dinohouse | BATH TUB / SHOWER MEME, open to anyone

BATH TUB / SHOWER MEME, open to anyone

from here

In the interests of good clean fun, we're providing you with a bathtime meme~

The scenario is quite simple, your character finds themselves in the bath or shower with another character (clothed? Naked? Getting naked? Who knows~ That's part of the fun!), whether this is normal or your character has just "poofed" into the situation is up to you! Hijinks ensue.

Feel free to mix and match, use the options below, or go to RNG and let the gods decide

1. dropped the soap - ..Huh... how did you end up in prison? And during shower hour....

2. peasoup steam - The water is hot tonight and the steam is making it way too hot to see anything! Keep your hands to themselves

3. slip and slide - Whoooa all those puddles are making it hard to stand up straight. Maybe someone can help you out.

4. accidental peeping tom - Oh the joys of communal showers.... especially if someone starts attending to their... "needs" right next to you.

5. bubble bath - Because FUCK YEAH BUBBLES.

6. obligatory sex option - Huh, you're stuck in a shower with someone... and there's a note taped on the door. "If you want out, you gotta make out for 10 minutes~ Cheers!" Did we mention the aphro pumping in with the steam and water? Because there's that too.

7. ANYTHING ELSE. Anything and everything else.

Remember when you post up with your character, make sure to specify if you're okay with smut or not!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's not that I don't want you, Shingo," Date says slowly, gaining steadiness by feeding off of your resolve. "I don't know what's done this to us, and I don't know how you'll feel when we escape it.

"I don't want you to regret impulsive actions."

He crumbles a little at that, curling in against you weakly and gasping slightly, his body pressing to yours again and the breath leaving his lungs.

"Date," he chokes, pressing his face in against your chest. "I mean it, when I say it's all right. I won't regret it. But I don't want you to either."

Your breath against his skin, the rub of your brow against his breastbone - you're shaking your head, he's biting down a whimper.

He's still worried. There's a lot more could be said. And neither of you even understand what's actually got a hold on you.

But you're saying yes with your words and please with your body. And his body begs, too.

He cradles your face in both hands, lifting, straightening your bowed shoulders and neck. The shower head, still running, is slowly spinning on its hose somewhere nearby. He grabs it, washes you over with warm water. His eyes are dark and hungry and calm, still pools of emotion and understanding and above all that, trust.

He'll trust your word, and trust you to trust his. Your bodies are screaming at you both.

Date strokes one palm, flat, heavy, warm, across your belly, following the water's spray. He kneels, pressing the handle of the showerhead into your empty hand. His are going to be busy in a moment.

He holds you by the waist with one hand. His other rubs across your belly, seeking that shudder out, coaxing it again and again.

He takes you in his mouth without looking up, attention downturned, focused on his task. You fit easily - he's got a big mouth. He works his tongue against you, sliding further down, assessing his own comfort and adjusting.

Shingo leans into it when you press your hands to his cheeks, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing, half-expecting to be pushed away... but when he opens them again your face is soft and you're running warm water over him, pressing the showerhead into his hand.

He bites his lip when you stroke over his lower belly again, his hips stuttering, but then he's scrambling to put it back in its stand as you kneel in front of him, oh god, and your mouth closes on his skin, slick and scorching. He can't smother an embarrassingly loud cry when you take him in, his thighs shaking--this always undoes him, to the point where he can barely stand, and he just clutches at your shoulders and sobs a little, leaning hard back against the nearest wall]

Your hands on his shoulders, your helplessly wanting cry in his ear - Date hisses in a breath through his nose, working his tongue in the limited space he has to work with. He pulls back, laves your tip, measuring the taste of you, paying close, suckling attention to the frenulum under your head. But you're shaking, trembling, and he has no desire to be cruel.

Again he takes you in, deeper this time, tightening his lips around your shaft, loosening to adjust, tightening again. This time he gets the suction and the placement right, and he's obviously very comfortable as he suckles you down, sliding smoothly almost to your base, and back again, setting up a confident rhythm. His shoulders bunch under your hands as, with everything properly settled in front and center, he can release your hip and your balls and instead grip your thighs, bracing your knees against his upper arms. His own kneeling stance is braced strongly, every bit of him that you can see engaged in this, absorbed in the concentration he's putting into this.

Past his shoulders, you can see his toes gripping the tile, his calves tensing with each dip forward he makes, even his ass and the small of his back. Every bit of him moves with intent, with focus. Date Akira doesn't do anything halfway. And though he's loquacious to be sure, he never relies on only words when the same message can also be conveyed, with more certainty, in other ways.

He's got you. Go crazy.

He leans on your shoulders and squirms, biting his lip and shaking helplessly to keep from begging as he feels your mouth on him, drawing slowly. He can't control the sounds he makes, though, gasping and helpless as your tongue traces against his skin and he feels your lips tighten.

He stops biting his lip to gasp, and the words spill out of his mouth even as his thighs shake. "Please!" he chokes, his nails digging slightly into your shoulders--and he knows this will shake him, drag him to the edge, but he can't stop himself from asking-- "Please, your fingers, I need--"

You're so responsive. The lightest touch sends you spinning. Every one of Date's actions drags two reactions from you. You're a joy, an indulgence. You make him feel so powerful, that he's creating something beautiful for you, upon you.

And you ask for more, begging as though it's a hardship you ask of him. He nods softly, humming absentmindedly, reaching. You're still slick and loose from before, but he can feel your body shiver, tightening as even the very brush of his rough fingertips excites you. He presses two closely together, shielding his forefinger's nail with the pad of his middle finger, and stroke into you.

He gasps as your fingers press into them, pressing his back flat against the wall and trying to lock his knees as you push deep enough to touch that sensitive place inside him and he grits his teeth on a desperate sound. He trembles there, feeling your mouth on him and your fingers in him and your hand stroking at his lower belly and suddenly it's almost too much and he's tensing, one hand coming in to cup your jaw.

"Date!" he says, his voice tense as his belly tightens. "I can't--if you want to pull up, oh."

Date's only response is to snicker briefly. Now, right as you're teetering on the edge of orgasm, he breathes in deep through his nose, holds it, and finally slides completely forward, gulping down your whole cock to the root until his nose comes to rest against your belly, nuzzling your skin through your short hairs. The heel of his rear hand angles up, gently pressing under your balls, his thumb lightly stroking, adding angled pressure to your perineum.

His heart swells with satisfaction as he can feel the effect all this has on you. You're just long enough to feel your tip teased by the constriction of his throat as he swallows, his breath held, waiting you out with faith.

"Oh--oh!" Shingo nearly sobs when you slide all the way forward and he nearly doubles over before he comes helplessly, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips flushed and parted as his knees shake. His body clenches around your fingers in tight, clutching spasms as he spills down your throat, long shudders dragging down his spine before he slumps back a little, completely spent, all his muscles going slack as he struggles to keep his feet under him, staring down at you with dazed eyes.

Date pulls off your cock quickly, once you're spent, gulping air and steadying himself, first of all. You're partially held up by his frame bracing your legs from sliding too far, but you're melted more than butter and the precarious balance you've got is not going to last.

He reaches for you, supporting your descent, slowing it somewhat.

"Shingo." His voice is roughened somewhat, and he coughs to clear the stiffness from the back of his throat. He's rock-hard, but that's not his focus right now; he's coasting so high on pride and pleasure from doing this to you that his own arousal is tied into that pride, tied into that pleasure. It's a patient lust, an enduring one. He'll attend to that in a moment. For now, he gently guides you into his arms, propping his back against the wall, propping you against him.

By this point you're both a mess, and he licks his lips roughly, pressing a clumsy kiss to the side of your neck as he helps you settle onto the shower room floor, much more safe and at far less risk of concussing yourself.

The water, nearby, washes over one of his shins, warming the muscle that cramped a bit while he knelt before you. He notes it, thinking a good wash off, with soap to sanitize his hand and your quite lovely entrance, is quite in order.

In a minute.

Shingo sighs and presses in against you, cupping your cheeks and squirming up to kiss your mouth hard, shuddering as his tongue slides between your lips and he tastes himself, his tongue stroking against yours. He's flushed and trembling and pleasantly sated, and he can feel whatever was clouding his head start to ebb from his system as he relaxes, just pressing wet, slow kisses to your mouth.

He shifts again, feeling you cock drag against his hip before he pushes back and cups your face, his hands still a little unsteady.

"What do you want?" he breathes against your mouth, pressing the length of his body against yours as he holds you closer, arching his back. "How do you want me to..." He reaches down, one hand touching your hip as he slides his mouth down your throat, just kissing your damp skin hungrily.

Date smiles against your kiss, feeling you shake and indulging in a little shiver or two of his own. It's all deliciously pleasurable. He's just riding it all, contented.

When you speak he strokes your wet hair out of your eyes, meeting yours with his own, and a soft shake of his head. "Shh," he breathes, stroking your hair, your nape, your shoulders, pressing you against him, to relax, to be supported by him. "Don't rush it. Just enjoy it for now. I'm fine."

He nuzzles into your palm, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted as he sighs, then presses against you again. He can feel you digging into his hip and he slides a hand up your chest to tease lightly at one of your nipples, his mouth warm and slow as he presses light kisses up your shoulder.

"I want to," he hums into your ear, his voice low and warm as he pinches gently at sensitive skin, just rubbing his hips gently against yours.

Well that's. Hard to argue with.

His head falls back, mouth working silently as your fingers temporarily strip thought from his mind. His hips move softly in answer to yours, thick thighs flexing.

"Well...that's...okay then," he says, after a few more minutes of this, by which point he's come back up to full hard - say what you want about its aphrodesiac properties, of which there are many, but partial suffocation does affect bloodflow, it's a medical fact - and he's twitching in your arms, wondering why he was thinking it was a better plan to take care of this himself. Your plan is far better.

He tries for coherence, fingers raking through your hair to grip and hold, press your mouth to his chest, and he gasps as he does so.

"That feels...Shingo, that feels very.

"Mmmgh."

Pretty complex sentence, all things considered.

Shingo nuzzles under your jaw, his breath warm and his body shifting away from yours, bracing himself on your chest as he looks down at you. His hand slides low on your belly, then curls around you to stroke gently as he nibbles his lower lip, his eyes intent and searching.

"Do you want to stand up?" he asks softly, his lips parting and his cheeks flushed.

He shudders against you, ribcage jerking abruptly as he sucks in air, your hand on his cock distracting him almost from the fact you're speaking.

"N-no." He shifts, or tries to; you're still weighting him down. But he likes the idea of staying down for this round, indulging in the freedom to let the quivers overtake him without fear of dropping you. Or dropping ONTO you.

"This - this's okay." Well. Will be, once you rearrange him, and yourself. He could focus on figuring that part out, but he's coasting and it feels gorgeous, and you're a competent, intelligent person. You can sort it out for him.

He laughs, his voice warm and a little raw, kissing you once before he just presses you back against the wall, his eyes hungry and thoughtful. Then he squirms down, curling up on the floor and pressing a forearm over your hips before he leans in and closes his mouth over the head of your cock.

He can't help making a soft sound in his throat as he feels the heat and stretch in his mouth, your flesh pressing his tongue down and his jaw wide as he sinks lower, careful to keep his teeth out of the way. He looks up at you for a moment, his eyes sharp, before he closes them and tightens his lips on you, just sucking gently and shifting his head, drawing you into his mouth by slow degrees.

The band of weight across his hips makes Date jerk, his cock bobbing eagerly; your mouth on it drags a soft, smothered grunt from him as his head lolls to one side, eyes fluttering shut. His fingers grip at the tile, nails flashing white; one foot scrapes for a grip as well, his knee rising, trying to brace his body to thrust. It's all instinct. He muffles it as best as he can, pushing his knee back down, forcing his fingers to relax.

Then with your lips wrapped snug around him, Date catches just a flash, just a moment's sight of your expression as you look up at him, through his own eyelashes, eyes half-lidded with sleepy lust, and your brow drawn down, measuring, careful, perhaps even calculating.

He has just enough time to think, Oh! That's what was always missing in Anko's beauty. A sense of sympathy before your lips tighten, your head bobs down slowly, and finally the groan he's been trying to restrain rips from him, deep and alpha and loud, with a curse word tangled in its trailing sound.

"Shi--" It could be a curse; it turns into your name. "Shingo..."

He hums around you and sinks down lower--it's been a long time since he's done this, but he enjoys it, the way your body tenses under his, the way you shift to thrust and then deliberately stop yourself. He makes a satisfied noise and drags the nails of his free hand absently over your belly as he takes you in far enough that you brush the back of his throat, his lips tight as he starts to slide you in and out of his mouth, his body shivering faintly when you say his name.

It's all so good. Your nails, your throat, and when you begin the back and forth, he can barely hold himself back from adding to the force. He feels you shiver. It can't possibly be causal, but he coughs, grunts, gathers enough air and focus to distract himself from the urge to fuck your face, to try a different experiment.

"Shingo?" A quiver. He purrs, high in his chest, low in his throat, and one hand comes down to stroke your hair gently, barely touching for fear of giving in to the urge to shove.

"Shingo, Shingo--" He'll say it as many times as you want, and not only because it makes your everything shiver around his cock.

He wonders what it would be like to be between your legs, when you shake like this. He was so distracted before - the finer details got lost.

He wants to pay attention next time.

He's free of the drug, he thinks, because his thoughts are clear, linear enough, considering he's getting his cock sucked.

He's thinking of a next time.

"Shingo," he purrs, forcing himself to put all that aside in the most compelling way he can think of.

He moans and clutches at your thigh, his nails digging in faintly as he pushes down on your cock and sucks hard, his teeth grazing very delicately as he runs his hand along your thigh and moves faster, leaning into your hand brushing his hair. He makes a fierce, hungry sound around you and slides his hand in to press slow, cool fingers just behind your balls, rubbing deep circles against sensitive skin as he looks back up at your face.

It doesn't take long, and when it comes it's less a crash and more a soft fall. Eventually his breath catches hard, then harder, and his hands fly open, fingers spread wide, grasping aimlessly, mouth open and slack, nothing more coherent than a breathless groan. He can't keep from bucking into your mouth now, belly held hard, ass clenched tight, hips rolled forward, offering every little centimeter of his stout cock for your mouth that he possibly can.

He spills into your mouth, onto your tongue - flinching back, shivering forward, shuddering at the nick of your nails on his legs, the nudge of your teeth against his cock. He's got nothing left to spend when he's done, wrung dry, heart pounding, head dizzy.

"...Shingo." He whispers.

He draws back when you're done, swallowing quickly and just gasping for air. His face is flushed, and he just blushes darker when you say his name like that. He wants, so badly, to just lean into your chest, wrap his arms around you and settle there to feel the heat of your skin on his, but... he knows the drug must be wearing off by now and he sits back instead, watching you with clear, soft eyes.

"Date--ah, Date-san. ...how are you feeling?"

You pull back, and he doesn't understand why.

As he gathers his breath, sucking several hard pulls of air before the world starts to sparkle less and all the right angles slowly begin to reassemble themselves, he draws his focus down onto your expression.

There's a small mess on the corner of your mouth. There's clarity in your eyes. He reaches for your hand, fingers spread, meaning to lace his with yours.

"Shingo," he murmurs, watching your face, watching every little motion of your eyes, your brow, the muscles at the corner of your mouth that show whether you're hiding a frown. He's not sharp, but intent.

[tagging one or two more til I pass out because I'm an addict]

[yessssssssss yay]

[and of course i keeled over right then. but i TRIED!! *^*///]

[It's cool, sleep is also important!!]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

[and of course i keeled over right then. but i TRIED!! ^///]