#31 days of writing challenge

[31-daysofhorror]

It's 31 Days of Horror 2024!

Welcome to the fifth annual 31 Days of Horror writing challenge!

For those of you who have not done this challenge before it's simple. This is a horror writing challenge that takes place during the month of October. For each day you'll take the corresponding prompt and write a horror short story to go with it. You can then take your wonderful creations and post them with the tag #31DOH2024 so others can see what you wrote for the day!

There are three whole years of short stories you can go check out under the tags #31DOH2023, #31DOH2022, and #31DOH2021

If you have any questions check out the FAQ or feel free to reach out via an ask.

Happy writing!

[List ID: 1 Distraught 2 Bid 3 Riddle 4 Chance 5 Clutch 6 Unlocked 7 Answer 8 Missing 9 Spin 10 Briar 11 Dialup 12 Consult 13 Print 14 Restless 15 Needle 16 Breach 17 Pane 18 Click 19 Hunter 20 Cruise 21 Fog 22 Imposter 23 Generated 24 Sleep 25 Highway 26 Loose 27 Steps 28 Blog 29 Clover 30 Whisper 31 Close]

[newrochellechallenger2019]

day 3 - blowjob

patrick zweig loved getting his dick sucked. honestly, he thinks it's better than penetrative sex, the feeling of a girls warm mouth around his dick, her spit coating his tip as he pushes it down her throat, it was the perfect stress relief.

which is why he'd hired you, to be his secretary. in your three months in this position, you'd probably been given more facials than answered phone calls about his plans for re-election in the city council.

so, it's no surprise to you when the intercom beeps, a signal patrick wanted to see you in his office and you grab a hairband instinctively as you pass the trail of balding white men leaving the meeting, his board of directors.

you slip into his office, closing the door and smoothing out your skirt. he looks up from his computer to look at you. 'you wanted to see me?' you squeak politely and he nods 'yeah, yeah i did.' he says flatly, eyes back on his computer.

'how was your meeting?' you continue despite his apparent disinterest, adjusting your blouse. 'tedious' he sighs, standing up and walking round his desk, unbuckling his belt as he does so, 'you'd think a group of rich old men would have more than enough money to spare in endorsing my campaign on improving schools round here but no-' he huffs, frowning.

he stops in front of you, towering over you, tilting your chin up to face him, studying your face, before pressing his lips to your jawline, kissing along it and tilting your head with his hands and you purr appreciatively. he kisses up to your ear, biting on the lobe.

'get on your knees darling' he breathes in your ear and your core heats up, immediately sinking to your knees in submission, looking up at him obediently.

'good girl' he grins, unzipping his trousers and sliding his boxers down to it all pools at his ankles. you're at eye level with his erection now and your tongue swirls his tip, working him up and he groans 'oh- needed this- fuck'.

you wet your mouth as you begin to take him, slowly, familiarising yourself with his girth. patrick fights the urge to shove his dick down your throat and call it a day. you slobber over his cock, it mixing with his precum in your mouth, and he moans, thank god for soundproof offices.

it doesn't take long for him to start to move his hips, forcing his dick further down your throat and you let out a choked whine, merely an encouragement to him, 'ohh nghshit- that's it'. his head is thrown back in pleasure and you fight to take all of him, cheeks hollowed.

his tip hits the back of your throat and you practically gag, though you both know you were into it, a sign of complete submission to him. 'fuck-mmph-you take me so well', he growls, grabbing fistfuls of your hair and tugging you back and forth on his dick and you splutter, lost in desire.

'yeah baby' he grunts between moans, thrusts becoming more erratic, he was getting close. he pulled out of your throat, a line of spit and precum still connecting you both as you catch your breath.

'stay there- not finished with you-mmph' he pants, fisting himself to release and you wait obediently, until his salty jizz spurts onto your face, coating your cheeks and nose. 'ohhh fuck fuck fuck fuck' he moans through his orgasm, before pausing to take in the sight of you.

'cum covered slut' he hisses, recovering and pulling his clothes back on. you stay kneeled, waiting for dismissal, the end of this game.

'you might wanna go to the bathroom' he grins, patting your head. you stand, dusting yourself off and nodding in acknowledgement. you slip back out of his office and hurry down to the bathroom to wash your face, trying to ignore the growing wet spot of arousal in your panties.

[ghostgirl-22]

Deck the halls 🎄💫

Day 12: Masturbation (At this point I’m just picking prompts lol)

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Voyeurism, slight canon drift.

Pair: Tashi, Art/Patrick (light Artashi) I’ll continue pushing my Tashi agenda with these I fear

—-

They get in late from the Christmas frat party and even though none of them say it— they all silently know that they don’t really want to separate. It’s the last few days before winter break. So many people on Arts floor have already completed finals and left so they end up sleeping together in Art’s dorm. Art is nice enough to sleep on a blow up mattress next to Patrick so Tashi can have the bed. He even lets her borrow an oversized t-shirt so she doesn’t have to sleep in her dress. She’s still a little bit drunk when she falls asleep while making them watch Love Actually.

She doesn’t know exactly what it is that wakes her again in the middle of the night but as she opens her eyes she can hear breathing. And not normal breathing, heavy breathing and then… moaning.

She shivers and tries to roll over as silently as possible. Luckily she hears Patrick whispering at the same time as the bed makes the slightest squeak. “Shh come on baby. You gotta keep quiet for me,” he whispers softly.

Tashi bites her lip, she’s familiar with the way his voice sounds. She’s starting to be able to make out their forms as her eyes adjust in the moonlight. Patrick’s on his side, like he’s spooning Art but his body is moving rhythmically.

God they’re fucking.

Tashi almost moans but she catches herself. God forbid they realize she’s awake and then she doesn’t get to watch them finish. She listens to the sound of their breathing, sloppy and heavy. She’s obsessed with them.

She wonders if they were doing this before she met them or if they just started doing it after she “tricked” them into kissing each other. Art starts moaning again and she slowly slips her hand between her thighs. Into her panties. Fingertips sliding so easily into her pussy.

“Shh…I’m sorry baby,” Patrick breathes, “I know it’s hard to be quiet. I’m sorry. I can’t help it when you’re pressing this up against me. Fuck. You feel so good.”

“Patrick,” Art whines. Too loud.

“Shh.”

Tashi is warm all over listening to them while rubbing her cunt, her hips moving involuntarily as she plays with her clit. She bites down on her arm to try and keep herself from moaning out loud. All while their breathing and moaning escalates.

Art sounds so different. She hasn’t stopped having fantasies about what would’ve happened that night if she’d let them both have her. Have each other. She just couldn’t do that with her whole family back in the hotel room waiting for her to get home. Apparently for Patrick it doesn’t matter though. This can’t be the first time he’s fucked Art. So likely he’s been fucking her and him this whole time. He’s such an asshole. A really hot asshole with a big dick who she likes a lot. But an asshole all the same.

She knows she has to be crazy for thinking this is so fucking hot. She’s grinding on the bed getting off to the sound of her boyfriend fucking his best friend all while trying not wake her. She can’t think of a single friend that would get it. She has to be insane. She moans into her arm. Uses the pillow to hump into as she rides her fingers.

She can hear Art swearing and moaning too loud and Patrick must be covering his mouth or something.

“Oh fuck sweetheart, good… good boy,” Patrick breathes. “That’s it, let it out.”

“Your so fucked up,” Art says breathlessly after a minute. “Your so—“

Tashi is on the edge and then she can hear Art begin moaning again and then Patrick’s whispering and moaning too. Getting louder…losing control.

“Mm you feel so fucking good, gonna fucking lose it, oh shit,” Patrick moans.

Tashi feels her cunt beginning to spasm around her fingers as she comes, hips rolling helplessly into the pillow she’s got between her thighs. She’s holding her breath as wave after wave pulses through her and her fingers, panties and the pillow case are soaked with her come. She catches her breath as lightly as she can against the mattress.

“You’re so fucking gross, for that,” Art whispers. “She could’ve woken up.”

”Mm then what’s that make you?” Patrick says, amused.

“I need to clean up,” he mutters and he gets up and disappears into the bathroom. Patrick sighs and settles back on the air mattress.

Tashi moves as quietly as she can trying to adjust herself to make it seem like she’s been fast asleep the whole time in case Patrick tries to double check. She rests her head on the other pillow and closes her eyes. When she rolls over the bed squeaks ever so slightly but she doesn’t hear Patrick move so she figures he didn’t hear it.

She dozes off at some point between Art coming back in the room and Patrick getting up to use the bathroom. She wakes up again early in the morning, she thinks she’s the first one up but Art is yawning and stretching. She sits up in bed and he sees her, she grins at him and he offers her a hesitant smile back. Probably still feels so guilty about last night.

She crawls out of bed. Patrick is still snoring lightly and she walks towards the bathroom. She gestures to Art and he raises his eyebrows. “Yes you. Come here,” she whispers.

He gets up right away. Looking at her nervously. She goes in the bathroom and he follows her. “You have any extra toothbrushes?” She asks.

“Uh yeah,” he says and he searches under the counter, she goes to pee while he’s looking for the toothbrush. He steals a glance at her and when she looks back at him, smiling, he looks away quickly and tries not to look again.

“Ah here,” He says, holding a packaged toothbrush for her. Once she’s up washing her hands.

“Thank you,” she says, “you want to walk with me to the cafeteria to get food? We can bring some back here for Patrick.”

“Uh yeah,” Art says.

She opens the toothbrush and brushes her teeth and he grabs his toothbrush too. He’s giving her shy little glances in the mirror. He’s adorable but all she can think about is the way he was moaning last night. She spits and rinses her mouth and he’s still brushing.

“You still think I’m pretty?” She asks him, fixing her bun in the mirror, aware that the oversize t-shirt he let her borrow is rising up along her thighs.

“Mmhm.” He nods emphatically, eyes lingering for a moment on the newly exposed part of her legs.

She smiles and he’s biting his toothbrush. He bends over to rinse his mouth out and she gently rubs his ass. If Patrick gets to have both she thinks its only fair that she gets to play with Art just a little bit more.

He stands up again wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and looks at her, stunned, his blue eyes all wide.

She leans in and kisses him, he kisses her back softly. She feels his hands on her waist and she smiles against his lips as his little tongue flutters and he licks his way into her mouth. She kisses him slowly, letting it build just a little more before she pulls back. He hums a bit as she teases her fingers into his hair. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and leans into his ear. “I hope you had fun last night. I was touching myself while you did it.”

Art goes stiff. “Tashi I— it was his—I’m not—not gay.” He stammers.

“It’s okay. I know.” Tashi shrugs. “I still think it’s hot.” She pulls back and kisses him again and he’s all too hungry for it. “Maybe me and you can hang out more next semester.” She says gently.

“Uh yeah,” Art says, eagerly.

“Mmkay,” she smiles and she walks to the bathroom door pulling it open. “Are you coming?” She asks.

“Uh I um…” he looks around for an excuse but she can clearly see the outline of his dick swelling in his boxers. “I’ll be right out… just gonna take a shower and then we can go.”

“Sure,” she says, and she shuts the door behind her and leans against it, grinning.

[serickswrites]

I'm Just Not Well

Warnings: rescue, captivity, torture, broken bones, blood, bruises, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hospital

"Whumpee, you gotta talk to me, please," Caretaker said as they sat in the back of the ambulance with Whumpee.

Whumpee's skin was mottled with bruises in various stages of healing--some deep purple almost black, some red and swollen, while others had taken an almost blue green tint as they healed. Their collar bone was clearly broken. Blood had dried in their matted hair, clotted on their split eyebrow, and had dried on other parts of their body that was visible.

They sat quietly on the gurney, responding only to a few questions asked by the EMT. Their voice was low and hoarse. Clearly they had been screaming from days. They stared out with a hollow look in their one not swollen shut eye.

"Whumpee?" Caretaker tried again.

"I'm alive," they croaked, "I'm just not well."

Caretaker's heart sunk. They had hoped Whumpee would open up a little bit more to them. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Whumpee closed their one good eye and leaned back on the gurney. "There's nothing else to tell you, Caretaker. I'm alive."

Caretaker opened their mouth and closed it. Clearly Whumpee wasn't ready to talk about whatever horrors they had endured at Whumper's hands. "Well, I'm here if you ever want or need to talk, Whumpee."

Whumpee nodded, but didn't say anything. They kept their eye closed, their body swaying with the motion of the ambulance speeding down the city streets.

"We'll be at the hospital soon, Whumpee. You're going to be ok," Caretaker said, hoping that their words were true and Whumpee would be ok.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 243

WE DID IT LADS

look at all these aradias that didnt exist last month!! u love to see it

thank u everyone who participated!! even if you just did one day i had a fun time checking the tags and seeing all the excellent aradia arts

i tried my best to put all the posts i found in my Aradia August Tag on my homestuck blog so if you would like to browse the other fine artists from this month i recommend checking there B)

[docescene]

August Prompts — Winter edition

A mini-challenge I propose is to write microfics, between 50 and 500 words, but it’s up to you.

Feel free to do as you wish. The important thing is to try writing and have fun!

More challenges! ;; Summer edition

Day 1: Fondue

Day 2: Comfort

Day 3: Touch

Day 4: Blanket

Day 5: Afternoon

Day 6: Love confession

Day 7: Gloves

Day 8: First snow

Day 9: Chimney

Day 10: Hot chocolate

Day 11: Fruit

Day 12: Sick

Day 13: Zealous

Day 14: Fog

Day 15: Hills

Day 16: Coffee

Day 17: Wood stove

Day 18: Fireplace

Day 19: Talisman

Day 20: Rain

Day 21: Scarf

Day 22: Temperature

Day 23: Fantasy

Day 24: Wellington boots

Day 25: Apple

Day 26: Socks

Day 27: Moonlight

Day 28: Fake dating

Day 29: Soulmate

Day 30: Mulled wine

Day 31: Cold

[sidusvenari]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSIBLING DYNAMICS WITH GWEN !! ♡⁠ (⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

pairing: platonic!Gwen Stacy x fem!black!reader / mom!Jessica Drew x adopted!Gwen Stacy x reader.

genre: fluff! headcanons! a liiiiiiittle bit of angst! just a little bit 🤏🏾

warnings: english is not my first language, daddy issues, pregnancy ig, mentions of normal sibling violence

a.n: hello!! :3 this is the first day of my challenge of writing something everyday for the entirety of July! so yeah! this popped out on my head when i was having a conversation with my brother so i wanted to write it down! anyways, love y'all, be safe! <3 xoxo

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPLEASE CONSIDER REBLOGGING!!

it started with Jess talking about Gwen all the time. you were jealous, yeah, but you wouldn't admit it. the girl was disinherited by her father over being spiderwoman, which was ridiculous. but you could relate, since your own father left your mother when he found out she was spiderwoman. but that's not the point. over the time, Gwen started visiting more, having more sleepovers, and all that stuff. until the day Jess came home asking how you would like a sister. obviously you already knew what she was talking about, so, yeah let's now go to the ✨ sibling dynamics ✨.

 ⁠↳  when Gwen gets more comfortable, oh boy, poor Jess

↳ you two are a menace to this woman

↳ you're always fighting about something

↳ mostly because Gwen took something of yours, like a shirt or a hoodie

↳ she says they're more comfortable than hers and would die on this hill

↳ likes to go to your room and just lay on the floor while you do your stuff

↳ or just walk around and read a book, or sit on the ceiling and creep at you

|ㅤ "can you stop? you're freaking me out."

|ㅤ "nah. btw why do you have so many entries about hobie in your diary?"

|ㅤ "mOOOM"

|ㅤ "nO NO NO STOP"

↳ and then you'd throw a stapler at her

↳ if you knew how to cook, would definitely teach Gwen so she could go to the cookout at the Morales'

↳ Jess doesn't approve Miles to date Gwen but oh well

↳ you would be the BEST wingwoman for Gwen, always going out with her as a disguise

↳ hobie, pav, margo and miles would defo have a sleepover at your house when Mom™ is out in mission

|ㅤ "mom can the boys and Margo sleepover?"

|ㅤ "while i'm away? nuh uh!"

|ㅤ "but mom-"

|ㅤ "did your sister agree with that"

|ㅤ "uhm…"

|ㅤ "Y/N DID YOU AGREE WITH THE SLEEPOVER"

|ㅤ "YEAH MOM IT'S FINE"

↳ and she would give Gwen the most criminal offensive side eye ever given, but everything would work out fine (lie).

↳ she learned how to braid hair so you wouldn't have to do it by yourself, cause she saw how tiring it was for you to do your own braids

↳ you take care of each other's hair like, in general

↳ would only go to salons when really needed

↳ defo do each others nails

↳ (projecting w this one but 🤭) you like acrylic nails and she likes them short

↳ you would do all the prep for your nails and she would do like cool designs or pick the colors

↳ TALKING ABOUT COLORS

↳ y'all don't match outfits, you match the color schemes!!!!

|ㅤ "i wanna do red"

|ㅤ "nah let's go with purple, G"

|ㅤ "but red-"

↳ and there goes another argument :D

↳ Gwen has nightmares almost every night

↳ so it's common for you to go to her room in the middle of the night just to calm her down

↳ she would cry on your shoulder every time, and apologize a thousand times about waking you up

|ㅤ "ay, don't worry, G. you're my sister, I'm here for you"

↳ and she would cry even harder

↳ overall you're very protective over each other

↳ but you did chase her with a knife once... meh, another day another slay !

↳ she loves you more than anything

↳ and so do you <3

↳ mama Jess is just grateful for the blessings.

tagging: @ppinkkkiwi @elusive-honeydew

[thepenultimateword]

Short Prompt #20

The creature unfurled it’s dark, fleshy wings, beating a wave of damp cave air over the explorers.

“Is th-that a vampire?” one said taking a step back.

“Vampires can transform entirely into a bat,” the other said following suit. “No bits and pieces. That’s for demons. …And that thing only has bat wings.”

[tobi-the-minnow]

7.) Answer - say or write something to deal with or as a reaction to someone or something.

questioning, pondering, wondering, we're lost. sending out signals endlessly. Day after day we're stuck sending out the S.O.S. with no awnser.

Where did it go wrong? No answer.

What do we do? No answer.

Will we find earth again? N o a n s w e r...

We're stuck out here floating in this advanced nothingness with nothing so imagine my surprise when we finaly get a signal back

D o y o u f e a r t h e s t a r s ?

Now... how do we answer that??

[witched-kid-writer]

Day Three: Riddle

31 Days of Horror prompt list

Considerations must be made to make sure it can be solved. There is no fun if it cannot be solved. There is no true challenge if there is no answer in the end. They know this. So they set everything up in a way where if you think, really think, then you can figure out what they are going for.

Of course, no one actually takes the time to think. Which is more frustrating than they would ever care to admit. They want these people to think, to prove that they are more than just the common rabble that wanders the streets, barely moving from one day to the next, but everyone has failed them. Every single one has proven that every person who even so much as glances their way has no real worth. Not a single person has deserved to make it out.

So the reset the space day after day, make sure that it is ready for anyone who might end up coming through the door and they try again. Set the puzzles, go over the riddles, make sure that there is nothing that could actually stop someone from opening the door and being able to go home to whatever they decide to call a family. Everything is perfect time and time again and yet people keep failing. People keep showing them that humanity has failed. That they are the only one worthy.

And still every time they get their hopes up. Think that maybe this time, this one plucked from a crowd, would show that they were actually wrong about it all. They watch with keen eyes to see if maybe, just maybe, this one might be the one. They watch with a smile that will always fall as the newest one panics, wastes time, falls for the false leads, resorts to groveling, until the time runs out and the subject must be replaced.

Until they must try again.

Until the puzzle is solved. 

[31-daysofhorror]

Welcome to 31 Days of Horror 2023!

Welcome everyone to the fourth annual 31 Days of Horror writing challenge!

It is wonderful to be back with you all with a brand new list and brand new aesthetic!

For all of those new here wondering what this is, 31 Days of Horror is a horror writing challenge that takes place in October of every year. For each day you take the corresponding word and write a short horror story to go along with it. You can then take your creations and post it with the tag #31DOH2023 so others can see it!

If you want, you can check out previous years creations under the hash tags #31DOH2022 and #31DOH2021

If you have anymore questions please check out the FAQ or send something in the ask box.

Happy writing!

[List ID: 1 Cleave 2 Blank 3 Interred 4 Urban 5 Den 6 Head 7 Crossroad 8 Count 9 Cycle 10 Hotel 11 Devour 12 Cubicle 13 Club 14 Pinch 15 Viral 16 Bleed 17 Penpal 18 Press 19 Scandal 20 Freeze 21 Fragment 22 Track 23 Ward 24 Reign 25 Vessel 26 Crawl 27 Tear 28 Lonely 29 Pray 30 Nail 31 Epilogue]

[newrochellechallenger2019]

why not? (will i keep up with this?...no)

day 1 + 2 - undressing + new positions

you appear in the bedroom doorway, striking a pose dramatically. your hair is done, curled to perfection and your short dress hugs every curve.

art's sat on the edge of the bed, tying his tie in the mirror before glancing over at you, his gaze turns ravenous as he takes you in, looking you up and down.

'ready to go?' you grin, blushing at the way he's looking at you.

right. the charity gala. art blinks rapidly, snapping out of his wild thoughts. 'yeah, c'mere a sec baby, give me a hand would you?' he says innocently, hands trying to do his tie. and you stroll over to him.

he pulls you into his lap and you squeal, he brushes a stray hair off your face. 'i like this' he breathes, smirking. 'and the dress too...'

you bite your lip, 'yeah?' you purr seductively, feeling his dress pants grow tight beneath you. 'it's new.' his hands run down your waist, feeling the fabric against his fingers.

you arch your back at his sultry touch and his hand move around, towards the zipper on the back of the dress, a slow grin spreading back across his face, 'you know what'd look even better?' and you groan in feigned annoyance, 'don't say it- don't you dare!' but you can't hide the matching grin on your face.

he undoes the zipper with ease, blue eyes gazing lustfully into yours, lifting the dress up, 'arm's up baby c'mon' he coaxes gently and you obey, the dress tossed aside immediately.

he makes an appreciative noise as his fingers brush along your sides, hooking in your bra strap, you squeak as he pings it against you. he begins kissing your neck, biting and sucking and you let out a low whine as he unclasps your bra, tossing that aside too.

you tilt your neck to give him better access and you can feel his smirk against your skin. 'good girl' he breathes before he suddenly lifts you up and flips you over so you're splayed across the bed. he stands then, undoing his belt, and you reach, eager to help him undress and he shakes his head, 'you just lay there and look pretty darling' and you blush, arranging yourself on the bedsheets, only in your panties.

he pulls his shirt off over his head, revealing his muscular tennis physique, kicking his trousers and boxers aside before clambering on top of you. 'so pretty, you hear?' he murmurs, sucking a dark mark into your collarbone and you whimper.

he moves along your body, down towards your panties, murmuring compliments between every kiss before halting, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, looking up at you for confirmation and you nod desperately. he pulls your panties down, taking in your glistening pussy like it's his first time seeing it.

'already?' he teases, like his cock isn't throbbing too, and you blush, embarrassed. 'it's cute, baby' he continues, his finger collecting the wetness around your folds and your hips buck, suddenly eager and he grins.

he slowly slips a finger inside your waiting hole and you let out a soft moan at the intrusion. he crooks his finger so it hits your g-spot and you squirm, 'oh- fuck- yes-'. and his eyes light up, 'you like that?' and you nod ferverishly, he adds a second finger, the wetness leaking from your pussy obscene.

as he's finger-fucking you, your gummy walls clenching around him, he looks up at your flushed face, 'i wanna try something new baby' he murmurs, 'how flexible are you?'.

your brow furrows. 'uhh...ngh...pretty flexible i- mmph- guess', 'good' art says as he pulls his fingers from your cunt, you whine at the loss of stimulation but you watch hungrily as he uses your wetness to lube up his cock.

he grabs your thighs and lifts them up, pushing your feet closer to your head, oh, you grab your feet and pull forward as far as possible, your hole now even more visibly open and dripping.

his lines up his tip with your entrance before pushing in, it's thicker than his two fingers and you whimper. he continues to push, his cock rubbing up against your walls, his finger finds your clit and begins to rub it and you melt, moaning, giving him more ease to slide in.

he bottoms out in you and groans, 'ngh- so- ngh- tight' and you moan in response, jaw going slack at the feeling of intense fullness. he slides out of your cunt slowly before slamming back in, the new position creating an angle that allowed him to go deeper and you let out a high pitched squeal as he rammed into your g-spot repeatedly.

your eyes glass over and he smirks, 'look at you- mmph- dumb on my fucking cock-' and you nod dazily, almost drooling as he continued to sloppily thrust in and out of you.

'gonna- ngh- cum' you slur and his pace increases, 'cum for me baby', rubbing your clit fiercely and his command sends you over the edge and you cum with an uncharacteristic squirt and a high pitched moan.

he continues to fuck you through your orgasm and you're too dumb to protest, until he cums, pulling out as he does. he kisses your forehead and gets you a glass of water. 'worth trying something new hm?' he says softly and you nod, smiling dazily.

'guess we're gonna be late to the gala.' he jokes and you laugh, 'guess so.'

[goddessserephina]

31 Percy Jackson Writing Prompts Part 3

Another prompt list for the Percy Jackson lovers! I do also make normal prompt lists but they aren't my current obsession. Also, I wanted to remind everybody that you can do these prompts in any order you would like, and you can even replace certain ones if you have a better idea!

"Come on. You're my only option."

New Rome University

"Leave me alone. We broke up."

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

Fancy Dinner

Wedding

Veil

Traveling

Adventure

Sky

Monster

Underworld

Gift

"I think I just killed a God."

Party

"Revenge never tasted so sweet."

"The sea waits for no one."

Magic

"I'll never understand you."

"That didn't sound good."

Baking Challenge

Ghost

Rescue

There's another prophecy, because of course there is.

Family Drama

Percy has always worshipped the Gods.

Sunset memories

Amnesia caused by a traumatic event. (Battle, Accident, etc.)

Oblivious mortal/immortal

Accidentally falling love on a quest.

Omegaverse

[revasserium]

*runs in* ISAWYOURAUPOSTNAJSJSJSJJS Omg hiii

I really like your blog! It's like yummy food for my tired brain, so I got really excited to see you're making aus!

Can I ask for roommate au with Jamil? I'm down bad for him;;;

for my 31 days of au challenge @bakedgrape

a story in reverse

jamil; 3,571 words; fluff and slightly suggestive themes though it's never actually nsfw; college roommates!au + implied fwb...; you can read the story top the bottom or bottom to top ;)

day 273.

on the last day of term, you say goodbye for the very first time — and it stings like an unsuspecting papercut found by a thoughtless dollop of hand sanitizer, sharp and bitter with the pang of betrayal.

“ah… i guess this is it, huh?” jamil’s voice is lighter than it usually is, and just as forced.

“you say that like we’re not coming back next year…” you say, though there’s a twist in your stomach that makes your throat seize at the thought, even if it is just a thought.

“s-sorry! i just meant —“ he clears his throat and tries again, “i meant that i’ll see you soon, hm?”

for a second, you don’t know what to say — you can feel a torrent of unsaid words pushing up against the back of your throat like an insistent tide, crashing against the shore of your tongue. but then, jamil is reaching out to tip your chin back, brushing his lips to yours.

“soon. i promise,” he whispers, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them, gray and bright as the breaking dawn.

“yeah — i’ll see you soon, jamil.”

you pull your lips into a smile and watch as he jogs towards the curb, kalim already waiting there for him with their family car (rich boys, ugh), a dark-suited man in shades dipping his head in your general direction before slipping into the driver’s seat. you wave as jamil and kalim both turn towards you, raising their hands.

“see you next year!” jamil calls even as you nod.

“yeah, see you!”

and then they’re pulling away from the curb, leaving you standing there amidst your three rather large, well-scuffed suitcases. you let out a long sigh, plopping down on the largest one, the shell painted red and gold, though the colors barely peak out now from beneath the countless travel stickers to places that you’ve never been to (but jamil had promised he’d take you to all of them, didn’t he?)

well. there’s always next year.

day 212.

“are you gonna dorm again next year?”

“hm? i’m not sure… kalim says that we should just get a place together, so that’s what i might do.”

“oh.”

you pause over your half-eaten tub of haagen-daz, licking your lips of the mint-chocolate flavor. jamil glances over, reaching out to dig his spoon into the melting icecream.

“don’t worry though, wherever you’re staying, i’m sure we’ll be able to find a place nearby,” jamil says, flashing you a smile and a wink even as you duck, your cheeks flooding with color.

“that’s not what i was thinking about!”

“no? hm… i could’ve sworn that’s what you were looking so upset over but… well, if i’m wrong…” you can hear the mock-seriousness in jamil’s voice as he shrugs and heaves a melodramatic sigh.

“you’re the worst…” but you can’t keep from grinning as he cocks a challenging eyebrow in your direction before pouncing on you, pinning you beneath him on the sofa, the springs squeaking beneath you as the nearly drop the nearly empty pint of icecream.

“j-jamil! the ac’s still out —“

“mm… but isn’t that why we got icecream?”

his lips chase fire over the plains of your skin and despite everything, you find yourself shivering.

“y-yeah but —“

but your words die on your lips as he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, tearing a gasp from your throat as your head tips back.

day 196.

he’s always running high after his dance competitions, and this time it’s not different. so when he comes home, his eyes limned in glitter and khol, you’re not surprised to feel yourself being hauled out of your chair and into his lap, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you purse your lips, card your fingers through his hair and hold his face steady with a teasing grin.

“i’m guessing that you guys won?”

“course we did,” he says, his breath still coming in short enough pants, his irises blown nearly black as he leans up to nip at your jawline, “we swept.”

“mm — i mean, you guys are pretty damn good.”

“how would you know? you never come to our competitions, even when i ask.”

you pull back with a dainty smack of your lips, pressing a finger to his frown.

“you guys could try to have competitions that aren’t either overseas or during exam weeks — then i might actually be able to go.”

jamil rolls his eyes, readjusting your in his lap even as he lets his head fall back against the sofa cushions.

“stupid exams…”

“just because some people are geniuses doesn’t mean we all are —“

your breath hitches as he narrows his eyes, a quicksilver glint flashing behind them as he hoists you up into a bridal carry and makes a beeline for the bedroom door.

“but since some other people finished their most stressful exam today… don’t you think they deserve to be… rewarded?”

a delicious shiver races down the length of your spine as you allow yourself to be plopped down on your too-narrow bed. jamil grins like the devil as he tugs off his sweat shirt and you can’t help the way your stomach clenches at the sight of him — so lithe and muscular, his skin smooth and perfectly sun-kissed. you’d never get tired of looking at his body, not in a million years, you think.

“i… i suppose one night off wouldn’t hurt…”

“mm, that’s what i like to hear.”

day 120.

“dance practice again tonight?”

“yeah. every monday, wednesday, and thursday —“

“— and sometimes fridays and sundays —“ you grin as you watch him shove a towel into his sports bag.

“here,” you say, holding out his water bottle, “i — uhm — you said you wanted to try liquid iv’s the other day so i put a packet in for you — i don’t know if you’d like the flavor but…”

jamil blinks as he pauses over his half-tied shoes.

“thanks.” he reaches out to take the bottle from you, giving it an experimental shake, “i — uh — i’m sure it’ll taste just fine. that was… really thoughtful of you.”

you hate the heat creeping up your cheeks as you turn back to your studies.

“it’s nothing. they had them at the farmer’s market i passed by this morning so…”

“uhm… will you be… up… when i get back?”

your head snaps up as you turn to look at him, eyes wide. fire courses through you, followed quickly by the sobering cool of uncertainty but still. you gulp and lick your suddenly very chapped lips.

“i — i don’t know… may… maybe?” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, casting your eyes back at your half-written notes, your mind already spinning over the calculations of how long it’d take for you to finish them properly.

memories from the past few weeks flood through your mind and you can’t help the twisting coil of tension thrumming at the base of your belly.

“well… i’ll text you later when i’m on my way back then,” jamil says, double-knotting his sneakers and flashing a grin your way. he gives you a two-fingered salute before he’s off and out the door, leaving you very nearly squirming in your seat at the mere thought of ‘later’.

day 101.

the third time it happens, neither of you can blame the alcohol. there was no party this time, no crush of ill-dressed bodies, no too-loud music and too-cheap beer. this time, there was just you and him and a shared bowl of under-salted popcorn, the lights off, a rerun of some movie both of you have watched at some indefinite point in time.

you don’t quite remember who made the first move — maybe it was you, when you’d coiled your legs under you, pressing your knee to the outside of his thigh and leaving it there. maybe it was him, when he’d rested his arm along the back of the sofa and let his fingers tangle absently in your hair.

maybe it was the moment of breath between one scene and the next, when the screen had gone miraculously dark and left nothing but the imprint of light behind both your eyes and before either of you could blink it away, your lips had found each other.

there’s nothing to blame this time but yourselves and each other, no questions to ask but the ones you’d already answered — right here, right now, because it feels good, because it feels right.

you fall asleep tangled in each other’s limbs, half beneath the silken covers of jamil’s brand new sheets.

and when you both wake up this time, it’s to the warmth of each other’s arms, the steady of one another’s breaths. jamil doesn’t pull away and you don’t try to think of something casual to say. instead, you both just look at each other and jamil grins.

“so… breakfast?”

you laugh, letting your head thump back onto his uber-plush pillows.

“yeah. that sounds fantastic.”

day 75.

the second time it happens, you blame the alcohol. you blame the crush of ill-dressed bodies, the too-loud music and the too-cheap beer. who’s idea was it to host a house party in your dorm room of all places anyway? and why is jamil’s entire dance crew suddenly here? hooting and hollering and grinning knowingly in your direction, a few of them even tossing you obvious winks.

as if they knew.

do they know?

you curl into yourself, press your body against the cool of the wall and toss back your drink, grimacing at the taste. whatever jamil had put in the punch bowl originally, there’s no question that it’s since been spiked with maybe a dozen different alcohols. and the mixture is fowl as it burns through your chest into your stomach.

the room spins, and eventually, you find yourself being pressed up against the back of your bedroom door, the party still booming along outside.

“f-fuck —” you fist your fingers in jamil’s long hair and tug; he lets out a hiss as his head jerks back, but even in your alcohol-induced haze, you can see the desire burning bright within him.

“sorry — did i —?”

“no — just f-feels good —” you bury your face in his shoulder, your body going soft and languid in his arms even as he slots a leg between your thighs to keep you still against the too-thin door. your hips ruck down against him and he lets out a thick groan at the way you shake against him.

“yeah? g-good… i like that —” he tugs you back with him and the pair of you topple onto your bed, all desperate fingers and dirty hands, sloppy lips, taking what you can, each from the other as if your bodies were endless things. and like this, with his hand pinning your wrists above your head, his gasping breaths bursting by your ear, you think they just might be.

the next morning, you wake up to an empty bed and cold pancakes on the kitchen counter.

day 47.

“why don’t you just talk to her about it?” kalim asks.

jamil frowns, running through his cooldown stretches, his eyes focused on his own form in the mirror even as kalim glances over at him.

“because — what’s there to talk about? i mean — it was just… one of those things.”

kalim shrugs, turning back to the mirror as well.

“if you say so but… it seems like you wanna talk to her about it.”

“it’s fine.”

“till it happens again.”

“it’s not gonna happen again.”

kalim slates him a look; jamil scowls even harder.

“if it does —” kalim’s voice is light as they both pack up their stuff and click off the lights to the dance studio.

“i said its not gonna happen again,” jamil snipes, readjusting his bag on his shoulder and digging out his phone. your message thread is pulled up and he’s halfway through the sentence — on my way back — before he catches himself and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

kalim grins, looking a bit too smug as jamil clears his throat and tries to play it off as if nothing’s happened.

“if it does… you should make her breakfast the morning after.”

“w-why the hell would i do that?”

kalim laughs, “because! then she’ll know that you might want to spend more time with her — time when you’re not —”

“okay! okay — ugh… but like… what do i even make her for breakfast anyway?”

kalim looks much, much too pleased with himself as he peers into jamil’s face.

“how about pancakes?”

day 31.

the first time it happens, it’s barely more than a month into your co-habitation. it’d been a not-quite-accident kind of accident. it’d been one of those rare nights when jamil doesn’t have dance practice and you’d finished all your work early.

“wanna play a game?”

jamil’s smile had been viper-sweet and just as dangerous.

“only if drinks are involved.”

you roll your eyes but agree.

“never have i ever.”

jamil shrugs, “sure. we drink if we’ve done the thing, right?”

you nod, pouring a row of malibu shots. jamil grimaces.

“why malibu?”

“cause — it’s sweet and it’s cheap and it’s the only thing we had in the cabinet.”

“fair. alright — you go first.” jamil pulls a glass towards him, his eyes fixed on you. he watches as you swirl your own shot glass with a contemplative look on your face, and he wonders if you know how terribly tantalizing you look.

so… he might’ve caught himself staring a few times right after you’d gotten out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel, your hair tracing water down the bare skin of your shoulders and back. and he might’ve lingered over your uncapped bottle of perfume, swallowing hard as he catches a whiff of the vaguely floral fragrance, the base warm and woody and dizzying.

“never have i ever… gone to three different countries in one month.” your smile, when he finally fixes his gaze on you again, is nothing short of wicked.

he narrows his eyes as he takes his shot, “that’s not fair — you know i have to travel for my dance crew’s international competitions.”

you roll your eyes, “yeah, and i’ve never been to half the places you’ve been so…”

“i’ll take you with me one day,” he says, the words out of his mouth before he can stop himself. you cock your head as you stare at him, and then you raise your already refilled shot glass.

“i’ll hold you to it then.”

jamil refills his own glass and downs the shot.

“never have i ever… been walked in on after taking a shower.”

“hey! and who’s fault is that?”

jamil smirks, shrugging nonchalantly as you take your shot, quick and vindictive.

“fine — never have i ever walked in on someone after they’d just taken a shower.”

jamil takes his own shot in stride, swallowing down the burn with a wide, satisfied smile.

so it goes on like this, the never-have-i-evers getting more and more ludicrous till you’re both drunk and laughing and more than a little hot beneath the collar.

“never… have i ever… hm…” you muses, your head lolling back as you cast your eyes up at the ceiling, as if an interesting thing not to have done might be written there.

“what’s something… super cliché?” jamil wonders aloud, letting his gaze flicker up as well.

you pause for a moment before dissolving into a pile of red-faced giggles.

“oh! never have i ever hooked up with a roommate! there — that’s a good one.” you smile wide and sure, looking proud of your own accomplishment in thinking up this thing that you’re certain he’s done.

jamil licks his lips and swallows, his eyes meeting your as he lets out a breath.

“i haven’t either.”

the air between the pair of you thickens as your eyes flash down towards your empty shot glass.

“oh.”

“but i guess it is kinda cliché, huh…” he says, setting down his glass and dragging a thumb along his bottom lip before popping into his mouth.

he hears rather than sees the way your breath hitches and he can’t help the pleased purr rumbling through him at the thought of being able to do this to you.

“y-yeah… i guess it is…” you lick your own lips, “makes you feel a little left out, doesn’t it?”

jamil hums in response, and it isn’t till you look up again that you realize he’s leaned over the graveyard of now-emptied shot glasses, his lips hovering inches from your own.

“but how about we change that, hm?”

day 15.

it only takes two weeks for one of you to walk in on the other in the bathroom, and all things considered, it was kind of a miracle that it hadn’t happened sooner. the bathroom door doesn’t really lock and jamil had been too preoccupied with scrolling through the music for their next showcase to see the tell-tale strip of light beneath the door that usually indicates that the bathroom is currently occupied.

when he pushes through, it’s to find you stepping out of the shower, the steam still rising from your skin in thick, white wisps, your hand reaching for the towel on the rack.

“wh —”

jamil stares, drop-jawed and dumbstruck as his eyes rake over your very, very naked body, the music still thumping from his large headphones as he blinks.

you scream.

he slams the door shut.

15 minutes later when you leave the bathroom, your cheeks flushed a deep shade of maroon, your hair still damp, but your body now covered in a long t-shirt and sweats, neither of you says a thing.

day 3.

three days in and you have to admit that it’s kind of nice, having a super rich trust fund boy as your roommate. if nothing else, all the furniture he’s brought along is gorgeous — from the thick persian rugs to the tasteful suede sofa, you very quickly find yourself living in a dorm that looks like it might have belonged in the pages of a crate & barrel magazine spread.

“but apparently, his cousin’s family is even better off —” one of your friends had informed you after you’d looked up jamil’s family online, very quickly finding the wiki page that links him to the al-asim family.

“oh yeah? what do they even do?” you squint at the wikipedia page detailing the al-asim family legacy.

“i think something to do with… water filtration?” your friend peers over your shoulder as you scroll through the page before clicking back to google. she tugs your phone out of your hand and quickly types something into the search bar before making a gagging noise and turning the phone results back towards you.

“holy shit.”

“holy is right,” your friend had said.

“with a net worth like that… what the hell are they doing in school?” you ask, your eyes wide as you look back up.

your friend shrugs, a wicked grin twisting her lips as she leans over the library table and whispers in your ear —

“but y’know if you can bag jamil you’ll be set for life!”

you flush and shove her away, “shut up! we’re just roommates!”

your friend tuts, “plenty of people end up hooking up with their roommates — it’s a literal cliché at this point.”

you roll your eyes, “well not for us, it won’t — and e-even if we do… there’s a long way between ‘hooking up’ and bagging someone for life.”

your friend giggles, batting her lashes floridly at you, “never say never!”

day 1.

“o-oh! hi — sorry, you must be…”

jamil frowns, turning around at the sound of your voice.

“jamil viper…” he says as his eyes land on you for the very first time, taking in the three large suitcases gathered around your legs, and the light blush dusting your cheeks from what he assumes is the exertion of having wrangled them down the too-long hallway.

“yes — right…” you purse your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears.

“and you must be my new roommate, right?” jamil says, recovering from his momentary shock to offer you his hand.

pretty, is his first thought, smells like flowers, is his second.

you beam up at him, nodding.

“it’s lovely to finally meet you!”

[noa-de-cajou]

Day 31 : Bedtime / How long will it hurt ?

There's a bunch of mentioned character belonging to @corneille-but-not-the-author , @thal-ent , @soupedepates and @lizizquest featured here! And I'd love to mention @hel-phoenyx and Yaël for making the Ciel Fracturé what it is as well.

Thank you for motivating me to see this little october writing challenge through <3

_______

There’s a sniffle under the covers, in the bed where my oldest son is supposed to be sleeping.

“Klemens?”

Now it's a sob. I sit up.

“Klemens, what's wrong?”

“... Nothing…”

“You're crying. Why?”

“I’m not telling you. It’s dumb.”

I get up from the bed I share with Anya to crouch next to his.

“I’m sure it's not… Can I sit here?”

“Hm…”

And so I sit on the edge of the mattress. Klemens pulls back his blanket a bit, and I can see how puffed and watery his eyes still are.

“So, are you going to tell me?”

“I… It's just… I miss Iekaterina.”

Oh… Oh. My chest stings a little. Iekaterina Le Patriote died… it's gonna be four years this year. I still remember the letter I had to write to tell Antonina the news. Iekaterina was always here. And now there's a hole in the Troupe that will never quite be filled.

“... Klimek… That's completely okay. I miss her too. Why do you think it’s dumb?”

“B-Because I'm a big boy now and it was long ago and I shouldn’t be sad about it.”

A big boy… He’s only eleven. For me and Anya, he's still our baby.

“Klimek, listen. You’re allowed to miss her. You’ll still be allowed to miss her in ten years. Or in twenty. Or forever.”

“But… But it's been so long and…”

“And do you think Jakub doesn’t cry about it still?”

I've seen him do so, a bunch of times. Sometimes he lets me sit next to him for company and silent support. Sometimes he doesn’t.

“B-But Jakub is her son. It’s different.”

I sigh softly.

“Can you sit next to me?”

Klemens nods, sits up and wipes his face with his hand. It looks like he doesn't want to be touched just yet. That's fine.

“Do you remember the story I told you? About Bazyli?”

“Yeah. You look sad, when you talk about it. And it's been even longer than Iekaterina. Does it… Does it stop?”

I smile. I imagine it must look sad.

“No. There are some things… that never stop hurting, no matter how much time passes.”

“You said… I look like him. Does it… Does it hurt? When you look at me?”

Sometimes, it does. The smallpox scars, the green eyes, the smile, the hair. But he's not him. He’ll never be.

“A little, sometimes. But it's comforting, I think. You can be proud to look like him. You might be the best thing that's left of him in this world.”

“Hm…”

He looks at my belly. It’s starting to get a little round. Still feels as weird as the first time, but it’s nice too, in a way. And I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long one, but it's too early to tell.

“You cried a lot. After the ritual.”

“I did.”

And I still feel tears prickle my eyes when I think about Bazyli's clothes and cloak and earrings disappearing into smoke. But I know it was worth it.

No matter how much I cried or screamed, Yavana never stopped holding my hand.

“But everyone was there to support me. Just like I'm here to support you now. It’s like my scars. I’ve… told you about the scars too, didn't I?”

“Yeah… You got a lot because your parents were mean. And because you fought a lot.”

“Well, they still hurt. After a while, you become numb to the pain. But that doesn’t mean it’s good. Being numb… it just means you suffer so much you don’t know how to feel again.”

“But then… Do you just suffer all the time?”

“Well, the pain is still there. You need to accept that it's not going to disappear. But you’ll find that there are things much, much stronger than pain.”

I used to think that's all there was. That it was all I could give. But it wasn’t. I gave love. I gave life. I wouldn’t take any of it back. I know it’s the same for everyone.

“And if you miss someone, then it means you loved them enough when they were here, right? And that maybe, you still love them.”

Like I love Bazyli, Bronya and Milosz. Like Yavana loves Jan and Mi’Arach. Like Zuza loves her husband, or even Idalia, in a way. Like Jakub loves his mother. Like Sigi loves the people of Osowiec. Like Anya loves her brother. Like Marteau loves me. Like Likhoradka loved Maryla. Isn’t missing something the proof that you loved it once?

Despite what I say to Klemens, there's a reason I can't answer this question for sure. Two reasons. Two empty eyes looking at a sky full of stars that he'll never see again. Two eyes I miss without having to time to love them fully.

And the arms of Idalia wrapped around me in an inn in an embrace that didn't contain an inch of violence.

I don't have all the answers yet. I don’t think I ever will.

“... Dad?”

“Hmhm?”

“Can I get a hug?”

“Always.”

Klemens wraps his arms around me, buries his face against my chest. I hold him tightly.

“Thanks…”

“You’re welcome, dear. It’s always up to you how you deal with all of this. Just don’t do it alone, alright?”

“Hm… Do you think I can talk to Jakub about it?”

“You can try. I’m sure he'll be happy to share memories with you. He has a lot more than I do.”

“Okay. Can we make a lot more memories? Like, a whole lot? With everyone?”

“As many as you want.”

And I'll treasure these memories. I never want to forget again.

“And dad?”

“Hm?”

“For the baby… Can I name them?”

I chuckle.

“No. Yavana and I have already chosen.”

Likho Juliste, if it's a boy.

Radka Julia, if it's a girl.

“What?! No fair! You’ll have to let me name the next one!”

“We… don’t know if there’s gonna be a next one, love…”

“Well there has to be now!”

And I laugh, and he laughs, and we wake up Anya who scolds us both before joining the embrace, and my heart feels full. Full of love, of life, of pain, of everything that makes this life worth it.

It has always been worth it, hasn’t it?

Live, Hanko. You have to live.

I am, Bronya. I am.

[docescene]

August Prompts — Summer edition

A mini-challenge I propose is to write microfics, between 50 and 500 words, but it’s up to you.

Feel free to do as you wish. The important thing is to try writing and have fun!

More challenges! ;; Winter edition

Day 1: Sunglasses

Day 2: Movie night

Day 3: Florist

Day 4: Notebook

Day 5: Hand kiss

Day 6: Swimming pool

Day 7: Date

Day 8: Cycle path

Day 9: Watermelon

Day 10: Heatwave

Day 11: Sorbets

Day 12: Library

Day 13: Affection

Day 14: Lemonade

Day 15: Beach

Day 16: Garden

Day 17: Festival

Day 18: Breeze

Day 19: Flower language

Day 20: Handmade

Day 21: Pineapple

Day 22: Time traval

Day 23: Cold drink

Day 24: Adventure

Day 25: Party

Day 26: Sunscreen

Day 27: Barbecue

Day 28: Throne

Day 29: Arranged Married

Day 30: Cocktail

Day 31: Sea