The Seed of an Idea Smut Meme

When playing smut, as with most rp, sometimes you have a problem --- well, a problem that becomes two-fold. Maybe you have an idea, some inspiration that strikes you, but it's not fully formed. There's not enough here to make a proper post; or, perhaps, you don't have the place to do so or the person who may be interested in it. The other problem is that there is no meme to cater to this specific idea, because most memes have their own, built-in prompts that don't exactly fit.

Well, this meme kills two birds with one sexy stone. Here, you, the top commenter, provide only what you're interested in. This "idea" can be anything: a vague concept ("x, my boy character, crossdressing and having sex with a girl"), a picture, a lyric, a list of options, or a full-fledged starter. The only requirement is that your comment contain something. Everything else will follow, and others will show their creativity from what you've posted.

RULES

Comment with your character and your preferences.
Comments MUST contain a prompt of some kind. Blank comments will be deleted.
Comment to others, using what they've provided.
As far as pictures or gifs go, obviously this will be NSFW, but please, for pictures that show extreme sexual violence or questionable consent, link them rather than embed them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"What if you--? Did you get hit on the head? No, wait. It's me. I'm dead, aren't I?" He accepted the hand and let himself be slowly pulled up.

Derek settled him, scooting off his thighs with a sardonic look and a raised eyebrow. "I just told you you're not dead," he replied, one hand still carefully perched on Stiles' waist, leeching the pain from him.

"But you could have been."

He looked down when he felt Derek's hand still on him even after he moved, watching the black veins creep up his arm. "Don't do that. You're going to hurt yourself."

And why did he care again?

"It doesn't hurt me," he said, following Stiles' gaze. "You nearly died," he repeats, giving him a significant look. "Stop changing the subject."

He's trying to tell you that, Stiles, if you'd listen.

"What subject?" He tried to bat at Derek's hand, but he was pretty weak at the moment and it was kind of a pathetic attempt.

Derek's hand didn't move. He sighed, and shifted his weight a little bit, leaning in to crowd into Stiles' personal space. The pad of his thumb starts drawing small circles on Stiles' skin. He's soft, and he smells like blood and fear, but under all that is the unmistakable scent of Stiles, the thing any of the werewolves he knows could use to pick him out of a crowd, and he focuses on that, breathing deep against the pulse point in his neck.

"You nearly died," he said softly, pressing his face against Stiles' neck. "I nearly lost you."

His heart actually stops beating for a moment, his mind focusing on the two pinpoints of Derek's hand touching him like that, all lazy and soft, and the nose suddenly buried in against his neck. The next time it started beating, it was almost painful and he let out the breath he'd been holding.

First he kissed him, then he was getting touchy with him. Now...

A hand came up, moving to rest in Derek's hair as he tried to look down at him. "Not nearly enough. I'm still alive, right?" Jesus. Did Derek actually care? That had his head swimming more than the blood loss.

Yes. Granted, it had been slow learning on Derek's part, come to a head when he'd seen Stiles get rent by the monster of the week, and he'd freely admit later that it hadn't been selfless motives for taking Stiles from the scene of the attack to stitch him up while waiting for someone more capable. He wanted to touch Stiles himself, make sure he was still alive, keep an ear on his heart, hold him while he recovered.

"Right," he agreed, not moving.

"Derek... Is there something you want to tell me?" Not that he wasn't slowly figuring it out by himself. The snuggling was sort of giving it away. But hey, making him say it could be good payback for him jabbing him in the stomach with a needle.

Repeatedly.

Derek grew quiet and still, eyes closing. "You still don't get it?"

"Um..." Maybe? He just didn't want to guess something that was wrong and get that look that Derek had mastered.

"I. Care." It's succinct and to the point, and Derek sat up, looking at Stiles. "About you."

"Okay. I'm getting that. I guess you just, um, haven't before? So, yeah. Feeling a little confused here."

"Because all those times I saved you life were indication that I hate you so much." Dryly.

"Life saving isn't exactly a declaration of feelings, Derek. It just means you're not going to actively rip my throat out. Even if you used to threaten it."

"Isn't this?" He settled back, pulling away from Stiles to sit on the bed, still keeping one hand on his hip, still drawing his pain.

He looked down at the hand still on his waist, reaching for the wrist to pull it off. "Well, this, yeah. And I told you to stop. You're going to hurt yourself." His voice was soft, his eyes tired but intent as they looked at him.

"I already told you," he said a little crossly, batting Stiles' hand away. "It doesn't hurt me. It's fine."

"It looks like it hurts you." He grabbed at Derek, hand sliding up his arm. "Why does it look like that?"

Derek shook his head. "I don't know. I never really asked about it, it's just how it's always been. But it doesn't hurt. I promise."

He glanced down at Stiles' hand on his arm, Stiles' palm warm against his skin. "It's helping, right?"

Stiles was watching the black leak up Derek's arms, hand moving to follow the path up. It was fascinating to watch and he wanted to know more about it. But he looked up when Derek asked him the question, nodding slowly. "Yeah, it's helping."

He was quiet for a moment, then he squeezed Derek's arm. "Thanks. For saving me." Then, to try to lighten the mood, he grinned. "About time you started carting your own weight."

Derek huffed a little, looking up to meet Stiles' eyes. "You're welcome. And for all the other times I've saved your ass. You're welcome for those, too."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I've saved yours more than you've saved mine. I mean, I'm just saying." He grinned, thumb mimicking Derek's, circling slowly along the inside of his elbow.

The touch is soft, and Derek glanced down to it and then back up to Stiles, an unspoken question in his look. May I? Is this okay?

Stiles nods in reply, feeling his pulse pick up for an entirely different reason.

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