The Fluffy Smut Meme

[dreamlocket]

The Fluffy Smut Meme Smut can be fun to play, but a lot of times, you want something more. You want to play the connections between people, not just the "wham bam thank you m'am" aspect. Foreplay is fun, and relationships even more so. When feelings are involved, sex can be taken to a completely new level. This meme is for people who want a little love in their smut or something tooth-rottingly cute to play. How to Play Comment with your character, preferences, etc. Comment to others, using the RNG to pick your prompt. Or do things the old fashioned way and pick your own. Play! Prompts 1. First Time: Finally, you guys are taking the next step. You're bringing intimacy into the relationship. Hopefully, things will go well... 2. Celebration: Whether it's Valentine's Day or a birthday, today's a special day. Is there a better way to celebrate than being together? 3. Spontaneous: Maybe you're both in the kitchen, or perhaps at a friend's house for a party. Whatever the case is, you can't keep your hands off each other. You need it now. 4. Romantic Date: Isn't it nice to do something together? Question is, though, will you use the darkness of the movie theater or the space under the table to your advantage? If you can wait, there's always the bed later on. 5. Love Confession: You've just told that special person how you feel. Now, you're going to show them. 6. Trying Something New: Once your comfortable with a person, you may fall into too much of a rut. Luckily, there are many ways to spice up your love life...and not all of them involve handcuffs! Just a few of the more fun ones. 7. Reverse: The person who usually tops or instigates the contact can get a break. Today, the submissive is the dominant, because there's a degree of trust here. 8. All About You: You're going to treat the person you love to the ultimate pampering. Roses, champagne, good food- and, of course, good sex. 9. Honeymoon: You've tied the knot. It's time to consummate the relationship, even if you already have before. No judgement here; the honeymoon's a clean slate. 10. Making a Baby: Your biological clock is ticking, and you want to bring new life into the world with the person you love. The time's right, the person's right, now all you need to do is let nature take its course. 11. Fail Sex: When you've been together long enough, your special moments are bound to go wrong once in a while. Oh, well. At least this person cares for you enough not to laugh...a lot. 12. For the Last Time: What's fluff without a little angst? It's like peanut butter and jelly and goes together perfectly. The two of you are about to be separated, maybe for a long while or maybe even forever. 13. For the First Time in a While: You've been apart for what seems like ages, and now you're back together. That means you can make up for all the lost time and show your sweetheart that you still care, no matter what. 14. Making You Feel Better: So, your significance other is having a bad day, is sick, is jealous, or something else. Time to make them feel loved! 15. I'm Sorry: There was a fight. Who knows what it was over; you don't even remember? But now you feel bad, and want to patch things up. 16. Goofing Off: Not all sex has to be super serious, man. Play around, eat food in bed, watch your favorite TV show while doing the deed, whatever. Just have fun! #yolo 17. Choose Your Own Adventure

Comments

[more_than_words]

[She watches him and her smile softens and curves her eyes. He's not refusing her. Instead, he gives her request the most serious consideration, as if she's asked him about something of actual importance and she's reminded all over again, even though she's never really forgotten, yet another reason that she loves him so strongly. He treats so much of what she says, even the silly things, as if they've suddenly become the focus of his world. She has no idea if it's a trait he's picked up since forgetting and then remembering himself or if it was something he had even in childhood, but there's very little he doesn't give a deep and intent concentration to these days, sometimes, to her exasperation, to the exclusion of everything else in the world around him. She knows she should probably worry about it... but, secretly, she admits that she thrives when he focuses on her that way. So she stands patiently, in the half-embrace they've shifted into and lets herself indulge in simply watching his face as he sorts through his options behind tropic blue eyes.

There's not a complaint inside her when he comes to his conclusion and acts on it, scooping her up with a close, easy intimacy that shows he knows he's welcome to it. Her smile grows, even the hint of a grin, by the time he's repositioned her and there's even a soft, happy sound in her throat at it, heart winging upward inside her chest as she looks down on him from her new height, arms lifting from his shoulders so that she can lean forward and comb her nails through his hair, so soft and fluffy that it's a quiet, constant temptation not to touch when they're not being intimate and others are around. She lets her short nails trail over his scalp while she does, indulging in simply being able to touch him the way she so often wants to.

He makes her so happy when he picks her up, as if she's as light as a feather, as if she's more precious than gold. As a fighter, being off her feet means she's vulnerable, not in control, ungrounded, but when Cloud picks her up for sweet or burning or even practical reasons, instead she feels safe. Cherished. Protected. It's a vulnerability that makes her feel stronger, wholer somehow and she delights in it like a little girl with a shiny gift unexpected and longed for. She doesn't feel as if she can tell him and how you would even say something like that without sounding awkward but, she's allowed to show her hand right now. Maybe - bringing her flowers can be part of a new game between them? A signal since they're so bad at expressing desires with words...

That's too far in the future though and she doesn't have a place in her world for it right now. There's only Cloud and she's leaning close with a smile, arms slipping back around his shoulders as she presses soft kisses to his much loved face. Tender, cherishing, she loves all of him, and her knees part for him, offering more, welcoming his slight crowd forward of seconds ago. She's been debating shifting over to more sensible pants but at the moment she's still in her skirt and she's glad. Light, her lips trail, finally press to the edge of his, hair falling down on one side and curtaining away the world there. This is a game between them, private and safe, and so she doesn't mind softly whispering:]

Take the gloves off...

[whysocirrus]

[ That one's easy, too, as far as requests go, and he lifts a hand and turns his head to catch a leather fingertip between his teeth as soon as she's asked (or demanded) the action. Easily as if it's the natural next move, expected and given, he tugs sharply on the glove, then slips it off with his other hand. The action repeats, quick and practiced, as he maneuvers carefully around her in this new (familiar) proximity, and the soft sound of warm, malleable leather hitting the counter beside her hip is almost an echo, in the enduring silence within the bar. He catches the taste of the same dirt and motor oil he smells of sharp on his tongue when he reflexively licks his lips, a hasty, anxious tic, but worries more that she'll taste it, too, if she kisses him again. Just like the metallic hint of mako he's sure she knows too well, by now, it's another defect, imperfection in the mess he already is. (She's said so.)

But this isn't about him, and beside that he's confident enough now to know that it wouldn't matter very much even if it was. He's got problems, and they both know it, but coming in dirty and sidling up to her before he's had a chance to shower it off and pretend to be put together and well is by far the least of all of them.

With his newly bare hands, he catches hold of her knees and adjusts their position just a fraction of an inch. They're already poised easily to either side of his hips where her legs dangle over the edge of the bar, but shuffling his feet makes an equally accessible excuse to touch her again - one that doesn't quite toe the line in this new game.

No, that's when he settles his hands on the smooth, exposed skin of her thighs, just edging below the set boundary of her skirt. Which isn't much for coverage, here, and there's sure to be a strange mix of regret and relief when she does finally find herself in a more practical wardrobe. But that's a concern for later.

There are probably a few key items in his own cluttered dresser that she suffers the same confliction over. ]

And?

[more_than_words]

[She feels a little shiver inside her when he takes his gloves off, something that starts deep and doesn't fade so much as subtly spread through her. It's because she loves his hands and she loves his hand on her but there's also something about the way he takes his gloves off, unaware and casual, not realizing that the hint of white teeth and the tug do something strange to her she can't explain or understand but that makes her weak and warm, makes her feel protected and wanting to cuddle in and wind herself close around him. It makes no sense and she pretends it isn't there - but she always shivers inside a little when he uses teeth on leather so casually.

In her lungs, the air feels heavy and thick, against her skin it's like warm honey, wonderful, and she traces each move he makes with her eyes, fingers across his shoulders and patient, sealing away each little familiar movement, each precious moment into her heart. Her heart that beats slow and thick because he's given himself entirely to her, and sometimes it scares her and sometimes it makes her want to cry because she can't hold all the happiness inside and at the moment it makes her want nothing more than to cherish him and spoil him rotten even if she's still learning how. The touch to her knees has the smile slipping back over her lips because maybe it's cheating but it's okay when they cheat at their private games that are just for the two of them. It's the warmth of his hands, flat and spread, on her thighs that has her exhaling the humming sigh of pleasure and contentment though, that has the soft smile growing and filling her dark eyes. That has her skin warming and thrumming and all but glowing.

She doesn't want him perfect, polished and clean, masks of perfection in place when all she really wants is the man inside. The one with the eyes that whisper secrets about his soul to her, the one that smells like diesel and dusty road and the air before a storm. The one that loves her as she is, that she's allowed to love completely too, even, especially, all those broken parts he entrusts her with. She wants him to come to her dirty from the road and smelling like sword oil because it means she's more important to him than anything else, that she comes first... and it means that he trusts her to love all of him. That he trusts that she already does.

So her fingers, gloveless herself now that AVALANCHE is a group of friends and not a motley band of fighters trying to destroy and save the world, lift and stroke slow over the lean angles of his much loved face, tender caresses and it's all right if they trade a bit of road dust for a bit of storage room dust because she's humming that soft sighing sound again with her heart in her wine dark eyes as she loves the man in front of her and her voice is just as dark as her eyes as she lowers her head and her lips brush his face again.]

Touch me. [It's a sigh, a longing, a wistful need. Something that's always in her and so rarely asked in a world full of bar room chatter and running child's feet and the blur of life. If he only knew how powerful his simple touch on her, skin on skin, was, how it made everything easier and better and warmer and more alive - but how could she ever say so without sounding utterly like a foolish teenage girl with her first love? But he is. He is.] Please. [Her lips ghost down his cheek. His name is every whisper, every sigh, every confession of her heart when she breathes its secret against the curve of his ear.] Cloud...

[kinetosis]

[ His hands jump on her skin - just a brief flinch, easy enough to miss even in spite of that full contact - as if some sharp, electric current has shot through him there at his fingertips. It is like that, though, when she (gives him permission) makes her demand, leaving it open to interpretation but not to any kind of chance. Not with that please echoing in his ears, sweet and thick as molasses, and the edge of confidence her control instills. He isn't assuming or chasing after ghosts, here - the one place where certainty settles over him, instead. She leaves him options, but no room for the indistinct. No misinterpretation, though he still thinks of missteps, even as he forges ahead.

Both of their hands are calloused and rough, if in different places, but he considers his own the worse for the wear; wielding a sword leaves more of his palms vulnerable to it than making a fist does hers. So he's careful as he goes, though the firm shape of muscle that more than rivals his own strength is close beneath the smooth skin of her thighs, warmer and softer the higher his hands slide. The edge of her skirt detours him around for a moment, short and insensible but in this case very convenient - but he sees no reason to hurry past that barrier, as per her fairly loose instruction. His fingertips map that last vestige of exposed skin very thoroughly, down to the bartop and then back up to the tops of her thighs - pausing there, before slipping down between them, under the thin layer of dyed black leather and toward the hem of plain white cotton or whatever she's wearing, today (he doesn't go through her drawers, anymore), toward the outline of softer skin and more of that trusting vulnerability.

His lips brush the cusp of her ear as he turns his head, thinks to look down at what he's doing lest he badly miss his own intentions, now (whatever they are, he's still plotting that map). A breath brushes aside a few stray strands of dark hair. His heart catches somewhere high in his throat, and he swallows deliberately to knock it back down. ]

...There?

[more_than_words]

[She's far too sensitive to him, far too easily lost, pulled under, into a world that's just his eyes and his touch. She knows it. She had thought it would be easier, once they were together, that he wouldn't inhale near her and, entirely unaware he had, turn her knees into jelly or stand a certain way and make her forget she wasn't supposed to stop everything she was doing just to watch - but no. Now that she knows what his touch feels like it's just worse and she hopes, deep in the secret heart of her, that it never gets better. Already he has her heart beating, slow and thick in her chest and the simple trail of his fingers, so soft, so gentle, over her trails little sparks, flickers of flame that skitter down through her muscles and grow as they spread.

She loves the way he touches her.

She loves the rough times, the fast times - but she loves the times he cherishes her, treats her as if he's amazed they're together and she's his. That he's hers.

...it always breaks her heart just a little too.

The tease along the hem of her skirt has her head bowing forward a little, has her lips parting for silent inhales between them, something wonderful and dangerous in the sight of his hands on her bare skin and she has to swallow as well when those long fingers glide under the fabric of her skirt, small shivers under her muscles, through her stomach and lower, rising up through her chest, a barely there jerk in her thighs that isn't protest or rejection. Against his back, one of her hands flexes but she's not allowed to touch yet herself. This is his moment and the almost silent sound slips out of her on an exhale as his lips brush her ear, her wine dark eyes finally closing as thistle down tickles down her throat at that contact, at the feather brush of his breath. She cheats, just a little, hand lifting to rest, light, against the back of his neck and the short riot of sunshine bright hair that starts upward there.]

Yes. [it's a whisper and she wets her suddenly dry lips before nodding, an unrhythmic move of her head a few times to make sure it's clear. A new part of their game perhaps and she's more than willing to play guide. Soft, her fingers stroke the warmth of his neck, just once. The second time the longing slips in.] Yes, Cloud.