#Day Two

[mcytadventevent]

@syneester is creating for Day Two:

Prompt: Pillow Fort

Their piece is art, featuring Pearl, Grian, Scar, Impulse, and Mumbo (Boatem)!

Credit Links:

https://www.tumblr.com/syneester

https://bsky.app/profile/syneester.bsky.social

[acesmelody]

Zolu Day Two: Egghead

[domnorian]

Kryptonite Week - Day 1 : Green & Black

Kryptonite Week - Day 2 : Red & Blue

Made for @kryptonite-week !

I know I'm late. There's been electricity issues at my place yesterday. Hopefully, I won't have more issues.

I decided to use both prompt for the color palette as an additional challenge. I still used only one of them as a prompt.

[dailydamijon]

Day two of daily damijon.

Green Lantern: Blackstars (2019) Issue #2

clark walking in on jon and damian hugging and then everyone just staring at them

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Waiting on You

Day #2 - Prompt: Hands | Word Count: 448 | Rating: T | CW: Hospitalization | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Healing, Caretaker Steve Harrington

His hands are warm. 

That's the first thought Eddie has as he starts to come around. He knows it's Steve, has heard him talking to the kids, to Wayne, off and on all morning. Eddie's been here, sort of, skirting the edges of consciousness for a while now. In and out, without being able to really push through to let them know he's still here.

That he's coming back, if they'll just give him a little more time. To not give up on him, not yet.

He realized quickly that they're all taking turns sitting next to his bed. Uncle Wayne, Steve, the kids. 

And when they do, somebody usually has a hold of his hand, like it's a requirement for keeping Eddie tethered to the earth. 

Maybe it is.

But he's learned the differences. They all touch him, hold his hand, squeeze him, differently. But this is Steve, Eddie's sure of it. It's not rough or callused or dry enough to be Wayne. It's not sweaty and desperate enough to be Dustin.

Dustin clings. Squeezes, as if that could wake Eddie up.

Gareth, too. 

Both kids always feel like they're holding onto him for dear life. Eddie wants to tell them he's okay, or that he will be, but he hasn't been able to push through to the surface. Not yet. 

Steve's different.

Steve's hand is just a warm, solid presence. Not really demanding anything of him, so Eddie supposes it's fitting that this is the hand grasping his when he finally wakes up. Eddie does things on his own terms, always has, and he figures waking up from a coma is no different.

Eddie gives Steve's hand a squeeze, Steve squeezes back, but keeps talking to Dustin. Maybe this is something Eddie's done before, like, involuntarily? Eddie doesn't remember. So he squeezes harder, and that's when the talking stutters and ceases.

"He just squeezed my hand," Steve says.

"He does that. You know he does," Dustin says, sounding distant and far away.

"Not like this," Steve says, then suddenly, even if Eddie can't see him, Eddie knows he's much closer, face right above his. Eddie can sense it.

"Eddie? You with us?" Steve asks.

Eddie can't seem to open his eyes yet, but he squeezes back again, long and deliberate this time, hoping that gets the message across. 

It must.

"Call Wayne," Steve suddenly says, and then there's a hand on Eddie's forehead. The same kind of warm palm that's still gripping his hand. 

It feels nice. 

Eddie squeezes Steve's hand one more time for good measure, and Steve laughs, and says, oh so close to his face, "Hi. Welcome back. We've been waiting on you."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

[fallininlust]

( II ) DECEMBER FOURTH

♱ — MOMENTS SILENCE ( COMMON TONGUE ) [ PT. TWO ] !

pair. bottom!sub!nick x top!dom!male!reader genre. soft smut [ 18+ ], body worshipping

word count : [ 1.7k ]

description : lighthearted teasing / lingering kisses / teeth and tongues / softly spoken / murmured praises / whispered compliments / rounded eyes / rustling bedsheets / heaving breaths / the rising and falling of chests / and interlocked hands

We spoke all night tongues, in fingertips, in teeth.

Robert Hass, Spring !

If there was one thing you were consistently telling Nick whenever you were alone together, it was how pretty he looked when he begged.

He never quite understood it. And the way you described it to him always left him to flustered. You told him how pouty his reddened lips got, how pretty the blue of his eyes was when they widened with need, how the expansion of his pupils due to his growing lust was satisfying to watch, how flushed his cheeks would become with the rush of blood underneath his skin.

Your lips had yet to disconnect since he’d pushed his head forward from where you were teasing him so closely yet so far from where he’d wanted you. His hands had gone from around your neck, to holding your shoulders as a way to ground himself. A whimper escaped his mouth, immediately swallowed by yours when your tongue slipped in to caress his.

He wanted — needed you closer, but the way your thigh had slotted between in his legs told him it wasn’t possible. The feeling of your tongue against his made him needier. His hips bucked, grinding against the muscle of your thigh that flexed as soon as you’d felt his movement.

Your lips were pulling into a grin, forcing your lips apart slightly. He whined at the loss, but continued to move his hips. His dick had hardened evidently through his own pajama pants as he continued to grind against you.

“Such a needy boy, huh?” You whispered, looking down at where your bodies connected due to his consistent moving.

His breathing was erratic with his need. “Please, baby.” He whined out the words.

You leaned forward, making his eyes flutter shut — thinking you were going to keep kissing him senseless, but instead, you captured his bottom lip with your teeth. He gasped at the feeling, moaning when you tugged until it fell back into place. You licked your lips, fighting a smirk. “C’mon, angel, you can beg better than that.”

“Need you,” he panted for breath, “need you so bad, baby, please.”

You couldn’t help it. “Yeah?” You grinned at how wrecked he sounded already. “What d’ya’ need from me, sweetheart?”

He whined, a sound that resonated from deep in his throat — his hips not stopping their movement and it made you groan and your eyes roll at the feeling of his desperation being so clear and obvious. “You said you were gonna’ spoil me.” He pouted pathetically.

“You’re lucky I’m feelin’ nice, baby.” Your eyes flashed with a wickedness he was familiar with that made a thrilling shiver run down his spine. “I won’t make you beg too much, jus’ need ya’ to relax f’me, yeah?”

His head lulled back at the feeling of your lips traveling down to his neck, the intersection of his jaw and earlobe, kissing your way down in a way that made him moan. He fully expected you to linger in places, to mark him with those dark purple hues you loved to see on him. He was slightly surprised when you didn’t, subconsciously letting out an annoyed whine.

You chuckled lowly against his skin, knowing him too well, and sending goosebumps up his spine with the feeling. “Don’t want others to see what I’ve done t’ya’, angel.”

Slowly but surely, you were pushing him backward as you continued to kiss every inch of exposed skin he had on display. Before he knew it, his back was comfortably lying against his bed and you were hovering over him.

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip, looking down at his features. His skin was flushed all over, his lips parted as he breathed in with each rise and fall of his chest, and his eyes were wide and rounded as they looked up at you — glistening with need. He was the epitome of fucked out and you loved every second of it, especially because you’d barely even touched him yet.

“Ya’ so pretty, baby.” One of your arms was caging him into your hold while the other explored down his torso, slowly finding your way to the bulge in his pajama pants and caressing it softly — teasingly with your fingertips. You’d done it so he didn’t have time to refute your words the way he almost always did.

His eyebrows shot up at the feeling, lips parting immediately. “Oh, fuck.” He hissed, pulling his bottom lip snug between his teeth.

“You like that?” You questioned, knowing damn well he did, but the punched out affirmative hum he let out was rewarding. “Yeah, is this all you want, sweetheart?”

“Uh-uh.” He inhaled sharply, moaning when your grip got a little firmer.

You grinned coyly at the noise. “No? What d’ya’ want me to do then, hm?” He whined, seemingly unable to get any words out of his parted lips. Your eyes narrowed, stopping your caressing movements, and squeezing his dick harshly. He whimpered breathily, his eyes rolling back. “Use your words, pretty.”

He moaned at your sharpened tone. “Ah,” he huffed out, “want — uh, want ya’ mouth …” he mewled when you started to move your hand again. “Mhm, want ya’ mouth on me, please?”

You leaned down, slowly licking into his opened mouth, and smirking when he moaned a little louder at the messiness of it. “Such a good boy f’me, huh, baby?” Your lips stretched into a grin when he whimpered and his dick twitched in your palm at your words.

Kissing your way down his torso, you finally tore your hand away from his bulge. Your fingers were light feathered as you playfully ran them along the waistband of his pants, not fully grasping them to pull them down just yet. The second you looked up at him expectantly, he knew exactly what you were waiting for.

“Please? Want ya’ mouth so bad, baby.” He begged, finally able to catch his breath because you weren’t teasing his dick anymore.

“Whatever you want.” You murmured, finally working your way down his body fully. You kneeled against the floor, pulling his pajama pants down, nearly cooing at the damp patch that’d formed in his boxers from the amount of pre he’d been leaking. “Such a messy boy f’me, angel.”

He whined at your teasing, putting his hands over his face that’d reddened even more.

You pulled away from him completely, tutting at him softly. “Uh-uh, look at me.”

He swallowed thickly. “Sorry.” He whispered, returning his hands to his sides, fisting the sheets to ground himself from your torture.

“Good boy.” You mumbled sweetly, pulling his boxers off then. His dick was twitching at the praise, bright red at the tip, and leaking. You smiled when he breathed out shakily at the cool air hitting his sensitive tip suddenly.

Before he knew it, you’d licked a stripe from the base of dick to the tip and the moan that’d been ripped from him was raw and loud. He felt like his breath had been punched out of him when your mouth wrapped around him. You’d hollowed your cheeks, making your mouth all that much tighter and torturous for him. You were bobbing your head up and down, sucking every now and then, taking him apart in every way you knew. It was so much, nearly too much.

“Fuck,” he whined at the feeling as he twisted the sheets beneath his fingers, “you’re so — ah, fuck — good at that.”

The encouragement was all you needed.

You took him down to the hilt. His mouth was permanently opened, but the whimper that left him was pained because all he felt was the back of your throat. His hips jerked upward, babbled apologies leaving his lips. He half expected you to pull away, but when he looked down, he moaned again. Your eyes were looking at him wickedly, daring him to do it again.

The knot in his stomach formed.

The next whine to leave his lips was the most unrestrained. “Shit,” he hissed, “ya’ gonna’ make me cum — fuck, please?”

Your eyes just kept staring into his. The same way you knew how to take him apart, he knew exactly what you wanted by just looking at you.

One of your hands reached up, softly fondling his balls. He mewled, feeling entirely overwhelmed. It was a raging heat that was building. The way your mouth wrapped around him made his eyes cross, the smallest bit of drool leaking from the corner of his permanently parted lips.

“Please?” He gasped. “Oh, please? I needa’ cum so bad, baby — fuck me — please? You feel so fuckin’ good,” he cried out, “I can’t hold it much longer, please, baby?”

The sudden determined glint in your eyes told him he was free to do as he’d been begging for.

His hips jerked upward uncontrollably into your mouth, but your head bobbed and followed — going up and down in tandem with his hips as to refrain from choking.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He babbled repeatedly, unable to stop himself.

His cum spilled down your throat immediately. You kept up your movements, helping him ride out his high that seemed to hit him like a brick with the way he slumped down onto his bed, his thighs twitching as you pulled off of him with a loud pop! that made him whine slightly.

You wiped the corner of your lip with your thumb, a smirk on your face as you looked down at how truly wrecked he looked.

You leaned down, lips brushing against his reddened and swollen lips. “Told ya’ you was pretty when you begged, angel.” The words were basically breathed out against his lips.

He heaved out breaths, feeling entirely overwhelmed with the pleasure he’d just felt and was coming down from.

“You,” he panted out each word, “are way too fuckin’ good at that — it’s totally unfair.”

“Relax.” You chuckled at the compliment, moving your lips upward to kiss his forehead sweetly — softly. “Ya’ mom’s gonna’ call us down in a few. Take a sec’ before we go eat dinner so ya’ not all fucked out, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” He agreed, tired. “Thank you.”

You gently took his face in your hand, caressing his cheekbone tentatively. “No thanks needed, pretty thing. You deserve it.”

“I love you.” He mumbled quietly, feeling his cheeks heat up at your attention despite having just been down your throat.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

There was the smallest moment of silence.

“I fuckin’ knew it!” It was Chris’ loud cackle right outside the door.

“Christopher!” Then Mary-Lou’s reprimanding yell that called out after him.

Nick’s eyes squeezed shut. “I hate him.”

“No, you don’t.” You snickered.

icarus inquires . . .

this is my first time writing anything remotely sexual, so please be nice to me. but also critique me [ nicely or i’ll cry ] — i need to know where i can improve for future reference

tags . . .

@mattsfavoritestar / @peiivnao / @joopsworlx

[umweiss]

☾ a shoulder to cry on 𖤓

After Katara confronts her mother's killer, Zuko provides comfort in the storm.

[randombrowngirl]

Day two

[tranny-innit]

playing dress to impress with my baddies!! :3

@davekatweek DAY TWO!! GAME!! (karkat's fashion is peak, you're all h8rs)

[makeagif]

Lando Norris / Formula 1 Testing, Sakhir, Bahrain, Day Two. (22/02/2024)

[christiancagesupporter]

can't wait for the next generation of wrestlers to be trained by ibushi that will go well

[ivyodessa]

Hellcheer Anniversary Week Day Two - Friday Night Football Game

"T-I-G-E-R-S! GO TIGERS GO!" the squad yelled in unison while Tina and Rochelle did double front handsprings in the front. The two of them grabbing pompoms and rejoining the group for the final cheer.

Chrissy was in the center of it all, smiling and yelling as loud as she could with her squad. Hers. She was the captain now, the responsibility passed down to her at the beginning of senior year just a month ago.

The Homecoming game was the first big night to show off everything they'd been working on during cheer camp this past summer and the first few games of the season. Try as she might though, her focus kept getting stuck on a figure clad in black sitting at the very top of the bleachers smiling down at her.

Their pompoms pumped the air as they gave their final chant "GO, FIGHT, WIN!" and before she knew it, the announcer was welcoming the marching band and color guard to the field. Halftime finally, thank goodness.

She looked up to the top of the stands and expected to find a lanky metalhead with a Cheshire grin, but his spot was suspiciously empty.

Chrissy turned to Abby Lancaster, one of their best flyers, "I'm gonna get a drink from concessions, I'll be right back!" and walked off before the girl could even give an affirmative nod.

She made her way through the crowd of people milling around as the show began and found a small gap to crawl underneath the bleachers. It wasn't long before she saw the glowing cherry of a lone cigarette in the darkness.

"T-I-G-E-R-S! GO TIGERS GO!" Eddie cheered in a high, girlish voice while waving his arms in an uncoordinated attempt at a cheer routine. "You looked pretty good out there, princess," he chuckled warmly, flicking the cigarette aside.

"Oh yeah?" she said with sweet smile. "You think we can cheer them all the way to the championships?" She made her way to him and placed her hands on his chest, gazing up at him adoringly.

"Can you? Absolutely yes. Do I want you to? Fuck no. I want these fuckers to lose every game. I hate having to sacrifice Friday nights with my girl." His girl. Eddie Munson's secret girlfriend. The thought always set her cheeks ablaze.

"If I'm your girl why haven't you kissed me yet?" she pouted playfully.

With a smile he cradled her face and leaned down for a gentle kiss. A kiss that quickly turned heated. Her hands made their way to his hair, scraping his scalp and pulling a moan from him that she swallowed down eagerly. His hands inevitably made their way under her cheer skirt, squeezing and kneading her ass as his teeth and tongue turned her brain into fuzzy television static.

Somehow she broke away from their kiss, panting and still holding onto a fistful of his hair. She stared at his kiss swollen lips and then looked up into the rich chocolate of his wide eyes, a perfect shaft of light from the bright field lights illuminating the warm, brown canyons found in his irises. The cacophony of sound around them didn't even seem to touch them here in this private dark place.

She touched her forehead to his. "I missed you," she whispered desperately, her heart still beating erratically from their kiss.

"You're telling me," he huffed out a laugh, "Longest fucking week of my life."

She toyed with the chain around his neck, "But we're together now. And I plan on sneaking under the bleachers with you every game, just so you know."

He smiled and looked deeply into her eyes, "Whatever you want, princess."

She pulled on his necklace, bringing his face infinitesimally closer until their lips almost touched, "Just you, always you," she whispered.

[chainlxnk]

max r u haunting my picker wheel @crescentpaws

[yoyomarules]

i'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat

(Ballister x Ambrosius, Nimona (2023), rated E)

After everything, Bal asks Ambrosius for some space. Two months later, he asks for a favor. Written for day two of @goldenheart-week, for the prompts "forgiveness" and "apologies".

‘This is my shampoo,’ Ambrosius realizes, when he picks it up, squeezing a measure of it into his hand, filling the air with the familiar scent of lavender. ‘Did you grab this from my place?’

‘Um, no,’ Bal says, eyes cutting away from him. ‘I bought it.’

It punches the air out of Ambrosius’s lungs. He wants to grab him by the shoulders, insist he explain. Do you buy your kind-of-but-not-really-at-the-moment partner’s shampoo brand because you’re planning on breaking up with them permanently and won’t get to borrow it anymore? Or do you buy it because you miss them?

Ambrosius falls asleep every night with his nose pressed into an old hoodie of Bal’s, unable to even try drifting off without the faint lingering scent of him. Is this like that, for Bal?

[daily-pearl-doodles]

She eepy

(Day two!)

[theladyofshalott1989]

Damien's Eye: Attempt #2