bakerstreet | Domestic Smut

Domestic Smut

THE DOMESTIC SMUT MEME

Ah, home sweet home. There's nothing quite like it, whether your place is a roomy house in suburbia with a white picket fence, a little shack, a space station outside Jupiter's orbit, or a cold stone castle. It's yours, where you feel safest (...hopefully) and most, well, at home! Here, in your own kingdom, you can do what you want: take your shirt off, get rid of your shoes, and eat the grossest food available just because you can.

...and also have lots and lots of sex, for there's someone here you can always fuck.

Not only has your character found themselves in the home they want - not the one they were born into, forced to live in, or otherwise - they're also domestic...er, as much as certain people can be, which is perhaps not at all. But worry not, the meme has options that can make it make sense for even the most homicidal yet strangely nonchalant half-god alien demon hunter giant slayer to settle down. Oooor something like that. Like banging the cleaning lady or using his partner so he cans teal their energy to get stronger.

Isn't domesticity grand?

You'll be have tons of time for a special sort of togetherness, but don't let all that steam cloud up your mind. There are still other things involved in having a home! You have to do chores, visit others, and take care of business. Nothing says you can't combine a bit of play into all that, though. Just hope that the two of you don't get mad at each other! Unless you're ready for hot angry sex or even more fulfilling make up make outs, that is.

There's one important thing to remember about being all homey and cozy: when the house is a rockin', don't come a knockin'.

How to Play

Comment with your character and preferences. You can leave your comment blank OR you can put a bit more information about what prompts you like, info about your character, what have you.
Comment to others.
Play out domestic sex.
"But my character wouldn't...!" NOPE. There are plenty of options for those who are less inclined for being sweet or settling down. If all else fails, just handwave how they got here and focus on the now.

Together/Committed

In the Beginning: You've moved in together and are learning the boundaries, both sexual and non, of living with a partner.
Not Mom's House Anymore: You're young and starting out; it's crazy to live by yourself instead of with your family! Luckily, your lover can give you things mother never gave you.
Sweep It Under the Rug: Chores can be boring, but you can make them fun, right? After all, you look so good bent over the table while you're dusting.
Naked Apron: Nothing's better than breakfast in bed. Except when you're served it with your baby wearing nothing but the apron they used to make all that bounty.
Letting It All Hang Out: Benefit of being in your own house? Running around naked. This doesn't have to change when you're living with someone.
There's Someone Else...for Both of Us: Three's a crowd, except when two agreed on it.
Spicing Things Up: Sometimes, constantly seeing someone can rub you the wrong way, and intimacy can get rote and boring. That's why slipping a new kink in every now and again isn't a bad idea, especially if it's something that one of you has really wanted to try.
I'll Take Care of You: Everyone deserves to be pampered, and you're letting your partner soak up the best of your home and the best of you.
Proving Your Love: You want to show your lover that you care for them like no one else. After all, you're living with them, not anyone else!
Becoming Comfortable With You: After a while, they've become like another part of you, one you can show or tell anything to, even about how hard you want them to thrust into you or how you want them to suck your -
Suspicious Minds: Jealousy brought from the outside is making one of you antsy. Can a serious fucking session prove that there's no roaming minds here?
Christening the New Place: You've moved into a new home. Unpacked everything? Good! Now it's time to have sex on every surface so it's all totally yours.
Welcome Home: One half of the household has been away - on a trip, at war, at an anime convention, whatever. Now, it's up to the other half to make their welcome wagon the best there ever was.
Cultural Differences: Different cultures have different ideas about home, about coupling, and about the stuff that goes on between the sheets. Can you work it out?
Home-Cooked Meal: Believe it or not, there are even better uses for apple pie than eating it.
I'm Not Used to This: This is your first time in a "committed" relationship, having a home, or both. How are you adjusting? Is it still hard to be touched, be loved, or use a proper bed?
Here Out of Convenience: It's not like you really like them or anything! This is only a roof over your head and a warm hole to fuck.
You're Just Being Used: You're getting a benefit from your relationship that isn't purely sexual, like wealth, power, or control. But in order to keep things in line, you have to keep your partner happy and sexually fufilled.
Keeping You Here: You can't let them slip away, so you'll use your body to keep them ensnared.
Territorial: Your house, your things - they belong to you, and that can give you a rush. Maybe you want to show your lover that they're yours, too.
I Have to Stay: You don't want to be caught up in this, but you're making yourself stay and keeping yourself in bed with the "enemy."
Now I Only Want You Gone: You want this person out of your life, and there are few stronger ways to send this message than make a cuckold of them. Preferably when they know it.
Tell Me More: You want to know if this whole "playing house" thing is all it's cut out to be.
Proving them All Wrong: They said you'd never, ever find someone. Now, you're showing them just what kind of catch you've got yourself by not taking your hands off what you've earned.
Forced Together: Be it expectations or arranged marriage, you two are stuck together. Of course, such contracts involve a certain amount of physical action, like producing heirs.
Keeping Up Appearances: You want to look successful in life, and part of that involves being in a sexual relationship. Or perhaps you want to hide something about yourself.
Argument: Ugh, they put their feet on the table! They broke your favorite vase! They're so...so...hot when they're mad!
Making Up: You feel sorry for what you've said or done and will do anything to prove that. You just want to shower them with your affection (or not), or show them how much they're wanted.
Like Melted Butter: You want something, and the best way to get it is to butter them up and get under their skin - in a good way.
Starting a Family: Both of you are taking the next step and bringing a new life into this world, and there's one old fashioned way to do it.
Absolutely Glowing: So, one of you is pregnant. How has your sex life been affected by changing bodies and mood swings?
Kids Will Be Kids: Now you guys have rugrats to take care of, but don't forget to make time for the two of you. Alone adult time is important.
At-home Date: Break out the wine and the frozen pizza, it's time for a date at the house! Who says you need to go to a fancy dinner to get in the mood?
Lazy Day: Today we're not doing anything, we're just gonna stay in our bed. And all that entails.
Newlyweds: You two are more than committed. You've said your vows, for better or for worse. Hopefully, things will stay better, especially when you take things to the privacy of your room.
Mr. and Mrs. Smith: The relationship is forbidden for some reason, and to have it, you all had to run away and start a new life. Maybe you even have assumed identities! Is it painful that you can only be your true selves in the bedroom?
Tie Me to the Bed Post: The great thing about a well-furnished place is all the cool things you can find lying around that can be repurposed for other tasks. Like tying someone's arms or teasing someone's genitals.
Out of My Closet: Speaking of things lying around, how about a sexy show with those underused items in your wardrobe?
At Another Person's Home: Who cares that you're guests at somebody's house and they can hear you through the walls? Go for it!
With Another Person at Home: Who cares that you have a guest at your house and they can hear you through the walls? Go for it!
Way Down in Kokomo: You're on vacation. Sun, sand, surf, and 24/7 sex.
Finally Tamed: No one, including you, thought you'd ever be domestic. But this person and their sexual attention have brought you to your knees.

Other

The Help: A home can run more smoothly with hired help like maids and cooks. It's beneficial to show that help some well-deserved love now and then, too.
The Babysitter: Whether live-in or not, a babysitter goes through a lot and develops a bond with the kids. He or she may develop a bond with the parent(s), as well.
The Guest: You've been invited to this person's house - and their bed - and they're showing you the ultimate hospitality.
Siblings...or More: The two of you are related, but you live together like a couple. There are whispers...are they true?
Roommates with Benefits: You're not committed or exclusive, but it's nice to have somebody in the same house with you that you can be with when you need it.
Mister Fix-It: All homes sometimes need repairs. Maybe a qualified repair person can make other repairs, as well.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[ She's never really had a home that wasn't a toxic pet project of an egomaniacal asswipe, so anything's an improvement.

Open to pretty much everything. Marvels especially loved - bonus points for ones that would be considered "cracky" crossovers like the Avengers or serious, street-level heroes.

Available with humanesque or xeno biology. ]

[You don't get much more serious or street level than this train wreck if you're game?]

[ yes omg let's do this. Forgive the formatting, I'm mobile, but I'm so game. ]

[No problem. Figure the Guardians are on Earth and she's holed up with Matt for *coughmuttercough* reasons?]

[ Sorry for the late response, my notifs weren't going to the right folder. But yes, sounds good! Everyone's together for the big, inevitable team up and things go from there? ]

[Long-term assumed CR necessary but I'm good if you are.]

The rich scents of flowers and herbs awoke her from what seemed to have been an exhaustive sleep. Lavender, primrose, jasmine, and even gardenia teased Devon's nostrils, pulling her from the fog of unconsciousness to the waking world, realizing even before her eyes opened that something must have happened, because her entire body felt like a sore tooth. Gingerly opening her eyes and letting the world swim into focus for a moment or two confirmed that, indeed, something had happened, because she'd woken in definitely unfamiliar surroundings.

Panic began to set in, but years of keeping a level head helped her remain calm; hysterics were hardly conducive to long-term survival, she knew. So Devon took deep breaths, slowly sitting up from the, admittedly, quite comfortable bed in which she'd been slumbering. Spacious, draped with tasteful coverlets and several decorative and bed pillows, it seemed to fit perfectly with the rest of the decor. The scents which had teased her came from a few vases of flowers positioned here and there; Devon wondered exactly what the decorator had had in mind, when designing this particular room.

But, Better Homes and Gardens aside, she now found herself in a strange bedroom, with no discernible memory of how she'd come to be there. Nor to whom the rather nice digs belonged, for that matter. Further inspection of her surroundings revealed the state of her clothing to be rather...disheveled; her blouse was torn, several buttons missing, her shoes had disappeared--she'd been fond of those boots, too--and her skirt sported ashy spots over conspicuously bare legs--she distinctly recalled putting on stockings this morning, blast it.

Well, she could make a few repairs forthwith, at least. Although instant materialization had never been a strength--and she'd tried, how she'd worked at that particular discipline--she could at least fix her blouse and clean her skirt. Devon sat the rest of the way up, swung her legs out over the edge of the bed, focused on her skirt first, took a breath for clarity...

--the scream which followed rattled the rafters overhead, accompanied by the sound of ceramic shattering; the lavender had not survived the wild gyrations of the witch who'd stumbled into it, shrieking in absolute hysteria.

It wasn't against his better judgment that he brought her to his own home: the simple fact of it is that there is no safer place to be. Her family is handling the threat against her, and he trusts their capability, otherwise he wouldn't be leaving it to them at all. They'll be able to clean up the mess started by one of their own in the first place.

In the meantime, he's keeping an eye on Devon.

He'd gotten nothing from her at all. Just the scream he heard, not with his ears but with every part on the inside, vibrating through his own magic, and it brought him to her side because he would have to despise her to ignore something like that. She's been unconscious since, completely unaware of the forest that welcomed his familiar footsteps, the wards that shimmered and opened to let them through. And since his options at that point were either a bed or a couch, Mordred felt it was more appropriate to provide the comfort of the former.

She wasn't hurt -- at least not on the outside -- but it still seemed prudent to brew up something that would take the edge off any physical discomfort she might feel until they can assess everything more carefully. Tangling with demons is nasty business even when it's on purpose; to confront one by accident and unprepared is a recipe for disaster. She's lucky to have gotten out of there in one piece... although there's something different about her now, and when Mordred has the chance to look her over, he'll be able to put his finger on it.

That chance comes sooner than he expected when that scream brings him upstairs in a lightning-fast whorl of black smoke, materializing at his bedroom door in alarm. Devon is awake, to say the very least, and Mordred rushes to catch her before she starts breaking everything in his bedroom.

"Devon. Devon! Stop, you're going to hurt yourself, stop."

The hand arcing out to connect with his face was pure reflex; Devon wasn't even aware of doing it. Finally she fell still, back flat against the wall and she panted for breath, her eyes as large as those of a deer in the proverbial headlights. When the initial hysteria finally cleared, her vision finally swam back into focus and Devon blinked, recognizing the face in front of her.

"...Mordred?"

She stared at him, dumbfounded, then her lip slowly began to tremble and she closed her eyes, unable to stop the tears sliding from beneath her lashes to trail down over her cheeks. Choking back a sob, Devon simply collapsed against him, clinging as might a hurt child. She had a dim vision of screaming his name in absolute terror, then her memory went white and she could recall nothing more.

But he'd come. He was here. And she was safe. ...for now.

Silently sobbing against his chest, Devon clutched his shirt for support, and finally lifted her ravaged face to look up at him. "...what happened?" She needed to know. Desperately needed to know.

This is a side of her that Mordred has never seen, a vulnerability he barely recognizes, and at first it leaves him truly speechless. When she falls into his arms he instinctively catches her, but it's a moment before his arms actually slide around her to become a comfort instead of a necessity.

He lets her cry. There's little else to do.

When she finally lifts her head, her lovely green eyes are red-rimmed and glassy with tears, her face streaked and flushed by her distress. Seeing her like this is deeply troubling, to say nothing of what she must actually be going through to bring her defenses down so low; Mordred frowns slightly, bringing his hands to rest on her arms with a firm hold.

"What do you remember?"

"...re-remember?" Devon shook her head, putting one hand to her temple, brows furrowing. "...I-I don't...I..." She closed her eyes, trying to think back, back before the pain, before the terror...

Her lips moved silently, then she began to speak, the sing-song voice of recollection. "Maddie and Chris--they had found a book--one of Mhamó Leah's old tomes. Must have found the library key. Máthair always kept it hidden, to keep the kids out. Don't know how they found it...

"I found them at the treehouse. Everyone else was out looking, too. But Chris always liked the old oak, said it was a spirit guardian and sang to him when he was a bairn." She smiled softly, briefly. "He always had a big imagination..." Her smile faded.

"They'd drawn a circle--were chanting--the shadows grew bigger--I tried to break the circle..." Her fingers tightened in his shirt, her breathing quickened. "Couldn't. The wind was everywhere. Fire, it was so hot. Maddie grabbed Chris, pulled him out of the circle--"

Devon abruptly broke off with a choked sound, her eyes flaring open and she gazed up at Mordred with dawning horror. "...oh my God, Mordred...what was it?" She began to shake, chills running all over her skin. "I-I can't...I can't see it-!" Nor did she believe she wanted to, not ever again.

Mordred gives her the time to work through it on her own, and his hands stay on her at all times. It might be too much for her, but Devon is strong. It helps to know how much she has to bear already, so they can push back with the right force. Other memories may rise later on, but there's nothing to be done about that until it happens.

She remembers a lot, as it turns out, more than he might have anticipated for how traumatizing it was. Even when he arrived, the vile fel power in the air was suffocating and toxic; for Devon to take a direct hit and still have her wits about her now is a testament to her in more ways than one. So he waits, listening. There is no way to disguise the faintest trace of a snarl that touches the edge of his lips at the utterly irresponsible foolishness her cousins displayed out there in the trees--

"...Your cousins opened a gate in the old oak and an aberration came through." And if they were here right now, he'd have stronger words and likely a hard smack in the head as the least of punishment for such idiocy, but that's for her family to handle. "That tree was very strong, but it was the wrong place for that spell. The magic weakened it. The spirit of the oak had no manifestation, but the portal attracted a darkness that your cousins were not prepared to handle. You got there in time to save them, but that brought its hunger on you instead."

The shivering draws his attention, but without looking away from her for a moment, Mordred just cups either side of her neck and a slow, subtle warmth begins to flood out of his palms beneath her skin. "I won't know what kind it was without investigation, but that will fall to your family. It tried to consume you, and the strength of your magic was the only reason it wasn't successful -- but you're not safe while that creature wants to finish the job. So you're going to stay with me for now."

She stared at him as he explained, green eyes wide and unblinking. The enormity of his words slowly began to sink in and the trembling intensified, Devon hardly able to process the particular details. "...they opened a gate?" she whispered, dumbfounded. "--that's impossible...how..." But magical mechanics paled in comparison to the horror she still felt, slithering about behind her eyes.

Mordred's hands were warm, cupped against her neck, and Devon closed her eyes, feeling slow heat seep into her, soothing, calming. Her fingers encircled his wrists--not to pull him away, but for support, to keep her upright and sane. "...are the kids all right?" Please, God, let them be all right. They were stupid children, yes, but didn't deserve to die screaming in the clutches of an unnatural horror.

Then her eyes widened again and flew to meet his, tension once again twanging all the way through her. "Mordred--my magic. I can't--I don't have..." her expression twisted, fearful frustration overriding her once more, "...it's gone..."

"They're safe," he reassures her, "thanks to you. Your family might kill them, but that aberration won't, and I trust that they're more than capable of sending it back to the darkness where it belongs."

He himself is satisfied with that, for the time being; Devon's family line is steeped in magic and he's had half an eye on them for more than just a few centuries. They know what they're doing, and so would Devon if she'd had the time to prepare or the experience to know. Her magic is powerful in its own right.

Then his frown sharpens at the claim.

Looking into those wide, frightened green eyes, he can see she's not exaggerating out of panic. Without asking questions, Mordred takes one of her hands in both of his own and holds it between them. That warmth that seeped into her skin turns to a tingle, an energy, hot and cold; the iridescent motes of his magic, its rare manifestation, drift through the air as that power reaches out to summon hers. The magic shimmers underneath his skin. Her own hand begins to glow softly, and then...

...nothing.

Mordred's magic slowly fades. His jaw is white with tension. He tightens one hand around hers, lost for words, chilled to the bone by what, for them, is truly unimaginable. That, he realizes. That's what was so different about her.

No, no exaggeration. Or theatrical dramatics. Her power, which she'd felt buzzing quietly in the back of her mind since her mind had awakened enough to realize it, was gone. In fact, it had been the blank silence which had so frightened her just now.

But hearing that her cousins were safe, at least for the moment--Leah might decide to kill them anyway--that burden was at least lifted from her shoulders. Watching Mordred as he took one of her hands in his, Devon felt the tingle of his own powerful magic, which in encounters previous had brought her own innate ability sparking to the fore--usually in annoyance, all told. If anyone could bring her abilities back...it was Mordred.

She felt her skin prickling where his power brushed over her, raising gooseflesh along her wrist and up her arm. Her hand began to shine through with the touch of his magic, and Devon bit her lip, recalling other responses to that particular type of his touch, but there was no rising kiss of frost to meet the heat of his fire.

...then it was gone, leaving only numbness behind.

Devon slowly sank down on the edge of the bed, pulling him down beside her as their hands were still tightly clasped. She ducked her head, long hair hiding her profile and thankfully the tears slipping involuntarily from beneath her lashes. "...what do I do now...?" She slowly pulled away, hugging herself and fighting not to sob. "A broken witch...what good am I, like this?"

This isn't who they are to each other, it never has been. Mordred isn't so cold-hearted that he's incapable of offering comfort to another human being, but he isn't that person for Devon. Even if the idea had ever occurred to them, she wouldn't have wanted him to be. They either fight or they fuck and that's as significant as it ever got.

To be here for this, while she's so vulnerable and defeated, feels like an invasion of the privacy they've each maintained until now.

Then again, at this precise dramatic moment, she is sitting on his bed, in his bedroom, in his house, and it would be difficult to get more private than that without crawling into his head. So he gives her space, but doesn't leave her side as the tears return. He doesn't judge her one bit for that; if he was in her place, the sheer devastation would be too much to take. However, that does not mean he's simply going to let her drown in it.

"Giving up already?" He raises an eyebrow, tilting forward enough to see her through the veil of her hair. "Devon, you came face-to-face with a creature of pure darkness and death and repelled it. Something happened to you. Magic doesn't just evaporate."