#underneath prompt meme | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

usedtobecooler · 1 year

Note

Virgin Eddie prompt: giving him head and sucking his balls for the first time, no one has ever done it before and he’s just shocked pikachu meme and nearly blows his fuckin load immediately

no thoughts head empty just this prompt

Pairing | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), blowjobs, ball worship, ball sucking, deepthroating, gagging, gentle bullying, goth!reader, tongue piercings.

Word Count | 1.1k

A/N | i am so sorry this has sat half completed in my drafts for weeks because i'm trash!! i hope you enjoy it and it was worth the wait <3!!!

If somebody were to ask Eddie Munson how he spent his usually mundane Tuesday evening, the last thing they'd expect him to reply with would be "Getting blown by the sexy goth chick from the local corner store in the back of my van." And yet, that's exactly what was happening.

You had thought he was cute for a while, ever since you'd first set eyes on him when he moseyed into the store one day with a gaggle of fifteen year olds looking to buy a pack of Marlboros.

"And you're sure that you're not gonna leave this store in two seconds and sell each of these for a dollar to these kids?" You'd asked, dangling the pack between your fingers, clicking your tongue and tsking at him.

Eddie had balked, stuttering over his words as he watched the glint of the silver ball peeking as you rolled your tongue in your mouth, cock kicking up at the sight of you smirking at him, "N-no, ma'am. They're - they're good kids."

He'd walked off flustered, and you'd given yourself a pat on the back well done. What you didn't expect was to see him at least every second day for the following two weeks, until you finally plucked up the nerve to corner him after closing and force your way into his van with him.

"Sh-shit," Eddie's whining, hands grasping for purchase in the material of his threadbare blanket that was laid out underneath you both as you suck him down into your throat wetly.

You weren't cocky by any means, but you knew how to suck a dick.

Your throat widens to allow Eddie's cock to breach, a slight gag trying to make its way up but you shove it down, adamant you're going to blow this silly boy's mind and show him just how good you could be. His cock is big, you'll give him that - thick and girthy, unlike any other you'd seen before, never mind willingly put in your mouth.

The cool silver of your tongue bar glides along the underside of Eddie's cock as you bob your head up and down, catching and dragging on a vein as you suck and lap at the flushed, salty skin, relishing in the choked off, wet sobs you're eliciting from Eddie's pretty mouth in return. Your lips meet your fist wrapped around his base, jerking him into your mouth until a dribble of precum slides down your throat.

"Jesus Christ, oh god," Eddie's crying out, he can hardly look at you other than to flit a glance down every so often then throw his head back again, unable to watch as your eyes water and your mouth widens around him. You chance at taking your other hand away from his thigh, ghosting your fingertips along his balls, and he bucks up into your throat, gagging you in the process.

Your throat closes, tightening around the head of Eddie's cock and he does it again, fucking his hips up into your face until you're unravelling your hand from the base and shoving his hips down, his cock sliding out of your mouth as you gasp for air, "Naughty boy," you tsk, meeting his apologetic gaze.

Eddie is clearly inexperienced, you question if he'd ever even had his dick touched by anything other than his own right hand or a pillow, and suddenly the urge to want this to truly blow his mind overcomes your entire body.

You slide down further, until your mouth is level with his balls, hands heavy on his inner thighs and spreading them a bit wider. You don't think you'd ever called genitals pretty before, but the soft hang of Eddie's balls, his thick, pink cock slapping heavily on his belly, genuinely is a pretty sight. You can't help yourself, tongue snaking out to lick at the seam of his sack.

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” Eddie’s hips buck up off of the floor, hand running through your hair as you nuzzle into his heavy sack, tongue licking a flat stripe before you’re sucking one into your mouth, the cool ball of your piercing sending him reeling, moans echoing into the room, “your mouth is fu-fucking sinful, goddamn.”

You hum with your mouth full of his balls, hand wrapping around his cock and jacking it hard and fast - twisting at the head, swiping a thumb over the slit as you suck and spit on his sack. Eddie's legs begin to shake, a telltale sign this is about to come to an end, and you find yourself grinning against him.

Eddie hazards a glance down at you, his flushed, leaking cock sliding in and out of the grasp of your wet fist, your plump lips swollen around his balls, your tits jiggling and spilling out of the neck of your shirt and he's gone;

"I'm gonna - shitshitshit," Eddie fists a hand in your hair and you moan, vibration bouncing off of his skin, balls drawing up in your mouth as he comes, hot and hard all down your fist, some of it shooting so far it lands in thick ropes on his shirt.

You jack him through it slowly, his spent ballsack slipping from your mouth until he's jerking away from you because of overstimulation, whining and pushing you by the shoulder gently.

You gaze up at him from between his thighs, aware that your eyeliner is probably smeared down your face from the tears, red lipstick staining your chin, drool pooling down your neck and between the crevice of your tits, "Was that okay, pretty boy?"

Eddie splutters, unable to look at you properly for fear his cock would kick up in interest yet again, giving away just how ridiculously inexperienced he was, "Yeah, yeah. It was good - great, even!" He's hasty with his words, trying not to upset you with a lackluster reply.

"Not too bad for your first time, right?" You smirk as you pull yourself up onto your knees, patting his bare thigh. Eddie's eyes widen, finally looking at you properly and he looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up - you were right, had hit the nail on the head with your assumption, "It's okay, Eddie. I like the inexperience, means I can show you a few things. Same time tomorrow?"

Eddie's cheeks flush dark when you wink at him, making to stand up and unlock the door of the van. You jump out gracefully, slamming the door shut loud enough that it echoes into the cool night air.

And when Eddie appears at dead on closing time the next night, you can't say you're surprised to see him, a cheeky smile gracing your features as you lock eyes.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #my fanfic #mine #smut

6K notes · View notes

mcflymemes · 8 days

Text

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT - THE ANTHOLOGY BY TAYLOR SWIFT PROMPT LIST * assorted lyrics from the album, some lines slightly adapted for meme purposes but feel free to adjust as necessary

even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you.

trust me. i can handle a dangerous man.

i love you. it's ruining my life.

does it feel all right to not know me?

i am who i am 'cause you trained me.

quick. tell me something awful.

i loved you the way that you were.

we were just kids, babe.

i can fix him.

you and i go from one kiss to getting married.

you said i'm the love of your life.

way up there, i actually love it.

i just don't understand how you don't miss me.

do you hate me?

did you think i had it in me?

what if i told you i'm back?

i still miss the smoke.

i'm not trying to exaggerate, but i think i might die if it happened.

you look like stevie nicks.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

i still can't believe it.

this happens once every few lifetimes.

didn't you hear? they called it all off.

it's happening again.

my friends say it isn't right to be scared.

i might just die.

fuck you if i can't have us.

tell me about the first time you saw me.

are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

no one's ever had me... not like you.

stay away from her.

there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

i don't think you've changed much.

that's where i was when i lost it all.

life was always easier on you than it was on me.

i hoped you'd return.

do you believe me now?

what if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time?

what are the chances you'd be downtown?

is it something i did?

oh, we must stop meeting like this.

they say what doesn't kill you makes you aware.

i'm not a donor, but i'd give you my heart if you needed it.

looking backwards might be the only way to move forwards.

the story isn't mine anymore.

what a charming saturday!

none of it is changing.

wild winds are death to the candle.

one bad seed kills the garden.

i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine.

this place made me feel worthless.

i didn't want to come down.

everything had been above board.

blood's thick, but nothing like a payroll.

you can mark my words that i said it first.

the professor said to write what you know.

all of this to say, i hope you're okay.

your words are still just ringing in my head.

i built a legacy which you can't undo.

who do i have to speak to to change the prophecy?

the effects were temporary.

no, i'm not coming to my senses.

babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

i guess a lesser woman would've lost hope.

thought of calling you, but you won't pick up.

you're a professional.

long may you reign.

you're an animal. you are bloodthirsty.

now i seem to be scared to go outside.

i don't believe in good luck.

i hate it here.

if i'd been there, i'd hate it.

only the gentle survived.

i'm lonely, but i'm good.

you have no room in your dreams for regrets.

i thought it was just goodbye for now.

are you still a mind reader?

let it once be me.

i haven't decided yet.

i still dream of him.

i'm so afraid i sealed my fate.

it was always the same searing pain.

i can't forgive the way you made me feel.

it wasn't a fair fight or a clean kill.

she used to say she wished that you were dead.

tell me all your secrets.

they tried to warn you about me.

you're in terrible danger.

i'm the life you chose.

yes, i'm haunted, but i'm feeling just fine.

no one asks any questions here.

tell me i'm despicable. say it's unforgivable.

i'm running back home to you.

you should see your faces.

you knew the price going in.

was any of it true?

who the fuck was that guy?

i don't ever want you back.

did you sleep with a gun underneath out bed?

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

am i allowed to cry?

there's no such thing as bad thoughts. only your actions talk.

they're going to crucify me anyway.

i know i'm just repeating myself.

that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

293 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 1 month

Note

If you feel up for it, for the writing meme prompt, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, with the song You And Me by Lifehouse? If it's not your thing I totally get it though and hope you have a great time and fun writing the things that do catch your fancy!

I think we ALL knew that I was gonna do baby Kon for this, lbr. Also ngl, this came out way more cracky than the prompt would suggest it should've but it is absolutely my favorite thing I’ve written for this meme so far, as the necessity for the following cut should help attest, haha.

Unfortunately, Lex takes one look at Cadmus’s progress report on the newly-crafted Experiment Thirteen and realizes he has paternal instincts.

Well, that’s inconvenient. And a little disgusting, honestly. Certainly a disappointment.

He supposes it could be worse. He could be Lionel about this.

Anyway, that’s how he has a physiological four year-old on his lap when he hears the news about Superman coming back to life and fistfighting an evil cyborg with his own face about it, because of course the man didn’t have the decency to just stay dead. Why would he, after all?

Lex needs a drink. That would be a bad example for the physiological four year-old, though.

Then again, Experiment Thirteen should be completely immune to the effects of Earth-based alcohol in about another four to six months of consistent yellow sun exposure, so . . .

Lex is halfway through his second brandy when Superman shows up on his balcony at super-speed wearing a very pretentiously dramatic black suit and looking both winded and bewildered. And still alive, unfortunately.

“Don’t you have a murderous cyborg to be ensuring is in custody?” Lex asks dryly, deciding to just not acknowledge the presence of the physiological four year-old who’s moved on to messily but methodically coloring on the floor underneath his desk. Lex didn’t actually give Experiment Thirteen either a coloring book or crayons, mind, but he appreciates the clone’s resourcefulness in breaking into the office supplies. Anyway, it’s useful for developing its hand-eye coordination and fine motor control.

Superman’s pupils are pin-pricks, barely even there at all. Which is an unusual reaction from him, and Lex notes that fact reflexively but doesn’t particularly care about it. Meant-to-be-dead people do unusual things, especially the alien ones. And it isn’t as if–

“Baby,” Superman blurts, his eyes wide.

Lex . . . pauses. Takes a slow sip of his brandy.

Alright then.

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” he settles on eventually, raising an eyebrow at him. Experiment Thirteen peers out from under the desk, immediately decides Superman isn’t an interesting presence, and then goes back to coloring all over Lex’s floor. It seems to be drawing either a puppy or a chain of complex genetic sequencing, but judging by the kinds of things it’s been drawing so far, it’s fifty-fifty. Lex has been getting the impression the clone actually likes art, which is a baffling interest to find in his own progeny, but how does that quote go . . . “I am a warrior, so that my son may be a merchant, so that his son may be a poet”?

Or something like that, anyway.

“No, I–baby,” Superman stresses, looking bewildered as he floats down a little closer to the open balcony door.

“. . . yes, I’ve noticed,” Lex repeats, raising his eyebrow again and taking another sip of brandy. Superman looks frazzled, bobbing up a little higher in the air again to get a better view of Experiment Thirteen under the desk. Experiment Thirteen keeps ignoring him in favor of its coloring, displaying no apparent interest in the most powerful uninvited guest in the history of illegal immigration. Lex experiences a moment of overwhelming paternal pride, which is such a bizarre and unanticipated experience that he doesn’t even know what to do with it.

“Where’d he come from?” Superman asks with a wondering expression. Ugh.

“A cloning lab,” Lex replies dismissively, setting his near-empty glass down on the desk. It’s hardly worth lying about Experiment Thirteen’s origins at this point. He didn’t want to murder everyone in Cadmus to keep the secret. He might need them if there’s an issue with Experiment Thirteen’s genetics later, after all. “We mixed it up a couple weeks ago while you were off wasting everyone’s time being dead."

“You had my baby?” Superman says, tilting in the air and still staring at Experiment Thirteen, as if he's somehow forgotten both how much kryptonite Lex owns and how much kryptonite he keeps specifically in this office. “While I was dead. You had my baby while I was dead.”

. . . alright then, Lex thinks again, both eyebrows raising this time.

“I really wouldn’t put it that way, personally,” he says. “Also, I don’t recall saying it was in any way yours.”

“Baby,” Superman repeats inanely, then lands on the floor and ducks down into a crouch to peer under the desk better, his pupils still reduced to barely-there pinpricks. Lex is so mystified he doesn't even activate the security system or the weaponized red sun lamps. Experiment Thirteen frowns at Superman–Lex, again, basks in unanticipated paternal pride–and then turns its back on him and hides all its drawings from him as seriously and carefully as if they were under NDA.

It's almost adorable, frankly.

Not that Lex finds things adorable, of course.

“His heartbeat's so cute,” Superman says, looking absolutely fascinated. Which is surprisingly useful of him to mention, actually, since Lex had previously been vaguely concerned that Experiment Thirteen's odd thrumming heartbeat might be a sign of a heart defect, but apparently it’s just a Kryptonian thing. A . . . “cute” Kryptonian thing, according to Superman.

Lex is increasingly mystified by this interaction.

“Can’t say I’ve spent much time listening to it, personally,” he lies, because he has in fact obsessed over that heartbeat’s health and stability since first finding out about its unusualness and has done a truly aggravating amount of research into heart murmurs and conditions and the like. But that’s hardly Superman’s business, now is it.

“. . . what’s his name?” Superman asks hesitantly. Lex is possibly having an out of body experience.

“Experiment Thirteen,” he says. Superman immediately looks offended.

“We need to give him a name, Lex,” he says. Lex, again, has an out of body experience.

“‘We’?” he repeats incredulously. “I made it, I get to decide what it’s called.”

“He’s got my DNA!” Superman protests, looking indignant. Lex has absolutely no idea how to process that expression.

“It has both our DNA, in fact, yours was too irritating to stabilize alone,” Lex informs him dubiously. More accurately it was literally impossible to stabilize alone, but he’s not mentioning that to Superman. “So it has my DNA, and I made it. And also put eight point two billion dollars into its production, as a lowball estimate. Therefore I’m the one who decides what its name is, thank you very much.”

“Lex,” Superman says disapprovingly. “You can’t call a baby Experiment Thirteen.”

“It’s physiologically developed enough to complain if it doesn’t like it,” Lex retorts, narrowing his eyes at him. Superman frowns at him. Lex has never had a more ridiculous conversation with the man, including all the times Superman’s tried to appeal to his nonexistent “better nature”. “Well it is.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Superman says, then ducks back down and peers at Experiment Thirteen again, gentling his voice to address it while Lex is still incredulously mouthing “ridiculous”? to himself. “Would you like a real name, kiddo?”

Experiment Thirteen sticks its tongue out at him.

Lex is finding parenthood to be a very rewarding experience, actually.

#clex #lex luthor #clark kent #kon el #conner kent #superman #superboy #superfamily #rinfic #anonymous

354 notes · View notes

solarmorrigan · 1 month

Note

💘 for the writing game!

Hello! I definitely have to thank you for this prompt because I think it might be my favorite of all the fills I got to write for this meme (although I maybe got a little carried away) <3

Call this one a modern AU, probably. CW: emotional abuse, briefly mentioned homophobia, Steve just has a shitty family

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

Prompt from this list

So Eddie’s maybe been laying it on a little thick.

That’s his excuse, anyway.

It’s just – it’s possible he’s gotten a little carried away; while the idea had been for him to accompany Steve for moral support to the annual three days of torture that are his visits home for Christmas, Eddie’s priorities had shifted a little with the last phone call he’d overheard Steve taking from his mom.

Something-something-I hope you’ve found someone to bring home with you, Steven-something-something-your cousin already has a baby on the way-something-something-such a disappointment to see you alone, Steven-something-something.

Steve had looked so small and sad after talking to her, the way he always does after talking to her, and Eddie wishes his parents’ approval (or lack thereof) didn’t hold such a sway over Steve, not when they don’t deserve that kind of respect, but he also gets it – family is complicated. So instead, Eddie offers Steve a way to shove his parents’ faces in it.

Instead of showing up in a strictly platonic, friendly-like capacity, he offers to play Steve’s boyfriend for the holiday.

And since Steve is the same brand of crazy as Eddie (even if he buries it better), he accepts.

So from the moment they pull up in front of the Harrington house the morning of December twenty-fourth, Eddie plays the doting boyfriend to a tee. He holds Steve’s hand, he kisses him on the cheek, he snuggles up to him on the sofa; he plays nice with Steve’s homophobic grandfather, and is only a little snarky with Steve’s patronizing uncle, and talks Steve up every chance he gets.

So yes, he’s laying it on a little thick, but Steve’s family should think he has a partner who adores him.

Because Steve deserves a partner who adores him.

(Because Eddie does adore him. Which is – well, that’s probably part of the problem.)

It doesn’t work as well as Eddie had hoped it would, in the end. Steve’s family can’t fault him for being “pathetically single” anymore, but they can pick him apart in literally every other respect – and they do.

He takes it like a pro, letting the nasty, pointed comments roll off him, smooth and brittle as glass, never causing a scene or biting back, because it’s Christmas and apparently this is just how they celebrate.

(They mostly ignore Eddie, acting like he’s beneath them, which has Steve sending apologetic glances his way the whole day, like Eddie is the one who needs an apology when Steve is the one being vivisected by his family.)

Steve just holds in whatever he’s feeling until they’ve retired for the night, up in the guest room that used to be his room, that his mom had apparently barely waited until he’d moved out to start converting.

He holds it in and holds it in until the door shuts behind them and he all but collapses on the edge of the bed, crumpling in on himself like the ugly plaid duvet is crumpling underneath him, with his shoulders curved in and his face covered and his chest heaving with what are maybe supposed to be calming, deep breaths but are definitely not working, because the stress is still coming off him in waves.

And like Eddie said: he’s maybe gotten a little carried away with his role, but it just feels completely normal to go right to Steve, to curl his arms around him and pull him in close and remind him that his family’s opinions aren’t worth shit and that Steve is so good, and–

And when Steve uncovers his face, a little blotchy and pulling tight with the effort not to let any tears flow free, it just feels completely normal to press a kiss to his cheek, and another to the corner of his mouth, and another to his lips, all in quick succession, all soft and reverent and reassuring.

Eddie freezes the moment he’s pulled back. The moment he realizes what he’s just done.

“Eddie,” Steve murmurs into the still air between them, “there’s… no one watching right now.”

You don’t have to do this, he means.

“I–” Eddie’s voice gets caught up in his throat, because his brain is screaming at him to play it off, to tell Steve that he just got carried away, got too into the role – but his heart, noisy fucker that it is, has different ideas. “I… maybe haven’t been faking as much as I said I was. Or, like– at all.”

“Oh, thank god,” Steve breathes, and then he’s pushing back in for another kiss, his mouth eager and warm and perfect against Eddie’s.

And the next two days aren’t going to be any less stressful, spent around a flock of hungry vultures masquerading as people, but Eddie figures that if nothing else, at least one good thing will have come from the holiday.

He tilts his head to deepen the kiss and Steve opens up beneath him, anticipating him like they’ve been doing this for ages, and – yeah, Eddie decides.

One very, very good thing.

#steddie-island #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #Eddie realizes that since there’s no pleasing Steve’s family either way he might as well just act like himself for the rest of the trip #so he does - like. as much as he can without picking a fight #because it makes Steve smile and that’s the important part #and the next night they realize that Steve’s homophobic grandfather is in the room next door to theirs #and Eddie fucks Steve hard enough that the bed hits the wall #repeatedly #and they leave early the next morning while Eddie loudly talks about how he’ll drive #because HE KNOWS STEVE MUST BE TIRED #and Eddie didn’t mean to keep him up ALL NIGHT but he just COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF #and then they spend their next Christmas with Wayne instead of Steve’s family and it’s much much better #the end #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #answers from solar

102 notes · View notes

icryink · 7 months

Note

Could I ask you to make a more accessible version of the cringetober prompt list? Not eyestrainy & transcripted, or just text-only

Thank you for its existence!

[ID: A prompt list on a rainbow gradient background with various doodles and computer popups decorating the canvas. The title reads "Cringetober 2023" in all caps. Underneath are two subtitles that read: "credit to sleeprann for making the first cringetober [heart emoticon]. 2023 template made by awestin martinez (i cry ink)". The prompt list of 31 items reads as follows:

Day 1. Heterochromia

Day 2. Self Insert

Day 3. Unnecessarily Complex Fit

Day 4. Angel x Demon

Day 5. MS Paint

Day 6. Neko (or other animal features)

Day 7. Pinterest Art Base

Day 8. Tumblr Sexyman

Day 9. Crossover Ship/Rarepair

Day 10. Fursona

Day 11. Yandere

Day 12. Niche Interest

Day 13. Creepypasta

Day 14. Candygore

Day 15. Song Lyrics

Day 16. Objecthead

Day 17. Fake Anime Screenshot

Day 18. Old Art Redraw

Day 19. Dolls/Puppets/etc

Day 20. Hananaki Disease

Day 21. 100% Saturation [written in all caps]

Day 22. Maid Dress/Sailor Uniform

Day 23. Memes [stylized so that the S is in brackets]

Day 24. MLP

Day 25. Gijinka

Day 26. all edge no point

Day 27. Babygirl Pose

Day 28. Alt Fashion

Day 29. Hot Villain (bonus points if woman)

Day 30. Videogame (undertale, FNAF, etc)

Day 31. Halloween! [written in all caps]

End ID]

Credit to @piplupod for the ID!

#cringetober 2023 #cringetober

138 notes · View notes

thirtysixsavefiles · 11 months

Note

For the kiss prompts: Dreamling, 22. ...in a rush of adrenaline

22 - in a rush of adrenaline (Kiss meme prompts)

“How do you have this?” Hob breathes, moving toward the last sword in the rack. It’s a dull, grimy thing, but when his hand closes around the hilt his fingers fit into the grooves worn into the leather as if he’d last held it yesterday and not centuries ago.

“The armory of the Dreaming will hold whatever you like,” Dream says, coat swirling around his legs as he comes up to inspect the sword that Hob has drawn. “Do you miss it?”

“The fighting? Nah,” Hob says immediately, although he doesn’t let go of the sword. “Blood and mud and terror — I’m well out of that. It’s just…” he trails off as he draws the sword a little out of its sheath. It shines; it’s been well cared for, here in the Dreaming.

“Yes?” Dream is watching him intently.

“It’s just —” Hob laughs, shaking his head, resheathing the sword. “It’s just something I was good at, you know?”

The corner of Dream’s mouth twitches up. “Yes,” he agrees. “I do know.” He pauses then, eyes searching the armory. It has an impressive spread, although they are mostly weapons of a type that the waking world has moved on from. Dream moves past Hob, selecting another sword and drawing it out, testing its balance with a practiced ease.

“I didn’t know you used a sword,” Hob says, curious.

“I do not,” Dream says, giving the sword an experimental flip. “But there is a swordswoman sleeping in the highlands who has trained for the blade since she was eight. And I thought that perhaps you might like to — exercise that knowledge.”

“Dream.” Hob can feel the grin pulling at his mouth. “Are you asking me to spar with you?”

Dream sniffs, but there’s an answering curve to his lips. “If you like.”

The training ground outside the castle looks pristine, and Hob is not sure that Dream hasn’t invented it on the spot. It hardly matters though, not with Dream settling into a ready position across from him. Hob sets his own footing, although it soon becomes clear that Dream is waiting for Hob to make the first move.

Very well, then. It’s not like Hob isn’t used to that.

Dream meets Hob’s blade cleanly, the sound of steel against steel ringing out over the courtyard. Dream dances backwards and then forwards again, nearly slipping underneath Hob’s guard, but old reflexes rise from the depths and Hob counters, holding him off. They trade blow for blow, circling each other underneath a high sun and Hob can feel the blood singing in his veins, the sweat collecting at his temples. He is good at this, and even if it’s been some time since he’s called upon these particular skills there is pleasure in exercising them here for low stakes, or maybe no stakes at all.

Well. Hob catches sight of Dream’s grin over a flurry of parried blows and his already labored breath catches. Maybe not no stakes.

Dream circles Hob and Hob circles Dream, blades held at the ready. Hob’s breath is labored but he doesn’t feel the exhaustion that he would were he awake, only the thrill of pushing himself against someone evenly matched. He spares a brief thought of thanks for the sleeping swordswoman, and then Dream is pressing forward again and Hob has to pay attention.

The sun hasn’t moved in the sky but Hob suspects that’s because Dream doesn’t want it to; or maybe it’s because Hob doesn’t want this to end, the push and pull between them that has found outlet here on the training ground. Dream’s blade finds an opening in Hob’s guard and cuts neatly through the seam of his shirt; Hob retaliates by slicing a button from the front of Dream’s coat. Dream’s appreciative smile as he steps back, fingers coming up to touch the damage, warms Hob all the way down to his belly and he allows himself a shaky breath before moving forward.

One strike that Dream parries easily; a second that reverberates between them, and Hob meets Dream’s gaze over their crossed blades. A third, and Dream’s grip suddenly falters, his sword dropping, and Hob presses the advantage —

Dream’s blade goes spinning away and then his hands are spread, unarmed, with Hob’s blade pressed neatly against his throat.

Dream’s throat works and Hob blinks, blood still pounding through his veins and muscles singing with exertion. He lifts his eyes to Dream’s —

And throws his own blade down, stepping forward and fisting his hands in Dream’s coat. Dream’s mouth when it meets his is just as hungry as Hob’s own, and Dream’s hands settle eagerly at his hips, pulling him closer in encouragement that Hob is all too eager to answer. The kiss deepens and Hob grows dizzy with it, but Dream is solid underneath his hands and that’s all that Hob needs, really.

Finally he draws back, although not far; Dream’s arms are still strong around him and Hob has no wish to be anywhere else except right where he is. Maybe Dream can feel that, because his lips are curved in a smile as they brush against Hob’s jaw.

“What happened?” Hob gasps as Dream noses down the line of Hob’s throat. He can’t imagine Dream had given up on purpose —

Dream’s grip tightens on Hob for a moment. “Everyone wakes up eventually,” he says, face tucked against Hob’s neck.

Hob shivers. “Hey, not me,” he promises, sliding his arms around Dream’s shoulders. “I’m already wide awake.”

Dream’s hands flex, and he doesn’t say anything, but Hob grins up into the sky as Dream pulls him close under the Dreaming sun.

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #rhysiana #my fic #is there ever enough sparring fic #i submit to you no there is not

293 notes · View notes

localgrem1in · 6 months

Text

Magtober Day 18 - Bloopers / Memes

Gee Martin, lay off your boyfriend. He's cultured!!

My goal for Magtober is to do a sketch every day according to the prompt. I've been suffering from that headspace where every peice needs to be a finished piece, so I'm tryin to break that.

Prompt list by @emerald-emerlad for tmatober 2023!

Previous | Next

Close ups underneath the cut

131 notes · View notes

jaynovz · 2 months

Text

Expanded Info for Black Sails Kink Meme 2024

Hi there!

Since there has been a sufficient amount of interest for this idea, let me explain a little further how I think this will work and general guidelines–

I’m encouraging as informal and low stress/pressure of an atmosphere as possible here. Back in The Day when LiveJournal Kink Memes were common, it was very typical to see a prompt put up and filled within an hour. It doesn’t have to be polished, it doesn’t have to make logistical sense, it just has to fill the prompt as best as you can, sexily! It’s supposed to be fun. A bunch of fun, raunchy kink and smut to roll around in as a fandom. 🥳 🥳

So yeah, first thing to expect, it’s basically ALL PWP (porn without plot). Not to say that someone can’t write a full plot epic if they like, do whatever you like, but in my experience, a 4am fugue state smut fill written in a sweaty haze is kind of, the spirit of the thing. We’re creating ficlets, snapshots, tasty treats of smut with as little pressure to make it in any way polished as possible. Please think of this as, hmmm, a little fun writing exercise you do before you go back to your Big Serious Work, if that helps. We are letting loose, we are having fun, we are being deliciously, joyously, unrepentantly filthy with it! The tagline for the event is: “Get High, Jerk Off Three Times, and Write Me a Warmup :DD”

A prompt might say, for example– “MaxAnne, s2, would love to see the girls get slippery wet with some period sex, bonus if one or both eats the other out while she’s menstruating.”

Pretty standard stuff, nothing that off the wall from my perspective, however, some folks might feel shy about asking for it for whatever reasons and so the anonymous format frees ppl up to ask for anything from: “Midshipman James McGraw getting caned in pre-canon by his superiors” to, idk, “full tentacle-y type oviposition porn where someone is being forced to come over and over again while being implanted with eggs by some giant plant beast on Skeleton Island (probably Silver).”

Literally ask for whatever smut you want~~ This is your chance, toss it into the pot! It will be tagged accordingly when posted if it’s filled, so live your truth, chase your bliss, know no shame, no one can see you~~

It is helpful when submitting a prompt to give details that are important to you, and the prompt filler will do their best with it. <3 So, I suggest giving a ship specification up front, maybe a vague timeline (season 1, season 2, etc), and then the kinks you want to see with a short description. Sort of like the MaxAnne period sex I gave an example of above.

Logistics and Structure of Submissions–

I have created a sideblog called @blacksailskmeme through which, once submissions are live (it will be open to accept prompts hopefully in March 2024), you may submit ANON ASK PROMPTS. I will publish them with a number and a link to the collection. If you like one of the prompts, simply post it through the collection with its corresponding number and then that AO3 link to your fill will be reblogged underneath the original ask prompt.

Simple as that!

Follow the Event Blog, or the tag #2024BSKMemeFills in order to keep tabs on when prompts are filled.

This makes it very easy for me and yall both, as there is no claiming process to trouble ourselves with. As many fills as are written are allowed for each prompt, simply write whatever speaks to you and I’ll be able to track the fills by the notifs on the collection. :DD

As of now, I’m planning to open prompts in March 2024 and keep the collection and blog running for prompts and fills both up through the end of Summer 2024. To respect the spirit of the event, all fills and prompts MUST be anonymous. Edit for clarification: The entire collection is marked Anonymous, which means any work submitted to it will be posted Anon. There is no option you need to worry about checking to guarantee this. I apologize for the initial confusing language, I have been learning as I go.

It still stands that if, after the event is closed, you want to then de-anon your work, that is your prerogative. However, it will mean you must remove the work from the collection, as the collection itself will forever and always remain anonymous.

Rules–

–This is an 18 plus event, please, as all of the content will be Explicit.

–It is also a Black Sails Only Event, please no crossover prompts or fills. However, AU of all types are encouraged with our favorite pirates.

–All ships, all kinks, are welcome for submission, and the fill will then be tagged appropriately. If you have any questions on how to tag something, or just want another pair of eyes to confirm, you can always DM me <3

–Fills must be 500 words minimum of fic. There is no maximum and the fill is allowed to be WIP if you intend to write more chapters later. I would encourage that the content of the prompt be IN the first chapter at least before submission to the collection.

–We’re Gonna Be Nice and Civil!! No ship bashing, no kink shaming, we’re all mature adults here. If you don’t like something, then don’t fill it, don’t reblog it, don’t read it, pretend you do not see it. If you don’t like it, it’s not for you!

If I haven’t covered everything here, or if you’re unsure about something, feel free to reach out to me either through the event blog or through @jaynovz <3 Also, if you’d like to help me out with the event, hit me up as well.

Thank you!

#black sails #black sails event #black sails fanfiction #2024bskmeme #would love if yall would reblog this to signal boost thank you

71 notes · View notes

e-dubbc11 · 1 year

Text

The Sweetest Pain

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Billy Russo AU x F! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, couple of swear words, mentions of oral sex F! Receiving, mention of fingering (18+ please, no minors or I’m telling)

Word Count: 4.7k-ish

Summary: You have a crush on your tattoo artist. As it turns out, he may have a crush on you too.

A/N: Part One of I’m not sure how many yet. This one is all the way self indulgent right down to some of the tattoo photos in the moodboard. Bottom center are all mine and the octopus is the reference photo my tattoo artist is working from for my latest one which isn’t finished yet. Based off of the lovely conversation my lovely Lily @munsonownsmyass and I had while I was being tattooed this last time. I hope you like it! ❤️

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Casually thumbing through all the receipts in your wallet, you were looking for a specific one. You knew the appointment was coming up soon and you just wanted to make sure you had the right date…actually that was a lie, you knew exactly what day your appointment was on but you wanted to look at it again. Just looking at the receipt caused a smile to stretch across your face…every time.

At the top of the receipt had the date of your appointment, April 21, 2023, the line underneath the date had your name and phone number, the time of your appointment, and the name of your tattoo artist, Billy Russo.

Billy Russo. Just his name prompted the butterflies in your stomach and sent shivers down your spine. He was handsome, sweet, and had a very gentle touch when it came to tattooing whereas some artists you had previously gone to, did not. Looking at him, you swear he could have been a model with his good looks and perfect smile but he was an amazing artist and the perfect artist for what you wanted permanently inked on your body.

Some people preferred colored tattoos but you were in love with black and gray and they loved you. Billy always loved to tell you how well your skin took black ink and how anytime he tattooed you, your skin healed to perfection.

“Look at that. That healed up nicely, your skin really loves black ink doesn’t it.” He’d say with a warm smile.

Not only was Billy your tattoo artist, he was also your friend, texting back and forth, sending each other funny videos or memes, talking shit about some of his clients that didn’t sit well or that they were “flinchers.” It was just easy with him, you laughed a lot, shared stories, and Billy had many stories being a combat veteran. You felt like you could share anything with him and he was surprisingly comfortable with you, because he didn’t just openly share his life stories with a lot of people.

Billy was a very popular artist, everyone wanted an appointment with him so sometimes it was difficult to get into the shop. It took longer to do the sleeve you had been wanting than it should have because he was busy. Last time you had been at the studio, Billy put the finishing touches on it so this appointment coming up he would be tattooing your thigh, although he didn’t know it yet.

It was a sunny early spring afternoon walking to the studio in downtown Brooklyn. The breeze coming off of the water was cool but the sunlight directly hitting your skin felt exceedingly warm.

Billy had tattooed you countless times, but this would be the first time he’ll be tattooing you in a relatively intimate place, it was all you could think about, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Better to get it out of your system now than start to blush while you’re in the chair.

You were close and could see the shop window up ahead: Anvil Tattoo Studio. Goosebumps peppered across your skin as you fumbled for the door handle, you swallowed hard, and the butterflies in your stomach began to stir. You took a deep breath before walking through the door.

It was just another appointment, relax.

The scents of green soap, shaving cream, and something else that you never could quite put your finger on but the only way to describe it was…sterile, wafted through the air as you walked inside. The buzzing of the tattoo machines altogether sounded like a cluster of cicadas as they scratched and scraped across the skin. Closing the door behind you, Billy looked up from the client he was working on and smiled his perfect smile at you, and your stomach dropped.

So much for not blushing.

Billy’s best friend Frank sat in the chair across from him, watching closely as Billy placed red ink into a woman’s arm.

“I’m just finishing up, y/n. I’m so sorry I’m running late.” He said apologetically.

As you took a seat on the couch, Frank whispered something to Billy that made him look in your direction and smile. All of a sudden Frank was sitting next to you on the couch.

“How ya doin’, kid? What are ya gettin’ today?” Frank asked with a smirk on his face.

You smiled back. “I’m good, Frank! And today I’m getting an octopus.”

He looked at your arm with the sleeve, pointed and said “Well, I know you’re not putting it on that arm. You gonna start work on your other arm?”

You bit down on your lower lip, shook your head and gently touched your leg. “Actually, I want this one…on my thigh.”

Frank raised his eyebrows and sounded surprised when he replied “Really?” A sly smile spread across his face.

“What’s that look for?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

Frank glanced at Billy, then back at you. “Bill know that you want your tattoo there?”

“Well, no…not yet. You saw me, I just got here.” You said nervously.

Frank continued to smirk at you.

“Ok, well I gotta get goin’. You have fun, kid. I wanna see a picture when it’s done and if know Bill like I think I do, it’s not getting finished tonight.” He said.

Looking a little confused, you replied. “I dunno, Frank. Billy works pretty fast.”

Frank reached out and grabbed the door handle. And only loud enough for you to hear, he whispered “When he wants to. Why do you think it took him so long to do that sleeve of yours?” He gave you a wink and walked out.

You sat back against the couch with Frank’s words played again in your head. “When he wants to.” What was that supposed to mean? Did Billy purposely work slower on your sleeve so he could see you more often?

Billy could have any woman he wanted. Sometimes they would come into the studio in droves wanting to make an appointment with him. He’d always tell them he’s booked solid for the next six months, which wasn’t a lie. You witnessed it firsthand one night while you were in the chair.

They all came in batting their eyelashes and twirling their hair asking for something small that ANY tattoo artist could do. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at every sound that came out of their mouths because you had to admit, it did make you a little jealous even though you had no right to be.

Billy tattooed a lot of people, it was how he made his living. He wasn’t just yours, but maybe you wanted him to be. Maybe you wanted him to tenderly touch your skin in other ways, not just in a professional setting, and because he wants to and not because you’re paying him to.

As he finished up with his client, it was hard not to steal glances at him. He really was the most handsome man you had ever seen but you knew he couldn’t have the same feelings for you that you had for him. Yes, you were friends, but that’s it.

But what if Frank was right? What if he wasn’t joking around and Billy did work slower on purpose so he could see you more often. Could Billy Russo have on crush on you too?

This could turn out to be a long night.

After Billy’s client paid for her tattoo, she said goodbye and walked toward the entrance of the shop. On her way out the door, she glared at you and walked out. What possesses people to be nasty to someone they don’t even know?

Maybe she, like all the women that stop into the shop, had a crush on Billy too. Still, there was no excuse for behavior like that so you returned the gesture and narrowed your eyes back at her before she walked out of the shop.

Walking out from behind the front desk, you finally got a good look at Billy today. He was wearing a green waffle knit shirt, black jeans, and black boots whereas most of the time he would be wearing a shirt with his shop logo on it.

With his arms stretched out, you moved in close for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. It was the standard greeting you usually got from Billy with an extra squeeze at the end of the hug followed by the biggest smile. This really was one of your favorite places to be.

“Come on over, have a seat at the desk while I clean up and then we can get started.” He said.

Billy only had one other artist working today and he was just about done with his client.

“I’m almost done for the day, Bill. I’ll clean up and take off in a few.” He said.

Warmth spread to your chest as you asked Billy. “Is anyone else working today, Billy?”

The scent of 409 cleaner hung in the air while he was wiping down his tattoo chair. He smiled again and answered. “Nope, it’s just you and me tonight y/n.”

Oh no.

You quickly changed the subject. “Frank didn’t want to stick around tonight?” Frank always liked visiting with Billy while he worked, they were best friends and he always seemed to like visiting with you too when you came in.

“Ah Frankie said he had to get the kids off the school bus and make dinner tonight so he couldn’t hang out. He always likes it when you come in though.” Said Billy.

Was he the only one that likes it when you come into the shop?

“Why do you think it took him so long to do that sleeve of yours?”

Those words sounded like a broken record playing over and over in your mind and you remembered the first time he touched that tattoo needle to your skin. You placed your arm on the stand alone armrest and he started in on the outline but quickly paused.

“You’re gonna have to move a little closer to me, darlin’. It’s ok, I don’t bite.” He had said with a wink and a slightly wicked smile, as he pulled you closer to him.

The little flirtations progressed from there.

Starting out with a ¼ sleeve, he tattooed from your collar bone to just past your shoulder. You had to move your tank top and bra strap out of the way so he could work on that area, resting his hands on your chest, his long agile fingers wrapped tightly around the pen as he meticulously shaded the poppy flowers and lace. Every time he exhaled, his breath came in contact with you, goosebumps would scatter across your skin and he’d always ask if you were cold.

“Oh! No, no…Billy I’m fine.” You said.

When he tattooed the skull on your triceps, you had to lay face down on the tattoo chair, fingers grazing his pant leg, rubbing the fabric in between your fingertips took your mind off of the pain from the shading, that spot is surprisingly tender.

He pulled you out of your daydream.

“Huh?” You asked.

He smirked. “I said what are we doing today?”

“Oh! Right! I’d like an octopus.” You answered.

His deep brown eyes lit up as he asked excitedly. “Oh are we starting in on your other arm?” He took a sip of his water.

He wasn’t prepared for your answer.

“I’d actually like it on my thigh.” You said.

Billy coughed up a little water and swallowed hard as he finished cleaning up from his previous client and he seemed a little nervous. But he usually doesn’t get nervous and seeing him this way made you feel like maybe he DOES have a little crush on you.

He cleared his throat. “Oh! On your thigh? Ok, well do you have any, um, reference pictures for me?”

You pulled out your phone and navigated to the photo gallery, where you had a whole folder full of tattoo ideas and opened the photo of the one you liked. “I really like this little guy.” You said.

“Oh yeah, he’s great…this one is gonna be fun. Text that to me and I’ll start work on the stencil. You want this big, right? Take up most of the top of your thigh, right here?” He said as he placed both hands on your jeans, showing you the size he was thinking of.

“Yes, that’s a good size.” You answered.

“Come back and sit with me while I draw this up. You can tell me what’s new with you.” He said, rolling up his sleeves, revealing his patriotic tattoo sleeve underneath which you found incredibly sexy.

Billy asked about how work was going and life in general. You, in turn, asked how the business was doing, how his mom was even though he hated to talk about it. He had told you awhile ago he visits his dying mother once a week.

You think he mentioned that to you because subconsciously he wanted someone else to know, he didn’t want to keep that so close to the chest. It was a deep dark secret that hardly anyone knew about but you were privy to because he felt like he could trust you.

“She didn’t want me, she never wanted me.” He had said in a low voice, barely audible. “Shit, I really can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”

“You were a child, Billy. It’s ok to be angry.” You told him. “It’s just not good to keep that stuff inside, I’m glad you told me.”

Hovering over the light board, Billy continued to trace the outline of the octopus. “I’m almost done if you wanna change into your shorts.”

As you were changing in the restroom, you violently shook your hands and kicked your legs around to try and get out all of your nerves. The energy inside your body was shooting around like a pinball in a pinball machine, bouncing from one corner to the other and the butterflies in your stomach were turning in circles.

Stepping out from the restroom, suddenly you were a little self-conscious and felt exposed. Billy had never seen your bare legs before and the bike shorts you had on didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“All set?” He asked, his stare lingering longer than maybe he wanted it to.

You nodded and walked over toward his chair where he knelt down in front of you to shave the top of your thigh and just like that, your nerves were back with reinforcements. He was eye level with your core and your mind started to wander. You wondered what it would be like to have Billy’s face in between your legs, to have his beard tickle the inside of your thighs, placing kisses on the inside of your knees, and leaving love bites all over your stomach before devouring you.

It made you wet just thinking about it.

You pictured him pulling sinful sounds of pleasure from you using just his fingers. The same talented fingers he used to create beautiful works of art, now being used to draw circles on your clit. Parting your folds with one finger, then stretching you further with another, hitting that spot that makes your vision go white and your head spin.

“What do you think of the placement?” Billy asked, snapping you back to reality. “Go check it out in the mirror.”

You tried not to fall flat on your face as you slowly walked over to the full length mirror to look at the stencil, it took up most of the space on the top of your thigh and some of the tentacles wrapped slightly onto the side of your leg. He hadn’t even started yet and it already looked awesome.

“I love it!” You exclaimed.

Billy told you to stand around and wait for it to dry while he set up his machine, ink wells and other supplies. It was going to be mostly black and gray but the suction cups, you wanted them to be blue.

While you were waiting for the stencil to dry, you passed the time by checking out the other artist’s portfolios when Billy’s voice boomed from across the room. “ANDY! Stop checkin’ out y/n’s ass or you’re fired!”

No one could see, but you cracked a smile before you turned around to look at Andy who looked like a deer in headlights. He apologized profusely and you continued to look at everyone’s artwork while the stencil finished drying.

“Should be dry, y/n. Come have a seat.” He said.

The stack of paper towels was piled high on his side table, along with the box of black nitrile gloves. Everything was ready to go.

As you tried to get comfortable, Billy was figuring out how he wanted your leg to rest. You told him just to manipulate your leg to how he wanted it and because you have a dirty mind, you bit down on your lower lip to keep from laughing, realizing how that sounded when it came out. A slight smile spread across his face too.

He placed the copied photo you sent in front of him so he had a reference to work off of and got to work. The pen moved smoothly across your skin, drawing a solid black line for the outline of the head. The black ink pooling at the starting point as he wiped the excess away, concentrating on drawing a perfect line.

His gentle exhale grazed your thigh and left you wanting to clench but you couldn’t do that without risking him messing up, so you just held your breath in silence.

“Relax, darlin’. Ya know I tell you that every time you’re here. Relax your leg and turn it toward me…that’s it.” He whispered.

He had no idea what this was doing to you.

With both of his hands resting on your thigh, you closed your eyes and began to daydream again. You wondered if Billy had ever used his tattoo chair for play, thinking about his hands on the tops of your thighs and your hands making a mess of his ink like hair, as his tongue explores the part of your body emanating the most heat. The low moans he pulls from your lips fetch a wicked smile from him against your entrance that leaves your release glistening in his beard.

The long drag of the single needle against your leg jerked you out of your dream.

As he moved closer toward your inner thigh to draw one of the tentacles, the vibration of the needle hit a special spot that had you clenching your teeth. He stopped and looked at you, his eyes as black as the ink he was using, and the concern in his voice made you smile. “Are you ok? Did I hurt you?”

“No, Billy I’m fine…really.” You whispered which was followed by a slight chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” He asked. His tone was silvery and sweet like candy.

“Oh it’s nothing.” You said.

“Come on, y/n. Tell me.” He begged.

You paused for a second and finally got the courage to say it out loud.

“I was just thinking that after all these years of you tattooing me, you finally got my pants off.” And you burst out laughing.

Billy’s smile extended from ear to ear. He placed his pen on the table, took off his gloves, and said he had to go outside for a minute.

He stepped out onto the back deck, and left you inside alone. Andy took off a little while ago so it was just you and Billy at the shop.

A few minutes had passed when he came back inside, you were sitting sideways on the chair with your legs dangling off of the side. He walked right to you and stopped, the gap between your bodies was small and he gazed down at you. His onyx colored eyes had you frozen in place, almost forgetting to even breathe.

He had never looked more gorgeous.

As he bent at the waist, still staring at you, he raised one finger and said. “No one…has ever made me blush like that, y/n.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You asked, looking up at him through your dark lashes.

Billy started to close the gap between your bodies even more like he was going to kiss you but pulled away just as fast.

“Lemme ask you something, y/n. Why do you think I took so long to finish your sleeve?” He asked.

Oh shit…Frank was right. But you decided to play dumb.

“Well, I don’t know Billy…I just figured since we spend a lot of time just talking before we actually start tattooing, we run out of time and you just book me another session. No big deal.” You said.

He starting shaking his head and put his hands on his hips. “No, that’s bullshit. You’ve seen how fast I can work, I coulda had that sleeve done in half the sessions it actually took.”

“Then tell me, Billy. Tell me why it took you so long.” You said with your voice slightly raised.

He ran his fingers through his raven colored hair and brushed his beard with his fingers. His slightly agitated state told you that he wasn’t used to saying how he felt.

“I did it on purpose so I could see you more often, ok?!”

You thought your heart was going to burst out of your chest. The feeling WAS mutual.

“And look, I know you’re probably mad that I made you come in—“

You interrupted him.

“I like you too, Billy.” You weren’t sure that he heard you over his ranting.

“What?” He asked and took a few steps closer again.

“I.Like.You.Too.”

You barely got that last word out before his lips crashed onto yours, his hands tangled in your hair and his tongue touched your teeth begging to twist and knot with yours. His kisses were hungry, all tongue and teeth as his nipped up and down your neck. Your body felt like it was on fire and you didn’t want him to stop but you were in the middle of getting a tattoo, so you pulled away.

“Billy? My leg.” You said, shyly.

“Fuck…I forgot.” He said as the two of you started to chuckle as he cupped your cheeks and leaned in to kiss you one more time.

After you cooled down at little, you and Billy resumed your session. He finished the outline and did a little shading before calling it a night, although it was difficult to concentrate on anything except remembering Billy’s lips all over you.

“I don’t wanna keep you here too late, beautiful.” Billy said with a warm smile as he started to clean off your skin, prepping it for the tegaderm dressing he was going to put on. The clear plastic film was thin, sterile and it kept out water and germs but it was also breathable which made the healing process a lot faster.

On his knees in front of you, he carefully placed large strips of the flexible plastic on your leg, making sure to cover the entire tattoo. Every time his calloused fingers grazed your leg, he felt the goosebumps rise up to touch his fingertips. You couldn’t help it.

“Is it cold in here, y/n?” Billy’s voice sounded very concerned.

You shook your head slowly back and forth, biting down on your lower lip and gazed down into his intense brown eyes. The skin on the top of your thigh was red and hot to the touch. It matched the skin on your cheeks. Billy inched closer to you, his warm exhale brushed against the inner part of your knee which made your vision hazy.

You could tell he was having a hard time concentrating too.

“Ok, you’re all set.” Billy said taking off his gloves. “That’s gonna look badass when it’s all done. When do you wanna come back?”

He asked nervously.

“Billy?” You asked.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t make me wait.” You said with a slight hitch in your voice.

Throwing his gloves away, he started to walk over to his desk calendar.

“I don’t want you to wait, so just tell me when you want—“

You cut him off.

“I’m not talking about that, Billy.” You said.

He narrowed his eyes. “Then what—“

You interrupted him again.

“I want you to kiss me again, Billy. Don’t make me wait.”

He delicately moved a stray hair away from your eyes as you clasped your hands around his neck and pushed yourself up onto your toes to kiss him again. The taste of peppermint on his soft lips still lingered from the gum he was chewing earlier as you allowed his tongue access to your mouth.

You clung to him almost desperately, not wanting to let him go but he was like a magnet that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pull away from him.

“I want you back here in two weeks.” He said.

With your eyes wide, he kind of caught you off guard. “Oh…well ok. Just let me know which—“

It was his turn to interrupt you.

“But I wanna see you tomorrow…for dinner.”

A shy smile played across your face.

“Really?” You asked.

Billy’s entire body smiled at you.

“Y/n, I’ve wanted this since the very first day you walked into my shop. I feel…” He paused, grazed his beard with his thumb and forefinger, and sat down on his tattoo chair.

“Billy?”

“Every time I tattoo you, I always end up telling you something about myself that I thought I would end up taking to the grave whether it’s about my shitty childhood or how I listen to 80’s hair metal when no one’s around. Remember what I told you, don’t you DARE repeat that!” He cracked a smile.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his idle threat but you were just as comfortable around Billy as he was with you.

“The point is, I like this…being comfortable enough where it’s easy for me to share this stuff and it’s easy with you.”

“That’s what friends are for, Billy.” You said.

“Well, what if I wanna be more than friends?” He asked.

Billy looked nervous after saying that, almost scared as to how you would reply.

“Like friends that see each other naked?” You said with a little laugh.

“How many times are you gonna make me blush today?” He asked trying to hold in his laughter.

Walking over to where he was seated, you straddled him so your knees were on either side of his hips and adjusted yourself so you were firmly pressing down on his crotch.

“At least one more time, handsome.” You whispered against his mouth before your lips collided with his. “I like making you blush.”

As you gently nibbled on his ear lobe, he let out a low moan before saying “Oh I’m gonna have my hands full with you, huh sweet girl.”

Unexpectedly, he thrusted his hips up against your core and you expressed a tremor of pleasure. The thin fabric of the bike shorts didn’t shield you from feeling the outline of his hard cock against you, teasing you, and you wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you, soaking him and the chair underneath him so much that he would need more than just a paper towel to clean it up.

You’d save that for another night though.

“Mmmm hmmmm...but I’ll let you take me out to dinner first, baby.” You said.

Billy leaned forward to kiss you again as you raked your fingers through his hair, gently scraping your nails against his scalp. He kissed you with a passion like his kiss was always meant to be yours, tasting you, and binding his body to yours so he would never forget all of the curves and hollows of you that haven’t yet been touched with his tattoo pen.

“Ok, well let me finish cleaning up and I’ll take you home.” Billy said.

A mischievous grin stretched across your lips.

“Take your time, handsome because god damn, I love to watch you work.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again

#billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo au #billy russo fluff #billy russo smut

289 notes · View notes

anonymouspuzzler · 1 year

Text

oh baby it's SNORPY and CHANDLO let's go!!!! they are fun to draw so there are a few of these. thanks again to @incorrectbugsnaxquotes for a few of the comic prompts!

(alt text/image IDs under the cut!)

[Image 1 ID: A drawing of Chandlo and Snorpy recreating that Guy With Huge Bahongas meme. that's about it]

[Image 2 ID: A drawing of Snorpy from the neck-up, missing his hat and glasses, looking sleepy and disoriented. An arrow pointing to him reads "can't hecking see".]

[Image 3 ID: A tiny doodle of Chandlo from behind, smiling and flexing, wearing a t-shirt with torn-off sleeves reading "I FLEX'D & THE SLEEVES CAME OFF". His snapback also reads "SWAG". An arrow pointing to him reads "Jay's fault".]

[Image 4 ID: A drawing of Snorpy, looking terrified and standing stiffly, holding a comically large machete in one hand with text reading "BECOME UNGOVERNABLE".]

[Image 5 ID: A drawing of Chandlo, holding a flashlight towards the camera and smiling placidly, saying "whatup, demons, it's me, ya boi". In the background, Snorpy, also holding a flashlight, is looking over at him anxiously.]

[Image 6 ID: A drawing of Chandlo and Snorpy recreating a screenshot from an Unraveled video. Chandlo is dancing with his arms at his sides, grinning widely, while Snorpy at his left is dancing significantly more stiffly, blushing and looking anxious. Text underneath them reads "*INTERPRETIVE DANCE WITH A FRIEND*".]

[Image 7 ID: Snorpy standing and looking over his shoulder with a neutral, tired expression, wearing no hat and a t-shirt reading "I SOLVED THE MYSTERY OF GRUMP PEAKS AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS T-SHIRT".]

[Image 8 ID: A drawing of Chandlo, sitting cross-legged on the floor, with Snorpy lying with his head in Chandlo's lap. Chandlo is smiling down at him warmly, propping himself up with one hand while patting Snorpy's hair with the other. Snorpy, with his hat off to the side and wearing one of Chandlo's slightly oversize jersey tanks, is laughing with one hand on his chest and the other wrapped around Chandlo's arm.]

[Image 9 ID: A two-panel comic of Chandlo and Snorpy sitting side-by-side, embracing. Chandlo is leaning back on one arm with Snorpy at his right side, who is turned to place an arm around him, both of them smiling. In the first panel Snorpy says, "You're the love of my life and my best friend. I would do anything for you". In the second, Chandlo, with a slightly worried smile, says, "I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule". Snorpy, looking nonplussed, replies, "Absolutely not."]

[Image 10 ID: A two-panel comic of Snorpy and Chandlo. In the first, Snorpy is standing with his arms crossed and an annoyed expression, saying, "Being gay is NOT a choice". In the second, he is clutching Chandlo's arm with both hands, eyes narrowed and saying, "It's a game and I'm winning". Chandlo simply turns his head to give Snorpy a kiss on the cheek.]

[Image 11 ID: A two-panel comic of Snorpy and Chandlo. In the first panel, Snorpy is wringing his hands and looking embarrassed and anxious, blushing furiously and seating, saying, "Just to make sure, are you asking me romantically or platonically?" The second panel cuts to Chandlo, down on one knee wearing a tuxedo-print t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, holding a giant bouquet in one hand and a box with an engagement ring in the other, looking incredulous as he responds, "Are you kidding me--"]

[Images 12-13 IDs: A seven-panel comic of Snorpy and Chandlo divided into two images, with the first three panels in one and the last four in the other. In the first panel, Snorpy, wearing a Grump Peaks t-shirt, is sitting on a couch next to Chandlo. Snorpy has his legs folded up, one hand resting on his knees and the other propping himself up on the couch, while Chandlo has one arm propping himself up and the other behind Snorpy over the back off the couch. A "DING!" sound effect goes off and Chandlo looks up with a grin, saying "Pizza's ready!!" The second panel shows him opening up the oven and looking at the pizza on the top rack, then the third shows him turning over his shoulder, looking agonized, and saying, "This is always the worst part." Panels four through six then show him grabbing the pizza tray out of the oven with his bare hands, screaming all the while, then tossing it on top of the stove. The final panel show shim turning back to Snorpy with a grin, giving a thumbs up, hands visibly burned. Snorpy, looking absolutely terrified, is backed up against the couch with one hand clutching his chest.]

[Image 14 ID: A drawing of Chandlo and Snorpy recreating a meme from a Japanese weather report. Chandlo, wearing a varsity jacket over his tank top and holding an umbrella, is standing with one arm around Snorpy, who is wearing a ribbed sweater and blushing as he covers his face with one hand. The Journalist's hand is visible holding up a microphone, and Chandlo says, "Being in the snow with my lover like this immerses me in a special feeling, bro."]

#Anonymous Puzzler art #bugsnax #snorpy fizzlebean #chandlo funkbun #chandlo x snorpy #these two are so stupid and i say this with great affection i love them with my whole heart.

332 notes · View notes

blacksailskmeme · 10 days

Text

Hi there piratefam!

Happy Black Sails Netflix day! 🥳 🏴‍☠️🥳

A quick reminder that we have a little Black Sails Kink Meme running right now (live up til the end of Summer 2024!) The link above is to the event collection of fills and below I'm posting some more info about how to participate if you haven't yet heard about it! :D <3

Premise--

Rules--

–This is an 18 plus event, please, as all of the content will be Explicit.

–It is also a Black Sails Only Event, please no crossover prompts or fills. However, AU of all types are encouraged with our favorite pirates.

Logistics--

For prompts-- you may submit ANON ASK PROMPTS to this blog. I will publish them with a number and a link to the collection. If you like one of the prompts, simply post it through the collection with its corresponding number and then that AO3 link to your fill will be reblogged underneath the original ask prompt. It is helpful when submitting a prompt to give details that are important to you, and the prompt filler will do their best with it. <3 So, I suggest giving a ship specification up front, maybe a vague timeline (season 1, season 2, etc), and then the kinks you want to see with a short description.

For fills-- There is NO CLAIMING PROCESS NECESSARY! If you see a prompt that strikes your fancy, you are IMMEDIATLEY encouraged and free to fill it, there is NO LIMIT ON FILLS for each prompt!

Both prompt submissions and fills will be open simultaneously through the entire span of the event.

The entire collection is marked Anonymous, which means any work submitted to it will be posted Anon. There is no option you need to worry about checking to guarantee this.

After the event is closed, if you want to then de-anon your work, that is your prerogative. However, it will mean you must remove the work from the collection, as the collection itself will forever and always remain anonymous.

As more prompts come in, I will continue to assign them numbers and post them using the tag #2024BSKMemePrompts. As they come in, fills will be reblogged under their prompt using the tag #2024BSKMemeFills.

(PS: If you submit your fill and do not see it immediately, please remember it’s just me handling the organization and I might be asleep. But rest assured just as SOON as I get the notification on the collection I will publish it on Tumblr.)

Information regarding posting to AO3 collections can be found here. The expanded guidelines and rules for fills can be found here.

If you are unsure of something, tags, anything at all, or if you have questions I haven't covered here: please do not hesitate to reach out to me either through the event blog or my main @jaynovz. I will respond to questions as soon as I’m able :DD

GOOD LUCK EVERYONE, HAVE FUN IN THE SPLASH ZONE OF SMUT AND KINK~~ 🎉🎉

#2024bskmeme #announcements #about #black sails #black sails event #long post #there are over 100 excellent prompts already and 12 delicious fills #hop in :D

33 notes · View notes

seiya-starsniper · 10 months

Note

34. Odd socks for dreamling!!! <3 👀

FRIENDO I FINALLY MANAGED TO DO THIS ONE 💖💖💖 I hope you're feeling a bit better this evening!

So, like many people in this fandom, I've been gripped by @designtheendless's Little Mermaid AU drawings, so this little snippet takes place the morning after Hob finds Dream and brings him home!

-----------------

When Hob goes to visit his mysterious stranger from the sea the morning after taking him in, he finds Dream surrounded by what looks like an explosion of clothing.

Correction: the explosion of clothing is actually primarily socks. And not just standard white socks either; there were blue, yellow, green, and even a few red socks strewn across the room. All of them were separated from their mates. Dream lay in the midst of the chaos, still in Hob’s borrowed nightclothes, seemingly unperturbed by the mess he had made.

Hob takes in the miniature disaster, trying to make sense of what Dream’s reasoning was for emptying out the entire sock drawer. Hob didn’t even know he’d owned this many socks. Never mind the fact that these socks were probably what the house staff considered superfluous to Hob’s wardrobe, and therefore could be donated to his surprise house guest.

He certainly can't ask the man directly what he was doing. Dream probably hasn’t grown a voice overnight, and Hob really isn’t sure if the man can read or write. Hob’s initial plan upon coming to Dream’s room was to gather him for breakfast and then figure out if they could communicate via pen and paper. But then he’d gotten distracted by the sock tornado and then…

…was Dream wearing two different colored socks?

“What’s this?” Hob asks, pointing to the two very mismatched socks on Dream’s feet.

Dream wiggles his toes and smiles brightly. Hob feels as if he’s been stabbed in the chest. Well then. He’s not to keen on examining that emotion just yet.

“You know those two don’t go together right?” Hob asks instead.

Dream tilts his head to the right, a motion Hob decides to interpret as the man’s need for further clarification.

“You’re supposed to wear matching socks,” Hob tries to explain as he searches for a matching pair to demonstrate. It takes him a few moments, but eventually he manages to find a set.

“Like these two,” he says, leaning over and picking up a pair of red socks. “See? Red and red go together. What you’re wearing doesn’t match,” Hob adds, pointing to the one white sock currently adorning Dream’s left foot, while his right foot features an orange one.

Dream frowns, clearly displeased with this new information, which sends another stabbing feeling through Hob’s chest, this one much less pleasant than the first. Dream then shakes his head and tucks his feet underneath his thighs, practically sitting on them as if trying to deny Hob access to his feet.

Hob laughs, absolutely charmed. “All right, all right, if you really want to wear those socks today, you can,” he acquiesces. “But don’t blame me for any weird looks you get, okay?”

Hob holds out his hand, and Dream stares at it, looking somewhat suspicious, before finally letting Hob pull him up from the floor.

“Now then, I’m starving,” Hob says, noticing that Dream seems reluctant to let go of his hand. In truth, he’s rather reluctant too. So he doesn’t.

“Breakfast?”

-----

Soft Fics Prompt Meme

#dreamling #dream x hob #the sandman #sandman fanfic #seiya writes #seiya drabbles #thanks for the request sorry it's like 3 weeks late ahahaha <3 <3 <3 #seiya writes dreamling

116 notes · View notes

rwac96 · 2 months

Note

Type: Prompt

AU: Crossover AU: Crossover Fusion AU

Fandom: RWBY, Darkstalkers

Summary: Best Date vs Worst Date: Qrow Branwen and Morrigan Aensland

Meme: Best Date vs Worst Date

--BEST DATE--

*The pair were walking through a trail, underneath Remnant's shattered moon*

Morrigan: "Quite a beautiful night."

Qrow: "Yeah..." *turns to the succubus* "but not as beautiful as you~."

Morrigan: *giggles* "Oh, you charmer~."

---

--WORST DATE--

*Qrow & Morrigan were surrounded by a pack of Beowulves, each slicing and destroying the Grimm that each attacked them*

Morrigan: "Not my ideal date."

Qrow: "I'd say don't blame me...but I'd be ignoring the reality of my Semblance."

Morrigan: *bisecting a Beowulf* "Love, no self-hatred. It fuels these nasty things."

#answer #answered #answer post #crossover #crossover au #crossover shitpost #darkstalkers #rwby #morrigan aensland #qrow branwen #misfortune lust #morrirow #best date vs worse date #best date vs. worse date

22 notes · View notes

aphroditestummyrolls · 4 months

Note

27 and wesper for the prompt meme 💕

Hiiiii! Thanks for playing ❤️ I was aiming to make these cute little drabbles, about the same length as the WIP game, BUT. That didn’t happen here.

So, enjoy what is essentially a oneshot missing scene from Only Way Out (is through).

27. Accidentally Sleeping In

The kitchen was still cast in deep blue shadow. The night clung to the corners of the room, and the furniture in the adjacent den was nothing but dark silhouettes as the windows gradually lightened. Blinking out over the fields with bleary eyes, it looked like another clear summer’s day on the horizon. A breeze made the jurda dance; the last stars glittered above; and the first fingers of sunlight were going pink as they chased away the darkness.

The house felt still in a way that it hadn’t since the boys came to stay. There was no glow of light under Jesper’s bedroom door, and there was no squeak of mattress springs as they restlessly shifted around and around. Wylan’s usual beleaguered whisper was absent, leaving nothing but the slumbering silence of pre-dawn.

He hoped Jesper had gotten that poor lad to go to sleep and stay asleep. And that he’d still gotten a good night’s rest for himself.

Colm looked at the wall clock— scarcely 5 bells.

He’d give them till the half chime.

He took the coffee pot down from its cupboard as quietly as he could manage, and set the kettle on the fire. He would give them until breakfast was ready. Usually, Jesper was stumbling down the corridor by the time he smelled griddlebreads, anyway. Even after all these years away, it was still like a summoning ritual for even the most exhausted of sons.

Even this exhausted, though? Addy’s voice chimed in from the back of his mind. You’ve never seen him this tired. You know that.

Colm sprinkled flour across the countertop, and unwrapped their breakfast dough from where he’d left it to rise in the hearth’s embers overnight. Perhaps he kneaded into the soft puff of it with more feeling than usual, but he couldn’t help it. He was worried.

He had never been able to hide from his wife— especially not now. And, as usual, she was right.

It had been just over a week since Jesper and his young councilman had docked in Shriftport. They brought with them two haphazardly packed cases of clothes, but Colm considered them lucky that their ship didn’t charge them extra for the bags under their eyes. There was a weight on Wylan’s skinny frame so broad and crushing, it almost surprised the Kaelishman to see the lad walking.

Jesper helped shoulder that weight with all the grace of a man anticipating an explosion, but Colm glowed with pride all the same. They were good partners, those two. He watched them give and take throughout that long, sleepless week— he caught the tail end of long talks and brief check ins. Every morning after they came in from the jurda fields, Colm brought in the post; and every night, he walked past their bedroom door to see the lamps still lit as they worked steadily through the passing hours.

And, he saw the circles under their eyes grow darker with each morning, over griddlebreads and coffee. In the pre-dawn, they seemed as deep as any shadow in the house.

Colm was finally beginning to understand the extent of what Jesper was trying to say in his letter, all those days ago.

Dear Da, it read, I hope you’re well. Good to hear the harvest is coming in strong, and the buyers are already lining up.

Things here are fine— I’m worried about Wylan. This house is starting to feel bloody haunted, and the noses of the council constantly poking in aren’t doing much to help. Everything is piling up. He thinks I don’t know how much this is grating on him, and I don’t know how to tell him he’s scaring me.

I know I’m not much of a communicator—

I understand if you’re still mad, but I’m trying to—

Did you ever have to talk to Ma— that one was so blotted with ink, that Colm had to hold it up to the midday sun to find the words underneath.

I don’t know what to do. You told me to tell you next time I didn’t know what to do, so I’m doing that. He’s not sleeping, he forgets to eat, we spend all day pushing through this damned paperwork, and getting him down to the club can only distract him from the worst of it for so long.

I’m so tired, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. Help? I suppose?

He signed it with love from the both of them, and Colm had reread it until the parchment feathered at the corners. It was still tucked into the bookshelf in the shadowy den, used as a place marker in a half-interesting novel he gave up on.

The kettle whistled. With floured hands, the Kaelishman turned in the time-honoured route from counter to stove, and then to the coffee maker. He didn’t need to think about it. The motions were as natural as breathing, and he had other things on his mind.

The night before, the three of them spent a few short hours in the den before retiring for the day.

Colm couldn’t even remember what was being said, when Jesper suddenly went very still, and quiet. His grey eyes blinked, wide and sparkling, and he looked over to his young councilman as if he wasn’t sure what he’d see. And then he smiled.

No, he beamed.

Because Wylan Van Eck was deep asleep, his cheek smushed up into Jesper’s shoulder. His thick lashes tickled along his cheek, chapped red lips just a little bit open. He took slow, even breaths against Jesper’s chest, and Colm couldn’t help the clench of emotion that snuck up around his heart.

He looked like a little boy.

And Jesper looked like he’d been given an absolute treasure of a gift.

He kissed his forehead— gently, so gently, as if he’d bolt upright at any second— and didn’t dare to wake him up to shuffle him off to bed.

Colm held open the bedroom door so Jes could fit Wylan and himself through the narrow opening. The smaller lad was laid out in the center of the bed while Jesper fluttered around the room, unlacing Wylan’s boots and slipping his braces from his shoulders. For once, Colm found himself glad that his son was so allergic to making his bed— it made it much easier to slip back in at night.

And that was the last he had seen of either of them. The Kaelishman bid his son goodnight in a whisper, and Jesper smiled. He looked so exhausted,and so relieved.

Oh, he hoped they’d managed some good rest.

By the time the half chime rang through the little farmhouse, each bread had been cooked to golden brown, steaming perfection. Coffee was ready. Plates were on the counter— not that Jesper would use one. Not when there was the option to leave crumbs on the kitchen floor.

But, Jesper wasn’t here. There were no creaking bed springs, or sleepy grumbling voices coming down the corridor. Colm craned his head to peek at the lad’s door, and the glow of the lamp wasn’t there, like it had been so reliably for so many days.

The sun was rising, painting the kitchen and the den with the wash of warm pink, yellow and Zemeni blue sky. Yet, even with the shadows chased away, the house was still heavy with a sleeping hush.

He sighed.

At least when Jesper was awake all night, he didn’t oversleep.

Rolling his eyes, he poured himself a coffee and took a long sip. He stared at the door, willing the light to turn on, and to hear his son roll out of bed and curse at the clock.

They were meant to start the second round of the harvest that morning. The first of the drying blooms were out in the silos, but the growing things of the earth weren’t just going to wait for them to be ready to pick them. The time frame was limited. How many times had he told Jesper that? How many times had he walked the short path from the kitchen to that bedroom door, and given him the wake up call he missed?

This time, though, he raised his hand to knock, and… paused.

Instead, he dared to open the door and poke his head into the room.

The sunrise was a little slower to reach Jesper’s room, turning the peachy dawn into a warm lavender haze through the drapes. The bedside table was stacked with the last of the letters to be sent— signed and sealed with a splatter of red wax. But, on the bed itself, there wasn’t nearly as much formality… or urgency.

The covers had been kicked around. Only a sheet was draped across Jesper’s skinny hips, his gangly limbs starfished out across the mattress. He was utterly dead to the world. His ribs rose and fell in deep pulls of breath, and Colm wished he could see his boy’s sleeping face better. He always looked so sweet and young, finally at rest for once in his wild life.

But, this time, his nose was buried in a nest of wild curls.

While Jesper had sprawled, Wylan had curled up under his arm, cuddled in between his body and the wall. His cheeks were flushed with the warmth of sleep, even in the low light, and he looked just the same as he had when he fell asleep the evening before. He had a cheek squished up against Jesper, lashes fanning his cheeks, and chapped lips slack. Now, though, his fingers twitched and flexed over Jesper’s chest, and he was burrowing impossibly closer to him. A tiny little sigh passed Jesper’s lips— he could see it as it ruffled the red curls obscuring his mouth. Maybe he smeared an unconscious kiss to his forehead. Colm couldn’t tell.

Oh Saints. Colm couldn’t bring himself to wake them.

“Da?”

Grey eyes blinked at him for a long, sleepy moment, not processing much of anything at first. And then, it hit.

“Fuck—!”

“Shh, shh— no.” Colm crossed the small room to stop his son before he moved and woke the both of them. “No, no. It’s alright, Jes.”

Jesper blinked. Wylan made a sleepy little sound, but didn’t wake.

Colm pulled the covers back up over them, and Jesper finally seemed to understand what was happening. His eyes went half lidded. He sighed.

“Get some sleep, son.” He murmured.

Jes just hummed.

They were both asleep again by the time Colm closed the door behind them.

❤️❤️❤️

#six of crows #wesper #jesper x wylan #wylan x jesper #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #colm fahey #thanks for playing!

25 notes · View notes