@deintegro: "you're hogging the blanket again." (from here)
Tino knew better than to let your dog sleep in bed with you. In this instance, Hesse filled the role of "dog," and the same principle applied. When he hired him for cheap backup on that one job however long ago —weeks? months? years?— he didn't realize it would become a semi-regular arrangement for them.
Maybe if he had, he wouldn't had let the guy know where he lived...
"It's my bed, Parker," Tino counters groggily, annoyed that Hesse would even feel so bold as to complain about the amount of sheet coverage he got. The other was, unfortunately, a pretty good lay, and sometimes Tino's options weren't so plentiful at that time of night. "You're lucky I didn't make your useless ass sleep on the floor. The only reason you aren't on the carpet is because I passed out before I could kick you out of here. Ever hear of counting your blessings...?"
Slade could never just sit back and take it like this; he couldn't help if it the other's tongue felt so good, slicking him open as his back remained planted on the hood of his pickup. He gripped the sides —or at far as his arms would get to them— for support, barely managed to stifle moans as they left his lips.
"Oh, yeah—" he grunts, instinctively spreading his legs further apart, "fuck, right there—!"
Send ☪ and I'll write about a dream/nightmare that my muse has had about yours.
Her breath escapes her in short pants, her head felt fuzzy, vision clouded. Everything was hot, too hot, she could feel the flame licking at her skin. It would not harm her, she was its master. She could feel something else, too-- sticky-- red. She stares at her hand, taking far too long to register the blood that coated it. Was it hers? She was too numb to be sure. She couldn’t remember being wounded.
“Surpass the frailty of your form...”
She felt pretty tired, but she forged on-- at least until her weary legs gave from under her. No, she tripped- over what? Her searching gaze comes to rest on a body, partially blackened. Ah, here-- her fingers trace over their armor to the wound in their chest. A smile pulls at her lips- revealing her pointed teeth. She remembered this one, she’d outmaneuvered him, he’d ended up on his knees begging for life. His petty words meant nothing. No coward like that should deserve to live.
"Every kill brings victory closer..."
The laughter that bubbled from her caught in her throat as her slow mind came to register the emblem on his attire-- Was that not the symbol of Noxus? She was confused. Perhaps this body just was similar to the one she had killed? No... no, this wasn’t just any Noxian... this was straight up one of her own Redguard... this was...
"Die with fear in your heart, or win with blood on your hands..."
A foot entered her vision, across from the body. Then the other-- and a gauntleted hand. She’d never seen armor like... Her gaze followed up the limb until she stared into the eyes of twisted war itself. An infinite number of battles, of kills, of bloodied corpses and final screams stared back. She was shaking-- her mouth opened and her hand lifted--
“They will greet you as a hero.”
And she screamed, sitting bolt upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat and panting, frantically gripping the sheets around her. It... It wasn’t real... she wasn’t... oh gods, to lose control in such a way... she buries her face in her arms. Just... a dream.
ASK MY MUSE A QUESTION. My muse must answer somehow, but they are not allowed to talk!
She snorts, seemingly amused by the question. She considers a moment, then mimes tipping back a drink, her other hand seemingly holding something at her hip. She reaches across with her other hand and draws… a key. Like a sword, from the hand at her hip.
As an afterthought, she tugs lightly at her ponytail and then motions as if painting. She snickers, apparently at her own perceived wit.
…!!
Suddenly seems to have a further idea, though perhaps reluctant to act it out… her cheeks dusted a light pink. She motions as if tipping a hat down over her face, holding the pose for only a moment before sneering and turning away, apparently done with the question. Her expression is… stormy to say the least.
Mukuro writes "Strong Willed" on Karra's chest. (Marker Prompt)
Grab a marker and write something on my muse! ( Anywhere over my muse's body. )
Looks down at chest, taking a moment to read the writing (which was of course, upside-down for her). “Huh. Thanks,” she says with a small smile, appreciating it but not especially strongly affected.
Send “Tick Tock” for a random thought without context that my character has during a day.
“Bears are kinda cool. What if Noxians rode into battle on bears? Holy shit Demacia wouldn’t stand a chance. Wait... oh right they have the damn dragon... still... bears.”
