward her when the smell of her musk reached his nose. The burning and buzzing underneath his skin intensified.
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Each time skin brushed against skin Morgana felt a squeeze between her legs; a race of heat beneath her skin that had her breath caught in her throat. His fingers rubbing at her weren't enough: she whined, leaning back on one hand to make her own thrusts a little easier, pressing onto his hand and his thrusting hips as the scent of her coaxed them on. When she finally had his button and zipper undone she moved her hands to her own underwear.
"Do you want to fuck me?"
Her eyes were black and flecked with gold; lipstick pale and smudged from all their kissing. Morgana hooked a finger into her knickers to tug them aside, revealing her wetness, before changing her mind and lying back to push them off her hips entirely. Only when they were hanging off one ankle did she sit up again, guiding Merrill's hand back to her dripping pussy;
"I want it." Then another kiss, dirty and slow and just too good. She rubbed his fingertips against her clit and moaned against his lips. "I want you."
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There was something peculiar about her eyes. Merrill groaned, feeling something resonate within him when he saw that. Though this time, there was no headache that accompanied it. He shoved his jeans down and his own underpants down as she laid back before him. And when she tugged her knickers away, Merrill thought he was going to die right then and there.
He groaned deeply against her lips as he sunk a finger into her hot and tight channel. His thumb pressed and rubbed against her clit, hoping to elicit more moans from her. Another finger sunk in and he started a rhythm as he sucked and nibbled on her lips, feeling the heat and buzzing intensify with each passing second.
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A low groan rolled from the tip of Morgana's tongue when Merrill pressed that finger up inside her - stretched her around it and rubbed her clit - coaxing more wetness around his fingers to slick the way even more. Grasping at him, Morgana kissed him deeply, before moving to undo the buttons of her blouse, stopping only when it was untucked and hanging open to reveal the scant black lace covering her breasts. It was almost a shame that they wouldn't get to do it properly ...
But then there was something to be said for fast and semi-clothed. It was a thrill.
Eager for more, Morgana clenched her pussy tight around his fingers, reaching beneath the elastic of his boxers to pull out the heft f his cock. It was velvet soft and hard as steel - a little sticky around the tip - and she pumped it a few times while looking up at him with those strange eyes. Gods, it was thick. The sooner she had it, the better.
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for there were much more urgent matters at hand. He groaned against her when he felt her pussy clench around him then her swift fingers, cool against his hot hardness, reach for him.
It surged within him: that hot, spiraly, burning feeling and his eyes had a faint golden glow to them as he thrust into her hand over and over. Finally, he pulled her hand away and nudged against her entrance, thrusting and moaning as he slid over her opening over and over.