The Calm You Down Smut Meme

[sockdere]

The Calm You Down Smut Meme

You're about to go off the rails. No, no "about," actually. You've left that train track fair behind, and you're crazy. Rage fills every inch of you, and there's no doubt you're about to do something dangerous, stupid, or reckless. Or all three. There's only one person who can calm you down: your lover. They have tried everything they know to get those thoughts from your heard. Everything except for this... Now, they're using physical intimacy to remind you what really matters, which is the two of you. Surely, this will bring you back, letting the anger ebb out and you'll be able to think straight again, even if your lover was the actual cause of all this mess. Won't it? Surely you won't direct your wrath towards them, no matter what. Comment with your character, your canon, your preferences, and which side you'd like to play (the calming one or the one who needs calming). Reply to others. Thread!

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[termofendearment]

[He shakes his head; she's missing it completely. So he just tightens his grip and stares at her, icy blue gaze intent and intense willing her to actually listen for once.]

That's why it's beautiful. Because it's raw, because it hurts. Because it's something real. You play the ice queen all the time, but I touch it, even for a moment, and you're everything you are underneath that. You can't help it. And it's hot, watching you like that, watching you come apart for even a moment, and I swear to god if you call me a liar or protest in any way I will fucking bite you again.

[forsaken_queen]

[It's a terrible threat really. First of all, because she's never one to be threatened and back down. Second of all, it's not like being bitten had necessarily been a bad thing.

She lifts her head up from the mattress, glaring at him defiantly from bare inches away.]

Not a liar then. Just delusional.

[termofendearment]

Just shut up and take a damn compliment.

[She's right there. Right. There. All stubborn and defiant and so oblivious. It's a simple thing, to close the distance. To press lips to hers, to hold them there for a few moments before following through on the threat, hand moving into her hair as he nips at her lip, sharp but teasing, before deepening the kiss. His free hand skates along the scar but never quite touches it, careful to keep a comfortable distance. Easing her into it.]

[forsaken_queen]

[It's a little hard to argue when her mouth is occupied. And it's hard to say if she would have by the way she responds. As much as she questions his opinion, she doesn't shy away from the press of his lips. Point of fact, once he bites at her, she opens for him, allowing him to deepen it as he sees fit.

His mouth is hot. He tastes alive, and it tempts her in a dark way that has nothing to do with sex. Her hands flex, hold him fast. She bends her knees to cage his hips between her thighs. He's trapped by his own doing. She could do it, so very easily, and he wouldn't be able to escape her. Her teeth find his lower lip, bite down just this side of piercing the skin.

She growls suddenly, a vocal denial to her instincts, and forces her mouth away. She turns her head aside, as much as his grip on her hair would allow. So not much. Her cheek rests against his, and she breathes. Something unnecessary to distract her from the instinct to bite and feed. She won't. She won't. She is Sylvanas Windrunner, Banshee Queen, and she will not eat someone like a common ghoul.

It's another act of defiance when she turns back, and kisses him again, of her own volition. Just not defiance against Tig.]

cw: necrophilia. so much.

[termofendearment]

[He's not sure what he expected her to taste like.

Well. That's a lie; she's not the first corpse he's kissed, not the first dead thing he's forced his tongue inside. He expects something like dirt, something cold and both yielding and not. He's not entirely wrong; he slides his tongue along her lip when she resumes the kiss, slips in past teeth to tease and coax. It's cool, saps his heat as he probes the space, trapped air and something buried, that undertone that only seems to seep in when the life has left it, before the decay sets in. But she's not slack or stiff, he doesn't need to pry or reposition. She gives just enough, resists just enough. Bites back, just to the point of pain and the groan slips out, fingers tightening in her hair because pain and pleasure have always been inextricably linked for him, and it's enough to allow her to move but not much, not far, and he grinds hips down against hers, ignorant of the danger she keeps at bay.

His hand roves along her skin, up towards her ribs, down towards her ass to pull her tighter against him, try to figure out how to get the armor off when it comes to it, relishing the feel of her skin under his hand, the difference in temperature. Nothing gives too easily, an important consideration usually, when you have to be careful enough not to ruin the body for the ones dealing with it later, but she's more resilient, he knows that from personal experience. He doesn't have to worry about that here.]

[forsaken_queen]

[The have that in common, the linking of pain and pleasure. But her proclivities go a little further. His pulling her hair, controlling her head, is just a small example. She pulls against his hold just enough to show resistance, but not enough to break free, or loose any hair for that matter. She's responsive, but still fighting in little ways. The struggle is part of the turn on. If he can take, he can have.

Part of that is she won't give him any hints about the armor. It's not that hard to figure out really. It's all simple hook and eye catches and buckles. The truth is, 80% of her armor didn't even have to be removed for their specific purpose there, and the pieces he's focused on are actually the easiest to remove. Her chest piece is a simple hook catch at the front, lacing at the back. The lower piece were simple loop hooks as well, almost like what a bungee cord look like. Simple, easy to get on and off, but stable so not to just unfasten when she moves. He could figure those out.]

[termofendearment]

[It's another way she's different, another novelty. The usual ones don't fight back, don't resist, don't move at all, but he's not surprised she does, not considering how things have gone between them. She pulls and he pushes, retreats from lips to nip and kiss at her neck, work his way down to her collarbone as he slides fingers along the edge of the armor, starting at the top. Finds the clasps and springs them free, tugs things out of the way to replace with fingers, cupping, sliding his hand along the cooler skin. He normally likes when they're still, the passive resistance, but this is almost better, he thinks. It urges him towards rougher movements, nips almost sharp enough to draw blood, a hand tightened against mounded flesh to squeeze, his other tightening in her hair to pull her head back, exposing more of her throat.]