bakerstreet | The Just Do It Meme (or the Shameless Smut Meme)

The Just Do It Meme (or the Shameless Smut Meme)

the JUST DO IT meme

(or the SHAMELESS SMUT meme)
The room you wake in is unfamiliar. The decor is red and gaudy, the pillows and other features of the room ♥heart-shaped♥. The bed is, thankfully, comfortable.
And there's someone in the bed with you. Are they male, female, or otherwise? A total stranger, or an old lover? Older than you, or younger than you? Well, no matter who they are, even if you would never dream of it otherwise, you're suddenly filled with an urge to have sex with them. Right here, right now. And so are they, so that should work out just fine.

Let's be real. Sometimes, you just want to play smut. Good old Porn Without Plot has a certain appeal, right? Other times, you just want to throw two characters together, but you're worried about how they would actually get to the deed or if they would even do it. Well, this meme takes out all the hassle. Let's indulge in some shameless smut.

HOW IT GOES DOWN:
- Comment with your characters, putting any preferences you have somewhere in the comment.
- Others will respond.
- Your characters, no matter what they would usually do or if they even know each other, will have the burning desire to screw the other's brains out.
- ~~There is no thirteenth floor. There is no Miss Zarves.~~ There is no RNG.
- Have fun.

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((Ooh, another OC! She seems to share a thing or two in common with one of mine -- feel free to ignore/drop the thread if he doesn't suit. Apologies in advance for the lack of PB or icons. I'll see about drawing an image, but I always find it difficult to pair characters with actors. His character info is here.))

It didn't take Sam long to notice that, waking up, he was in a much different bed than he was familiar with. Looked like a different room, too, once he opened his eyes a crack to squint around. Scowling fiercely, he pushed himself upright such that the gaudy, silky sheets that had been covering him pooled to his lap. He was about to get up to do some exploring when he realized that he wasn't the only one in the bed... and much more importantly, the person in the bed next to him seemed to be a complete stranger.

For Sam, that was an especially mind-altering change of pace. Feeling not quite himself, he managed to wedge a pillow over his covered lap, half to hide the fact that he didn't have his leg strapped on, half to hide the fact that the woman across from him was already having an effect on him. He tried to speak, managed a raspy noise before clearing his throat, then, "have we met?" If Joy was still sleeping, he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder to shake her awake, unaware of her potential to knock him a new one if she were startled by the touch.

Joy was indeed still asleep, sprawled out on her stomach with a bit of sheet tossed over her hips, basically dead to the world until she was touched. At first she assumed it was just Alex or one of the kids, but as she inhaled, she realized it wasn't -- nothing else smelled like a nephilim and she lived with three of them, there was no way she could mistake it. She was immediately up and scrambling back to the edge of the bed, yanking the sheet with her to cover herself because it hadn't really occurred to her that he'd seen at least her back already. He didn't...quite smell human, either, but maybe that was something else in the room.

"Who are you?" she demanded, expression intense. "Where are we?" Taking her first good look at him, she immediately wanted to crawl back into the bed. He was like...a less-grizzled version of Ethan, the alpha who had very nearly drawn her in all those years ago, and that immediately filled her head with thoughts of what Ethan had done to convince her. She wouldn't mind those things with this guy.

Thank god he'd borrowed that pillow, as the rest of the sheet was yanked out from under him. Sam grimaced, folding his good leg over as though to cover the stump that ended just above his knee. He'd barely allowed Javon -- the younger one, the one who thought she ought to be able to fix him up after he'd lost his own partner -- to see him uncovered, let alone a complete stranger.

Still, at least it wasn't as though he'd somehow lost his senses and wound up with a stranger looming over him, wanting to fuck him silly. Wait, now why did that thought come up before any of the more dangerous and likely options he found more difficult to dredge up to keep himself wary? The dark haired woman looked as though she were built for fighting, and he'd caught a glimpse of her scars before the shimmery sheets were yanked up around her. There was none of that whipcord thin sort of strength to her with which he'd become accustomed, more a stocky and muscular build -- at least judging from her exposed shoulders and arms. That, he had to admit, didn't mean she wasn't undeniably attractive. Sam managed to drag his attention away from Joy for a moment, glancing around the rest of the room as he ran a free hand over his grizzled jaw. The fact that the walls were decorated with a positively putrid damask of hearts within hearts, the floors were covered in a rich mulberry shag of carpet... the high ceiling bore chandeliers composed of dozens of tiny hanging, glowing hearts and butterflies and, of course, heart-shaped mirrors... "I'm not sure," he turned a sidelong glance up at the woman, "but I think we've been dropped into some asshole architect's nightmare." Wet dream, more like, though he didn't want to dwell on that.

If he were in virtual space, right now would be the time that he whipped off the visor he must be wearing. Nobody would actually create such a heinous excuse for a romantic setting out of real materials -- and Sam acceded that there was no way he'd wind up in this sort of space unless by some randomized virtual design. Obviously he wouldn't be in this state of mind unless it was a programed experience, right? He brought his hands to his temples, as one usually did when trying to coordinate his physical body to do the same... but the gesture bore no fruit. He was still here, everything remained the same.

Now he began to feel the pinch of panic. He ran one hand through his hair, looking up at Joy again with consternation that, for the moment at least, outweighed the urge to reel her back into the undeniably comfortable bed. "I'm Sam," he finally told her, hands folding one over the other on top of his pillow. "You are...?" He would prefer to hop over to a door and try it out, but he wasn't seeing one from here... and besides, what the fuck was he going to do, scrabble down the hall into god knew where, buck ass naked and completely lost?

Better not to panic. He squelched that line of reasoning to the back of his mind, taking a breath as he did so. Maybe this woman would give some insight... though given the circumstances, he'd best not gawk. He didn't want to be taken as a pervert in addition to being a freak. Casting as brief a glance her way as possible, he explained, "I haven't been here before, honestly." He used his best calm voice, as he considered his options. Most of them involved some variant of bringing Joy back to bed, though he kept pushing them away in order to try to think.

She watched him with suspicion, still sniffing. She could smell desire, both hers and his, assuming that whatever he was, emotions smelled the same on him as on a human. It had taken her years to learn the nephilim smells. Smelling it had a Pavlovian effect on her, making her want him more, so she started breathing through her mouth, trying not to smell it.

"Joy," she admitted grudgingly, sitting down on the bed again. "Please tell me you at least know what magic is and you're not some random mortal." Mortals didn't usually look as tore-up as he did, but you never knew. Joy didn't see a door, which meant there might be a pool or a portal nearby, but she didn't see any of those, either. The only way to have gotten them in here was magic, which might have been fine because Joy could move around with magic easily enough, but it was easy enough to spell the place so she couldn't get them out. She kept the sheet awkwardly held to her chest. She didn't want him to see and recoil. In truth, only a couple of people had ever seen her scars. She didn't trust anyone to get that close.

Perhaps she was smelling Grizzly, given that Sam's doppleganger had been in something of a fierce mood the last time they'd spoken. It had been getting close to the full moon in any case, and even Sam could tell when the other cell member was about to lose it. He'd been sleeping in an unclaimed apartment just before he'd woken up here simply to get away from the pair of prowling, cranky bears that were his fellow cellmates.

When Joy settled back to the bed, Sam felt instantly better... though he had no reason to, of course. Her exasperated plea, however, set him to a bark of laughter. "Yes, but yes," he informed her. There had been a few dopps imported from stranger places -- a smarmy psionic, an unnerving elemental magic user that hadn't lasted very long -- but Sam was far and away from that sort of extranormal activity, himself. Before this conversation could continue to go on much longer, he entreated, "could you look and see if there's some kind of towels or something... if you're going to keep those sheets, I mean." Pillows were well and good, but if they were going to speak he felt as though he could stand a little more dignity.

In any case, he wanted to know, "so what do you do?" He had become suspicious: if she was anything like either of the pairs he knew who possessed strange abilities, she could be very dangerous. She didn't seem to be in charge of this whole setup... but then, he couldn't be sure. Maybe she'd been planning this all along? Bad taste in surroundings, but ultimately... something of an exciting idea.

There was a sheet and a blanket, so she managed to disentangle them without flashing him too much (and if she did, at least it was the good boob) and push the blanket toward him, yanking the sheet up higher against herself. She shot him a brief glare at what sounded like stupid small talk, but it might be the key to why they were here. Her job got her some enemies. "I'm the Overseer to werewolves in the Eastern US." Eastern was a Council designation that meant the eastern and central time zones. "I tell the alphas what to do."

"I'm not gonna lie, not everyone loves me, but I don't know anyone who's capable of this. Or why you'd be here." Other than to smell and look really fucking good. She wanted to...lick him or something. She didn't know. She was starting to get all stupid, the way she did when Alex got all up in her business. "I'm married." She blushed, but she'd felt the need to declare that.

Sam felt briefly relieved as he wound the blanket around himself, but it was rather too hot to keep it that way for long. Slipping the puffy red wrap a little bit open, he considered what her words meant. If he took her at face value, it meant that she was a pretty fucking badass piece of work, right there. Well, that was something. Sam had never particularly found modesty or incompetence much of a turn on. He couldn't help but cast her a speculative look, despite his efforts to remain focused on their very serious situation. Something was fucking with his head. Even though she'd mentioned the taken situation, that did very little to forestall a growing sense of discomfort and arousal. It actually made the situation worse: he'd already suffered for years missing his own partner, and meanwhile Panda Javon's dopps were wandering around all over the place and out of reach. He was more or less in familiar territory, then. "Widower," he told her after a moment, clearing his throat again and scowling. He really ought not be thinking these things. Something was definitely wrong. "Listen... I don't mean to offend you, or come across as an ass, but the only thing I can think about right now is, well," he stalled out before he could get into a graphic description. Fucking her into the bed would have been a good, concise use of words, but he had a feeling she might sock him for it. Would that be alright with him? He was having a hard time not liking just about every scenario that kept popping to mind. Instead, he swallowed and tried to reinstate the sense of guilt that had all along been evaporating, a proper sort of guiding principle that he should be feeling, and switched tracks. "I think I might be drugged, I'm not thinking straight." A bit of shame always helped. He felt like a god damned animal trapped in some kind of breeding pen, locked in with this woman. He couldn't even put his mind to bear as to why he might be brought here in the first place, even after Joy had brought it up. Asinine employers enacting devious machinations...? He wouldn't put it past them, but it didn't fit with their usual style.

There might have been some obligatory punching if he'd said it, but it would have been followed immediately with complete approval. As it was, she blushed. "Yeah, I know. I can smell it. I uh...me too." Her cheeks were warm and she knew she was probably bright, bright red. "We might be drugged...definitely potions that can do this, probably. Theoretically, anyway." Oh god, she just wanted to touch him, and she reached out slowly, going for his arm, before she noticed what she was doing and forced her hand down.

"Shit. Um. Maybe..." Maybe if they just did it they'd be let out. Joy couldn't get pregnant, and...well, she supposed there wasn't anything they could do about diseases. But she couldn't be sure that wasn't just her brain looking for any excuse at all to fuck him.

Smell it? Jesus, he didn't think he was that bad... but if she had anything to do with werewolves, or was one, that might make sense. He had been watching her lift an arm, eyes narrowed, but when it began to fall again, he felt anticipation that had been building between them snap. He leaned forward, extended his own arm, and placed it over her hand. That was safe enough, but it wasn't enough. He hadn't really touched anyone for a hell of a long time... this was going to be awkward, he could just tell.

Never the less, still tucked in the blanket-wrap, he freed up his other hand and ran it through her hair, cupping her jaw a moment later. She felt good -- solid, real. Shit, was looking into her eyes going to be one of those dominance things? He couldn't help it, his brain had cheerfully turned itself off as his cock had all but began to throb with tension and need. There was one part of him that was fiercely growling, 'get a grip of yourself, you have no fucking idea what you're doing.' That part, though, was drowned out by a cacophony of far less coherent or civilized demands.

Joy bit her lip when he touched her hand. Why did that feel so good? A second later, his other hand was in her hair, and it was all she could do not to moan, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she leaned into the touch and made a sound between a sigh and a growl. Oh god, she wanted him. Eye contact could be a dominance thing with werewolves, but it was training and conditioning; having been raised among witches, Joy had no reaction to it, and didn't look away as she started to move.

She knocked the pillow away from Sam's lap and replaced it with herself, blanket and sheet still awkwardly between them, but getting as close to him as possible was a good first step. She'd been trying to think about Alex and the kids, really she had, but at this point she just had to resign to being in trouble for awhile, because she needed the guy in front of her. She was a little nervous -- he was about to constitute 25% of the guys she'd ever done anything with, after all -- but not enough to stop herself as her hands came to rest on the sides of his neck. He was a little cool to her touch, but that was normal. Werewolves ran hot. And he was warmer than her husband, which made her shiver a little.

Twenty-five percent was more than could be said for Sam. Aside from a bit of fooling around he'd done in his youth that hadn't gone anywhere serious, he'd had little experience outside of the blonde that he'd grown close to. Did the other, more recent one even count, or was she more or less the same person with a few different life choices thrown in?

It didn't matter. The man shifted his hips as Joy settled over him, eyes closing and breath coming out in a rush when her hot hands settled on either side of his neck. It was as though she'd run a current through him. Even through the layers of sheets between the two of them, she could feel the hard protrusion of his erection. She could probably feel the dichotomy of a whole leg and a missing one, too... but given that he'd displayed such extensive scarring before he'd managed to cover up, maybe that wasn't too traumatizing to discover. Hopefully it wasn't... Sam would usually have called things off here, but she was already on him and, fuck it, his hands found their own way down her sheet-protected sides to settle over her thighs. He rolled his hips against her, tentative. It didn't quite count when there were this many layers between them, but it felt good... teasing, but good.

Joy watched as he reacted to her, breath hitching a little when he realized how hard she already was. She could feel that he was missing a leg, too, but...fuck it. A man with a missing leg was unlikely to freak out at her scars. She made a desperate sound when he rolled his hips, eyes closing for a second as her hands moved to his shoulders and she pressed her face against his neck. She forced herself to pull back, though, tugging the sheet away from herself and then pulling at the blanket on him. She needed as much skin as possible, now.

"No feeling in my scars," she said, pushing him down onto his back once the blankets were gone. For some reason, it always seemed important to tell people about that, even though it didn't seem to make any practical difference.

For a moment, Sam resisted her insistently tugging hands, but really, her attention to bothersome sheets was in both of their best interests, so he let up a moment later and helped her where he could. Seeing scars of the like that Joy possessed only gave Sam a moment's pause -- he'd seen worse, he suspected. Everyone who worked in the complex faced dangerous situations on a regular basis, and it was a very rare doppelganger who could claim that he or she didn't have a scar to their name. The fact that this woman wasn't put off by his own appearance was encouraging, and the brief flush of shame that had overpowered his earlier lust was chased away the moment he was pushed back into the bed.

"Pressure, though?" he asked in response to her disclaimer, distracted by the sensation of her. He had points that lacked sensitivity on his own body: where shrapnel had nicked a nerve, or been embedded too deep. Some of the much paler nicks and marks that peppered his torso and legs grew achy at times, though at the moment the lot of them seemed flushed an aroused shade of pink. He slipped his hands up her back, exploring but urgent, and when his hands tangled in her hair again, he brought her close enough to kiss. A moment later, in the interests of equal disclosure, he pulled away and added, "watch the leg, alright?"

He'd forgotten how good it felt to have someone pressed so closely to him. He kept himself separated from the rest of the complex when he could manage it, possibly to feel sorry for himself, but more practically, because he wasn't in much of a fit state to interact with the others. Joy was perfectly hot, her skin a fascinating topography of smooth and marred that urged his hands to wander. When he told her, "you feel good," he sincerely meant it, even if he couldn't summon up more eloquent words to explain. By waves of insistent exploration on the part of his hands and mouth, interspersed with moments of contemplation, he resettled her over his hips. He was hard and obviously ready for her, but he was trying not to be too forward about it. The steady pulse of his cock was throbbing all throughout his body and he didn't want to push anything to the point where she'd back off. They were finally acquiescing to the demands of their bodies, but he felt as though this was all too good to be true.

The theory went that Joy should have had some pain in her scars, but the magic infecting them, the magic from a werewolf's bite, had just killed the nerves and made her numb. That was probably preferable to pain, in truth, and it was an advantage in a fight. She could feel a touch if it was firm enough to shift her body mass a little, but for the most part, she wouldn't even be aware of a hand until it met undamaged skin.

She made a little noise at the fingers in her hair and let herself be pulled down, her kiss hard and aggressive and as much biting as lips. She shifted her hips around, trying to line things up and gasping as she sank down on him, almost unexpectedly. She sat up then, planting her hands on his stomach for balance as she started to move, fast and hard and eager.

Groaning approval at her kiss, gripping her more tightly as she did so, Sam allowed his eyes to close for a moment as he indulged in the shocks of pleasure that her shifting hips were causing. When she slipped down over his cock, however, he gasped. "Good," he echoed his earlier statement, but had no time to elaborate. Holding on to her, the man rocked his hips to accommodate her pace, surprised at the speed and voracity with which she'd started. His experience with sex had always been one of slow caution; he had gotten it into his head that most people had to be careful about how much they could take or how fast they could do so before the experience switched from pleasure to uncomfortable pain... but being pounced like this, Sam found himself losing any sense of coherent thought very quickly and lost the worried edge that had spiked forward in his consciousness.

At least they were doing what they'd felt the burning desire to begin since they'd woken up here, and he wasn't currently being preoccupied with his lot in life. Without the guilt... or at least, without quite so much guilt as he was used to, this was probably the best fuck he'd had in a long time. He was watching her through slitted eyes, trying to find the best rhythm to accommodate her. There was a part of him that wanted to press her, demand more, or harder... but he wasn't ready to, yet. Instead he growled encouragement, fingers tightening over her thighs as she moved over him.

Joy had plenty more and harder to give, but at the moment, this fucking attraction she'd felt since first spotting him was driving her so that all that mattered was to get off, whether that involved his participation or not. Her usual lover took a lot of pride in getting her off, but that didn't mean she didn't know how to take care of herself, too.

That didn't seem to bother Sam: he was fairly easy to please and she was doing a damned fine job of it even so. His own previous partner had always been a meticulous lover, and since she had gotten more out of taking control over him, Sam found this woman's method strangely familiar. He murmured encouragement -- not loudly, given he still felt divided by the fact that he was in a strange situation with a strange woman, but he was also on a simple track towards orgasm, and her using him like this had been striking off pretty much everything that he needed at the moment.

Still, he'd always felt somewhat restrained by the need to go slowly, to be careful, to allow Javon to take the wheel. He felt himself getting closer to his peak as the woman continued to ride him single-mindedly, and the same part of him that had been compelled to reach out to Joy in the first place also wanted to fuck all night. He'd need to do something about that, or very quickly there'd be no coming back. He opened his eyes again, they having drifted shut, shifted a little as he wrapped his arms around the woman, and did his best to roll her onto the mattress using his good leg as a lever. He was flushed and sweating, gazing down on her with a grin of victory if she allowed him to follow through with that little ploy, and a moment later, the grin was accompanied by a deep kiss. He didn't mind if it threw her off or distracted her -- it meant that he had a bit of time to slow things down.

Joy got the idea and cottoned on that it might not be the easiest thing for him, so she helped, using her weight and superior strength to get them over all the way. She liked this better, actually, she'd just been so caught up that she didn't care, and the shifting itself made her shiver. "Fuck," she breathed, rolling her hips up against him to encourage this and laughing breathlessly when he grinned. She made a gutteral noise into his mouth when he kissed her, liking that, and brought her arms up around him, clutching his shoulders and dropping her head back against the pillow when the kiss ended. Her legs were spread and her knees drawn up to give him room between them, not caring if that made her look like a whore, just wanting to fuck and to come. She was starting to get louder, every thrust pushing a noise out of her throat somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

The covert help seemed to do the trick, but if Sam had been hoping for this change of pace to allow him to take it easier, he was sorely (or rather, happily?) mistaken. With her legs open like that, voice such an incredible turn on, the man found himself acquiescing to the way her hips bucked and her cunt tightened eagerly around his cock. He felt a twinge of guilt over the fact that she was probably thinking of her husband during all of this... but that didn't stop him from fucking her harder, now that he had some control over the matter.

Sam quickly found himself heading towards climax again, biting back a groan by nipping at her neck. He probably wouldn't have done that, with Javon, but then again, it was rare that he had been able to top the blonde in any case. He bit at Joy's collarbone again simply for the novelty of it, running a tongue across her hot flesh, wanting more. A few minutes later, his panting growing erratic, he gasped, "I'm close --" to forewarn her, or something -- anything, really. He hadn't thought this through, he hadn't worn a condom. At about this point, he'd probably have been made by his old partner to pull out simply for the sake of the mess he'd make, but even without that conditioning, there were probably some other good reasons that he couldn't recall right now where it made sense to back off. Sam moaned again, furrowing his brows and continuing on unless Joy made a move to stop him. He really needed this; his each thrust was tense and frenetic and he wasn't sure that he could stop if he tried.

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The Just Do It Meme (or the Shameless Smut Meme)

Sam Tandona | OC

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(Last one for the night!)

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