#thank you! you pick fun prompts

[reborrowing]

🕷 for an OC of your choice

🕷️ Draw your OC terrified/facing their biggest fear

fear! terror! the absolute horror of being calmly held!

[bonefall]

if you're stretching for shadowclan cats to use:

antpelt is mistakenly listed as from shadowclan in battles of the clans, and the wiki had him as a different character for a while. he also has an unnamed apprentice

shredtail is also mistakenly listed in shadowclan during bramblestar's storm

I am absolutely at the point where I'm willing to make absolutely ABSURD stretches. I'm affectionately calling all the extra cats I'm scrounging up from writer mistakes and background scenes "ShadowClan's Glitch Warriors." Thank you so much for pointing these three out, they're going in the list.

Suddenly, I was struck with an absolutely hilarious idea. Partner wanted something fun to draw but still has read absolutely nothing about Warriors, so I pitched;

"I will tell you nothing about these characters or who they are except their names. Draw a Shredtail, an Antpelt, and Antpelt's apprentice. TOTAL freedom over the designs here."

First they drew this lmao,

"This is a joke," they clarified

"NO I LOVE IT," I said, "KEEP GOING"

So we got Dollar Tree Shredtail, Great Value Antpelt, and the best thing I've ever seen in my life. Once they put these designs down, we talked personality and differentiators from the canon counterparts while they colored and refined them;

I loved the bushy gaster tail so much that I swore on the spot I was going to work it upwards into a whole bloodline, including the very obscure background warrior in AVOS, Wasptail. So even though they're mentor and apprentice in BOTC, I've decided these two will also be related. Probably siblings, or auncle/nespring.

The little black one is based off an Admiral Butterfly (it was my idea to make the little spots on their chest look like medals), so the name seems clear to me. Admiralpaw. Xey'll be meewa unless another gender works better; and I'm planning for xem to go out during a bloody battle against The Kin in true admiral style.

(funfact; admiral butterflies are extremely territorial. Males fight each other for control of a plant to attract females to.)

Warrior name is still undecided, though. Open to suggestions, leaning towards Admiralflight or Admiralflower.

Not-Antpelt I'm having name troubles with. I REALLY wanted to name them Majorheart, after a major ant, to keep the "military ranking + bug" pun that Addy's got... but it seems that none of the ants in this area would have a major caste. B'awww.

In the meanwhile, Antspot works fine. Alatefang or Dronepelt could work, too. Feel free to shout out suggestions, this guy's name and gender aren't set in stone.

Lastly, here's Diet Shreddy. Girl now <3

She is 100% going to be killed during The Battle of the True Eclipse, keeping consistent with the mistake in Bramblestar's Storm where Blackstar mournfully calls out the name of a Dark Forest warrior. I'm also undecided on if the actual Shredtail himself dies during that battle in BB, it might just be her.

In any case, she's probably going to be a TPB girl. If she's born during Brokenstar's time, she's one of the younger ShadowClan cats to take part in the WindClan Massacre. Might even be an early apprentice at the time, in a similar situation to Badgerfang (though in BB this was a one-time thing). If not during Brokenstar, then sometime during Nightstar's brief reign.

Right now she has no family, she's in my "reserves" at the side to use as a patch between generations. Her name is probably going to be either Tattertail or Shredclaw, given as an Honor Title after the Battle of BloodClan.

So she had a previous warrior name as well. She seems like the kind of troublemaker who would have the prefix Sike-- a small stream that dries up in summer. Sikestripe, if her name was given by Nightstar, or Sikestrike, if it was given by Tigerstar. Maybe it was one and then the other, in a sign of disrespect to his predecessor's lie.

[chickenbyday]

Number 5 on that drabble list pls *bats my eyelashes innocently*

*bats my eyelashes back* This is basically under 1k...

You didn't specify, so I made it andreil bc artistic liberty and also my desire to give Neil the h/c he deserves. Enjoy!!

Andrew wakes with a jolt, the blankets being ripped off of him, and it takes him three seconds of wild breathing and harsh swinging in the dark to realize that he's the only one in the bed, and that that's the reason for his sudden exposure. 

Three seconds too long, because Neil is still thrashing from where he rolled off the bed, taking the covers with him and, if he's lucky, softening the fall. 

Andrew doesn't know why he deludes himself. Neil is anything but lucky. 

He peers over the edge of the bed at him, still twisting in his fleecy prison, caught up in the throughs of whatever night terror his brain has decided to fuck him over with.

"Neil." 

On the floor, Neil flinches, a pained sort of whimper escaping his lungs in a way that sounds like it shredded his esophagus to get out. 

"Neil." 

He fights harder against the blankets, still cocooned against escape, although Andrew thinks that might be the only thing that's stopping him from bashing his head in or breaking a flailing arm. The panic is the reason Andrew can't shake him awake, they discovered last month. Two black eyes in as many weeks is a bitch, especially when you throw in the fact that neither of them were sleeping for more than three hours at a clip.

"Abram." 

Neil's eyes snap open, a shock of blue that Andrew breathes out a sigh of relief to see, even as Neil is coughing on his shuddering in-pulls of  breath. Now that he's awake, Andrew can climb down and help into a position that resembles sitting, and he does, hand heavy on the back of his neck and forcing Neil forward enough that he can actually begin to take in oxygen with his still-quick gasps. 

Andrew breathes in, deep and slow and loud in the quiet room, trying to get Neil to copy him, and after a few minutes of Andrew being able to do nothing but watch Neil panic, he does. He lists sideways and ends up half in Andrew's lap, and he's not crying exactly, but his shoulders still have a fluttery shakiness about them that makes Andrew's blood run hot, but it's useless. This anger helps no one, least of all Neil. He shoves it down. Andrew wraps his arm around Neil and slides the hand on his neck up to his hair, holding on tight. Neil turns to bury his face into the crook of Andrew's neck, his slowing humid breath a sort of balm to Andrew's worry. 

When Neil begins to calm down, he tenses, a barely there clenching of muscles that Andrew only notices because of how close they're pressed together. Neil pulls away, red tinge resting high on his cheeks, and Andrew lets him go. 

"I'll just...." Neil mumbles to the floor, scrambling to standing and making a vague gesture towards the door. Andrew nods even though Neil is looking everywhere but him, and Neil goes, closing the door behind him and leaving Andrew in the dark bedroom, empty and alone. 

Andrew breathes in deeply through his nose as slow as he can before expelling all his air with a huff. Neil has always been an odd sort of sheepish after the particular disruptive nightmares, and Andrew has yet to convince him that he doesn't care. It's a point of contention, and not a battle that he's winning tonight with Neil still on edge, but is one that Andrew needs to win soon. 

Andrew picks himself up off of the floor and shuffles down the stairs, making his way to the kitchen. He pulls down two mugs and fills the coffee maker to the sound of the sink turning off up stairs. Andrew left the stairwell light on to make sure that Neil knew where he was, but that doesn't grantee that Neil will follow. 

Andrew fills both mugs anyway when the coffee is done, and when he turns around Neil is standing in the door way, discomfort still clinging to his skin like water droplets. Andrew holds out one of the mugs, and Neil takes it from him and gets the milk out of the fridge while Andrew finds the sugar they bought three weeks ago in the pantry. 

Coffee done, there's nothing either of them can do to distract each other from the elephant in the room. 

"Are we talking about it?" Andrew asks, a careful phrasing. They never want to talk about it, and there isn't anything to be done to help it other than being different people. People who don't have nightmare routines, who don't have systems for waking people up without getting a fist to the face. 

Neil shakes his head. Fair enough.

They sip their coffees in silence, and after an eternity of the only sound being the settling of the house and Kevin's snores from the down the hall, Neil speaks. 

"I'm sorry." 

Andrew reaches up to smack him on the shoulder. 

"Hey," Neil complains weakly, rubbing his arm. 

"I don't care if you're sorry," Andrew says, as flat as he can manage. This anger helps no one. Least of all Neil. If he repeats it enough times, maybe one day he won't feel the urge to bring people long dead back just to murder them himself, slow and drawn out and painful. 

"That doesn't change that I am," Neil answers. Andrew doesn't have anything to say to that, so he settles for glaring at him. Neil doesn't flinch under his gaze. "I don't know why it's getting worse. I'm sorry I'm dragging you down with me." 

A martyr till the end. Andrew hates him, and almost tells him so, but there's something about the set of his shoulders that makes Andrew unsure if it would be taken the way Andrew means it right now. 

“You’re safe now," Andrew says instead. 

Neil rakes a hand through his head, frustrated. "I know. This shouldn't be happening anymore. They're all dead. That should be the end of it." 

Andrew catches him by the back of his neck, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Not what I meant. You're safe now. You're allowed to be fucked up about it. No one's going to hurt you." Andrew hopes he hears the promised, I won't let them. 

"Andrew–" Neil says tiredly, but Andrew shakes his head. 

"This self flagellation shit isn't cute." At that, Neil almost smiles, and Andrew counts it as a win. 

They'll have more to discuss in the morning, but for right now, when the hand on Neil's neck drifts up to his hair in question, Neil answers with his lips against Andrew's, bringing warmth and a safety Andrew doesn't ever want to leave. 

I'm using this prompt list if you want to send me a number and/or paring!

[hailsatanacab]

@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face

BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇

---

“So, how was your day?”

Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie. 

And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.

“That bad, huh?”

Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.

She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.

She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.

“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”

“Oh? What’s he done now?” 

“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”

“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”

“Damn straight it won't.”

She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.

Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.

They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.

“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”

“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”

“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”

“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”

“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”

“You’ve already got me.”

She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”

He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”

“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”

Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”

“Yes?” 

“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”

“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”

“Ellie, what?”

“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"

Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.

“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”

“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”

“No. No, you have not.”

“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”

“Right. Yes, that follows.”

“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”

“What?”

Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information. 

Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”

“What?”

[seithr]

top 5 blazblue character designs

YIPPEE BLAZBLUE

I feel like my tastes are known but I still will take this chance to gush a bit about the characters and design philosophy of em that Ive always been real fond of :)

No particular order here or else I'll be here all night formatting on mobile. More under the cut!

HAKUMEN it goes without saying I LOVE HAKUMEN'S DESIGN SO MUCH. The taloned tabi, the silhouette of wide pants and closefitted shinguards/torso. The faces/eyes scattered across his armour while the face is totally blank—made more unreadable and inhuman by the slats of neck guard. Fox-ears built into the helm shape to feel both animal and mechanical like antennae...and obviously the longass hair to sell the "tailed" look.

I remember reading really early on into liking BlazBlue—I can't remember the source, come maul me if I'm wrong—I read that Hakumen as a character and design was made when Mori was in middle or highschool, the idea of "what is really cool," and much of those ideas stayed. I not only really respect that and think its charming as someone who still likes MY own designs from that time, but, as it turns out, middle schoolers are still right. Hakumen is very cool. Augh. Fucking? Time travelling fox-robot samurai who's here to kill his brother to save him and also himself because his old self wanted to do the same thing for the wrong reason and thay thought disgusts him. Also him and Tsubaki in general make me start to choke (positive). God ok I have four more guys to discuss. Yes i also like Susanoo but I feel like thats a copout, I like that he's both animalistic and brutal martial arts as the God of War. Anyways CONTINUING

VALKENHAYN R HELLSING I will admit that he is an old man in a suit and that speaks to me but that he's one of the strongest beings alive as a old man in a suit ohh. And he's a werewolf ohhhh. Shifting just his body parts to kick and rip with his claws, quickly leaping back and forth between a normal bone-breaking jab or knee or biting and snarling—the dance between raw force and refined precision and a brutal tear's always been sooo cool to see and think about. I also think his ribbon in his hair moving to his wolfy tail is very cute. A man of sharp extremes from refined to flashing his fangs, human and wolf, cool and very cute. I like him :)

TSUBAKI YAYOI her uniform is so nice uruururururugh. Big cape and the way it drapes around her in combat like wings... Her sword and buckler/Izayoi looking so unique for being a "basic sword and shield for the hero"-type of deal! The eye on her hat's always been really striking too—the only "cold" colours being her and her uniforms eyes.....................Sparing a glance at Hakumen's recurring red eyes for no reason here. Knightly angel women and her flower-like "tassets" hanging off her clothes. Its a uniform which plausibly feels like it could be a uniform—she doesn't have anything uniquely "hers" or "for this female character" while still being really standout and clean. Her design's just really good guys. You can do so much.

Really want to mention her masked look too at least really quick here. my girllllll...

RAGNA THE BLOODEDGE well of course I really like his design. Yeah him being here is partially obligation because I love his character a lot but both things inform each other in the end. Mr Grim Reaper, Enemy of the World, red-and-black with a demon's arm on one side and a rebuilt one on the other. His big red coat and the oversize shoulders! The massive baggy pants—I love the silhouette he has. Blood Scythe/Aramasa/His sword transforming and able to clack around and shift's just. Always been such a cool design. Seithr-powered man, devil-smoke powered man, ashes of your own old dead self-powered man. Ragna is fucking cool auauauuuaghrhg.

And it DOES only make it more charming that he has a good heart, has a bit of a Kicked Puppy charm about him if you can pardon uhh that implication. He is just some fucking guy and he likes barbecues. He is sweet and cares for stray cats. His dad is a cat. He blows up the government regularly. He's a rebel who visually looks really clean if "intentionally trying to look like someone you should think is cool", which is both dork-charming and cute and also actually yeah cool because it's not a visual mess.

I like that his arm underneath is all belts and bandaged—Bloodedge only wearing half his coat for example is such a good look and it shows his clean black shirt underneath, which feels a lot like... Under that big eyecatching rebel coat of his (personality), Ragna's... Ragna, I don't know. I hope that makes sense. Knowing his personality makes me like his design a lot more than if I didn't I think.

As mentionned in Hakumen's block of text however: I already really like chuuni-ass designs, so combined in Ragna he makes me unwell entirely.

And last (I am running out of images allowed per post :((((( )

Kitty peepaw. I am cheating slightly here. I like the Kaka Kittens' big hoods too and think they're very cute and very eyecatching and I adore them always—the kittens especially being stompy little things that travel in packs are really cute. I love that Jubei, actual strongest thing in the world, has the oversized paw sleeves too. There's cat claws bigger than his body stored in what looks like emo kids' oversize hoodie sleeves. He's so simple and still the imagery of that coat gets reused several times over and it looks good every time. Orange kitty peepaw. AND he has an eyepatch, how can I not like eyepatches.

There are my 5 favourite BlazBlue designs :> Sorry if them all being C series or smth is boring wauh. I can spend as long as I want thinkinh about it but I do always seem to come back to these guys, give or take one change depending on the mood. Unchanging faves are Hakumen and Tsubaki for sure and forever though.

[allylikethecat]

January OTP Prompts

Fun fact! I live in a place that is not cold. However, it has been absolutely freezing the last week to the point where I am currently looking at a North Face puffer coat on the internet and trying to figure out if I order it, if I will still be cold in the 3-5 business days it says it will take to arrive. I have decided to inflict this misery upon Fictional!Matty, however, he at least has a warm coat. I have a denim jacket and a Noah Kahan hoodie.

10. Bundled up

Matty shivered, and wrapped his arms tighter around himself, as he trailed after George. He sniffled and reached up to wipe his runny nose with the sleeve of his parka. He adjusted his scarf to cover more of his face, his fingers feeling clumsy in his mittens. He was bundled up in a long sleeve tee shirt, a heavy sweater, the parka, a heavy knit scarf, and a beanie and he was still freezing. He halted, wincing as a gust of wind tore down the street, sending another shiver up his spine. He didn’t even remember what being warm felt like as they made their way through the snow covered street. 

Jamie had bought him the warmest winter parka he could find in apology when he realized the tour schedule was going to take them to Canada during the winter. Matty was very adamant that he did not do weather colder than London. Even London was too cold for him in the winter. Despite wearing multiple pairs of socks and an extremely unstylish pair of Sorel boots, Matty still couldn’t feel his toes. He would have started crying ages ago if he wasn’t worried that his tears would literally freeze to his face and cause some kind of permanent damage. The strip of skin around his eyes was stinging from the wind and he wondered if it was possible to have already developed frostbite. He wasn’t sure how anyone even lived here, people weren’t meant to be out in these kinds of conditions! He was glad that even their most loyal fans had realized that camping for the concert in this weather was a bad fucking idea. He didn’t even want to be walking down the street, their destination hopefully ahead, he couldn’t imagine them sleeping in tents to see his sniffly ass up close. 

Yet, George was happily plowing ahead, looking at directions on his phone, dragging Matty to some underground used record shop he had seen on instagram that was supposed to be the place to find obscure vinyl. If Matty had realized that around the corner from their hotel meant, around the corner and then straight on a mile and a half he would have insisted on Ubering, or staying behind in the warmth of the hotel room, wearing the complementary slippers and a bathrobe as he made use of the steam shower to try and loosen some of the mucus in his chest. 

“You coming?” George called over his shoulder, his warm breath visible in the cold air. Matty wanted a cigarette but there was absolutely no way he could light it, let alone hold it with how bundled up he was, and he was not sacrificing wearing a mitten even for a fag. He’d also have to pull down his scarf, exposing his face to the elements which was another nope. 

“I think I’ve frozen to the sidewalk,” Matty complained which just made George grin wider, amused by his misery. 

“That just means you need to walk faster,” he teased, picking up his pace as Matty groaned. 

Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

[pallases]

english prof just left LOADS of feedback on my essay omg this is so exciting

[twotwinks]

cold hands + shumika

i somehow managed to write this in like an hour and a half while at work...the way the perfect scenario got beamed into my brain as soon as i saw this ask! it took me a bit to get used to shu's voice again but i think i did alright :3

Send me a fall prompt! 🍂

Mika had insisted on accompanying Shu on his shopping trip. Shu had vehemently protested at first — it was a short trip, after all, and certainly didn't require two people. Mika's time would be far better spent practicing, working, simply staying focused on his art. But Shu was only back in Japan for the week, and Mika had made it clear he wanted to spend as much time together as possible.

It was an endearing sentiment, Shu supposed, even if it was a bit inefficient. At the very least, it was nice having someone else to help carry the bags.

He passed one to Mika absentmindedly, already occupied by determining if there were any other stores worth stopping by or if they should return to the dorm. He was startled out of his reverie by Mika letting out a sharp yelp.

"Kagehira! What on earth has gotten into you?"

"Yer hands are real cold, Oshi-san!"

Shu closed his eyes and sighed. As he'd expected, it was hardly anything worth yelling about. "I'm not certain why this is such a surprise to you. It's to be expected, given today's temperature."

"But if yer too cold ya might get sick! Or yer fingers might get frostbite and then ya won't be able to sew!"

It wasn't nearly cold enough for that to be a concern. It was only autumn, after all, not the dead of winter. Shu was prepared to say as much, but Mika had already taken matters into his own hands — quite literally, as he pulled Shu's hands up in front of him before pinning them between his own. "There! I'll help ya warm up."

Mika looked up at him with such unrestrained happiness that Shu found himself suddenly unable to explain the frivolity of the gesture. It wasn't exactly an unpleasant feeling, anyway. Mika's hands were decently warmer than his. Perhaps it was best to simply indulge him, just this once.

The pair stayed frozen in place for a few minutes until Mika decided Shu's fingers were no longer in peril. He pulled back with a satisfied smile, but the cold air merely bit back harder against the warm skin where his hands had been resting. Shu hissed in a small breath at the sensation, causing Mika to look up at him with a blank sort of confusion for a few moments before his eyes lit with understanding.

"Oh! I bet it's still too cold out here fer them, huh? We should go back so you can get all warmed up nice and proper. But how do we keep yer hands from freezin' on the way?"

Mika briefly pondered again until another light went off in his eyes. He took just one of Shu's hands in his this time, confidently lacing their fingers together. "Alright! Now if ya put yer other hand in yer pocket, it might stay warmer too. And I can switch sides on the way home to keep it from gettin' too cold. How's that?"

Shu shook his head, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling, just a bit. "It should suffice. We'd best be on our way then."

Mika was all but bouncing at his side as they set out, enough so that Shu was concerned he'd fall at some point before they reached the dorms. He nearly withdrew his hand to take the remaining shopping bags from Mika and reduce the risk, but ultimately decided to let things be. Shu would be right there to catch him if he tripped, after all. Just like Mika would be there to warm his hands.

Perhaps going together hadn't been such a waste after all.

[jellicle-chants]

28 with bomba

"We're not having this discussion again, Dem. You need to get going. Now." She glanced around the corner. Besides the shimmering reflections of lampposts against the rain-soaked street, nothing moved.

"I told you, I'm not leaving you behind!"

Bombalurina looked over at Demeter, wet to the bone and shivering like a leaf caught in the wind. She knew the other queen would probably hate her for this, possibly forever — but she didn't care. She turned back to the street, eyes downcast.

"Bomba, please, please"—she grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, pressed up against her back, let the words leave her mouth in a hiss—"I can't let you do this."

"Then don't. Just walk away, don't look back, and blame me for whatever happens afterward." She leaned backward into their desperate embrace, trying to memorize each awkward point of contact, every shuffling limb. "All I care about is that you're safe."

Demeter pressed her face into the crook of her neck. Bombalurina could feel her breath as she spoke. "What about you?" All of the fight had left her voice; it was more of a plea than a retort. "Promise me you'll make it out. It doesn't have to be tonight, just... I need to hear it."

"Dem." Bombalurina's ear twitched. She stepped backwards, nearly causing them both to trip.

"Bomba, what—"

"I saw him. He's just around the corner." She turned around again, catching Demeter's gaze for a moment. "I'll try. I promise."

She nodded once, jaw clenched tight, then ran off, quickly disappearing into the cloudy night.

Bombalurina sighed, then settled back into the shadows, ready to pounce. He'd need a few scars to remember her by once she made good on her promise.

[kopivie]

Albedo shows you another memory. This one is a storybook, illustrated elegantly but undoubtedly for children.

“Was this yours?”

He shakes his head. “No. My sister’s.”

He turns a page. A young girl’s face smiles up at you from the paper. She looks kind. You glance between her and Albedo; you can see the resemblance.

“You loved her?” you ask.

“Very much. She was the brightest thing this world ever knew.” He combs through the storybook, talking about his sister and the lost memories he can only ever brush against here; the games they played, the smiles they shared, and the fondness he has never lost for her, even now.

The look in his eyes is faraway. He’s lost, you notice. Lost in a different time and in some ways a different place. His attention is completely elsewhere. He’s wandering away from you and into what was with that hint of a wistful smile on his face which doesn’t quite mind being there. Honestly, you think he’s telling himself all of this more than he is you.

And, for now, you let him.

-🎻 anon

i wonder how heartbreaking it would be if, when you asked if he loved his sister, he paused...

"did you love her?"

and albedo's little smile fades into nothingness. there's a slight draw to his brows when he replies, "i don't know." he seems confused. "perhaps i did, once upon a time. it was so long ago." his smile returns but with a bitterness that is palpable. "time is not kind to survivors."

[refinedstorage]

Chief Pablo // Ipopte // The Crow

Queen Disa // Ciri // Gloria

Fortune // Sanjuro Tsubaki // John Seed

character requests wrap up

thank you all these were so much fun!

[so-many-ocs]

practical writing advice

part 2

avoid writing in bed if you can. writing in bed is the mind-killer. writing in bed is the little death that brings obliteration. you may think "but i can write AND be cozy" you will get sleepy so fast. 98% of the time when i try to get a nighttime writing session done in bed i go to sleep. maybe 70% of the time if it's an afternoon writing session. also it fucking kills your wrists.

STRETCH before writing. stretch as many parts of your body as possible ESPECIALLY YOUR WRISTS! i have chronic tendonitis in both of my arms from not doing this and it is manageable but it is Not Fun!

plug your phone in on the other side of the room. better yet, plug it in and leave it in another room. better yet, power it off and leave it in another room. "i'll just check one quick thing" do not underestimate the power of the doomscroll.

do a warmup. look up writing prompts (i like one-word prompts or prompts that focus on a general theme as it's easier to integrate into my writing style), set a timer for fifteen minutes, or ten, or five, and go ham. make it shitty or incomprehensible, as long as you make it. create a dump document for all your warmups. i currently have two novels in the works that started as one of these fifteen minute little warmups.

pick your background noise ahead of time if you use it, and look for something long. i listen to 3-hour-long silent hill ambient mixes on youtube dot com.

take breaks. around every 45 minutes, as i'm noticing myself begin to lose focus, i get up, grab a drink, get my blood flowing, and give myself some space to breathe.

sometimes i sit down to write and i think "every atom in my body is averse to doing this right now. i would rather dance barefoot on a bed of nails than open my laptop and start typing." and you know what i do? i go do something else instead. don't force it! it will become a chore.

that being said! write as often as possible. try to write every day. try to write at the same time. don't beat yourself up if you can’t, BUT the more often you write, the more often you'll want to write.

if you're stuck on a scene or a page or a chapter, go back to the last place where you felt like you knew what you were doing and start writing from there. keep a copy of your other writing in case you want to reuse it or refer back!

i don't know if this is something that will be helpful for other people but i start mentally preparing myself for my writing session a few hours ahead of time. i will say to myself, "today, at this time, i'm gonna sit down and write that scene where mina walks out on her book club, and it's going to be awesome and i'm looking forward to it." then, by the time i actually begin, i basically have the whole thing written out in my head and can just put it down to paper. it's a good way to at least kickstart the session !

ok thanks bye

[parkersbliss]

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

[moonstruckme]

hello!

Could you maybe do poly!marauders x reader and the boys discovering she has a major praise kink!

It doesn’t have to be smutty or it can be whatever you think!!

(ps: you are such an amazing author and the way you write the marauders together and their personalities is impeccable 💋)

This was fun and funny, thanks for requesting!

cw: praise kink, suggestive ending (no smut)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Remus makes a soft hissing sound. “Is that how you always chop onions?” 

You look at him sideways. “With a knife? Yes.” 

“Don’t be cheeky,” he says, smiling. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” 

You look down at your cutting board, still chopping but now bemused. “I don’t plan on it.” 

James, who’s appeared over your shoulder, makes a similar sound, hissing through his teeth. “No, sweetheart.” He places his hand over yours on the handle of the knife, silently prompting you to stop. “Rem’s right, you’re going to lose the tips of your fingers.” 

You feel a tad defensive of your chopping skills. “I’ve managed to keep them all ‘til now. What am I doing wrong?” 

“Here, let me.” James eases the knife from your grip, squishing in alongside you in front of the cutting board and taking your onion. “See, you want to curl your fingers in a tiny bit so the knife skims off them. Like a claw.” 

You lean over, peering at his hand. “It looks hard to keep a grip like that.” 

“It takes a bit of practice,” he allows. James slices through the onion a few times with smooth, easy motions, then passes the knife back to you. “Give it a try.” 

You try to hold the onion the way he had, looking at James for approval. He taps your pinkie finger, getting you to curl that one a bit more, before smiling at you. 

“There you go. That’s good, now try cutting down your knuckles.” 

“This feels scarier than my way,” you admit, though you do as he says, skimming the knife down your knuckles and slicing through the onion slowly. 

“No, you’ve got it,” James praises. “That’s really good, angel. You’re a natural.” 

Your cheeks are starting to warm from all the compliments. “Thanks,” you say in a small voice. 

“Don’t go getting shy,” says Sirius, coming in to steal a dry pasta noodle from Remus. He bites down on it with a crack that makes James grimace. “You were so vocal about how you knew the proper way a minute ago.” 

“I still like my way better,” you say, recovering some. 

“Right, well do it this way for our peace of mind, would you?” James’ hand warms the small of your back as he watches you work. “You have very pretty fingers, and I don’t think I’m being too presumptuous in saying that we all like them too much to risk it. Plus, you’ve picked it up so quickly.” 

The heat from your face spreads lower. It’s all you can do to squeak out a meek “okay.” You’re grateful when James leaves to return to his own task. 

A minute later, Remus comes over to check that you’re doing what you’re supposed to. He hums approvingly. “Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. All the air in your lungs dries up. “Thank you, darling. That looks great.” 

“She learned from the best,” James quips. 

Remus hums and kisses his hair too before turning back to his work. It’s only a handful of seconds before they realize you’ve not replied. 

“Dove?” Remus looks at you. 

“Hm?” you hum tightly. 

“You alright?”

“Mhm.” 

James and Sirius have turned to look now, too. You keep your face downturned to the cutting board, but you can feel the weight of three curious stares on the back of your head. Sirius prowls over to you like a cat, taking you by the shoulders and turning you slowly. 

“Humor me for a moment?” he asks, smirking. “I want to test a theory.” 

You’re wound too tightly by this point to respond, his smug teasing pushing you to the edges of sanity. You barely have the wherewithal to set your knife down carefully behind you. 

Your boyfriend’s cold hands find your warm face, shit-eating grin only spreading as he takes his time feeling about your cheeks with his knuckles and fingers. Sirius isn’t always the most perceptive of your boyfriends, but unfortunately, humiliatingly, he’s the first to unravel this particular mystery. 

He asks smoothly, “Do you like it when we tell you how good you are, pretty girl?” 

You’re not sure if he can actually feel the flare of heat to your face at the words, but something about your expression must confirm it. Sirius laughs gleefully. 

“Awe, angel.” James comes over to wrap his arms around you from the side, also laughing. “I didn’t know we were winding you up when we talked like that. I was just trying to compliment what a quick learner you are.” 

“She is a quick learner,” Sirius says in a salacious tone. “You always follow instructions well, don’t you, gorgeous?” 

“Stop,” you plead, covering your face with your hands and forcing Sirius to move his. All three of your boyfriends snicker, James pressing a conciliatory kiss to your burning ear. “It’s not like it happens all the time, you’re just being so much right now. You can’t just call someone—call them—” 

“A good girl?” Remus asks you, and you don’t think he’s putting on a tone like Sirius is, you really don’t, but his regular voice is already so nearly pornographic that the heat in your core spreads anyway. 

“Right,” you say weakly. 

Remus chuckles. “I didn’t mean anything by it, sweetheart. Sorry if I put you in an…uncomfortable position.” 

“No, don’t be sorry.” Sirius is giddy, smugness dialed up to eleven. “This is a revelation. Just think what we could do with this. You’ve given us all a gift, babe.” 

“Oh, our poor girl,” James laughs when you try to hide your face in his shoulder. “Sirius is right, this is good! It’s always good for us to know what you like, right?” 

You’re too flustered to reply, but Remus agrees for you, humming contemplatively. 

“You know,” he says, “if I leave this to simmer for a while, we could make it up to you now, dove. I’d feel awful if I wound you up without giving you any payoff.” 

His tone implies he’s at least partly joking, but Sirius doesn’t take it that way. He has you all in the bedroom in thirty seconds flat, your chopping left to wait for your return. 

[bohemianblasphemy]

MGG prompt. 🥺 Reid’s favorite holiday is Halloween and he’s disappointed when his plans fall through for the evening so you invite him to hand out candy at your house, and once he arrives he’s very into your Halloween costume, and you end up not passing out any candy. 😉😉

I love me some Spencer Reid 🥺✨ spooky smut coming your way!!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Contains: Unprotected sex, Spencer fucking you in your costume, Reader receiving oral, fishnet ripping… fun stuff!

“What do you mean you’re not doing Halloween this year?” You were shocked, leaning over Spencer’s desk as he was sitting in his chair.

“My plans fell through… so it’s just sit in my apartment and watch some horror movies that night.” Spencer shrugged, but you could see the disappointment behind his expression. He LOVED Halloween- come October and it was the only thing he’d talk about. You hated seeing him sad, especially during his favourite time of the year.

“Hey, I have an idea.” You said, the cogs in your head turning.

“Come over to mine… we can dress up and hand out candy, watch some scary movies. I don’t want you to be alone…” you said softly, hoping that he would take you up on your offer.

Spencer’s eyes had a spark of excitement from your offer- not only because of Halloween but also because he could spend time with you.

“Y-yeah! I’d like that a lot…” he gave you that goofy smile he always gave when he was excited, making your heart flutter at the sight.

“Great! I’ll um… text you the address, you gotta wear a costume though… or you’re not being let in.” You teased, making him fidget in his seat.

“Oh I will be, don’t you worry.”

- - -

The few days to Halloween rolled by as Spencer and yourself had finalised your plans for that night.

You stood at your bathroom mirror, applying the final touches to your makeup - the pink and blue eyeshadow blended to perfection, bringing your elvira costume together with the tall wig and long black dress that showed off your curves perfectly.

The timing was impeccable as you heard the doorbell buzzing, your favourite boy genius had arrived on time. You eagerly made your way towards the door, opening it to see Spencer… in normal clothing.

“Spencer I told you to dress up!” You said to him, a bit of disappointment in your voice. “What do you mean? I am dressed up…” Spencer smoothed over his shirt.

“I’m an existentialist.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you couldn’t help but laugh. He was such a dork, but you couldn’t help but admire him for it.

“Besides, it looks like you’re the star of our Halloween night…” Spencer smiled softly, his eyes running over you as he admired your costume.

The soft blush on your cheeks was undeniable, smiling sweetly at him. “Thanks Spence… come in.” You pulled the door open wider, watching him walk inside and take in the surroundings of your home.

He saw the giant bowl of candy, meant for any trick or treaters who were to pass by the house but couldn’t help but take a piece for himself.

“Got a lot to choose from…” he smiled as he unwrapped the piece of candy, putting it in his mouth and chewing slowly.

Smiling at him, you nodded. “Whoever comes to the door is gonna have a hard time choosing…”

There was undoubtedly tension between you both, you had no problems speaking when you were at work together but now? The air was just full of unspoken feelings and longing…

“Uhm… i have some movies that we can watch, if you’re wanting to watch something…” you turned around, trying to break the silence that surrounded you both.

“I have Halloween, The Lost Boys, Scream, The Thing- take your pick.” You handed him the DVDS that you had in your hand, he takes them and momentarily grazes his fingers on yours, making the flush on your cheeks burn brighter as you watch him go through the selection of movies.

“The Lost Boys first?” He grinned, seeing the smile on your face.

“My favourite… yes let’s do it.”

The doorbell rang, hearing a muffled “trick or treat!” From behind the wood.

“I’ll get the door… you pop the movie in yeah?” You looked to him as you grabbed the candy bowl.

“Yeah of course.” He looked as you turned around, admiring the way that you looked in your costume as you answered the door to the trick or treaters.

In that time you took handing out candy and closed the door, Spencer had taken a seat on your couch ready to watch the movie, waiting for you to come sit beside him.

Upon your return, Spencer smiled up at you as you sat down. Ready to watch as he pressed play.

The movie plays, the title card with the aerial shot of the carnival in Santa Carla is in view and you focus on the screen- Spencer, trying to get avert his eyes to the screen was looking at you, he couldn’t get over how you looked in that outfit…

He felt bad for not watching the movie, but he enjoyed watching you. He could see the excitement in your eyes as the vampires on their bikes driving off through the sandy dunes and smiled softly at your reactions.

You could feel his eyes on you, knowing that he wasn’t paying attention- but you couldn’t help but love that he was watching you instead of the movie.

You turned to face him, A dash of confidence building up inside you.

“Spence?” You whispered, locking eye contact with him.

Spencer’s eyes went wide and he swallowed hard.

“I-I um…” he stuttered, not being able to look you in the eye. His nervousness settling in as he looked toward his lap.

Using your index finger you pulled his chin up, making him look at you.

“Do you like what you see Spence?” You whisper, your sweet tone sending a shiver down his spine.

Of course he did, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you in your costume.

“Yes…” he whispered, watching you move closer toward him. The gap between you both was agonisingly thin, his pupils blown with desire for you.

Leaning in further, you could feel his shallow, shaky breaths on your lips- feeling his needy desire for you buzzing off of him.

“Do you want this? Do you want me?” You said quietly, smiling at the hitch in his throat.

“Yes… god yes.” He whined, there was nothing in that moment that he wanted more than to have you… to take you.

Taking that opportunity, you moved forward and captured his lips with yours, tasting the lingering candy on his tongue.

Spencer couldn’t help the soft moan that came from within him as you kissed, his slender fingers coming up to your cheek but pausing within an inch of you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, watching as you nodded. He pulled you into him, his other arm snaking around you and holding you closer as he kissed you once more.

Your hands reached his chest, slowly unbutton his shirt and splaying it open to reveal his torso.

“Pretty boy…” you praised him as you pulled away from his kiss; watching his chest rise and fall shakily at your touch as your fingers ghosted along his warm skin toward the button of his pants, a tent evidently filled the space in front of his zipper.

“W-wait-“ he panted, gently taking your wrist. Leaning forward he encapsulated your lips again. “I-I need to taste you, please.” Spencer’s voice was yearning.

“Hmm…” you replied, a smirk appearing on your lips. “I think that can be arranged.” Spencer watched as you stood up, extending your hand to him.

Taking your hand, he followed you down the hallway to your room. Closing the door behind you Spencer took your waist, walking you backwards to the edge of the bed and lay you down- splayed out for him as your split of your black dress bared your fishnet clad legs.

Spencer looked down at you, in awe of how beautiful he thought you looked in your outfit as he sat down on his knees by the edge of the bed.

His long fingers traced along your thighs, feeling the flimsy material of the tights. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, hands tracing further up your legs to your pelvis.

With a shaky breath, he traced lightly along the front of you- your body quivering for more.

“Can I?” He whispered, looking up at you for permission. After seeing you nod, he didn’t hesitate to dig his fingers in the tights, ripping them open to reveal what lay beneath them making you gasp.

“Spence those were my good ones…” you giggled softly. “I’ll buy you another- fuck I’ll buy you 10 pairs… they look so good.” He praised you, moving closer to where you wanted him most.

So beautiful.” Spencer was in awe as he played with the elastic of your underwear and pulling it to the side, admiring your glistening cunt.

Placing a few kisses to your thighs, he traces his lips up to your pussy- flattening his tongue against you before bringing the tip of it to your clit, swirling around the sensitive nub.

The taste of you was going to be the death of him, moaning at how good it felt- something he could never get enough of.

“Spence….” You breathed out, your hands reaching for his brown hair and pulling at them- eliciting a sudden moan from him as he continued his assault with his tongue.

Your noises filled the room, each going an octave higher as he you reached your peak, the grip on his hair getting tighter as you came hard on his lips and tongue.

Spencer looked up at you, his lips wet with your desire and his eyes filled with want.

Your eyes followed him as he stood up. Starting to fiddle with the button of his pants and letting them fall to the ground at his feet, leaving him in his briefs.

All you could do was stare- your eyes raking over his form, seeing the tent that had formed under his briefs.

He watched your eyes and smirked slightly as he toyed with the elastic, hooking his thumbs under the material and pulling them down setting himself free.

Him standing bare before you was a sight for sore eyes. “God Spencer…” you whispered, admiring him as you went to take off your costume- but he objected.

“Leave it on… please.” He pleaded. “I wanna take you like this…” he said shyly as he took a step over to you and crawled on top the sheets, hovering over you.

He looked over you, seeing you eye him from below in awe- the yearning to feel you overwhelming as he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with his tip.

“C-can I?” He whispered, his face coming down a few inches from you as you nodded enthusiastically. “Yes Spencer, please…”

Slowly and steadily, he started to move himself inside you- a gasp falling from his lips he moved his hips, listening and watching as your mouth fell open; the most heavenly sound that has ever hit his ears falling from your lips- calling his name and your fingers digging into his shoulders.

His thrusts became faster, more desperate. The eagerness to please you, to feel you- to make you cum the only goal on his mind.

“I-is this good? Please tell me it feels good-“ he was panting, desperate to hear you praise him. “Sp-Spence you feel so good- so good f’me…” you couldn’t help the shuddering words that came out, ecstasy building up in your core.

A small whimper rolled out of Spencer at your praise, whining as he continued rolling his hips into yours. The pressure of his orgasm was building up inside him quickly.

“I-I’m not gonna last.” He whispered, another whine following his words.

“Let go Spencer, please…”

Spencer’s thrusts became more erratic as he watched you fall over the edge- calling out his name as you came hard around him, clenching yourself around his cock.

His breathing became jagged as he felt himself twitch inside you, his orgasm hitting him like a tidal wave as his cum coated your walls.

“God you’re- you’re so beautiful, so perfect…” he watched as you glanced up at him with half lidded eyes and parted lips that had messy red lipstick all over them, basking in the after glow. His hair stuck to his temples, making you giggle as you unstuck it from his head. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that, wanted you…” you smiled, touching his cheek gently as though he was made of glass.

Spencer leaned into your touch, his pupils blown with admiration. “Me too…”

There was a silence between you both, before he piped up once more.

“Definitely the best Halloween I’ve had.” He smiled at his own sentence, making you giggle as he lay down beside you- giving soft touches as he held you close- content with being there in that moment with you.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Drabble List #10

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"Thank you, I really hate it."

"Can't figure out the right answer."

"Sit down and shut up."

"I'm definitely open to that."

"Why don't you answer your phone?"

"It's not a witchhunt."

"Is it suddenly getting colder?"

"That child is staring at you."

"Let's talk about some options."

"And then you just lost it?"

"Have you heard about this story?"

"It's going to be a great day today."

"Don't say another word."

"This is absolutely not my fault."

"What would happen if I'd kiss you right now?"

"It's always a risk, but think about the reward."

"There is a fine line between stupid and genius."

"I never really left."

"Answer me. Quickly."

"You hold no power here."

"We learn from our mistakes."

"Have you seen that the sun is coming out?"

"This sounds like an interogation."

"Should I call my lawyer?"

"I have always admired you."

"Who's at your house right now?"

"Call the number. Now."

"When are you getting paid?"

"It miraculously stopped working."

"I have absolutely no answers to your questions."

"You took us on a wild ride there."

"What did she look like?"

"That's a scam, ma'am."

"Let's see each other again in ten years."

"I will be waiting for you."

"Please, don't pick me."

"Not my friends, not my problem."

"It's not paranoia if they are really out to get you."

"You are such a hypocrite."

"Nobody asked me, but I will answer."

"How did you get your degree?"

"I'm not going to discuss this with you."

"Great, who cares?"

"You just can't handle the truth."

"I'm curious about your motive."

"Respect is not given freely."

"Your pride will be your downfall."

"Just let it go, okay?"

"Why do you insist on it?"

"Seeing you like this, I fell even more in love with you."

"I don't want to hear another word coming out of your mouth!"

"I just know that everything will go well."

"This is very important for me."

"Wow, the weather is really... doing its thing."

"Don't even try to talk to me."

"I can and I will sue."

"Maybe this was a mistake."

"Do I make you nervous?"

"You never had the best ideas."

"Don't wait for me."

"Who would you call?"

"That's too wild for me."

"You can't even say it with a straight face."

"I told you not to touch that."

"Do I really have to answer that?"

"Takes one to know one.

"Let me make this right."

"When did you become an expert in this?"

"Nothing is as serious as it seems."

"How could this accidently happen?"

"It's not my birthday."

"Sounds like wishful thinking."

"Welcome to my personal hell."

"Do you even know who I am?"

"The devil knows I tried."

Drabble Masterlist

Have fun creating and writing!

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