#thirteen ghosts prompts

[stardustprompts]

thirteen ghosts  sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw ;  language , blood , death

'oh, bad! that's one way to describe it. uh, 'insane' seems a little more appropriate.'

'it is my professional opinion that we should get the hell out of here. now!'

'I just need to take the edge off.'

'careful, (name). don't get too curious.'

'who are you to play god?'

'playing's for children.'

'I thought you were psychic.'

'that's not how it works and you know it!'

'perhaps we'll meet again in another life.'

'you crazy son of a bitch, what did you do?'

'you're being paranoid and overprotective.'

'I know this is gonna sound completely whacked, alright? but I need you to stay with me.'

'don't laugh at me.'

'not so fast, you gotta cater to my ego first.'

'don't touch me.'

'how's your head?'

'they're kids, what'd you expect?'

'just this once, don't argue with me.'

'what part of that code are you having trouble cracking?'

'I don't see any ghosts.'

'I want you to do me a favor and stop with all the haunted house nonsense. okay?'

'you don't have to scream, alright? just ... chill.'

'no, I don't think we should split up.'

'I told you, I can't see any ghosts.'

'it's a ghost! just like I've been saying all night.'

'there are ghosts around us all the time. most of them, they can't hurt is. most of them don't wanna hurt us. but there are exceptions.'

'there's no such thing as ghosts.'

'don't speak. don't move.'

'I don't think you should be teasing the ghost.'

'it looks to me like I'm saving your ass.'

'if you want help, you gotta help me first.'

'can I rely on you not to get me killed?'

'what the hell are you doing here?!'

'stop dragging your ass, man!'

'you got something to say, say it.'

'let's start with this is all your goddamn fault!'

'if you haven't noticed, I'm a little bit of a freak!'

'I touch somebody, and a whole life full of shit just flashes in front of my eyes!'

'so yeah, I'm depraved. and (name) was my friend and he accepted me!'

'he didn't accept you, you're pathetic! he used you!'

'god, I've been trying to help you.'

'love is the most powerful energy.'

'I don't read latin.'

'it doesn't add up. it doesn't make any sense. there's gotta be a better way.'

'how much of this equation makes any sense at all?'

'I sure as hell hope I don't bleed to death, 'cuz that would suck.'

'why are you so mad at me? I did everything you asked me to do.'

'you're not mad at me, are you?'

'I've been looking for a reason to like myself for a long time.'

'greatness requires sacrifice.'

'I'm nothing without you.'

'the world has no time for little people like you. it needs people who are willing to do anything for greatness.'

'I am sick of this nanny shit.'

'this was not in the job description. I quit!'

[augment-techs]

I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE "Really nice guy who only hates you" + Javelia JUST CAUZ :D

( i don’t mind the word limit XD)

She hadn't even been LOOKING for a haunted apartment; she just wanted to live somewhere within walking distance of her new campus that didn't cost an arm and a leg (aka the bulk of her shitty coffee shop job) that didn't smell like piss and body odor.

But even if Amelia had been looking for somewhere that was supposed to be haunted, she probably still wouldn't have signed a lease so airtight after the (extremely sexy) ghost decided his fun came in being a petty bitch...

@skyland2703

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Good Fortune pop-up event.

Hawkins, Indiana: Birthplace of Corroded Coffin

Prompt: Fortune #7 - A single kind word can keep one warm for years, Mouth & Thirteen | Word Count: 2025 | Rating: E | CW: Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol Use | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Steddie | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Future Fic, Reconnecting, Old Friends to Lovers, Eddie & Gareth are Best Friends

The lights are bright and the crowd is loud, and he's just a little bit buzzed from the shots before they took the stage, but Eddie is absolutely certain that three rows back, dead center, is Steve Harrington. There's no way it isn't him. Even older, even if Eddie hasn't seen him in years, it's him. It helps that he's standing next to Henderson, for the love of god, and a whole slew of other familiar faces that Eddie mostly hasn't seen in years.

He's sure he's not seeing ghosts. Just old friends that have traveled from all over just to see them here together tonight. 

And that's all Eddie can think about during the whole show. He tries to shake it off, tries to act like it's completely normal to have that many familiar faces in the crowd watching them perform, but it's not. In fact, it had never even crossed his mind when they landed in Indianapolis that this would somehow be a hometown show.

Eddie didn't invite anyone, didn't draw attention to it, because they don't claim Indiana. It's not home, not anymore. Hawkins told them to fuck off, and they've decided to say it right back. Hawkins can't stake a claim on them now. If they didn't want them around back then, if the majority of the town would have preferred to see Eddie dead, well, fuck them. They don't deserve to have them now that they've made a name for themselves.

Maybe that's petty. But Eddie stands by it.

He'll never set foot in that town again. Not for anything, or anyone.

Wayne understood, and washed his hands of Hawkins, too.

So, they kind of avoid Indiana in general, and aren't exactly in contact with the majority of Hawkins these days. 

Sure, Henderson and the other sheepies have made shows here and there all over the country, but going home? To that hell hole? Absolutely not. 

But seeing them all in the crowd, together again, just to see him? Fuck. It does something to Eddie that he can't explain.

After the show, Steve picks Eddie up and hugs him, cracking his back in the process.

Eddie laughs.

Nobody treats Eddie like this anymore, except for Wayne and the other guys in the band, so it's a nice change of pace to know that Steve still sees him as Eddie. Not Eddie Munson, business commodity. 

"How are you man? How's the high life?" Steve asks, and Eddie tosses his head back, laughing. Steve hasn't changed. He's a little dorky, and a lot good dude. 

"Good," Eddie says with a smile, "I'm good. How're you?"

"Good, good. I'm good."

"Still in Hawkins?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods.

Eddie doesn't see how Steve can do it, but of course they didn't try to hang Steve in the town square. Deemed guilty by the court of public opinion before the blood he didn't spill had even dried.

This is Steve Harrington, Eddie's sure he's an upstanding member of society.

"Want to get a drink?" Eddie asks, because he can't in good conscience let Steve disappear that easily. If Steve came all this way, Eddie at least needs to keep him a little bit longer.

Two drinks turn into wandering hands, and when Steve corners him in the hallway of the hotel bar back by the bathroom, Eddie leans into it. Presses against Steve, straddling Steve's thigh, grinding against him. 

"Fuck," Steve says, and that's definitely the idea, as far as Eddie's concerned. They try to keep their hands to themselves until they're in Eddie's hotel room, but then all bets are off, clearly.

Eddie couldn't have dreamed of this, even if he'd been making unattainable wishes.

It's fun, and familiar, even if it's not anything they've ever done together before. 

Eddie needed this. Needed to laugh, and fuck, to just unwind with someone he trusts with his life, not to mention his body.

Steve Harrington wanted to have sex with him, as familiar, old friends. Because, yeah, clearly they have some mutual attraction, but that's not unusual. Eddie's been attracted to lots of people over the years, and he's fucked more than he can count. Men, women. They don't mean anything, but tonight Steve crawled in his bed because he likes Eddie as a person, knows him, and trusts that they'll have fun together, not because he's famous. That's a gift. One Eddie hasn't gotten in a really long time.

Eddie rolls onto his back, and opens his thighs. 

"What do you need?" Steve asks, looking up at him with those warm eyes. And it is a need, not just a want. He's right about that.

Everything. He wants everything.

"Your mouth," he says, then, "your cock." He can't decide. 

Steve laughs, then says, "Deal," with a grin.

Eddie throws his arm over his eyes, and then realizes he doesn't want to miss this, he wants to see it all. And he knows that was a great decision, when Steve takes him into his mouth.

Holy shit. Steve Harrington, with his hair falling over his forehead, is sucking his dick, and goddamn well.

"Goddamn, Harrington," Eddie teases, and Steve pulls off just long enough to smile a smile that settles between Eddie's ribs and takes up residence.

Eddie hasn't done this in forever, but he melts into the sheets as Steve fucks his fingers in and out of his body. He's ready. He's so beyond ready for Steve to fuck him.

"Steve, now," Eddie says. 

And Steve nods, and Eddie watches as Steve rolls a condom down his impressive cock. Then he's lining up and pressing inside. A slow, steady slide. He's open, and oh so fucking ready. His cock is hard, laying against his belly, a sign of trust, of pleasure, that he doesn't take for granted.

Steve Harrington won't hurt him. Steve Harrington saved him once, and goddamn, he might be doing it again right now.

Eddie groans. It feels so good. He hasn't trusted anybody to do this for him in a long, long time. But he knows that Steve will take real good care of him. Steve always takes good care of everyone.

And tonight is no different. Steve builds a rhythm, finding all the right places in Eddie's body, in his heart, and when Eddie comes, he laughs. He's gonna chase this particular high for the rest of his life, guaranteed.

It's morning, and the plane leaves in an hour. Flying private does save time, but he's pushing it.

Steve leans over, dressed, ready to go, and kisses him goodbye.

"It was good to see you. Maybe don't wait another dozen years," Steve says, and then with a smile, he's gone.

Another month of shows, nothing out of the ordinary, but it's been so fucking rough. Eddie can't even explain why. Nothing has changed. They've been in the swing of touring for a very long time. But he suddenly feels like he's lost all his mojo. Like he's trying to force a square peg into a round hole.

He's frustrated. Musically, and sexually, if he's honest. Nobody is holding a candle to a night with Steve Harrington, and he wishes he was surprised by that.

"Go."

Eddie jerks his head up, "What?"

Gareth smiles, "You heard me. Go."

"Go where?" Eddie asks, fiddling with the strings of his guitar, just for something to do.

"Go home. To him," Gareth answers, and Eddie knew that's what he meant.

Eddie sits there for a moment longer, and Gareth shoots him a look, "Go." 

He goes.

Their chartered plane is tied up elsewhere, so it takes waiting in an airport for nearly a day, with flight after flight falling through. Holiday travel has the airports busy, and the weather is keeping flights delayed.

He's in a private lounge, so he's not being bothered by anybody, but it's making him nervous, and a little bit crazy. He wonders if he should hit one of the pay phones and call Steve, warn him that he's coming in.

He doesn't. He thinks, no matter how this goes, that Steve will be happy to see him if his reaction after the show is anything to go by.

But he's going home for the first time in over a decade, because he wants to see Steve. Needs to. Because what he felt that night, seeing him again, isn't something he's felt in a very long time.

Steve doesn't seem all that surprised to see him, but he welcomes him with open arms.

"I can't believe I'm back in this town," Eddie says. "How can such a shithole have you in it?"

Steve laughs.

"At least they took down the fucking sign declaring Hawkins the birthplace of Corroded Coffin. Like hell it is."

Steve smiles, a twinkle in his eye.

"Come with me," Steve says, and Eddie follows him out the back door and towards a little shed. He can't imagine what Steve needs to show him out here, but after Vecna, and all the shit that happened in the Upside Down, if Steve Harrington says jump, Eddie will only ask how high.

The shed has three padlocks, and Eddie is suddenly scared he's gonna be a headline. He doesn't really know Steve Harrington anymore. He could be a serial killer. 

He laughs to himself.

"It's not a serial killer shed," Steve says, as if he can read his mind.

"I didn't think that," Eddie says.

He totally thought that.

Steve unlocks the last padlock and swings open the door.

Eddie's stunned. 

There's at least a dozen road signs, all proclaiming Hawkins, Indiana: Birthplace of Corroded Coffin.

Eddie laughs, cackles, honestly.

"You didn't?" he asks, and Steve grins.

"I absolutely did. Every last one. They finally stopped putting them back up. They blamed the kids wanting them for souvenirs, not the middle school phys ed teacher stealing them because I knew how much you'd hate them."

Eddie loves him more than he's ever loved anyone, he's pretty sure. He can't believe Steve did this for them, he wasn't even in contact with any of them. 

"How did you know…?" Eddie trails off, not sure how to word it.

"That you'd hate it?" Steve asks.

And Eddie nods.

"You never came home, and for good reason. They didn't deserve to say you were theirs. You were always ours, though. We're really proud of you."

Eddie barrels into him, hugging him tight, "Thanks, Steve."

"It was nothing," he says, and then he grins, "Robin helped."

"Hell yeah, Buckley did."

Ten Years Later

"It was go," Eddie says in the interview chair that he's been in for hours. Press junkets are the fucking worst. 

"Go?" the interviewer asks.

Eddie nods, "You asked for the kindest word I've ever been told. Go."

"Do you want to elaborate?" she asks, trying to probe.

"Not really," he says, but offers a smile, and she returns it.

It's his secret. His and Gareth's, he supposes, but it changed the whole trajectory of his life. Warming up all the coldness that he hadn't even realized he was feeling until Steve Harrington waltzed back into his life.

Gareth told him to go, set him free, trusting that he'd return back to the band better than he left it.

He did.

With Steve, he's better. Happier. Their music has only gotten better with Eddie settled into his own skin, his own love. He has a home, even if god-fucking-forbid, it's in Hawkins, Indiana: Birthplace of Corroded Coffin.

Once word got out, they put up another sign.

Eddie stole it. The very last sign Hawkins ever tried to put up.

They arrested him, and he smiled for his mugshot.

Eventually the charges were dropped. They were far too embarrassed to actually try him for stealing his own sign, unwilling to put him on the stand to ask him why.

He'd love to tell him.

So, Hawkins has left him alone, and he's made peace that he may never forgive and forget, but Steve's whole life is here, and that means Eddie's gonna be here, too.

They let him keep the sign. It's in the shed with the other thirteen.

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

Notes: I'm always such a sucker for Eddie making peace with Hawkins stories. They probably don't deserve it, but he does.

[skyahri]

This is my current prompt list. Some are more developed than others and there's a few things I'm working on that aren't on here because, well, I just don't wanna share them lol. Feel free to use these as you will but please tag me! I appreciate the credit and I genuinely just wanna see what yall do with these.

MHA

Class 1A thinks Aizawa is lonely, so they steal his phone and download a dating app. Little do they know he's been married for almost a decade.

You and Bakugou reveal you're having a baby! You decide to surprise your friends before making it public, but it's turns out they didn't know you were even dating.

You'll be assisting Midnight and Thirteen in overseeing the female students at the UA Dorms. Upon meeting, Aizawa immediately dismisses you due to your less-than-professional style choices. Little does he know that your big smiles, frilly skirts, and cutesy heels are a stark contrast to your firm and assertive mindset.

Aizawa is picking Eri up from school when he runs into you- a classmates parent wanting to invite Eri to your daughter's birthday slumber party. For obvious reasons, Aizawa has reservations, but you offer to host them before hand to ease his worries. The whole thing seems terribly bothersome, but the pleading look in Eris eyes forces him to agree. Turns out, you're not so bad after all.

FTM Bakugou who is accidently outed by Inko Midoriya courtesy of baby pictures. Deku saves him in that moment, but he knows it's time to actually tell his friends. He starts with Kirishima.

(NSFW) You have a hybrid quirk and go through an estrus every six weeks after hitting sexual maturity. Still busy with your life as a third year UA student and unable to outsource your issue beyond the school walls, you look to someone just as pent up as you are. Luckily, Katsuki is more than willing to take the bait after you threaten to ask Deku of all people.

Pro hero Dynamite was spotted in public with a woman- wait, is that a wedding ring?! He'd done his best to keep you secret, not wanting you to experience the negativity associated with being romantically involved with someone famous. When fans find out, he prepares for the worst, but- wait... it seems they... love you? Possibly more than him, too!

(NSFW) After convincing Yagi to take over Aizawa's dorm duty tonight, you both make your way to a frat party being thrown at your college. He's definitely out if his element, but when his pretty little girlfriend begs him to dress up as Ghost Face and come along, he can't say no can he? Especially not when youre dragging him into the crowded kitchen for a drink and sit on the countertop, your short skirt riding up just a bit and- well, hes still a man at the end of the day. Too bad it's ruined by a handful of problem children who snuck out to be here. (All students are of age and in their third year. They just wanted to party lol)

Yamada finds a box of old pictures in Aizawas closet. When he comes across some from their teenage years, Aizawa remembers how happy you used to be before everything changed. When did you stop being... you?

(NSFW) A run of the mill mission goes sideways when the Villains have an unexpected player on their side. In an effort to protect your students from whatever mystery powder that's been thrown your way, you take the full force of what seems to be... sex pollen? You're able to save face for the remainder of the mission, but your composure is slipping quickly. Luckily, one of your coworkers is more than willing to help you deal with the... side effects.

Naruto

It's Kakashi's inauguration and Team seven is stoked! But wait, who's that woman standing next to their sensei at the podium?!

The village elders have been bothering Sasuke about reviving the Uchiha clan, going so far as offering to find a suitable candidate on his behalf. He initially declines, but as time goes on and he has yet to find a decent woman, he begrudgingly accepts.

Kakashi tasks his genin with watching over a civilian woman while he's away on a mission. Its simple enough, right? When he returns to the village and finds out they completely fumbled the mission, he's pissed. I mean how hard is it to keep his pregnant wife safe for three days?!

Kakashi has always seen his students as young, but has never thought of himself as old. Well, not until he's picking his kid up from school, where he runs into his former students, who are also picking their kids up. It doesn't help that Naruto and Sakura encourage their kids to call Kakashi 'Grandpa'.

Sasukes only friend is Naruto. That was fine when they were kids and practically only had each other, but now the blonde was a somebody, and that meant his time would have to be divided. Luckily you're around pester him in all the right ways.

(NSFW) Kakashi learns he has a size kink.

Tenzo is leading team seven back to the village, but he needs to make a stop first. It's a quick errand, one that will surely aid Narutos training, but might be a little difficult. They arrive at a house in the middle of the woods where you're already waiting for them. You look a little familiar, though. Almost like Pervy sage! (Jiraiya/Tsunade secret love child au lol)

Shikamaru is an attractive guy. He's handsome, smart, and cares deeply for his loved ones. Aside from how lazy he can be, there's nothing wrong with him. So why is it when he's seen around with you- the prettiest girl in the village- no one thinks anything of it?

Kakashi is wandering the village when he sees a new face moving into his apartment building, actually, right across the hall from him. When you turn around, he finally sees the baby strapped to your back. Being the gentleman he is (more so bored since his forced retirement), he helps you bring the remaining items upstairs. Then helps build them. And also takes you up on your offer for dinner.

Someone is messing with team seven, distracting them from their training. After spending all day trying to figure out who's behind the pranks, they come face to face with a little girl, hiding behind an oddly complex genjutsu in the trees. When captured and brought to their sensei, he taunts his students for getting bested by his six year old daughter.

ATLA

Zuko is tired of palace life, but as the Fire Lord, he can't exactly walk into town for a normal outting. He waits for the Autumn Mask Festival to sneak out, where he runs into you- a stranger willing to help him have as much fun as possible. Turns out you're the palace gardener, who immediately recognized him and decided to take matters into your own hands.

You're the decendant of an air nomad who was away from the temples to gather supplies during the raid 100 years ago. Your lineage is a well kept secret hidden smack dab in the middle of the fire nation and your parents have been diligent on passing down the knowledge of the air benders. When you hear of the avatars revival, you make your way to them and offer your teachings.

JJK

The kids having to tell their pseudo parents wives that they were KIA. Yuuji/Nanami, Megumi/Gojo.

Suguru Visits you one last time before he disappears, unknowingly leaving you pregnant. Its a secret you swear you'll take to your grave, but things get a little complicated when you start to see the curses hed been telling you about your whole lives. Then, at six years old, your daughter touches one of the creatures you'd been steering her away from, and it turns into an orb. You have no choice but to dig through Sugurus old things to find his phone and contact the one person you know could help.

Nanami lives across the hall from you. He's older, has a great job, and is a total buzzkill- but that only makes him all the hotter. Youre young, still in college, and incredibly annoying. He swears you speak another language- one chocked full of obscure references and inflated by flamboyant body language. You pester him in the halls and knock on his door to offer pastries at ungodly hours, so why did he hand over his phone so easily when you adk for his number? [Bonus!] Its been two months since your neighborly antics have turned into a full-blown friendship! You've spammed his phone with cacophony of memes and lore that he doesn't understand. You call him between classes and let yourself into his apartment to leave treats on his counter. He wants to be bothered, really, but can't find it in himself to be. You've just handed him an invitation to your masters ceremony- wait, what? His ditzy neighbor is getting her masters in aerospace engineering?!

Nosey teenage Yuuji is peering over his older brother, Sukuna's, shoulder and sees him texting a girl. He tells anyone and everyone who will listen, making them curious as to who this mystery woman could possibly be. Backed into a corner, he finally introduces you to, well, everyone, and they're shocked to find out youre a total ray of sunshine! Kind, bubbly, and a kindergarten teacher to top it off.

Sukuna, the King of Curses, is not a patient or forgiving man, but for some unknown reason, he allowed you to do as you pleased with him. You spoke freely and touched without permission, a gift youve never come close to abusing. One day he comes home from God knows what, in an obviously sour mood, and while you proceed with what you think is a good attempt to quell his anger, you're met with a slice to your cheek. It's minor, likely to not even scar, but the act is enough to cause a rift in your relationship and he has to find a way to mend it.

(NSFW) You're the best physics tutor at Yuuji's university and he's in desperate need of help. With more students than private rooms in the library, you settle on sessions at his unlces house. It's Saturday morning, you're gearing up to write an essay, only to discover you've left your laptop at his place- but that's no problem, because his uncle is home and can eat you in. Too bad he left out the part about how hot Sukuna is.

Lmao color-blind Heien Era Sukuna.

It's the middle of the night and you've been ditched by your friends at a club down town. With the last round of drinks kicking in and your phone battery running low, you call the only person guaranteed to be available on a Saturday night. Too bad that person is Yuuji's asshole older brother who's always been a little extra mean to you.

Nanami notices the shift almost immediately. In the five years you've been celebrating events at the nice restaurant down town, you've always ordered the salmon. Last time, however, you ordered steak despite how often you complain of red meat upsetting your stomach. Your occasional pining for sweet treats has become a nightly routine. A few bites of ice cream out of the freezer or something you grabbed from the konbini on the way home. Youve never used the restroom in the middle of the night before, but it's been a pattern the past two weeks. The final straw was your increased drowsiness. Youve always been an early riser, often beating the sun, but your internal clock has shifted forward. The addition of naps to your days does not go unnoticed by the blonde. You don't think much about any of these things until your husband is placing a box of pregnancy tests in your hand and asking you to trust him.

Suguru isn't sure why he agreed to a blind date set up by Satoru of all people. He's busy thinking of ways to politely escape whatever the blonde could have possibly sent his way, when he notices you taking the seat in front of his. He'd been expecting a loud, ditzy, party girl- not too unlike the ones his friend brings home on the regular- not this. No, youre obviously of higher class, someone closer to Satoru's status, if the quality of your clothing is anything to go by. You offer your name as well as your relation to Gojo, and its no surprise that your father's are long time business partners. By the end of dinner hes asking for your number, damn near vibrating in place as you type it into his contacts and send a little heart emoji to yourself so you have his too.

Your friends are complaining about men. You're happily listening, not having much to add since you're in a happy relationship, but one thing catches you're attention. "Isn't six inches kind of small?" Well, no, it's not. Apparently your boyfriend is very gifted, something you were unaware of since he's the only man you've ever been with. (Heavy Toji coded)

You don't know how you ended up here, sitting on the edge of Shoko's bed, bodies awkwardly contorted so your knees are touching hers. Her hand is in your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss. She tastes like smoke, something so undeniably her.

In an attempt to prank Nanami, Gojo breaks into his apartment to leave a little something on his counter. As soon as the front door opens, though, he's met with a frying pan stopped just short of his face. He looks from the object to you- a civilian woman dressed in only a button down- but before he can say anything you're already retreating further into the apartment. It's easy to piece together that this intruder is like your husband, so you do as instructed and run into your room, hide under the bed, and call him. He's rushes home, nearly causing an accident in the process, and is pissed to find out the threat is only his annoying coworker. He coaxes you out of the room, open arms ready and waiting for the adrenaline drop youre sure to experience. When all is settled, Gojo's only defense is that he didn't know Nanami was married.

Toji has never felt old until he met you. You bartend at the club he frequents and after shooting his shot for what had to be the hundredth time, you finally agreed to a date. Then another. And another. And suddenly he was completely immersed in the world of his twenty four year old girlfriend. It was fun at first the drinking and dancing and partying- but he's not as young as he used to be and the liquor is catching up to him. At his wits end, he finally confesses that he can't keep up. Luckily for him, youre more than happy to stay in wit your old man boyfriend.

Baby daddy Sukuna who only recently got his shit together. You'd had enough of the in and out- the inconsistency, the empty promises, the lack of support- it was all affecting your daughter. He either needed to sober up and stay out of jail or you'd move forward with terminating his rights to your daughter.

Sukuna is in charge of the company while his father is in the states for the next month. His first order of business? Firing you- his father's bratty secretary. When Wasuke finally returns and sees his prized assistant gone, he panics, thinking his son drove you away. When he learns the truth, Sukuna is sent to beg for your forgiveness.

Streamer Sukuna, who plays first person shooters and horror games, collabs with you, someone known for their soothing minecraft asmr and animal crossing videos.

Gojo thinks you've been dating for the past year while you've been pining in secret, having no idea that this man was in wayyy deeper than you.

Gojo couldn't possibly be married, right? Then who was he on the phone with that could've had such an intimate contact name? That he was calling dear and love? Yuuji and Nobara are on the case! Too bad they could've just asked Megumi, who would've told them that his pseudo father is not just married, but a father as well.

Fairy Tail

You've known Laxus a long time, always by his side to support him, even if you didn't agree with his actions, and his banishment doesn't change that. One day during your travels, he tells you to stand by, that he can feel the guild pulling him and he'll be back soon. When a month passes and there's no sign of him, you venture back to the guild only to be met with terrible news. What's worse, is youre three months pregnant.

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Thirteen: love notes

tw: anxiety

Simon stares at the bathtub. 

It hasn’t changed a bit over the last decade or so. No, it’s been a lifetime ago since he was thrown into this tub and its frigid water. It still has the same pale, cracked tiles with ancient peeling caulk. Perhaps the spout is a bit more rusty than he recalls—tiny speckles dot the iron like high impact splatters in old, oxidized blood brown. They sit and fester, like cancer growths on decaying lungs. 

He swallows and doesn’t appreciate how tight his throat is. Serpentine constrictions plague his neck as if he were a tasty mouse—he’s surprised he can even breathe. This feeling is so unfamiliar to him. He’s removed himself from this agonizing fear for so long, and now he doesn’t know how to force it into submission. He doesn’t remember how to be strong. All he knows is that if he were to compare his nose to the dent on the spout, the scars would match. 

A fluffy cotton towel and fresh set of clothes rest on the corner of the counter next to the sink. It screams at him. It reminds him of what he came here to do. 

It’s only water. He’s bigger now. 

Five minutes, he promises himself—five minutes, and that’s it. 

In reality, it’s significantly less than that. Short hair is easy enough to wash and rinse, as is his body. A part of him is used to washing up quickly, in some terrified way. Less time under water, the better. Less time in here, the better. Without any blood or grime to scrub away, he’s even more efficient. Soap, scrub, rinse, repeat. 

Soap, scrub, breathe—breathe. 

Then, the tiles start to whisper to him. Hushed echoes of the past bounce around at his feet, saturating the tub, filling it up until it’s at his knees. It's all briny tears, spit, and viscous snot. Muffled cries that can’t quite leave his throat. Childish begging. The yearning for his mother. Angry fists gripping his shirt. 

An unceremonious squeak sounds as the water ceases. Fat drops dribble out of the showerhead as clawed fingers drag the curtain open, cold air rushing in to meet his exposed body. Old scars pucker and dance along his skin as goosebumps form, and he sucks in a breath through the brume wafting around him. Pale blue walls turn grey—like dead, rotting flesh. He swallows. His throat is still tight. 

Soft cotton rubs across his abrasive skin as he dries himself and quickly dresses. Moisture wicks from his skin and it feels like sweat instantly replaces it. It seeps from his skin as anxiety brews into something tangible and rotten. A thin fog obscures the mirror he attempts to look at, leaving only the shadow of him on its surface. Huffing, he rubs his bare hand across the glass. With such heavy nervosity gripping his throat, he half expects to see a scared child as the image of himself forms. Instead, it’s him. 

Just him—his father’s eyes and all. 

A knock declares itself with a sharp crack, but Simon’s eyes don’t wander a bit. He stays, hands on either side of the counter, gripping the tile as if he’ll fall through the floor if he doesn’t. The only thing that prompts him to finally move, to crack the stone encasing his body, is the soft sound of anxious feet shuffling against the floor outside the room. 

When Simon opens the door, you’re certain you’ve upset him somehow. Furrowed brows and firm set lips make your hands tense, nearly snapping your toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste in half. You look up at him like a wounded animal. Tail between your legs, lip caught in your teeth—you try to smile, but the malaise hanging around him is thick enough to suffocate even you.

Then, something snaps. He melts. His eyes soften as his shoulders fall, and his lips part to speak only to then say nothing. He looks you up and down, still dressed in your pajamas, and then smiles. 

“Am I takin’ too long?” he teases. 

“No, just wondering if I could squeeze in real quick to brush my teeth before breakfast,” you sheepishly admit. 

Warmth swirls around your body and envelops you as Simon steps to the side, letting you steal a spot at the counter. Though he smiles at you kindly, something feels wrong with that room. It festers like a bad wound—a dead body that wasn’t quite cleaned up. Spoiled viscera still soaks the floor for the flies to eat. You stare at your hands—at the way your fingers grip your toothpaste, trying to squeeze it out onto the brush—and you think for a moment, that maybe; maybe that rot comes from you. Sullying everything you touch. 

“Is that kid’s toothpaste?” 

Fluttering eyes land on Simon as you open your mouth to reply. Nothing comes up but a strained laugh and a half formed smile as you bashfully look down at your items. 

“Uh, yeah,” you nod. 

“I’ve got real toothpaste if ya want it,” he offers, shaking the tube. You stare at it. That classic minty green freshness flashes in reflective foil like a warning beacon. Cracks form in your smile, and you feel your stomach turn. 

“No thanks. I… erm… don’t like mint,” you admit. 

Your admittance feels like you’ve laid some sort of hot sin before him, and you avert your gaze in favor of spreading a generous line of paste on your brush. Imitation fruitiness coats your tongue as you shove it into your mouth, and you grimace. You forgot to wet your brush. The texture is rough and sandy, yet you persist. 

Simon shrugs. “Suit yourself.” 

You try not to let him see the way your eyes water when he begins to brush his teeth. Abrasive mint overpowers your senses, seeping into your nose and churning in your stomach. It’s too strong. Offensive. 

You disguise your disgust with a cough. 

Breakfast is a quiet event. With the Christmas cheer dwindling into the back of everyone’s minds, the delectable meal of pancakes, sausage, and eggs is brought to the front. Mrs. Riley’s cooking truly is remarkable, and you feel yourself missing her meals already. Bruce keeps you fed plenty well at work when he can, but there’s something different about eating in the presence of her warm gaze. Pale blue eyes flicker like sapphire flames as she glances back and forth between you and Simon. The look on her face isn’t lost on you—that quiet simper that stains her lips isn’t either. 

It screams. Shouts at you. You are welcome here. 

“So, back to London, then?” Tommy asks as he wipes his mouth clean of crumbs. 

Humming, Simon nods. “Yeah. Work tomorrow night. Gonna get busy with the new year.” 

“Everythin’ going well at the club?” Beth chirps. 

It’s a simple question—an innocent one. Still, it has Simon and Tommy sharing glances with one another. A million words are shared in an instant with one simple exchange. Tight lips, tighter fists; this is what happens with men like them. There is always bound to be some sort of dark secret they keep buried with the old versions of themselves; the versions they had to snuff out in order to survive. 

“As well as it can,” Simon nods. 

Simon doesn’t completely beguile her. As far as anyone else is concerned, Terminus is doing fantastic. Only occasionally does he have to bloody his hands and toss out patrons who are too pissed for their own good. It’s an easy job. A simple one for a man of his talents. 

But there are names that lurk in the depths. Swarming in ruined water, waiting to capture their next prey; their next victim. Andrei. Though he’s been off having his fun with you and his family, the bastard’s name and face etch in the grey matter of Simon’s brain. It’s quite the balancing act, hunting a man who vanishes into smoke and mirrors all while trying not to concern you with the mess. His skin itches at the thought—that terrible memory of you. Doubled over, blacking out. 

What would have happened to you if he hadn’t been there? 

Clearing his mind, Simon reaches for the plate of toast just as you do. Knuckles knocking, you retract, hand falling back into your lap. Had he not known any better, he would have thought he electrocuted you. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, gauche laugh expelling from your lungs in a pitiful huff. 

He looks at you, curled forward in your seat like a shriveled bug; always making yourself small. Always too afraid to take up the space you need. His hand persists, fingers gripping a golden slab of toast before he places it on the plate before you. Only then does he retrieve one for himself. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” 

Once plates are cleaned, it’s time for farewells. Everyone meanders around the house, picking up their items and shoving it into bags for easier storage. Simon steals your travel pack like a bandit, refusing to let you assist in packing anything into the car. You’re not sure why you even bother to do anything for yourself anymore; not when you’ve got Simon around to wait on you hand and foot. 

So you watch him from inside the house as he loads up the car. He moves everything around with ease as if it’s lighter than air itself. Tommy leans against the boot with his arms crossed as he shivers in the bitter Mancunian winter. Once Simon manages to get your bag situated next to his in the backseat, Simon retreats, back straightening out and stretching as he slams the door shut. 

“So. Gonna bring Chip home for Easter?” Tommy questions. 

All Simon can do is shrug. “We’ll see.” 

“Oh, come off it,” Tommy rolls his eyes. “Sleepin’ in the same bed as her, gettin’ all cozy on the couch. Takin’ the fuckin’ piss outta me sayin’ shit like that. Well see? You pillock.”

“What I do in my personal life doesn’t concern you,” Simon says nonchalantly as his hands wave the man off. “Now up. Off my shit.” 

Tommy huffs, and it’s cynical. Boiling acrimony laces his words as he mumbles: “Used to think the same thing once. Next thing I knew, I was nearly gettin’ gutted like a pig.” 

Flooding memories cause Simon’s eyes to gloss as they sear through his brain. Unpleasant bile eats at his esophagus as he recalls that day at his old job. A butcher’s shop. He would spend his life quartering swine, never once thinking about how similar humans are to pigs. Tender meat. The fiber of muscle and skin. A sharp blade sinks into flesh all the same no matter what you name it. The blood is just as warm. The gasps are just as cacophonous. 

Tommy’s warning is clear. It causes his diaphragm to freeze as dark eyes cut through the air to find you like he’s scared you’re already injured. Like he’s ruined you. His heart ceases to beat when he finds you on the porch, little Joseph wrapped around your leg with tiny arms. 

“Bye-Bye Aunt Chippy!” he says, unabashed with his gaiety. 

Red hot embarrassment burns Beth’s face until her cheeks are the same shade as her hair, and within an instant she’s beckoning her son off of you. Just as always, you are kind. You smile and shake off the awkwardness with as much grace as you can muster. You assure Beth it’s fine. You’re not sure what you are—be you an aunt or something else—but the title fits snug like it’s the first thing you’ve ever worn that fits properly. 

“It was lovely having you,” Mrs. Riley cuts in, easing the tension. She’s bundled herself up in a thick blanket draped over her shoulders like a shawl, and still she shivers so fiercely you swear she’ll turn blue. Despite the tremor, she reaches her arms out to you, welcoming and warm. 

You accept her embrace without a second thought, and for a moment things are quiet. Nothing rings. Nothing buzzes at the tip of your brainstem. There is only the quiet, and the scent of lavender. It leaves your body yearning in a way you haven’t felt for quite some time. A bitter tainted nostalgia dances along your spine and weaves through your ribs—and yet it is welcoming all the same. 

“Thank you for having me,” you whisper. Your voice decays in your throat—half formed and hardly ejected. 

Mrs. Riley steps back, but you can’t bring yourself to let go. You know you should. You’ve always had to let go of everything eventually, but your fingers flinch and your arms twitch, and you realize this time you can’t. Some sort of mawkish pain squeezes your heart and you fear you’ll crumble if she’s not there to hold you up. You’ll crack and splinter into dust that the December wind will carry away without so much as a second thought. 

She doesn’t let you. Instead, she holds you together, scooping you up in her arms until you’re buried in her. Pressure builds and twists behind your eyes, and you ignore the way your throat begins to shred itself. 

“You’re always welcome here, dear.” 

They wave from the porch when you and Simon leave. It’s a proper send off that has you smiling to yourself and aching for their presence again. Simon turns the heat up the moment you hit the motorway, and you feel your eyes begin to grow heavy. It’s impossible to pinpoint exactly why you’ve been stuck with such lassitude these last few days, but you only feel it worsen as the heat warms your skin. Leaning against him, nearly falling asleep on the couch, resting in his arms… Simon feels safe. Like you can rest and wake up knowing everything—including yourself—will be fine. 

He offers you his coat to use as a pillow just as your head begins to nod. You don’t bother to argue. You don’t say that you’ll be fine, or that you can stay awake, or that you’ll just rest your head on the jittery window. It feels nice accepting his help. You think he’s the only person who’s ever been kind to you without it leaving a bad taste in your mouth. So you take it. Bunch it up and curl into a ball in the passenger’s seat as best as you can as the hum of the engine sings you to sleep. 

Tobacco and nicotine envelopes your senses. It’s stronger on his coat than it is himself. It’s marinated—burrowed into the stitches. 

You sleep so well that you don’t wake up until you reach the outskirts of London, and even then you’re only roused by Simon rubbing your arm. Limbs extending, you stretch as much as you’re able to in the confines of the car as you rub at your face. The afternoon glow ignites the frost lining the railing that leads up to your apartment complex, but it looks like glitter on dull cement. A waste of something pretty. In whatever festive cheer your ancient, crabby landlord can muster, you notice a spindly wreath on the entrance. Perhaps it’s his attempt at making that dilapidating building feel more homey—if anything, it feels more fake than ever. 

Simon opens your door with a smile as he helps you out of the car. He’s still on a mission to refuse to let you carry your bag, and he lets you lead the way inside the building as he trails behind you like a good dog. Creaky stairs announce their existence all the way up to the second floor, but their song is quickly drowned out by the violent vibrating of Simon’s phone. 

He plans on ignoring the call until he reads Johnny’s name on the screen. 

“Hello?” he answers. His voice catches you off guard, and he watches as your head snaps over your shoulder to look at him. He gives you a reassuring smile as he shakes his phone, and you smile back in recognition. 

“Got a hit on your dance partner.” 

Simon’s heart skips a beat. That deadly killer in him begins to surface—the one that’s cold and calculated; the one that can’t afford to let feelings get in the way. His face hardens as images of Andrei flashes across his mind, but he knows he can’t be too standoffish. Not when he’s with you. Not when you don’t know something’s wrong. 

“Workin’ through the holiday?” he asks, attempting to tease but it comes out too gruff. 

“Had nothing better to do,” Johnny shrugs. “Aye, but listen. You remember Milena Romanova? Makarov’s financier?” 

Simon scoffs at the name, bitter bile rising in his mouth just as you both reach the second floor. “Plays well with Garrick’s mum, doesn’t she?” 

“Oh, plenty well. Plenty of letters, threats, the usual,” Johnny deadpans. “Anyway, Kyle caught sight of her at some bullshit aristocratic party his mum was throwing on Christmas Eve and Andrei—whose last name is Nolan, I’ve learned—was there with her.” 

The tension in Simon’s jaw grows so tight that he can hear the way the enamel in his teeth creaks with the pressure. It’s an easy conclusion to draw. One that has his chest growing tight. 

“Whatever mess Chip has got herself in… Riley, if Makarov’s got his sights on her-”

“I know,” Simon interrupts. It’s sharper than he intends, but he doesn’t apologize for it. 

Johnny sighs, breath crackling on the line. “One more thing… you’re really not gonna like this.” 

Somehow, Simon has managed to fall behind you. Several paces back, he sees you standing at the entrance to your apartment. You’re frozen. Eyes locked on the doorknob, wide as saucers, lips parting as if to say something but nothing comes out. 

“The security system here at Terminus caught some weird activity on cams yesterday,” Johnny continues. “Checked them out this morning and… well, it seems as if Andrei’s not the only one hanging around where he shouldn’t be.” 

Your door is open. Slightly ajar, hardly even cracked, but it’s open. You swear you locked it before you left, but it doesn’t matter when there’s splintered wood on the ground at your feet. Simon’s hardware and new screws held up plenty fine. The door plate isn’t even bent. Still, it can only do so much when the wood it’s screwed into is as soft as butter. 

The air is wrong. Too thick. Like water. Like smoke. Like it’s someone else’s breath. 

“Marco was here last night. It… It looks like he was looking for someone.” 

Eyes welling with tears, you turn to look at Simon. His face is like stone. Hard set and rigid as he continues to hold the phone to his ear. The line has gone silent. His throat bobs as he swallows. 

“I gotta go.” 

The line dies. 

Neither of you speak as Simon quickly puts himself between you and the door before gently pushing it open. You hold your breath as he does. Quiet hysteria builds in your chest as you wait an eternity to see what’s become of your home. The door creaks and whines as it falls open, hitting the wall, revealing the state of your apartment. 

Nothing is as it should be. Plastic plates and cups litter the ground in the kitchen, along with old—and now bent—pots and pans. Cupboards and drawers lay flung open like spilling intestines, completely emptied of their contents, all dumped into a pile on the floor as if setting up a pyre. The rubbish bin is knocked on its side. Old garbage spews from its mouth, staining the faux tile as nameless black bugs enjoy the rot.

As the two of you cautiously press inside, you catch sight of the way your clothes hang halfway out of your dresser. Plastic hangers lay shattered outside of your tiny closet, sprinkling the floor with the shards. The bathroom light is on, and when you meander inside, you find the mirror is shattered. Your reflection is warped. Wrong. A drop of blood stains the sink. It’s old. Hagriding. Clotted. Hardened. You stare at it, and it screams back that you have made a very grave mistake. 

There isn’t an inch of your apartment that Simon leaves unchecked. Hackles raised, he turns every corner with care, eyes darting around like an animal ready to strike. But there is nothing. Your flat has always been too small to properly house yourself, let alone hide away anyone that would cause harm. There is no Andrei. No Makarov. 

No Marco. 

You stand in the midst of your home like a lost child, spinning in circles as you witness the war-torn room. Your eyes widen as you scan everything like a hawk, or some clever fox finding her way out of some precarious situation. Trepidation coils around your chest as you attempt to hold back sobs, but your diaphragm shudders despite your efforts. You are both overcome with terror and yet so devoid of emotion because—in some way—you know you deserve this. 

You brought this on yourself. 

“Fuck,” you curse, hand slapping over your trembling lip. 

Simon’s ears perk at your voice. Heavy feet crush rubbish and clothes as he reaches for you. He’s careful, as if trying to calm a spooked horse. Warm hands bleed through your skin as he holds you steady, but you don’t look at him. All you can do is continue to take in the mess around you. 

“It’s gonna be alright. We’ll get this sorted, I promise,” he assures you. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” you snap. 

Hands brush against his chest as you push yourself away from him while a hyperventilated sob rattles your throat in the process. You nearly trip on a cup as you stumble around the room. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes. 

“How the fuck could I forget? I’ve… never… fuck,” you mumble. 

Simon says your name, but you refuse to hear it. Utterly disconsolate, you continue running away, feet meandering throughout the room as if you’re in a drunken stupor. He lets you. Watching you carefully as the emotions overwhelm you, he lets you feel what you need to as you stare at the crumbled remains of your life. 

The only thing that isn’t ruined is your bed. 

You freeze. It’s perfect. Pillows fluffed. Blankets neatly pressed along the mattress. It looks professionally done with a folded lip at the top for ease of grabbing. Spotless—it almost looks lovingly done. 

You don’t remember making your bed before you left. 

Careful feet approach the furniture as your nerves begin to fry. You feel your mind start powering off—neurons going silent. There’s no fear or anxiety or anger; there’s just you and your shell. You’re so far underneath the waves that there’s no use in screaming for help. All you can do is let the tide carry you forward. 

A pristine envelope sits quiet and docile on top of your blanket. It’s unmarked, but there is no mistaking who it’s addressed to. Simon slowly approaches from behind, hands outstretched, requesting that you hand it over to him, but you refuse. Shouldering him away, your quivering fingers can hardly undo the seal. It tears. Shreds like cloth and skin. You retrieve the note inside. 

Missed you on the 25th. Will come by to collect your late fee on the 28th. Same place as usual. You know better than to call the police. Don’t stand me up this time, babe. 

-M

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[konigsblog]

2023 KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

general masterlist. photo credit @yumethefrostypanda

this masterlist features characters from call of duty modern warfare 2, as well as a few from black ops and ghosts. completed masterlist.

this may feature darker and more serious topics. not for minors, so don't interact. otherwise you'll be blocked.

day one, knife kink. (ghost x f! reader)

day two, size kink. (könig x f!reader)

day three, wax play. (soap x f!reader)

day four, intoxication kink. (gaz x f!reader)

day five, corruption kink. (price x f!reader)

day six, virginity loss. (alejandro x f!reader)

day seven, breeding kink. (könig x f!reader)

day eight, body worship. (rodolfo x m!reader)

day nine, age gap. (graves x m!reader)

day ten, pet play. (keegan x gn!reader)

day eleven, werewolf. (soap x f!reader)

day twelve, humilation. (sub!alejandro x f!reader)

day thirteen, somnophillia. (rodolfo x f!reader)

day fourteen, tentacles. (eldtrich!könig x f!reader)

day fifteen, overstimulation. (price x f!reader)

day sixteen, orgasm denial. (ghost x f!reader)

day seventeen, gloryhole. (gaz x f!reader)

day eighteen, double penetration. (gaz x soap x f!reader)

day nineteen, dub-con/persuasion. (price x f!reader)

day twenty, breath play. (ghost x gn!reader)

day twenty one, spanking. (graves x f!reader)

day twenty two, humilation. (frank woods x f!reader)

day twenty three, cock and ball torture. (soap x m!reader)

day twenty four, dub-con/blackmail (russell adler x f!reader)

day twenty five, deep throat. (hesh x f!reader)

day twenty six, face sitting. (alejandro x f!reader)

day twenty seven, intoxication kink. (price x f! reader)

day twenty eight, dry humping. (könig x f!reader)

day twenty nine, plugs. (keegan x f!reader)

day thirty, virginity loss. (rodolfo x f!reader)

day thirty one, gangbang. (141)

...

— @konigsblog, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

you may use this if you'd like, i will be writing each prompt for each day, so please don't request it in my inbox. i will get around to it when it's that day.

© konigsblog 2023 — do not copy, edit, repost my works on any other site without prior consent.

[hazbinshusk]

day thirteen of salem's unofficial attempt at kinktober:

cream pie/cum eating (stolitz x reader)

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Stolas’ feathers are wonderfully, gloriously soft against your cheek, albeit ruffled and stained with the drool dripping from your parted lips as Blitzø fucks you from behind. You’re laying on Stolas’ stomach, cradled by his long, slim legs and braced up on your knees. Blitzø’s hands are clutching at your hips, claws digging into the soft flesh, his touch a stark contrast to the gentle way the owl prince is stroking your hair.

“Oh, darling, doesn’t he feel so good?” Stolas coos, petting your cheek. You smile up at him dazedly, whimpering as Blitzø gives a particularly hard thrust into your dripping cunt. Stolas pouts down at you in faux-sympathy, ghosting clawed fingers over your skin to push your hair away from your forehead. “Tell Blitzy how much you love having his big, thick cock inside you.”

“I do,” you moan, arching your back as Blitzø smooths a hand over the curve of your ass and squeezes. “I love it.”

“Love what, pet?” Stolas prompts teasingly.

“I…” You try to bury your face in his chest but he hooks a claw under your chin. “I love his… unh, his cock in-inside me.”

“Mmm,” Stolas smiles. “Good girl.”

“Fuck, you two are good for my ego,” Blitzø snickers through gritted teeth, and you jump as the spade of his tail snaps against your ass. “Christ on a fuckin’ stick, you are milkin’ my dick, sweets.”

You can feel goosebumps rise over your thighs as Blitzø retakes your hips and pulls you back in time with his thrusts, the sound of flesh meeting flesh rising. You can feel your thighs slick with your own excitement, feel the addictive ache between them as Blitzø’s cock fills and stretches you every time he bottoms out inside you. Blitzø grabs at your tail, winding it around his fist and gripping the base of it tight. At the same time, Stolas slips a hand beneath you, delicate fingers finding your clit.

“Oh, fuck!” you half-laugh, half-moan as the sensations flood through you. Stolas chuckles at your reaction, continuing to stroke your hair as he teases your clit. Blitzø curses aloud as you tighten around him, and when he tugs hard on your tail you cum, hard. The only thing that stops you from collapsing is Blitzø’s grip on your hips, and your orgasm does nothing to slow him down. “Fuck, Blitz, I can’t…”

“Yes, you fuckin’ can,” Blitzø growls, pressing himself down against your back. You feel his mouth graze your shoulder, and Stolas pushes himself up onto an elbow to bring the imp into a messy, hungry kiss. Blitzø groans into the kiss, his hips stuttering against yours. “Fuck, Stols… shiiiit…”

Stolas quickens his fingers against your clit just as Bltizø begins to lose control, and when your cunt tightens like a vice with another orgasm Blitzø moans, loud and rough as he spills himself deep into you. He keeps pumping until you can feel him begin to soften inside you, his breathing laboured. Blitzø continues to exhale a mixture of curses and slightly offensive ��praise’, and Stolas hoots happily at the show the two of you have provided as Blitzø slides his cock slowly out of you.

“Satan, that was…” you let your head fall back down onto Stolas’ feathers, inhaling the scent of expensive oils and the delicate note of his own exertion. “That was fucking great.”

“Damn fuckin’ right it was, tits.” Blitzø replies, and you yelp as he smacks you appraisingly on the ass.

The owl fakes a pout as he watches Blitzø stretch his arms out above his head. “I have to admit, Blitzy, I’m a bit jealous that our darling girl was the one who got to feel your hot cum fill up her tight little—”

“Fuck, you’re greedy,” you laugh breathlessly, and Stolas makes it up to you by stroking his hand down your spine. “You could at least let us catch our breath before you start angling for round… what, four?”

“Six,” Blitzø interjects cockily, moving up the bed to kneel beside Stolas’ shoulder. “C’mon, birdie. Quit complainin’; you’re on clean-up.”

Stolas grins, and you watch as he curls his long tongue around Blitzø’s softening cock and draws him into his eager mouth. The imp groans as the owl prince sucks him clean, reaching out to run his hand through your sweat-damp hair.

“Fuck, Stols…” he mutters, shuddering as the owl suckles teasingly at his tip. Blitzø lets him linger for a few moments after his cock is well and truly clean. Stolas squawks in surprise and arousal as the imp suddenly grabs hold of his crown feathers and jerks his head back. He grins down at him, pupils dilated and smirk wicked. “Her turn.”

You whimper as the two of them roll you off of Stolas and onto your back. You moan to the ceiling and your hips rise off the mattress as Stolas suddenly buries his face between your legs. He buries his tongue deep inside your cunt and you fist your hands in the sheets, eyes rolling back at the sudden overstimulation.

Blitzø snickers as he watches your reaction. “That’s fuckin’ adorable – it’s like you’re possessed.”

“Sh-shut up, Blitz—” you whine, and his laughter doubles. You curse as he reaches down to roll his fingers over your clit just as Stolas thrusts his tongue deep into you, and your whole body seizes up as you cum again, your hand clutching at Blitzø’s shoulder. “Fuck!”

Blitzø grins in satisfaction, his hand fisting the base of his cock. “So… round six?”

[defectivehero]

"Don't touch me," the villain hisses, writhing in the hero's arms as they're unwillingly carried around.

"Would you prefer if I dropped you?" The hero hums, their eyes set on the skies ahead. "Left you to fall thirteen stories and collide with the pavement? That's certainly an option." They shrug.

"You wouldn't dare," the villain claims with manufactured confidence. Truthfully, their heart is racing in their chest as the two of them soar higher and higher in the sky. They have never quite trusted their enemy—and for good reason. Their morality runs rather grey for a hero, and the villain wouldn't be the least bit surprised if they took advantage of their momentary weakness to cause them even more pain.

The hero shrugs in response to the villain's accusation. Meanwhile, the villain clings on a little tighter, resolutely ignoring the laughter rumbling in their enemy’s chest.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

sorry this is sinfully short, y'all. zero motivation lmao

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[anonymousangstmonster]

Prompt #48

When the Fentons decided that they wanted to make(in their lab) and raise a half-ghost child, they weren’t expecting to come out with a litter of thirteen healthy little halfas. But the parents took care of and named them all.

First came Dipper, a redheaded male. Second was Star, a bright blonde female. Next was Orion, a dirty blonde male. Then Abby, a raven haired female. Indigo, a very dark purple haired female. Cleo, a soft dirty blonde female. Danny, a raven haired male. Sarah, a light redheaded female. Jake, a salt-and-pepper haired male. George, a blonde male. Kate, a black haired female. Aurora, a white haired female. Lastly Luna, a silver haired female, the runt.

They all played, slept, and ate in the nursery, which was a large spare bedroom right next to the master bedroom.

Unfortunately what the Fentons didn’t know was that ghost children will kill and eat their litter mates; so that only the strongest will survive into adulthood. And it wasn’t until one-year-old Danny killed and started trying to eat George that they learned that.

After they locked Danny in a small cell in the lab and wrapped up George’s body in a soft blanket, they sought out one of their allies in the Ghost Zone, the Lunch Lady, and asked her what they should do. She told them that it was a natural and necessary part of the kid’s development, and that they should give George’s body to Danny to eat and gain energy from. When they asked how many are likely to survive she said that since there were thirteen it was possible four or five could make it, but it would likely be two or three to end up alive by the time they finished high school.

A lot of years and a lot of fratricide later, the five to survive till high school were Dipper, Star, Orion, Danny, and Luna. Really the only reason the runt even made it to their /fourth/ birthday was because Danny had taken a liking to her and defended her when their other siblings tried to attack her.

Unfortunately Star made the mistake of threatening Luna in the cafeteria in school with Danny in earshot; and very publicly, five became four.

[milliesfishes]

⋆౨ৎFall Fest with Millie! (Flufftober)⋆౨ৎ

Welcome to Fall Fest/Flufftober! Every day of October I will be posting a fall related blurb, fic, or imagine with Billy, Coryo, or Alex from various AUs. This is the masterlist with every link 🫶 Enjoy!

౨ৎDay One: Apple picking with Peacekeeper Coriolanus

౨ৎDay Two: Billy helps witch reader make potions

౨ৎDay Three: Sylph (you are famed as a maneater, a monster. When Billy meets you he finds out the truth)

౨ৎDay Four: Coriolanus watches a horror movie with you

౨ৎDay Five: You and Billy go for a stroll under the full moonlight

౨ৎDay Six: Selcouth (Billy x undead reader)

౨ৎDay Seven: You and Billy dress up your baby girl for her first Halloween

౨ৎDay Eight: Coriolanus takes the night off to bake fall treats with you

౨ৎDay Nine: You tell ghost Billy all about the festivities in town

౨ৎDay Ten: Billy brings home a black cat

౨ৎDay Eleven: Pirate Billy teaches Mermaid Reader about Halloween

౨ৎDay Twelve: You think there's a ghost in the mansion and Coriolanus comforts you

౨ৎDay Thirteen: Coriolanus isn't fond of moths

౨ৎDay Fourteen: You and Billy rake leaves together

౨ৎDay Fifteen: Peacekeeper Coriolanus takes you to a local haunted house

౨ৎDay Sixteen: You're home alone waiting for Alex

౨ৎDay Seventeen: You're scared from a ghost story told around the campfire and Billy comforts you

౨ৎDay Eighteen: You and Alex visit a cemetery

౨ৎDay Nineteen: Peacekeeper Coriolanus and you go to a rowdy party in District Twelve

౨ৎDay Twenty: Billy paints your pregnant belly

౨ৎDay Twenty-One: Tender is the Night (Part Two) (ghost Billy x reader)

౨ৎDay Twenty-Two: Witch Reader introduces Billy to her forest friends

౨ৎDay Twenty-Three: You and Alex go to a Halloween party

౨ৎDay Twenty-Four: Millennium (vampire reader x Billy)

౨ৎDay Twenty-Four Part Two: Alex and you go to a haunted house

౨ৎDay Twenty-Five: You and Peacekeeper Coriolanus get lost in the woods

౨ৎDay Twenty-Six: You and Alex get lost in a corn maze

౨ৎDay Twenty-Seven: You and Alex take a drive through the country to see the leaves

౨ৎDay Twenty-Eight: As Coriolanus' First Lady, it's your job to plan a party

౨ৎDay Twenty-Nine: You steadily become more stressed and Coriolanus becomes more worried as the party planning progresses

౨ৎDay Thirty: The night of yours and Coriolanus' party

౨ৎDay Thirty-One: You're alone on Halloween in the city and Alex comes to see you

Thank you so much to @kellielovesmovies for helping me put this list of prompts together!

[nephilimeq]

Liminal Hour

Prompt: Pillow Talk

@bucktommyfluffebruary

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62721625/chapters/162361291

It had been a thirteen hour drive home, and the only thing on Buck’s mind was sleep.

Despite having an amazing time at Big Sur a second time, his boyfriend being the sweetest most amazing boyfriend ever, there was still an ache in his bones as the two of them walked through the front door, both of them bypassing the kitchen to go straight upstairs to their bed.

It was an almost physical weight that bore him down to the sheets as he collapsed on top of them, grumbling when Tommy said, “Hey, change clothes, don’t want any of that on the sheets,” and he reluctantly rolled over and blearily stripped off his shirt, tossing it towards the general direction of the hamper, and then reached down and shoved off his jeans in stages, not wanting to move more than he had to, and he could hear the older man chuckling at the sight.

“Don’t laugh,” he said in a breathless voice, having used up what little energy he had left to kick his jeans off to the side.

At the thought of taking off his socks, Buck let out a low groan…

…and then he felt a light tugging down near his feet and looked down to see Tommy gently pulling off his socks for him, the man already stripped down to nothing but his boxers. The airman smiled up at him and said, “Got enough energy for a shower?” and he reluctantly nodded.

Using his considerable strength, Tommy managed to get them both into the large master bathroom and set up the shower without turning on a single light, for which Buck was grateful. Once the water had reached an acceptable level of warmth, they slipped under it together, leaning on each other as they cleaned off the last remnants of the dust and dirt of the highway, having had the windows down the entire drive home, both of them feeling the grime of the day.

Buck let out a soft sigh as his boyfriend’s hand scrubbed gently across the backs of his shoulders and then nuzzled his nose under his jaw and deeply inhaled.

Cedar and spearmint.

He then melted further into him when he felt one of his hands curve gently around his lower back, holding him up, and breathed out, “Love you,” into his skin, and felt Tommy nod and a soft sound rumble through his chest as he replied, “Love you, too.”

They finished showering in the dark together, not rushing it, taking their time to shampoo and condition, as well as clean every single nook and cranny, neither of them having any arousal, both of them far too tired and worn out after their trip to even think about sex. Hell, Tommy had pounded him so good the night before, Buck could still feel the faint sting of it, and he savored it, shivering only slightly when his boyfriend’s fingers ghosted over his hole as he finished washing him off.

They stayed under the water for a long time, and Buck savored the intimacy of it.

Standing in the dark under the water of the showerhead, slowly—almost lazily—cleaning each other, doing their best to stay awake. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before, and he basked in the way Tommy was curled around him in the same way he curled around him. Like yin and yang.

Eventually, however, the water started to cool and they turned it off and then stepped out of the shower and dried each other off with the thick, luxurious vintage towels that Tommy had bought about a month before that Buck loved.

Once he was dry, he padded softly into their bedroom and pulled out some clean, loose boxers and one of Tommy’s t-shirts and put them on.

He handed Tommy the same.

Right before slipping under the covers, however, he stood there blinking tiredly in the unlit bedroom as Tommy softly murmured against his cheek, “Hold on, lemme turn on the fan,” and then moved over and turned on the fan, the soft sound of it a white noise that Buck knew would lull him to an easy, welcoming sleep, as well as the faint breeze that now oscillated through the room and made him feel as though he were already in a dream. He then felt his boyfriend’s warmth back at his side and then he was gently leading them both to the bed, where they slowly peeled back the comforter and top sheet and then curled up under just the top sheet, the comforter bunched up at the end of the bed, barely covering their feet.

Buck almost immediately drifted off when his boyfriend started gently carding his fingers through his damp curls, the sensation lulling him to an easy sleep…and so was surprised when Tommy said in a low voice, “So, did you have a good time?”

He looked up at him, scrunched his nose, and furrowed his brow.

“…what?”

“Did you have a good time?” he softly repeated, and Buck stared up at him…and then nodded.

“Yeah…yeah, I had a great time, Tommy,” he finally answered, curling up a bit more against him, savoring the soft heat from his body even as the fan blew a cool breeze over the exposed skin of his arms, and he reveled in the contrasts. “It was somethin’ else, you know?”

His boyfriend nodded and pressed his lips to Buck’s forehead and murmured, “Good, I’m glad. I like doing things like that with you,” and at his words Buck swore that he could feel that last little bit of armor that he had around his heart—the part of him that was always saying ‘but what if’—go silent. It had never gone silent before.

“I like doin’ things like tha’ with you, too,” he slurred out, struggling to stay awake, wanting to stay in the moment for as long as he could.

He could feel Tommy smile and smiled himself when the older man said, “I never thought I would have this, you know,” and he didn’t have to say anything else for the younger firefighter to understand. He knew exactly what he meant because he felt the same way. If someone had told him only a few years ago that he would eventually be wrapped up in the arms of a man that he loved and living with him and it would be the best relationship of his entire life, he would have called them crazy…

…but at that moment he had never felt safer or more loved as Tommy’s hand absently stroked circles along the curve of his spine while Buck nestled into his chest and traced his thumb over the perfectly sculpted arch of his bicep.

Taking in a deep breath, he managed to say, “I didn’t either. You know, I…I kinda love you so much it scares me,” he softly admitted.

He felt Tommy look down at him.

“It scares you?”

Buck nodded.

“I’ve never…I’ve never let anyone ge’ this far into my chest, you know? So-so close to my…my heart,” he confessed, burying his head even deeper under his jaw, unable to look up at him as he spoke, feeling vulnerable, as if every inch of him was a raw nerve and one wrong look would flay him alive.

There was an expectant silence that fell between them, the hum of the fan the only sound in the room…and then Tommy said, “You’re the first for me, too, Evan,” and gently squeezed him tighter, and he melted into the touch and let out a shuddering sigh, realizing that he had taken a risk—and instead of his feelings being disregarded as unimportant, Tommy had not only validated them, but had admitted that he felt the same way.

It felt as though they had just reached a new threshold in their relationship and Buck felt like his emotional scars were finally…fading.

They would never completely go away, he knew, but he also knew that what had just happened had healed something deeper inside of him.

His eyelids felt heavy, and he clung onto consciousness for a little while longer, just long enough to say, “I’ll never love anyone more than you, Tommy,” and then found himself yawning, his entire body tightening…and then relaxing into the firm body curled around his, one firm thigh tucked between his own.

…and then just as he finally drifted off to sleep, he could have sworn he heard his boyfriend say…

“I’m gonna marry you one day…”

…but then he was out.

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 1st: Parents | Runaway - Sword | Youthful cw: allusions to neglectful and alcoholic parent, police, incarceration [happy ending promised, as always!] read on ao3 | link to series on ao3

Eddie runs away from home for the last time when he’s thirteen years old. 

The ground beneath his feet is barely visible, barely felt against the worn soles of his too-small sneakers as he runs through the familiar trails of Hawkins’ forest. He’s run away before, usually sneaking out in the middle of the night when he hears the tell-tale silence of his father falling into a drunken stupor on the couch, but this time feels different. This time, he’s actually running, no backpack or hastily thrown together bag of essentials to weigh him down. 

He hadn’t had time, not with so many police cars showing up at once. 

His breath comes in quick bursts, just enough oxygen to carry him off the beaten path onto a path only he knows. It comes without markers or posts. Why would there be signs here? No one else needs the most direct route between Clyde Munson and Wayne Munson’s homes. A 10-minute run, quicker if he sprints like he is now, connects two different worlds and only one feels safe. 

Uncle Wayne has, for much of Eddie’s life, been home. He’s lived with him on and off for a few months at a time, sometimes after dear old dad had been hauled away by Officer Hopper again and other times, when he’d simply run away and his dad couldn’t be bothered to track him down. Eddie spent nearly a year with his Uncle Wayne after his mom died, a wonderful year where Eddie experienced an actual parent and got to figure out things he actually enjoys– fantasy books, D&D, music with intense virtuosity and aggressive guitar lines. He never should’ve gone back, but the guilt ate at him. Maybe it’ll be different, he’d thought at the time. Maybe he’ll care now. 

The fact that he’s running through the woods at full speed away from what could only be defined as a fucking siege with his dad at the center is all the answer he needs. There’s nothing he can do to help his dad– there’s nothing he should do, because he’s a kid at the end of the day and he never should’ve been put in this situation to begin with. 

Eddie shakes his head as he runs, shaking the thoughts from his brain as he hears the familiar, comforting sounds of people talking in the distance. He barrels through the tree-line into one of his Uncle’s neighbors who steadies him by the shoulders, checks him over quickly to find nothing physically wrong. 

“You alright, son? Looks like you seen a ghost.” 

Nope, just a nightmare, he thinks.

Eddie shakes his head and looks around frantically for Wayne, out of breath. “No, no, I’m– I’m fine. Is Uncle Wayne home?” 

“Eddie?” As though summoned, Wayne appears in the doorway of his own trailer a few lots down. Eddie shrugs out of the neighbor’s touch and runs toward the voice, the one that makes his brain slow down from the spinning wheel it’s been on since the first fist pounded on his dad’s door. 

“Wayne, thank God, thank fuck,” Eddie mutters as he runs into him, hugging him unabashedly around the middle. His fingers dig tightly into Wayne’s back, clutching the fabric of his familiar flannel and grounding himself as Wayne hugs him back. 

“I’m uh, I’m glad to see you, too, kid. Everything alright?” Wayne tone is questioning, rightfully so. He doesn’t know yet that Clyde’s been arrested and likely won’t get out this time, or that Eddie’s here to stay. 

Hours later though, after Eddie’s shared his side of the story and Wayne’s made him a mug of his famous hot chocolate, the police arrive. Officer Hopper assures Eddie that he’s in no trouble, that he didn’t need to run, that he’ll never need to run from Clyde again. 

“I know you’ve got a lot of your stuff still at the house. You got family around to stay with?” Officer Hopper asks, looking at Eddie but clearly asking Wayne. 

“‘Course he does, he’s here, ain’t he?” Wayne nods at Officer Hopper and Eddie catches the interaction. “My old van ain’t much– she needs some work– but should be enough to get us back and forth with your stuff, Ed.” 

The van is more than enough for the barebones possessions Eddie cares to bring: an old acoustic guitar that belonged to his mom, a worn paperback copy of The Fellowship of the Ring gifted to him by Wayne, and some clothes and odds and ends. 

Years later, after he runs again and somehow lives to tell the tale, he returns to what still stands of the trailer with Wayne. Most of their belongings are either destroyed or damaged beyond repair but it doesn't matter to Eddie. 

Home was never the trailer he ran to– just the family inside of it.

[plantyberry]

Cloudcuckoolander Tally Part 3: Chapter 1-3 and 1-3-2: The Fencing Club, or, 'If I swallow Excalibur, does that mean I'll become invulnerable?'

And we are back for the newest installment of the Cloudcuckoolander tally, this time featuring the fencing club. And I'm definitely counting this thing as part of my NaNoWriMo wordcount tally goal dammit.

Now, for the sake of simplicity, the following factors are preferable (but not necessary) for your cuckoo MC

-Friends or more with Adrian -Gadgetry as a hobby -NOT have the following fears: Blood, Fear, Attention -Greed will help

Additionally, the Fencing Club is the only pick that allows you to have a mute MC while still grabbing the 'Keikaku' achievement.

On the way to the club:

I double-check to make certain that the passing university student isn't actually a zombie in disguise. cuckoo +1

The Adrian conversation (topics about clothes are mostly identical, with a few differences):

Red Cape + Frame = 3 or height = tall: -"Little?" I wonder if Adrian has suddenly gone blind. --"Aye, Aye, fairy godmother." +1 Cuckoo

Vampire Cape: +1 Cuckoo -Strike a stereotypical vampire pose. +1 Cuckoo --"I never bite and tell" +1 Cuckoo --"Lies and slander! I've got my own superior vampire teeth for that!" +1 Cuckoo

Spandex Tracksuit: -"I was thinking about wearing this instead of my uniform today." --"If we switched to plastic swords we could totally do naked fencing!" +1 Cuckoo -I say nothing, I merely start dancing the Tango de la Muerte. +1 Cuckoo (and the Keikaku achievement)

I launch right into the meat of the matter.

-"There was a murder during my last work shift…" --(if police)I begin to describe my brilliant werewolf culprit theory. +1 Cuckoo ---I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo --(if reporter, paramedic)"All I have to say is… zombies." +1 Cuckoo ---I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo --(if lab technician) In the end, this is the work of werewolves/zombies… +1 Cuckoo --(if wildlife biologist) I elucidate in great detail upon the nitty-gritty details regarding my genius mutant bear theory. +1 Cuckoo ---I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo (Whenever applicable) I'm not joking but I pretend that I am in a brilliant double-blind maneuver. +2 Cuckoo

-"So I was recently mauled by an invisible poltergeist…" -- Show your bruised arm to Adrian ---"What? I find this situation perfectly normal." ----I'm not being sarcastic. +1 Cuckoo (Note: If your cuckoo score is under 5, you gain +1 Denial instead)

-"It seems that my apartment may be a little bit haunted…" --"I don't know, man, that bedroom ghost sounded pretty sexy." ---Obviously, I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo

I launch into a long involved story regarding my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. -(follow the 'recently mauled by an invisible poltergeist' answer line) --"I blame the poltergeist. Also the werewolves, potential zombies, and I've got a sneaking suspicion that mutant fairies may be involved," you ramble. +1 Cuckoo

I believe actions speak louder than words

-I silently whip out my thirteen-page description of my past day including all details regarding my past work shift, my nightmare and strange injury, as well as the current haunted atmosphere of my apartment. --I wave my arms around in my best impression of a haunting ghost. +1 Cuckoo ---I reenact a scene from an earlier Knights of Our Lives episode that just so happened to appear in my dreams before. +1 Cuckoo (MC needs to know who Caleb is) ----I spin in a circle while twirling my arms. Surely Adrian will understand my meaning. +1 Cuckoo

Outside / Event prompts:

-"I'm on to you and your zombie ways, Sefu. No mercy shall be given by me or my flamethrowing sword!" +1 Cuckoo

-Perhaps it was the werewolf that ate Caleb Degaré? +1 Cuckoo (You need to know who Caleb is)

About the swords breaking: -(If you've got the stats or a high enough cuckoo score) "Don't worry, I've got the stats to save everyone." +1 Cuckoo (The Stats: Body >=30 or Body+Magic>=30 or (Talent=Agility + Body>=20) or (Interpretative Dancing>2 and Body>=20)

Post-Adrian Greetings

Talking about Arthur: "I just want to know if he's secretly a zombie/werewolf/mutant. He is, isn't he?" +1 Cuckoo I wonder if I accidentally left my apartment on fire this morning. +1 Cuckoo I wonder if an African swallow could really carry a coconut? +1 Cuckoo I hold up my phone with a Monty Python and the Holy Grail meme about coconuts on its screen. +1 Cuckoo I wonder if one of those sword swallower people could gulp down Excalibur? It'd be handy to be your own sheath. +1 Cuckoo (Requires Arthuriana fanatic)

Asking about the Apocalypse: "Pure unfiltered meta knowledge." +1 Cuckoo

Ask how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood. +1 Cuckoo

Changing your clothes:

-This is it! The perfect time to start a strip tease right in the middle of the practice hall! +1 Cuckoo (fear mustn't be 'attention')

Weapon Choice:

-Never mind the sabre, foil, and épée fencing swords. I really wish that I could use Excalibur to sword fight instead. Just like in the old tales of might and magicry. +1 Cuckoo (++)

Before the spar:

Talking to Hjordis about the swords breaking: -In the end, I can't help but suspect toilet gremlins. +1 Cuckoo

Tell everyone about what happened to you in the restroom: -"If there's something strange in your neighborhood, who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!" I burst out singing in a very thematically-relevant manner. +1 Cuckoo

When finisheing to prepare for the spar: -It's time to do the Dance of Joy +1 Cuckoo

The color of your sword: -…the color out of space. +1 Cuckoo (++)

Entering the piste: -I throw my extra glove straight in Sefu's face. That's what they're meant for, right?! +1 Cuckoo -I AM Michael Jackson. I put on a single glove and moonwalk to the piste. +1 Cuckoo

-I strike a delicately posed stance, balanced on one leg, knee bent and lifted above my hips, arms extended at my sides like the wings of a crane, as my sword points at the unseen heavens above. +1 Cuckoo -I gravely inform the audience that only masked eyes are allowed to behold my full splendor. +1 Cuckoo

-Frosty the Snowman dances seductively down my spine. +1 Cuckoo

The sword shower incident:

Note: Aside from the stats, you may succesfully pass the sword dance checks if you are a changeling or possess the Lucky talent if your dice roll goes well, though it's an obviously unreliable method to succeed unless you intend to save scum this until you force a pass.

Unwilling rescuer: -I duck and cover and- no, why are my feet moving forward?! No, no, no I'm not trying to 1v1 an entire shower of sharp shrapnel! --I wonder what I should have for dinner tonight? +1 Cuckoo

If the rescue failed, but the people wore masks -Now it's definitely time to do the Dance of Joy +1 Cuckoo --No unmasked eyes are allowed to behold my glory indeed. +1 Cuckoo

Wrapping up (Post good end)

-I launch into a statistical analysis of the causes, probability percentages, prevention methods, and data anomalies found within all train derailment accidents within the past twenty-five years. Yes, most certainly this is an appropriate conversational topic right now. Cuckoo +1

Changing area: Armory -"Don't let the darkness consume your soul or the splinters find your throat," I enigmatically tell my departing clubmate. Cuckoo +1

Changing Area: Men's restroom -"Don't let the darkness consume your souls," I enigmatically call out as my two squabbling clubmates leave before me. Cuckoo +1

Changing Area: Ladies' Restroom -"Don't let the darkness consume your soul." Cuckoo +1

Changing Area: Universal Restroom -"Don't let the darkness consume your soul," I enigmatically tell my cheerily departing clubmate. Cuckoo +1

Changing Area: Corner of the Fencing Hall -"Don't let the darkness consume your soul," I enigmatically reply. Cuckoo +1

It you're possessed (Just… Why?), there is one option right before the sparring match -He's coming! He's coming! He's coming! Cuckoo +1

Out of these options, the Tango de la Muerte (Interpretative score helps succeed the check) and Masked Eyes (Will and Magic +1) option are good picks, in my opinion. Getting the good end is a bit harder in this club that in the polo club because you have to pick the right options to make it happen. Additionally, an important thing to note is that successfully fending off the splinter shower will injure your ankle slightly, which will make escaping the hydra more difficult, if you wish to avoid Merlin forcefully healing you later on.

[anitalenia]

━━━ .°˖✧ enemies to lovers ⋆˙⊹

꒰ঌ definition ໒꒱ 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. literally my fav. trope

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ below you will find sub genres under this category, as well as some useful pairings for this trope. for educational writing purposes <3

note: several of these can also be used in other tropes as well, just depends on how you write it and interpret it.

╰₊✧ ﾟOTHER LINKS . ྀི ⊹ masterlist | romance tropes |

taglist | prompt help | symbol packs | dividers page

꒰ঌ group one ໒꒱

hero x villain | light x dark | angel x demon | heaven x hell | best friends annoying sibling | siblings annoying best friend | co-worker you’re always in competition with | sly thief x detective who can never catch them | sun x moon

꒰ঌ group two ໒꒱

cat person x dog person | childhood enemies reacquainted | bully’s you cause he likes you | ex lovers still in love but too stubborn to get back together / love disguised with hate | mutual dislike in a shared friend group

꒰ঌ group three ໒꒱

werewolf x vampire | hunter x creature they specialize in killing | pirate x siren | leaders of rivaling groups | forced marriage | rivaling sports teams | rivaling friend groups | popular girl x loner boy or vice versa | cocky x humble

꒰ঌ group four ໒꒱

assassin x person they’re supposed to kill | sharing a bedroom/house | playboy x shy girl | both haven’t come out of the closet | succubus x holy person | succubus x angel | angel on your shoulder x devil on your shoulder

꒰ঌ group five ໒꒱

demon x exorcist | chefs at rivaling restaurants | food critic x chef | spoiled girl x bodyguard forced to put up with it | knight x princess | villain x hero’s accomplice (bonus points if the good person feels like they’re betraying the hero for liking the villain)

꒰ঌ group six ໒꒱

soldier x soldier of enemy nation | librarian x frat boy | humble farmer boy x city girl | hardworking x everything handed to them | assassin x assassin (bonus if they’re supposed to kill each other) | destined to kill each other

꒰ঌ group seven ໒꒱

rivaling species | introvert x extrovert | actors who hate each other but their characters in the movie love each other | paleontologist x mummy | treasure hunter x rivaling treasure hunter | pirate x kidnapped princess | proper lady x wild man

꒰ঌ group eight ໒꒱

families have rivaled for centuries | prisoner x capturer | happy x mean | optimist x realist | celebrity x paparazzi / journalist | both love interests holding a grudge against the other for something they did a long time ago | hardheaded ceo’s

꒰ঌ group nine ໒꒱

lumberjack x bimbo | white collar x blue collar | forced to work together on the same project | they play innocent in front of your family but you know it’s just an act | cocky clan leader x idealistic humble villager | football player x artist

꒰ঌ group ten ໒꒱

cheerleader x computer wiz | warrior x civilian they’re protecting (not necessarily bodyguard au) | the two groups are at war | forced to work together to take down a common enemy | fuckboy neighbor who never stops partying x girl who studies 24/7 or vice versa

꒰ঌ group eleven ໒꒱

flirty villain x hero who knows it’s wrong but can’t help but eventually give in from time to time (batman and catwoman) | maneater girl x shy boy who hates attention | two students running for student body president

꒰ঌ group twelve ໒꒱

injured crybaby warrior x doctor who hates crybabies | wolf boy x cat girl | witch x witch hunter | elf x necromancer | one who gives life x one who takes it | mermaid x pirate | ghost x person living in their home

꒰ঌ group thirteen ໒꒱

ghost x psychic done with ghosts attitude | biker x cop | kidnapper x kidnapped | tutor x dummy | irritating classmate | teachers assistant x needy student | server x chef who keeps getting the food wrong

꒰ঌ group fourteen ໒꒱

bartender x regular drunk customer | environmentalist x construction worker | prosecutor x criminal defense lawyer | free spirit x 9-5 office worker | girl x guy who slept with all her friends | rivaling king and queen

꒰ঌ group fifteen ໒꒱

guy who slept with everyone x only girl he hasn’t (she refuses to be another conquest) | dragon slayer x dragon trainer | knight x outcast | time x death | christmas x halloween | ghost whisperer x skeptic/nonbeliever

will update when I think of new ones. hope this helps if you’re not sure what story to tell but you want something new <3

[asclexe]

OLD MAN DOCTOR YAOI SUMMER 2024

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

welcome to the offical old man doctor yaoi prompt list for the month of june! this list contains thirty ideas, which can either be drawn or written or some others art form of your choosing!

there are no restrictions for what day you’re doing, you can obviously do just one day or a week, or all of them! who cares! also how you interpret the prompt, however i would prefer nsfw to be labeled correctly as i want to read these and i am a minor, so leave a heads up!

tag any works of any media type you create under #old man doctor yaoi summer 2024 so we can all see it!!

prompts below the cut!

⭐️here’s our lineup:

day 1: outside the hospital (basically anything outside ppth, a concert, to a restaurant, a conference, a pride parade, the beach, get creative!)

day 2: wedding (self-explanatory, can be the ceremony, the reception, honeymoon etc, as long as it’s wedding-themed!)

day 3: coming out

day 4: ducklings (stuff with their children (house’s fellows))

day 5: domestic (little domestic tidbits, eg cooking, getting a pet, falling asleep, etc, just fluff)

day 6: top surgery recovery

day 7: summer

⭐️(AU WEEK)⭐️

day 8: modern day/2024 au

day 9: fandom fusion/crossover au

day 10: not doctors au (in a universe where they took a different career, perhaps in a diner or casino, camp counselors, field nurses, drug dealers, cops, flower shop/tattoo artist, cowboys, royalty, etc!)

day 11: fem hilson/genderbend au!!!

day 12: different decade au (so like ppth in the 70’s, or maybe 40’s, etc. get creative!)

day 13: soulmates au

day 14: supernatural au (as ghosts, angels/devils, vampires, mermaids, etc)

⭐️(PRE-INFARCTION WEEK)⭐️

day 15: wilson’s first divorce

day 16: first date

day 17: after bailing wilson out of jail (could include awkward diner conversation, road trips, etc)

day 18: young & dumb shenanigans

day 19: college roommates

day 20: doing things house couldn’t do post-infarction (eg skateboarding, yoga, walking long distances, golf, etc)

day 21: wilson in the place of stacy during infarction

⭐️(back to canon/whump week)⭐️

day 22: detox (could be either house or wilson whump!!)

day 23: trembling

day 24: after mayfield

day 25: euthanasia (also could be either house or wilson)

day 26: prodigal daughter (thirteen)

day 27: suicide attempt (if this is triggering to you, please have a free day or a break day!)

day 28: service animal

day 29: on vacation

day 30 (good job!!!): free day/break day

happy pride month and good luck!!

[holycatsandrabbits]

So I randomly had 4 stories come out in the last week, so here's one post for them all.

The Falling, a horror story, in Daikaijuzine. A new flight attendant learns there are some things you don’t talk about in the air. Free to read! Originally published in audio on the podcast Thirteen (on Patreon, dated Dec 18, 2023)

The Morrigan, a folk horror story, in Illustrated Worlds magazine. A woman dealing with the aftereffects of cancer treatment takes a job caring for an elderly woman who exhibits strange behavior.

The Ever-Running Bath, a horror story, in Xanax Hamster, a magazine of trunk horror fics. A woman injured on a desert hike struggles with her surroundings and her past.

The Sea is Full of Ghosts in the anthology Dark Waters Vol. 2 from Dark Waters Press. A deep-sea merman encounters the ghost of a drowned sailor.

DannyeChase.com ~ AO3 ~ Linktree ~ Weird Wednesday writing prompts blog ~ Resources for Writers