The Doin' It Meme For Smarties

[sock_00194]

It's for smarties because smarties read meme rules.

1. Pick a scenario or create your own.
2. Post with your character in that scenario already.
3. All no-text openers will be deleted.
4. Smutnarios:
   1. Doin' It The Morning After: good morning stranger... game for round two? Or eight. Whatever.
   2. Doin' It For The Money: you're a good boy/girl, honest, but you really need a new pair of shoes or a yacht or a ticket home. OR: you're looking to buy some company yourself...
   3. Doin' It Because You're The Wallflower At An Orgy: shy but horny? Maybe someone will come along to help.
   4. Doin' It In Bondage: you'd love to help but you're all tied up at the moment... or tightening someone down.
   5. Doin' It In The Tub: see gif.
   6. Doin' It However You Want: make up your own scenario.

Comments

Want - A Christmas Carol - OTA

[daughterofman]

[She isn't the sort for grand, romantic gestures. Especially not for sex.

The water is lightly scented. Milk and honey. The bottle of bath oil is still on the tile floor by the back of the clawfoot tub. Filled halfway, so there won't be water on the floor from a little moving around. The lights are dimmed, but she doesn't have candles or anything like that. Just the tub, the water, and her.

She's thin, bony, and her skin has a yellowed hue to it. The look of malnutrition. Small, pert breasts and dark, alert eyes. From certain angles, she looks more skeleton than girl... but she is Want. Fed but never sated by every little want of mankind-- necessary or not. Hunger, lust, greed... She causes and is caused by all. Fed but always starving.

And sex... Well. With an airy laugh, she leans against the sloped back of the tub, washing the water over her thin arms. Her eyes watch the other person, waiting for the company she was promised.]

[mirrorimage]

[Nina is breathless, staring at her. She's not sure whether or not she's fascinated or revolted; attracted or afraid; or if she should be concerned. The warm shiver of slight arousal competes unpleasantly with the cool shiver of something Nina doesn't want to recognize but that has a name somewhere in the back of her mind.

It's the cold shiver that makes it to her stomach first. But the warm one doesn't go away.

It's not pure lust that Nina desires. It's not hunger for sex that ignites her appetite. It's something even more primal and even more desperate. The ache for connection, for company, for some meaningful time spent with another person. How long has she been on the run now?

She looks over the other girl's gaunt features and recognizes something. Or maybe just imagines she does. But who is really a stranger to wanting anything?

Nina takes off first her shirt, then wriggles out of her skirt before her undergarments finally come too. Each piece of clothing meets the bathroom floor, in turn, with an ungraceful whump before Nina slides into the honey-scented water, her blue eyes and eerie greenish in the dimmed light. There's a question in those eyes as she starts to reach out, to touch a thin arm or a strand of dark hair, and stops herself.]

[moontothetide]

[Pity was a moving, beguiling, and ugly thing. And Tara could not look at this girl and not feel pity and sadness over the way of the world, the way of humanity, that had brought her into being like this. Yes, she'd willingly cast her lot in with this summoning spell, hoping to summon something that could serve as company for her, and ease the agony of losing Willow. But she hadn't known just how deep her feelings of loss and emptiness went until Want herself had turned up in the circle.

What could she do but offer this girl company, to at least try and fill the empty void that was desire? It was what she'd asked for, after all.

Tara settled herself into the bath across from the strange, starving girl. The water is warm and the smells seem all the more pervasive for being so mild. Milk and honey. It reminds her of big Sunday breakfasts, and makes her mouth water, opens the way for other hungers to come to the fore, old aches already laid bare by losing her lover.

Tara reaches down and picks up the bottle of bath oil. She holds it in both hands for a moment, regarding it as though it's some sort of protective talisman. But then, taking a small, shuddering breath, she closes the small distance between them, putting herself close to the girl. She opens the bottle, pours the oil into her waiting hand, rubs them together before bringing them to Want's body and beginning to rub it into the girl's skin, from her starkly hollow collarbone, over her pert breasts, and lower down what's available of her body above the water.]

...why? W-Why here?

Loki Laufeyson | MCU

[bloodbrothers]

[ Multiple choice since doing the same scene repeatedly could be boring. M/M r M/F is fine. ]

Bondage →

[ There is pleasure in control, in power, in being demanding and getting what one wants-- but there's also freedom in letting that go. Giving up control was so much harder than taking it, it pulled at feelings and sensations that Loki did not even care to think about having. The swell of anxiousness that would flood quickly, the burn of skin hotter than his own pressing down. The choked desire for more and yet not knowing if it was coming. The fine line between what one enjoys and what they feel they should, the shame that came with enjoying things you have been told were wrong. He liked that best, at times, because it ventured closer to feelings of panic and chaos. Sated some sense of self loathing, were he to be honest.

Can top or bottom, would rather bottom but hey, whatever's clever. ]

Tub →

[ There was a delightful sort of luxury offered by bathing no matter where one was. Assuredly the large bathing chambers on Asgard were a delight, with arching ceilings and shinning glass. Devery surface like a reflection of light, bright and brilliant. The water clear as one might expect, everything fit for the gods-- but that did not mean that bathing on Midgard was as atrocious as he had expected. A proper room with a large tub and the so-called jets and scented bathwater could provide a adequate temporary sanctuary. Dipping below the surface till the water rose to his shoulders he stretched out along the water, only then noting the door ajar once he's sunk back to lean against the rim.

Lifting a hand his gesture is not at all lacking in that regal sort of air when he flicks an offering wave to invite his companion to the bath. ]

Do It However →

[ Free wildcard options if you don't like my nonsense. ]

Tub~

[snakepitcougar]

"Now that is not something you see every day." Samira said with a smile, just leaning comfortably against the door frame, resting back on a coil of tail, "And definitely not what I was expecting to find in my bath this morning." She added, amused.

She shrugged then as she pushed herself up away from the doorjamb, "But I'm not going to object if you're willing to share."

Tub

[missiles]

[Grit looked at the man in the tub... didn't he book this for himself? He sighed lightly, and started to undress carefully in front of him. Slowly stripping off the closer he got to the tub, leaving a long trail of clothing behind him. Mainly because his body was sore and this somehow removed clothes faster, he found. When everything was on the floor, he finally decided to hang up his hat. After that, he tested the waters and slipped inside of it, the water rising even more. His knees forced to stay above the water so there was definitely enough room for Loki.]

Well, aren't you kind 'nough to share your bath.

[He chuckled a bit, and from his coat, decided to light up a cigarette to help him relax completely. Sounded so good to him.]

bondage

[shiningbinds]

((OOC: Where topping/bottoming is concerned, perhaps some switching could happen between the two down the line with Kratos topping first?))

[Kratos still isn't sure how everything has come to the point it has, so he is even less certain to how he has agreed to this. Having this other man bound and underneath him, aiming to pleasure. His lips brush against Loki's chest faintly, the fingers of one hand slowly tracing the trickster god's upper arm. Being gentle... likely much too gentle.

There is guilt running through the Seraph's mind, images of a wife he loved, who fell at his hand by her request. Of a son he left on a world he's long since abandoned. Images that weigh on his mind, jab at his heart, tell him what he's doing right now is sinful and wrong. That he's betraying them far more than he has in the past by doing this with the other man.

There is self-loathing on his end as well, and perhaps that is why he refuses to be anything but careful. It does occur to him that doing such can be just as torturous, however.]

[thorsvarme]

[Thor was a giant of a man; all blond hair and muscles and strength. He was quite well known for his normally vivacious mood. It was always a wonder then why someone so opposite as Loki caught his attention. Maybe it was because Loki was different, contrary to the golden-haired prince of Asgard in every way.

Maybe it was because Loki begged so deliciously.

Either way, Thor always got what he wanted. This time he had the trickster right where he needed him: Loki bound with wrists behind his back and in the nude. There would be a price to pay later for having him agree to such a precarious position in a potentially public place such as the throne room, but Thor wasn't thinking of that right now. It was the middle of the night, only a minimal posting of guards and servants were about - those allotted to the area Thor had bribed to stay out of the room - for now. But, there were no guarantees. Anyone could wander in, their father could wander in...

However, the only thing on Thor's mind was the slim man standing with his back to the thunderer and facing the throne. The prince made no secret of his approach.

Grabbing a fist full of hair when he was close enough, he yanked Loki's head back to expose more of that porcelain skin. He dragged his lower lip up against him, following the pulse line in Loki's neck before giving a hard bite.]

Molly Hooper || BBC Sherlock | Het | Scene 1

[wealldosillythings]

Molly isn't normally this sort of girl. She's not into the one-night stands/casual sex thing. She wants intimacy and connection with the other person in her bed.

But more often than not these days, she's lonely. Very lonely. And she's only human, so it's understandable that she's happened to bend her usual code for an evening of company.

But the evening's over. It's morning; streams of sunlight just barely peeking through the curtains. She rolls over, away from her recent partner, and curls up a little to herself as she looks at the state of the room. A knocked over lamp, strewn articles of clothing, a condom wrapper, and a wine bottle litter the floor from what she can see. And though everything seemed like a brilliant idea last night, all she has now is rising feelings of dread and awkwardness.

Samira | a naga OC | OTA

[snakepitcougar]

[Multiple choice! Men and women welcome, she likes everybody. I'm open to other scenarios as well, just throw it at me.]

Morning After
Samira was a constrictor, otherwise known as a cuddly snake. Which was more than likely why she had her bedmate almost completely pinned down that morning, caught in an easy, snug coil of tail, arms curled around them as well. Her bed was more of a nest, a low cushion and a collection of pillows and blankets, comfortable and spacious enough for the bulk of her tail as well as a partner.

She yawned, almost catlike when she woke, grumbling contentedly and nuzzling at a shoulder, "Morning."

In the Tub
The bath itself was a thing of beauty, big enough that the bathroom was aptly named, as the bath took up most of the space, trimmed in Mediterranean blue tile and with a gentle gradation from shallow to deep. The water was gently salinated, all in all it was the closest one could get to a Cretan beach while in the middle of New Orleans.

Samria herself was perfectly comfortable, leaning back against the edge, tail completely submerged, though the tip of it was waving back and forth, creating small eddies.

raziel, the angel of mysteries | ota

[esotericism]

[ it's never a good idea to get too involved with other people-- raziel knows this, and has known it since he left heaven to hide on earth. getting close to people means losing them, or being eventually discovered as something.. other than human. still, being alone is hard, especially after so very many years.

so while getting involved is a terrible idea, it's never stopped him, either. eventually, he always gives in.

morning light slants through the half-pulled curtains on the bedroom window, and raziel has been staring at a pigeon perched on the sill now for the last several minutes, listening to steady breathing behind him in the bed. he's all but human, now, himself, despite his immortal life, and posing as a college student in the last several years means he indulges in most college student vices-- which in turn means he barely remembers what happened last night. he'd been at a club, and the press of bodies had been simultaneously exhausting and exhilarating. he remembers his first drink and his second, but after that, everything's a blur.

still, he's had worse nights, too.

finally giving up the pretense of sleep, he rolls over beneath rumpled sheets, sliding an arm over his bed-partner's waist and leaning down to press a kiss to one bare shoulder, long hair sliding over his own to brush skin and pool on the sheets. ]


[ ooc; oh, right! if you don't like this scenario, feel free to go with whatever you like, i'm not particularly picky. c: ]

[hurtyourealgood]

Zepar was still out cold, and it took a lot to actually put him to sleep. Usually he just rested, dozing now and again when he needed a recharge.

There was, however, a happy sigh at the movement and the shoulder-kiss, stirring easily awake with a small, easy smile, "Morning." It was a lazy, sleepy drawl, hardly surprised, and not in the least bit bothered to find himself in bed with a stranger.

Petit LeBeau (X-Men OC) - OTA

[prettylittlebunny]

Petit grumbled, stretching languidly and turning over. She couldn't remember much of the night before, and she was going to blame the bourbon.

Though, given as how she felt comfortably fatigued and just a little sore, she guessed that she'd had fun. She knew she'd been celebrating a job well done, giving herself a pat on the back, an alibi and a chance to unwind all at once, and that had led to ... this. Whatever this was. She rubbed her eyes, realizing belatedly that she was shadow again and not skin, and also that she wasn't alone.

Hopefully whoever she'd dragged to bed had already seen her in her natural form and this wouldn't cause a freakout.

[Morning After, obviously, but I'm open to others, and both Petit and her timeline are flexible]

Dionysus | Greek Mythology | OTA | 1

[deliriuminecstasy]

It should be said, in fair warning, that Dionysus was the sort to be overly affectionate in the morning. It wasn't just the morning that he found himself in this state, but waking to the warmth of tangled limbs is something he was not only well accustomed to, but something he greatly enjoyed.

Now, with the sheets of a foreign bed beneath his skin, he trailed the back of his hand along the skin of his bed-mates side with a sound so near a purr of contentment, he may as well have been one of his big cats.

The sun that filtered through the window was warm on his skin, splitting the bed in half, and he found the symbolism somehow mildly amusing and ironic. The God bathed in sunlight and his most recent lover kissed by darkness.

Rolling over until sun-warmed skin pressed against the skin of the body beside him, he pressed his lips to the base of his lovers jaw with a smile and a whisper of lips and soft breath on skin.

"Wake up."

Because I said I was gonna one of these days

[snakepitcougar]

Thanks to the sun not having hit her side of the bed yet, Samira was still moving a little sluggishly. She was, after all, an interesting combination of cold and warm blooded, and as such it took a little basking and a cup of chai to get her going in the morning.

"m'awake." She murmured in reply, arm sliding around his waist to tug him closer, more or less using him as a heat rock, "Promise." Her eyes slid open as her smile spread, slow and easy, "Morning, pretty."

Nina Fortner | Monster | OTA

[mirrorimage]

Ha, ha! Take that!

[Nina pushes the water out in front of her with both hands, sending a splash of water right for the person sharing the tub with her. In the aftermath the water in the tub rocks a little, up against the sides, a little bit of even overflowing and splashing onto the floor.

Nina's eyes are bright, all lit up with affection and happiness. It's a rare look for her these days, this kind of open playfulness, but it's there unmistakably. Her heart is racing and she's flushed a little bit, beaming. Her hair, wet, clings to her naked body, which is slick and slippery from the water. Her breasts are rounder and fuller than they sometimes look under her clothes, and every twitch reveals her toned musculature.

And every returned splash makes her shriek giddily, eventually launching herself at the person across from her, trying to straddle them, pressing her lips to their neck with surprising, almost hungry, firmness.]

Re: Nina Fortner | Monster | OTA

[goeswiththeflow]

[With how cramped the bathroom is, and how much water they're splashing around in the tiny little tub, they're probably gonna have to spend some time mopping up when they're done.

Not that Flower really cares - she splashes back playfully, only taking her eyes off Nina's when she closes them due to the kiss. Man, she's got no idea what's got Nina so happy, but she isn't complaining in the least.]

Hey, hey. What's gotten into you all of a sudden? [She laughs a little, hugging Nina closer to her. They're an exercise in contrast like this, Flower's short, thin frame against someone who was over half a foot taller and actually had both muscles and curves, black hair brushing against blond as she clings to her.]

I thought we were just gonna splash around. [Her voice is as light and joking as it almost always is, but there's a certain joy to it that isn't there normally. They've only been together a little while, maybe a month and some change, but Flower could tell that moments like this were rare for Nina. Seeing her so giddy is enough to get Flower caught up in the moment, her own face flushed enough to make her freckles stand out even more.

That kiss was helping, too. This close, Nina can probably smell a faint hint of cigarette smoke, even though Flower's in the middle of taking a bath. She smokes so much that it's probably stuck to her permanently.]

Honestly. [She tries to sound mock offended and haughty, but she bursts into giggles about halfway through.]

Nariko Lunae | OC | M/F

[gunslingerqueen]

[Multiple choice or come up with your own ♥]

In The Tub

There is nothing better in the world, nothing more holy than scalding hot water and enough bubbles to sculpt miniature cities with. For added effect and because Nariko is a romantic at heart, there are just enough bath salts and oils added in to add a calming scent to the hot air.

But the most interesting, the most fun aspect of taking a bath with another person is letting them lay against her chest, trailing her fingers over them above and under the water. This is one of the only times that she takes things slow, wants to memorize every little detail. The gestures themselves are more intimate and loving, but they certainly don't have to remain that way.

Money/Company

Nariko doesn't ... Do this. She doesn't have trouble meeting people, and not to sound bitchy (even though it does, she knows it does) she could have a different date every night if she wanted. But the thing is that takes up a lot of energy and a lot of time that she hasn't had in the last few weeks. Having just graduated high school, she's been bogged down by picking colleges, maintaining her good girl facade for her mother, and keeping up with her business.

Frankly put she needs to get rid of the stress and she's tired of doing it herself in one fashion or another. There's no shame in this, she knows, it's all consenting and she's not a terrible person and yet somehow, Nariko is still nervous. She plays with her phone, picks at her skirt, it ... Shouldn't be much longer.

This is so stupid of her, it's sex, not rocket science! And yet when the doorbell of her condo rings, she practically falls off her couch.

"Coming!"

Money/Company option

[malecompanion]

Gabreel had dressed up, as he usually did when meeting a new client, dressed up without being too dressy, nice slacks, a buttondown shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and his hair in a loose braid down his back.

Really it was always better to be a little too dressy than not dressy enough, he'd learned that early on. He smiled when the door opened, head tilting, "Nariko? I'd hate to think I've got the wrong address."

[(Anonymous)]

sorry, OP

we all saw those comments before you deleted them :)

[(Anonymous)]

Quit being butthurt because your blank post got deleted

Matthias Reith | original character | OTA

[perversehealer]

1.)
Matthias, exhausted by the other night's activities, shifted very little in his sleep, hugging the other sleeping body close to himself. His arms were wrapped around the person's middle, making movement for the other person rather difficult, if not impossible, without waking him. However, he'd always been an early riser for the most part, and he soon sighed against their neck, slowly opening his eyes.

Resisting the urge to make noise, he began to gently kiss along their jaw and neck, where he could reach.

4.)
He didn't usually agree to this sort of thing (or was it forced? With the drugs in his body, he couldn't really tell,) but there was something almost arousing from having his hands bound together, to the headboard, and his legs apart. Of course, his fastenings were peculiar - in that they could be detached from their posts and adhered to any number of the hooks in the room. Already nude, the position left him completely exposed - from the many scars over his body to the heated, thick erection that jutted out from his pelvis, its glans still covered by his foreskin.

"H-hey... just... don't just stare, alright?" he muttered, looking up at his captor/partner.

5.)
Who wouldn't want to do it in a bathtub? The water was warm and gently scented from Matthias' herbal concoctions, and the tub was more than big enough for them, and deep, to boot. Playfully, he moved his leg to rub his companion's thigh with the arch of his foot. He enjoyed little games and this was more than a little exciting.

6.)
Whoever you are, Matthias has found you and has collapsed in front of your feet, shaking terribly from immense cold. Strangely enough, the surroundings are more than comfortable for most.

"Can I ask you... to warm me up?" he gasps, curling slightly in on himself as he shakes. He needs heat, and now. He'll take it however you'll give it to him.

{As a note, feel free to tweak any of these prompts. Or, if none of them apply, drop me a line so we can discuss, or come up with your own. :) Any gender/species welcome. For 6, it's pretty much temperature play in itself. Any sort of sex where he comes into a lot of physical contact is key. He'll do whatever it takes to get that heat. Drugging him is fine too. Just no toilet play, vore, guro, death, nor weight play.}}

1

[pencilpremonition]

Becca opened her eyes shortly after he started kissing her, purring softly from the affection he lavished on her. She ran her fingers into his hair, playing in it a bit before shifting, trying to tug him on top of herself. "Good morning, sexy," she purred, running her hands up and down his back. Though her eyes were open, she didn't really look at him. She couldn't--without her glasses, she was effectively blind, the world simply a swirl of shapeless colours.

Clove : The Hunger Games

[shenevermisses]

(Clove is sixteen. In her world, this seems to be the age of consent.)


Training all day, then two hours privately with her menor, a wolfed down dinner, no dessert, a shower, then bed. That is her schedule. Every day for a week. The week between Reaping Day and the beginning of the Game proper.

She always times her shower to be last. District Two's Capitol representative and the two mentors for the tributes are fast asleep before she's done. Partly because she likes standing under the hot water, letting it wash away the sweat of the day.

After she dried herself off, Clove pushed button after button on the settings to find the right one. Finally, she settled for what she'd worn after the first night of training. Sandlewood. She selected it, and a small bottle appeared. The female District Two tribute applied the lotion to her skin while a different setting made sure her hair was brushed and moisture free.

She took the black robe off the back of the door-- silk. Every luxury was afforded the tributes during this week of eating and training. Make them comfortable while they got stronger and put on weight. They would suffer after this was over.

Clove's bare feet made no sound as she padded down the hallway. She peeked into a room and found... it was empty. Well. Maybe the occupant (as it wasn't the room she was supposed to sleep in) was sneaking more food. Or getting a drink. Or any number of other things. She let herself in, untied the robe but did not open or discard it it, shut the door almost all the way, and seated herself at the end of the bed to wait.

[deadalready]

For what was already a short time in the Capitol, Cato adjusted well to the ostentatious way of living here. It didn't seem like it bothered him that much to be surrounded by the people who would either be betting on his life or his death.

The second floor apartments would be their home for the next week and Cato had no problem treating it as if it was his. Wandering out of his room after everyone else had (allegedly) gone to sleep was as exciting or forbidden seeming once he'd left home. In disappointment Cato only meandered from the kitchen, after deciding nothing looked good, back to his own room. He was too wired with energy to sleep right now. After training, he only wanted to actually fight someone. Not the fake sparring they had the tributes doing. Even if he wanted to sneak a punch in, they were highly supervised. Just the thought of it irritated him and he scoffed as he entered his room only to find -- Clove.

Cato's features instantly softened -- relaxed, more like. "Hey," he muttered, padding forward. When he had stepped close enough, he breathed in through his nose. Noticing the scent of the lotion, which he'd recognized and found strangely calming that she would wear it.

Italy Veneziano | Hetalia | OTA

[morethanpasta]

(Have some fail!bondage)

"Ve! I'm sorry, let me try again, I'll get it right this time!" There was a faint whining undertone to his voice, which was getting ever more high-pitched as his anxiety increased. It was a subconscious plea for sympathy, a way to ward off the annoyance he expected. It also happened to be unbefitting a personified nation but then North Italy had never quite managed the "behave with dignity" part of the job description.

What had he been thinking, agreeing to tie up his partner? It had sounded so fun in theory and Feliciano was still convinced that it would be fun. If he could just get the rope to stay properly knotted and tie his partner's hands to the pretty cast-iron headrest as it was supposed to. He had tried, he had really tried, but the silk ribbon was so slippery and the knot just wouldn't hold except for that one time when he had gotten his hands all tangled in the knot and really, it was so frustrating he might start cursing any moment... or crying from frustration.

When the ribbon fluttered onto the pillow once more, he averted his face with a whine, his slender and usually so nimble artist's hands clenched around his bare thighs. His slim shoulders were tensed, even the sensitive curl on the left side of his head looked like it was drooping sadly.

Cuthbert Allgood | The Dark Tower | OTA

[ka_mai]

Scenario 2

There wasn't any shame in it. Bert knew this, knew many of his peers and ka-mates had done the same. Hells bells, Roland himself had fucked off to the public brothels when he was fourteen. And anyway, he was being discrete. And just slipping off to one of the little towns that still stood, in this dying world beneath the fires of Farson, to find himself some comfort for the night.

And what other option had he? Turn to his ka-mates? Oh, that'd go over well. One gel among them and she had eyes only for Roland, just like every other damned skirt that had ever set eyes on the man. And he'd as likely get punched by Alain if he dared suggest it. He could press that wartime made for strange bedfellows, but it wasn't a proper war they fought now. Mostly they ran, though Roland claimed they quested for his thrice-damned Tower. It felt like running to Bert, on those days he was tired and hungry and lonely and uncharitable.

He didn't wear his guns and he pulled a cloak down over his eyes, and had been ushered into a small and clean little room. Money and manners bought a good deal of silence these days. When asked if he wanted a man or a woman, he had honestly replied either would be fine.

He just needed a brief bit of warmth in the darkness.

I may have just squealed and kicked my feet. Spoiler: I did.

[malecompanion]

Gabreel was good for warmth, and he was the only one who wasn't suddenly busy with something else at the news of a john who wasn't picky. He shook his head, scoffing at what he felt to be an overabundance of superstition, slipping off to Bert's room.

He knocked once before entering, just a quick little tap tap, a courtesy more than anything, "Evening." He greeted, followed by a gentle, "Hope we didn't keep you waiting too long. I'm Gabreel." He was thin, and dressed simply, but he was clean at least, and seemed to actually want to be there, "How would you have me?"

"Foxface" | The Hunger Games | OTA

[faciem_vulpes]

((ooc: Foxface is somewhere between 15 and 18 but this does appear to be the assumed age of consent in Panem.))

Bondage:
[People seemed to enjoy the irony involved in trussing her up. The quickest, cleverest girl in all of District 5, probably even ahead in that regard compared to several other districts. So it was rare enough that she even let someone lay a hand on her without permission, outside of moments like this. But when she did, well, there was a pleasure to it, and a relief, to be tied up.

That didn't mean she wouldn't fidget when left alone like this. Foxface squirmed, where she was blindfolded and bound wrist and ankle and further on the floor of what she assumed was a bedroom. She tested her bonds, tested for weakpoints, tested where the knots were tied. Partly it was to keep circulation going, and partly it was a nervous habit.

In a way, it was a relief not to have to move anymore, to have her flight instincts and anxieties forcibly restrained by someone else. It was why Foxface agreed to be trussed up like this whenever someone wanted her to be. But old habits and old anxieties died hard, and until her companion for the night removed her blindfold, she didn't have a lot else to focus on.]


Money:
[A pity she's not the one making the money...

It was an open secret that tributes were sold to sponsors and other well-to-dos in the Capital for a night or three. Victors were especially prized, but even the others, the ones who wouldn't escape the arena, they could be bought before the games. You just had to find the right person to ask and pay the right sum and these lost, stolen, doomed boys and girls could be yours', to do with as you pleased.

For reasons known only to you, you have secured the company of a quiet, shy redhead for a while. At the agreed upon time, she is delivered - prettied up and groomed and dressed in a sparkling blue dress - to your door, by one of the President's men. Once the agreed upon money changes hands, she will be left with you, although they will expect her back after the agreed upon time has passed.]

((ooc: Or, you know, toss another one at me! I'll leave it at two so I don't break anyone's scroll bars.))

Tara Maclay | Buffy the Vampire Slayer | F/F only

[moontothetide]

Orgy:

Tara Maclay was the sort of girl who was always picked last.

What did it say about her that the girl she'd allowed to drag her to this..."party" was off with another girl, leaving Tara alone and very definitely, obviously, humiliatingly unattached.

And so, in the dim red light and the incense smoke and the music and the bodies, Tara sat in the corner, twisting her fingers in her lap and trying not to stare at people and not always succeeding. There was something dreadfully mesmerizing about watching people like this.

It didn't help that they'd put something in the water tinkling in a little ornate fountain in the center of the room. They'd put something in it that made her body too warm and her mind too muddled and her need too uncontrolled.

So much so that, when an unattached lady just happened to move within arm's reach, Tara found herself reaching out and grabbing their arm before she realized she'd done it. When she did, she immediately blushed the same hue as the lights. "S-Sorry..."

Tub:
There was something so very lovely about a bubble bath.

The water was pleasantly hot against her body, and the suds were still plentiful. She'd lit a scented candle that was currently sitting by the sink, and it filled the air with a faint hint of apples that was a pleasant contrast to the jasmine of her bubble bath. Her hair lay plastered to her scalp, freshly shampooed and conditioned. All that was left was to give her body a good scrub before the water cooled off.

Tara was about to pour some soap into her hand when a sound from the other side of the door made her pause. It had sounded like movement, but...she wasn't supposed to be home this early.

After a moment's further dithering, Tara got out of the tub, wrapped a towel around herself, and went to the bathroom door. Opening it just a crack, she peered out into the hall beyond. "H-Hello? Are you there?"

...no one answered, no one replied, and she couldn't hear anything more. Finally deciding she must have imagined it, or perhaps just heard a tree branch against the window, Tara slipped back into the bathroom to finish her soak.

((ooc: So, Tara isn't outright expecting hot water sexytimes, but she can be talked around to it by a girlfriend or friend. For added fun, in the tub meme you can be someone Tara's not expecting - either someone nefarious and dub/non-conny, or just a secret admirer/classmate/acquaintence that wandered in because she forgot to lock the door. Basically, it can be an innocent chance meeting or a not-so-innocent chance meeting. Same for the orgy meme.))

[dishonourabledischarge]

[For three weeks, they'd been in India on business. A long enough time to let a small house, which had quickly become a mix of the two cultures. Even the men residing in it had their role to play.

Professor James Moriarty was nothing if not the total Englishman. Uneasy in this foreign world and disinclined toward the weather. He met with the English and English-speaking men whom he needed to and left the rest to his servant. Or business partner. Whatever position it was the other man occupied.

That other man, though, seemed Indian at his core. He was an Englishman by birth, but he spoke Hindi with the men and women of the village, laughed with them, and had an express fondness of everything about the country. He hunted with a few of the men twice so far-- all the while collecting valuable information they had no idea they were surrendering. He seemed ten years younger here.

But there was a certain wildness that seemed to be creeping along the fringes of the colonel's control. His gaze lingered too long (for the professor's liking, he knew) on some of the men here. Both the Englishmen who were here for business or by service to their country... and the native men whom he seemed at home with as easily as he did among his fellow countrymen.

Here, sex was never far from his mind, and it was much less restrained than in England. Or any part of "civilised" Europe. His passions matched his beloved jungle-- untamed. Held back for now, not straying past the trees... but it was like a tiger eyeing a small goat left tied out in the open. Before long, temptation would seize him and not let go until fully sated.

He entered the house in the heat of the afternoon, tanned several shades darker than he had been able to maintain in England. The professor was where he had left him-- sitting with a book. What he wouldn't give to convince this man into the wilderness with him, to lead him to a lake... It didn't matter that the man would never agree to it. The sheer thought was enough to make Moran lick his lips, though that might be taken as an attempt to quench them after so long in the sun.]

[littleredbook]

[The professor barely moved from his position in the chair, half asleep with the heat. He could barely have any comfort no matter what the time of day was, as long as the sun was up he was far closer to liquifying than Moran was. He sweat with the smallest activity (or so he said) and so he resolved to stay indoors and take the wicker armchair as his perch.

It was gratifying to see Moran so completed by his environment. The way he accepted the country and it him was a marvel to witness. In the course of a month, Moriarty had been exposed to the most intriguing transformation of a man - much more interesting than that of insects. Of course there were less...intellectual reasons for his second-hand enjoyment. While outside of the country Moran behaved splendidly, he gave no cause to worry he might act accordingly, but at the very heart of India, Moriarty felt that there was a tug to his leash. It was invigorating. Shame he refused to go outdoors save for the twilight hours.]

Fine day.

[His gaze went up to study the man, then down to his pages. The Napoleon of Crime commenting on the weather. It would be laughable if not for the casual tone his voice took. Seemed to have taken since a week into their time in country. ]