It happens to everyone - sometimes, you have nights where you just can't fall asleep, no matter what you do. It could be for a number of reasons, or no reason at all. And this is what's happened now: you've been laying in bed for what feels like hours, just tossing and turning, and nothing seems to help. So what's left to do? Get out of bed and go wake someone else up, of course. If you're not getting any sleep, then why should they?
i n s t r u c t i o n s • Post with your character (note the name and fandom in the subject).
• Other people reply to you by generating a number from 1 to 10.
• Have fun!
o p t i o n s 01 • FEAR. Maybe you're hearing strange, indeterminable noises; maybe there's a severe storm happening outside; maybe you watched a scary movie before bed? Whatever the reason, you're terrified and it's keeping you awake. You just want to wake someone else up so they can protect you from the monster in your closet.
02 • HUNGER. Your stomach is growling and it just won't stop. Or perhaps your throat is so dry you could cough up a tumbleweed? Well, you've gone to the kitchen to remedy this and hey, that was a pan that just dropped on the floor. It was loud enough to wake the dead! Oops.
03 • PAIN. Your body is completely worn out, be it from exercise, battle, sickness, or what have you. Either way you're in enough pain to keep you from sleeping, so maybe someone else has a home remedy or something, or can at least help you take your mind off of it.
04 • SOLITUDE. For some reason, your bed just feels so empty at the moment. You're feeling terribly lonely and really just want someone to keep you company for a while. Maybe it'd be easier to fall asleep if you're with them...
05 • DISCOMFORT. Your room is an oven. Either that or a freezer. Or maybe this bed is just really uncomfortable? Who knows why you can't get to sleep, it feels like it could be anything. Why even bother trying? Maybe someone else can preoccupy you until you feel tired enough to ignore your discomfort.
06 • PENSIVE. Something's on your mind, and no matter how hard you try to focus elsewhere, it's just not going to work. Your body may be tired, but your mind is incredibly busy and it's virtually impossible to get to sleep. Surely, talking it out with someone else will help?
07 • SADNESS. Something terrible has happened that day, perhaps; or you could just be severely depressed. Either way you're trying your hardest not to cry yourself to sleep, and it's not working at all. Better find a way to get it out of your system somehow; you need a shoulder to cry on.
08 • ANGER. You are just... fuming. Who knows why - that annoying dog is barking again, or maybe the people next door are getting busy and keeping you awake. Whatever the reason for your ire is, you'd better put an end to it so you can get some damn rest already! Go wake up a friend so you can complain to them.
09 • RESTLESS. You're far too energetic to sleep right now. Maybe you're just trying to do so out of necessity - you have to be up early tomorrow! But you just don't think you'll be able to fall asleep for a while now, so why waste the time trying to sleep when you could be doing something else? Namely bothering someone else - you're totally jealous because they're getting more sleep than you.
10 • WILDCARD. Choose one of the options above, or make up your own scenario.
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bakerstreet2020-10-01 04:32 pm
no subject
That kind of kiss - starving and desperate - has more power than Eliot thinks Quentin knows. It can level Eliot and he groans into it, kissing back just as needy. He tears away finally, dragging in air.
Eliot makes himself focus, hand lifting from Quentin's cock and moving in a quick, precise spell, conjuring a shimmering little bottle that vanished once he opened it and poured it on his hand. It smelled faintly of whatever scents each person would find the most sensual and when Eliot's hand wrapped back around Q it was slick and warm and Eliot leaned back in to take his mouth again.
no subject
Before Eliot came down while he was brooding, before watching a movie Quentin knows by heart and making out. Since that very first time, on the lawn by the Brakebills sign and Eliot leading him to magic. Like his very own personal white rabbit. This is what Quentin does, overthinking every little thing-- until the scent of something sweet, like shampoo fills the room, making his head spin before Eliot is back.
He groans, arching in to Eliot's perfect, clever hand, fisting his own hand in to Eliot's hair to tilt his head back. Until he can lick his way up Eliot's neck, panting in to his ear.
"That's-- oh my god, that's a big promise."
His skin is too hot, too tight and everything is just rushing up his spin- liquid heat and every word comes with a whimper.
"I want to blow you."
no subject
And then promptly groans. "Yes. Fuck. That you can definitely do." Eliot's brain already wants to white out a little at the thought of it. Because now it has a reference. He's seen Quentin, eyes dark and blown and expression needy, skin flushed and dick hard. Picturing that, but with his lips also wrapped around Eliot's dick ... it's Eliot's turn to whimper a little. "Yes, please," he repeats, free hand grasping at Quentin's arm, just as an anchor, his other hand still stroking him off, because Eliot wasn't going to stop that until Quentin told him to.
no subject
Quentin groans, with every laboured breath he’s desperately trying to suck in to his lungs, preferably while still kissing Eliot. His skin, his mouth. Sliding his own lips over the stubble on his cheek, heart beating fast in his chest. Quentin wants. Eliot’s hot body against his own, Eliot’s kiss-swollen mouth saying ‘please’ and ‘yes’ and ‘Q’.
Something wild and reckless unfurls inside Quentin’s chest, and he pulls off trying to kiss Eliot’s face, pulling back enough to look at him. Brown eyes, all blown and wide, the flush on his almost too-perfect cheekbones, and he’s just too gone on this. On Eliot. Quentin stills his hips, trying to catch his breath and failing.
“Your pants...” like that makes any sense, and he paws at the top-button on Eliot’s pants before the words have even left his mouth, “You, you get naked, too”.
no subject
And if he wasn't already going to hell, Eliot's sure even having that thought would seal the deal. Worth it.
There are a lot of downsides to being a Magician sometimes. But there are perks. One of them is that when someone beautiful demands you get your pants off, you can do it very, very quickly. Eliot laughs, repeats giddily, "anything." He pulls his hand away from Quentin's dick, not without regret, and pushes his fingers away from pawing at his pants. A little maneuvering and handy telekinesis and he's as naked as Quentin wants him to be. Eliot immediately reaches for him again. "If you keep asking me like that I'll just stay naked all the time," he promises, teeth nipping sharp and quick at Quentin's shoulder before kissing the sting away.
no subject
It wants to remind him of past failures and Quentin... doesn't let it. He takes a deep breath, trying to not come untouched like a teen getting to second base for the first time, when Eliot leans back, all of him on display on Quentin's bed, hard cock curving up towards his stomach, looking like every wet dream Quentin ever had.
"Oh my god--"
He wants it all, wants to press Eliot down on to the bed and cover him, to fuck him. Wants Eliot's mouth on him, and most of all, Quentin wants to put his mouth all over Eliot. Wants to do crazy shit, like lick his ankle and nibble at his wrists. Wants to make this last forever, and he wants to get off right now, because he's close, so close and Eliot is right there, all casual nakedness and wicked smile.
"Yeah? Yes, you can-- oh, you could certainly pull it off. Being naked."
Which just makes Quentin's brain feel too hot. Overheating and overthinking, and he quiets it by just going for it. By just sliding a hand up Eliot's calf, followed closely by tiny kisses over the bend at his knee, up up up until he's close enough to smell how hard Eliot is. He licks his lips.
"I've been--"
Is all he says before taking Eliot in to his mouth, licking over the head and jesus, there's no way he's ever going to fit all of that in to his mouth, but he covers the base with his hand, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks, bobbing his head and grinding his painfully hard dick against the soft covers.
no subject
Those first little touches to his calf, the soft kisses, they're almost ticklish in a way that's slightly maddening and good at the same time, because it's Quentin doing it. "Maybe just behind closed doors. Where you are. As soon as the door shuts, off come the pants, and onto my knees I go. Or other variations on a theme."
Eliot opens his mouth to ask what Quentin has been. Doing? Thinking? Imagining? Wanting?
Whatever it was, it matters less than the the heat of Quentin's mouth engulfing the leaking head of his dick, or the hollowed cheeks as he sucks. Or, Jesus, the way he's grinding against the bed. "Fuck, Q," Eliot breathes, groaning. "Baby. Don't come like that." Eliot wants to be the one getting him off. Wants Quentin down his throat or in his ass or in his hand and coming all over his skin - he doesn't care which. All of it hopefully, sometime. But he doesn't want it wasted in grinding off on a bed that won't appreciate his dick as much as Eliot does. "Fuck, you look amazing like that."