#thanks for prompting me! <3

[jaggededges123]

Jadecest Somnophilia? Ya know, for Filthy Friday? 🫣

jadecest somno, coming right up! 🫡

Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji were busy during the day. That much was obvious and expected, as they both had duties to attend to as the sect leader and the de facto sect heir and sect disciplinarian. Moreover, as cultivators who wished to maintain harmony between the common people, the other sects, and nature itself, they had Night Hunts to attend, people to negotiate with, and a myriad other minor tasks that meant they hardly saw each other during the day.

At night, it was different. Mostly.

"Xiongzhang?" Lan Wangji asked as he slipped into the Hanshi, without knocking because it created excess noise and he was always welcome anyway. His brother's house was his as well, though he still slept in the Jingshi most nights.

Lan Wangji was met with silence, silence and moonlight and summer air breezing in through the window. He crossed the main room and passed into Lan Xichen's bedroom, where he found his xiongzhang neatly undressed, curled on his side with his hair fanned out against the bed sheets. He hadn't quite gotten his forehead ribbon to the table beside his bed; it hung from his hand outstretched.

Lan Wangji rounded the bed and took it from him, folding it carefully before laying it where Lan Xichen had intended. He was allowed, after all.

Lan Xichen's everything was his, the broadest permissions possible given. They had exchanged ribbons, after all, so when Lan Wangji slowly, carefully untied his ribbon, it was really Lan Xichen's which joined Lan Wangji's on the bedside table.

Lan Wangji didn't bother trying to rouse Lan Xichen. He did miss him, and speaking to him, but rest was important and Lan Wangji could truly see him in the morning. For now...

Lan Xichen did not need to be awake to sate him.

It had been several days since they had last been able to have sex, which was unbearable to Lan Wangji. When they had first become lovers, it was like a dam broke inside Lan Wangji, and now all of the lust he'd ever stuffed down inside himself in his life spilled out mercilessly. So a few days...

Lan Wangji undressed himself, and because there was no rush except the insistence of his body, he folded his clothes neatly so that he could wear the same robes again tomorrow to return to his room without raising suspicion from their shufu or anyone else. He crawled into bed beside Lan Xichen, naked as the day he was born, and he finally put his hands on his brother's beautiful skin.

Lan Xichen was so similar to Lan Wangji physically, to the point where people unfamiliar with them took the twin aspect of the Twin Jades more literally than was accurate, but Lan Wangji knew every part of Lan Xichen's body, and there were some differences. His hip bones stuck out a bit more, and he had slightly more voluptuous pectorals than Lan Wangji did, and his thighs felt softer. This last one was subjective, but Lan Wangji still felt it was the truth.

He was hard within moments, having been deprived so long of his love. Lan Xichen was warm and soft, and Lan Wangji slipped his cock between Lan Xichen's thighs easily, without even having to manhandle his sleeping brother.

He groaned into Lan Xichen's ear at the heavenly feeling of those thighs as he thrust once or twice, and Lan Xichen shifted in his sleep, just a little restless. He didn't wake up, but Lan Wangji found it sweet, like Lan Xichen was missing him while slumbering.

Lan Wangji's hands roved as his hips rolled, as he fucked into that delicious space between Lan Xichen's thighs and brushed up against Lan Xichen's balls each time he was flush with his brother. Lan Wangji had a special fondness for his xiongzhang's nipples, teasing them while they were soft so they would stiffen up even in the balmy summer air.

Lan Wangji took his pleasure quickly, in the end; he had no one to impress, and he also was exhausted. Were Lan Xichen awake to witness this, Lan Wangji would have impressed him, brought breathless smiles to his face as he fucked the air from his lungs, and made him come at least four times before allowing him to really finish. But Lan Wangji let himself be swept away by the tide of pleasure when it first called to him, and he splattered the inside of Lan Xichen's thighs while biting his own thumb, because he still did not want to wake his brother.

In the aftermath, Lan Wangji breathed slowly, with great heaving breaths. He pulled his brother further into his own arms, tucking himself up behind him, and pressed his forehead to the nape of Lan Xichen's neck.

And, just like that, leaving a mess of himself and more importantly Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji slept also.

[triplehearts]

We’ll take turns to untangle the knots

Though our hands may be tied

It’s all a part of the plot

[erwinsvow]

an idea… rafe and shy reader having sex for the first time

everything's overwhelming with rafe, but this is particularly so. you thought you were completely ready for it, from the way you had handled everything else so well. in fact, rafe was the one taking things at the slowest pace possible, trying to make sure he didn’t pressure you into something you weren’t ready for.

you didn’t like it—thought he was trying to be something he’s not. he’s gentle with you but never like this, never to this extent. it must be a big deal then, sleeping with rafe, giving him your virginity, you finally decide, if he’s acting so differently about it.

in fact, you think you’ve been ready to give it up since you first started dating him. rafe brings it out of you, coaxes a different side of you out with gentle words and soft touches. you’re going mad over it. you can’t count the amount of times you’ve crawled into his lap at any given opportunity, anywhere the two of you are alone—his truck, the couch in your living room and at tannyhill, the hidden booth at the country club. you’re begging for it, not sure how much more obvious you can get.

you finally decide tonight’s the night—following a nice dinner with the two of you. you had spent extra long getting dressed up, a pretty white lingerie set on underneath your blue dress, all done up for rafe. finally back at tannyhill, entire body vibrating and tingling with excitement, you don’t wait another moment, crawling into rafe’s lap and kissing him hard. you take off your dress and rafe stops just for a second to take in how forward you’re being.

“hey,” he finally breathes against your lips, pulling away. “c’mon, you’re not ready for this.” 

“yes i am!” you whine, impatient and horny, feeling rafe get hard underneath you. you want him to be able to do all the things you know he wants to do, want them done to you. “i am, i am-” and you lean back to kiss him, ending up pinned underneath him before long.

he knows you’re not, but he plays along. you’re so wet already he doesn’t have to do much, but he makes you cum all over his fingers anyways, hoping it’ll satiate you.

“please, rafe,” you moan against his mouth, pushing in for another needy kiss. “wan’ it inside. please.” and he does know you, knows everything about you, but even he can’t resist when you say things like that.

you watch with big eyes while he lines himself up with your wet hole, hovering over you. you think you’re so ready, that three of rafe’s fingers inside you should be comparable to what you’re about to feel, that you’re more than prepared. your eyes squeeze shut when rafe pushes inside, all the air leaving your lungs. you try to moan out but it’s more of a gasp than anything else, one that rafe swallows into a kiss. 

your eyes get watery—it’s just habit. it hurts, too, because rafe is so much bigger than you expected. you bite your cheek, looking up at rafe through teary eyes and clasping a hand over your mouth—you don’t want to admit that he was right. 

“c’mon kid, give it up. y’not ready for this, i know you,” rafe says, leaning in close to your ear to whisper it quietly. he’s not even half-way inside you.

“i-i can take it,” you hiccup. you hate disappointing rafe.

and it’s not that he doesn’t want to—he does, desperately so, wants to fuck you within an inch of your sanity every time you walk into a room and look at him with your shy eyes and sweet smile. he wants to break you, wants you cumming on his dick until there’s nothing left in your head, no shyness left in your heart. but he wants it when you’re ready for it, not like this.

it only takes another minute, you finally admit you’re not ready, and rafe pulls out of you. you feel like crying, terribly sad and dejected, wishing you could just be normal for rafe for once, be what he wants. 

“stop,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. his arm rests over your stomach, trying to get you to lighten up. “when you’re ready for it, i’ll fuck you until you can’t think. s’just not today, kid.”

you finally agree when he says that, getting over it because you know without a doubt in your mind—rafe knows you better than you know yourself.

[becca-e-barnes]

all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.

Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing 🙈

But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.

"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."

His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.

"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"

He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."

Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.

"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.

"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.

He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.

"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.

You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.

He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.

Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.

He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.

It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.

[biblically-accurate-dca]

day 16: object head !

[nottsangel]

https://www.tumblr.com/rafesmuse/743661178308427776/rafe-cameron-the-type-of-boyfriend-to-keep-your?source=share

this!!! but you’re Sarah’s best friend. Rafe being a dick constantly finds a way to flash your nudes in front of her. One day she asks when you got that tattoo because she’s never seen it before. You think no one but rafe should be able to see that tattoo, when the realisation hits you turn bright red and you definitely shout at him about it later that night but he’s too busy trying to undress you to listen

link!

omg pls he’s such a fucking dickhead sdjdkdkd like that man does not give a fuck! he’d be with sarah in the house when he ‘accidentally’ drops his wallet with your nudes inside of it and acts like he doesn’t notice so she picks it up for him. “rafe you dropped your wa- what the fuck is this?” “oh whoops, im just so clumsy, aren’t i?” he’d reply sarcastically with a smug smile on his face as he snatches the wallet from sarah’s hand.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo” sarah would later bluntly say when you’re hanging out together, completely catching you off guard. “what? i- i mean, i do, but how do you kn-“ your eyes instantly widen when the realisation eventually hits.

so later that night, you storm into rafe’s room, shouting, while he just lazily sits on his bed, scrolling on his phone. “RAFE CAMERON, I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD. why the FUCK did sarah see those pictures?!” “jesus, relax baby, it was just an accident, a’ight?” he snaps back as you now sit next to him on the bed, still glaring at him with an infuriated expression. “rafe! those are meant for your eyes only!” he’s too busy now attentively pulling the traps of your top down, not even paying attention to what you’re saying anymore. “yeah yeah, i’ll be more careful next time, got it. now, c’mere and let me make it up to you.”

[comfort-character-central]

Your f/o would never make you feel bad about your intelligence or the way your mind works. Even if you have a hard time understanding or processing, they'll never see you as dumb, stupid, or anything of that sort. They support you completely and the last thing they want is for you to feel insecure about it.

[drac0line1nn1t]

*Wade staring at himself in the mirror*

Wade: I'm so pretty.. *obviously doesn't believe it and is trying to convince himself*

*Wade frowns and reaches for his mask*

*Logan walks up behind him and gently grabs the arm reaching for his mask and Wade jumps around three feet in the air*

Wade: Marvel jesus peanut warn a gu-

*Logan reaches around his head with his other hand and puts his hand over Wade's mouth*

*Logan leans his head on Wade's shoulder looking in the mirror too*

Logan: *smiles* You're so pretty, bub.

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Jazz gets death threats working at Arkham Asylum. She thinks they’re hilarious. I mean, it’s hard not to laugh when you’re technically considered Queen Mother of The Infinite Realms. In her mind, the notes are basically telling her to go home and hug her brother/child.

The Batfam are growing increasingly concerned and confused as to why she doesn’t take these threats seriously.

[desertduality]

gigs phasmo but the ghost is just confused mumbo jumbo

physically unable to write a snippet so here's a whole oneshot AKJSDKJ I hope you like it!! Personally I had a ton of fun lmao

-------

The house was nice, as far as haunted locations went. The flowers out front were dead, sure, but that was probably on account of their caretaker being dead as well.

The neighbors had been the ones to call this address in, claiming that although the owner of the property had died quite some months ago, lights frequently turned on and off in the house. The police had been by several times to check for intruders, and had come up empty every time. Finally, some desperate neighbor had given in and called paranormal investigators.

So there they were, Impulse pulling up on the curb just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Prime ghost hunting time, for some reason; Scar hadn’t really paid attention to the science and research when he’d signed up for the job. Besides, the other three had all that handled quite nicely. Scar was just along for the ride. 

“Scar, you know what you’re doing?” Impulse asked, grabbing a flashlight off the wall and clipping his walkie onto his belt. 

“Sir, yes sir!” Scar quipped, scanning the gear for his usual fare. “One paraba-dolical microphone coming up.”

“Grab a thermometer, too,” Impulse suggested, clapping him on the shoulder on his way out of the van. “Let’s try to keep this one clean! The company is running low on cursed items with resurrection abilities.”

“I know for a fact we’ve made the biggest dent in that,” Skizz’s voice crackled out of the walkie, changing to a slight echo as he presumably walked in the house.

“Why do you sound proud of that?” Grian asked, speaking into the radio as he grabbed a salt canister. Scar snickered, reaching over him to grab the thermometer. 

“We’ve got a record going, man! No one can stop us!”

“You have to admire his positivity,” Scar said brightly, clicking his flashlight to make sure it worked. 

“Yeah, I guess he’s got that going for him,” Grian replied, giving a short wave as he left the van. “See you on the inside, Scar.”

Scar gave a jaunty wave, doing one last check on his equipment before starting after him. A voice cut him off before he could leave. 

“Did anyone check the name?” Impulse asked, and Scar turned around to squint at the corkboard, eyes catching on the top. 

Huh. Interesting. 

Scar clicked the talk button on his walkie. “Looks like… Mumbo Jumbo?”

There was a long pause, and Scar almost thought they had missed it somehow. Then the response came.

“Scar,” Grian said, sounding tiredly amused. “If you can’t pronounce it, don’t just make something up.”

“No, It— It literally says Mumbo Jumbo,” Scar replied, glancing up to double check. “Don’t make me waste a photo to prove it. I will, you know I will.”

“Don’t, Scar,” Impulse jumped in, so quickly that the start of his sentence cut out. “We believe you.”

“Get in here before I come and drag you, Face,” Skizz chimed in, and Scar rolled his eyes with a chuckle, stepping out of the van. 

The house was warmer than the air outside, so Scar took that as a sign that someone had gotten to the fuse box. He wandered around with the paradabolic microphone for a few minutes, watching closely for big leaps in the readings. Eventually, Impulse called out from upstairs, claiming that he’d found the room. Scar hurried towards him, making it there just in time to watch him set up the video camera, fiddling with the tripod and muttering complaints about its stability. 

The room was a bedroom, a large bed against one wall and a shelf full of dead plants on the other. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust, but that was pretty usual. Obviously no one had been keeping up with the cleaning.   

“Anyone done spirit box?” Grian asked, and Scar jumped and whirled around, finding him in the doorway. Grian giggled, and Scar huffed. 

“Not yet,” Impulse said, finally getting the tripod to settle. He looked over at them. “Want us to leave?”

“Not really,” Grian grumbled, starting to power up the spirit box. “But yes.”

Scar walked out of the door and Impulse followed him, closing it and leaving Grian in the room alone. Immediately, they heard the telltale singing introduction of Grian beginning to ask questions. The rest of the house was quiet. So far, everything had been entirely unremarkable.

“I’m going to go grab D.O.T.S and a book,” Impulse spoke suddenly, starting to walk away. “Maybe you could start grabbing some stuff for a polty pile?”

“Sure, will do,” Scar said, and started picking up objects from the table in the hallway. A lot of picture frames and spare wires, for whatever reason.

Grian opened the door to the room just as Scar arrived with his arms full, and Scar tilted his head at the odd look on the other’s face. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was wearing a faint frown. 

“What’s wrong?” Scar asked, curious. Normally, Grian came out of a spirit box session with wide eyes and immediately ran to the van. This was out of character.

“I think…” Grian started, contemplative frown getting more pronounced. “I think the ghost apologized to me.”

“...huh?”

“I asked where it was,” Grian said, spirit box slack in his hand. “And then it said something, and then I screamed, and then it— I could have sworn it said sorry. Like, for scaring me.”

“Oh,” Scar said, tilting his head. “Has that happened before?”

Grian shook his head slowly, staring at the spirit box for a minute before exhaling forcefully. “Let’s just keep going,” he said, shoving the device in his pocket. “We still have a job to do.” Then, into his walkie: “We’ve got spirit box, guys. One thing down.”

They kept doing their jobs like they normally would, but none of them could quite shake the sense of something being different.

Usually, the haunted locations they visited had a foreboding sort of feeling to them. They get in and out of those places as soon as possible, the feeling of imminent danger settling on their shoulders like a heavy jacket. There was none of that, here. It was obviously haunted, but it still just felt like... a house. It didn’t feel malicious at all. 

Impulse put a book down, and writing appeared a few minutes later. Just a single sentence, asking if they would water the plants on their way out.

They laid down D.O.T.S and stayed out in the van for a while, eventually seeing a tall, hazy figure pass quickly through. 

They caught ghost orbs on the video surveillance.

Impulse took the Ultraviolet flashlight and found fingerprints on the side of the video camera, like the ghost had been curious about it. 

The salt Grian had placed on the ground was smeared and scattered, almost as if the ghost had slipped on it instead of stepped in it. 

“If we discovered some new type of ghost,” Grian said eventually, muffled through his own hands covering his face, after hours of pouring over the conflicting evidence. “I am going to be upset.”

“None of this makes sense!” Impulse complained, flipping through the research journal that Scar had never touched. He was scowling at the pages like they’d personally offended him. “It won’t even hunt!”

“He seems kinda friendly,” Scar said, staring at the steady line of the EMF reader on the screen. “The poor guy just wants his plants watered. I don’t even have the heart to tell him that it probably wouldn’t help. Those things are dead dead.”

Impulse’s head thunked down on the table in front of him. “We’re so fired.”

In the silence following that statement, Skizz burst into the van, holding an object aloft in celebration.

“I found it!” Skizz yelled triumphantly, the wrinkly figure of the monkey paw clutched in his hand. “It fell behind some boxes. I told you it was here.”

“Oooh,” Scar said, rushing over in excitement. “What should we wish for?”

“A quick death?” Grian said flatly.

Scar waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve had too many of those. It gets kind of boring, believe it or not.”

“Let’s just wish to see it,” Impulse said, heaving himself up from his hunched position by the monitor. “We’ve done everything else we could do, let’s just do it.”

“Sure, why not,” Grian said, shrugging. “Let’s go out in a blaze of glory, then.”

“That’s the spirit!” Skizz laughed, and together the four of them marched back into the house.

The room was exactly as they’d left it, and Impulse took a moment to turn off the D.O.T.S. Then they stood in a loose circle, tense and determined. Whatever was happening here, it would be over soon. One way or the other. Maybe the company wouldn’t even bother to bring them back, this time. 

Skizz held the monkey paw aloft, dim light casting dramatic shadows on his face. “I wish to see the ghost!”

A finger on the monkey paw cracked and groaned as it bent down, and a chill swept across the room, quick and encompassing. Their flashlights flickered, and then died, leaving them in complete darkness. For a long moment, the only sound was their chorus of quick and shaky breathing.

When the lights turned back on, Scar was face to face with a ghost. A ghost that looked equally as startled as he was. 

Scar yelped and stumbled backwards, tripping over the open book on the ground and hurtling towards the bed. The ghost — a tall man with dark hair and an absolutely wonderful mustache — lunged forward and reached out as if to catch him, eyes wide and panicked. To be fair to the dead man, it absolutely would have worked if his hands were still a tangible thing; As it were, his attempt at grabbing Scar to keep him upright was rather rudely foiled by his outstretched hand passing right through Scar’s flailing arm.

Scar hit the bed with a grunt as various cries of alarm sounded out around him, light bouncing around the room haphazardly as the sound of clattering reached his ears; someone had dropped their flashlight, apparently. Scar laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling, dazed. 

“Oh gosh! I’m so— I didn’t mean to pop in like that, I—”

Scar looked up just in time to watch a crucifix fly through the air and pass harmlessly through the ghost’s head, hitting the wall with a thud and falling gracelessly to the floor. The ghost yelped and ducked — much too late, not that it mattered, anyway — and Scar’s gaze next landed on Grian, still standing there with his arm extended in a throwing motion, hand empty and eyes wide.

“What was that gonna do, G?!” Skizz asked hysterically, fumbling for his camera, accidentally snapping a picture of his own face and swearing when the light blinded him. 

Impulse had knocked over the tripod in all of the chaos, and was now frantically attempting to set it back upright. The ghost — Mumbo Jumbo — turned his anxious eyes on Scar, who for once was struck speechless, jaw slack. 

“Are you alright, mate?” Mumbo Jumbo asked, hands fidgeting together. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but— Well, you summoned me. There’s only so much to be done for that.”

With everyone else still scrambling about the room, Scar allowed himself a few seconds to process things. Most ghosts they’d come across — all of them, actually — had been nothing less than murderous and bloodthirsty. The cordial ghost of a perfectly normal man was not something they had been trained for, but that didn’t exactly mean that it was impossible. Sure, maybe it had come way, way out of left field, but Scar prided himself on rolling with the punches. He pushed himself up from the bed with a sheepish, charming smile. 

“It’s all good,” Scar said, bright and friendly. “For sure our fault, we summoned you and got surprised when you showed up. Kind of rude of us, I think. Your mattress is super comfortable, by the way.”

Mumbo Jumbo blinked, as if surprised by the onslaught of words, a confused little furrow appearing between his brows. “Thank you?” he said, glancing behind him at the bed. “It was…expensive.”

“I mean, hey! We spend a lot of our lifetime in a bed, right? Might as well shell out some cash for quality.”

“What are we doing?” Grian asked quickly, almost like he was talking to himself, hands pressed to his head in utter bafflement. “This is insane, what is happening.”

“Grian! Don’t be rude,” Scar admonished playfully, then turned back to grin at the ghost. “Mumbo Jumbo, right?”

The man nodded faintly. “Just…Mumbo is fine.”

“Sweet! I’m Scar,” Scar said, and then started pointing to his friends, all standing stock still in various stages of shock and confusion. “The rude one who throws stuff is Grian, that’s Impulse by the window, and over there is Skizz!”

“Nice to meet you?” Mumbo said, glancing around nervously. “I would offer to shake your hand, but…”

“God, this is weird,” Skizz blurted, eyes still wide but starting to relax his stance. “You do know you’re dead, right? We never actually get to ask any of the ghosts we meet.”

“Oh, I— Yeah, I’m well aware,” Mumbo said, laughing a little. “You’ve met other ghosts, then?”

“We’re ghost hunters,” Impulse said, and now that the shock was fading, Scar could see a spark of excitement in his eyes. “But I mean— We’ve never met any like you.”

“Mostly they want to kill us,” Grian said, stepping up next to Scar. “Are you sure you don’t want to kill us?”

“I don’t think I know how, much less want to,” Mumbo said, glancing out the window. “Did someone call you to find me? I’ve been trying not to scare anyone, but I suppose the lights might’ve done me in.”

“Yeah, that was pretty much what tipped them off,” Scar said apologetically. “A few too many weird things happen and boom, here we are.”

“What happens now?” Mumbo asked, chuckling nervously. “I mean, you found me. Job done, yeah?”

“Usually we figure out what type of ghost it is and the company sends out a specialized team to evict it,” Impulse answered, brow pinched in thought. “But normally that’s for safety reasons. You don’t seem like a threat. No offense.”

“Oh, none taken.”

“Can I ask how you died?” Skizz asked, eyes alight with curiosity. 

“Skizz,” Grian hissed. “You can’t just ask people how they died!”

“I was just wondering!”

“No, it’s— it’s fine,” Mumbo stuttered, and Scar had a feeling that if ghosts could blush, he would be doing it. “I… fell down the stairs.”

Scar nodded solemnly. “Could have happened to anyone.”

“So what are we actually going to do about this?” Grian asked, vaguely gesturing at the room. “It feels like it would be wrong to kick this guy out of his own house. He’s not really causing trouble.”

“Yeah, I— I do like my house,” Mumbo interjected, awkward smile on his face. “I’d rather stay, if that’s alright.”

“Someone’s bound to move in eventually, you know,” Skizz said, pitying frown on his face. “There’s already a for sale sign in the yard. The new owners might not be super ghost-friendly.”

Mumbo’s shoulders slumped, a dejected look on his face as he frowned at the floor. Scar felt a pang of sympathy grow in his chest, and he glanced out the window at the rows of houses down the street. 

It really was quite a nice neighborhood. 

“...You know,” Scar started, gaze drifting over to Grian, a slow smile forming on his face. “Our lease is almost up.”

Grian looked over at him, eyes already resigned, and sighed. 

Scar laughed, grinning, and Mumbo slowly smiled back.

[jaggededges123]

17 kiss eighthcest 👁️👁

17. First Kiss

The first time Silas Octakiseron sinned knowing his transgression ahead of time… was terrifying. It was worse than the time that Colum had taken him on a trip to the top of the belltower in the Octavian, when Silas had passed out because of how far his stomach seemed to drop looking down, and down, and down from the fenced-in area. It felt as if one single misstep might have caused him to plummet so far that he would disintegrate to dust upon hitting the ground, skipping the need to be buried in the catacombs entirely.

When they rose from their evening prayers, from huddled together and linked hand to hand to standing and the same, Silas refused to let go. He’d explode if he did.

He tugged on Colum’s hands to keep the big, weathered man in place, and he stood on his toes to press his lips clumsily and chastely to his cavalier’s. It was the first kiss he’d ever given or received with this sort of intent. It was a statement bigger than its outer facade, Silas declaring that in this one aspect of himself, he would accept and indeed welcome imperfection.

He would welcome Colum, no matter if it was a subversion of their vow. Their vow was large enough to hold more now, now that Silas was older than when it had been made.

Silas landed back on the rest of his feet lightly, his expectant gaze never leaving Colum’s face for a moment. Colum was remarkably still, like an unusual statue in their austere set of rooms, and the tips of his ears flushed darker, along with one particular patch on Colum’s left cheek.

“You’re a bit too old to say goodnight like that, aren’t you?”

Before Colum had even finished his weak protest, Silas felt like he’d been thrown outside of the city without proper protective gear on. His heart cracked in his chest the same way it had when Colum had told him what meat was made from at the age of six, but worse.

Colum still thought of Silas as a child. Silas thought of Colum as… more than he should. More than he’d been taught to.

But, in Silas there was also a deep-set ember in his belly, of the angry variety. His thin cheeks puffed a little as he let go of Colum’s hands finally, embarrassment and shame coating the heartbreak and bruised ego.

“I’m not a child, Brother Asht,” he insisted, scowling and feeling very adult about it. He shot one last glare at Colum before stalking back to their bedroom to finish preparing for bed. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t insinuate that I was.”

It seemed he still had a lot of work to do before his offer to commit this single sin would even be considered.

Elsewhere…

Colum Asht was shock-still in the middle of their small prayer room that jutted off to the side of the Master Templar’s bedroom. His hands still felt warm where Silas had held them as they’d joined each other in prayer, and then where Silas had held him to—

How old was Silas again? Was he fifteen, sixteen, or seventeen? He could have even been older or younger. It was sometimes difficult for Colum to remember small details like the passing of years since some years ago when they’d taken their vows. In any case, Silas seemed just as small and delicate, the perfect picture of a pale Eighth House necromancer, as he always had been since he had been a child.

There was no possibility in Colum’s mind that Silas had kissed him with any intent other than familial comfort and intimacy in mind. Silas was the Master Templar, and Colum couldn’t remember a single time when Silas hadn’t done his utmost to ensure that he didn’t even come in the general vicinity of a sin.

Finally, Colum shook himself out of it. Of course, Silas wasn’t a child anymore, and as such wouldn’t appreciate Colum stepping out of line by pointing out his young age. He probably hadn’t meant anything by that kiss, owing to his general state of innocence, and so any meaning that Colum would impose himself upon the action would, in a sense, be Colum’s own depraved mind. That must have been the case.

Colum blinked an additional six times and said a quiet prayer to ground himself in the moment, and then he followed his necromancer into the bedroom to help Silas get comfortable in bed so that he himself could go to sleep.

[apassingbird]

“You have to be quiet or they’ll hear you” Buck/Eddie

"You have to-" Eddie says between kisses, or at least tries to, unable to let his mouth stray too far away from Buck's, their lips brushing as he continues, "Buck, you need to be quiet, or they'll hear us."

"Yeah, no," Buck closes the small distance between them again, capturing Eddie's lips with his and pushing him up against the wall. He tries not to gloat when a small moan escapes Eddie's lips, swallows it eagerly instead. "I don't think I'm the problem here."

They're tucked away in a secluded corner of the firestation, out of sight but most likely not out of hearing distance, if someone were to walk by. Which, hopefully, nobody does, since they're still clocked in and making out on company time is most likely not the best smartest thing to do if they want to stay out of trouble. But the thing is, they're two weeks into... dating or- or being boyfriends. Honestly, Buck isn't really sure what they're calling it just yet, but it's new, is all. New and exciting, and just for them.

They had kissed in the dim light of Eddie's kitchen a fortnight ago, a punctuation of a whispered conversation filled with words they had never dared to say out loud before. Later, tangled up in Eddie's bed, loose limbed and sated, they'd agreed to keep it on the low for the time being. To give themselves space to figure out what it all meant, to enjoy this newly discovered aspect of them. It had been easier said than done, though. It was almost as if, once Buck knew what it felt like to kiss and touch Eddie without restraints, he had become incapable of going more than a few minutes without it. From what he could tell, Eddie was experiencing the same thing. This wasn't the first time they'd snuck away for a few stolen kisses.

"Besides," Buck says, kissing the corner of Eddie's mouth before making his way down towards his neck. "You were the one who dragged me in here."

"I know," Eddie sighs, hands flexing on Buck's waist, his head falling back against the wall with a soft thud, granting Buck more access. "Already regretting it."

Buck rolls his eyes at that before biting down gently on the soft skin on Eddie's neck, mindful of not making any lasting marks. Eddie doesn't moan this time, clearly trying to keep the noise down, but he does whimper. A small thing that goes straight to Buck's dick, which- definitely not the right time for that. He presses one last open-mouthed kiss to Eddie's neck before leaning back to look at Eddie.

"No," Buck says, licking his lips as he takes in Eddie's hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. "You don't."

Eddie hums, lips pursed as he lets his hand wander from Buck's waist, dragging them up and over his chest. He pauses there for a moment, the palm of his hand laying flat against Buck's heart, a soft smile playing on his lips. Then, he lets his hands slide upwards, cradling Buck's face, his right thumb brushing against Buck's bottom lip.

"No," Eddie agrees eventually, pulling Buck's face back down towards him. Buck, of course, goes willingly. "I really don't."

[babyblueetbaemonster]

@tes-summer-fest 24, day 3: ghost

Me and the bestie go checking on that nice house I purchased. It's a killer deal and comes with furniture, ghosts, and curse.

Already showing signs of madness? Nah. I bet everyone will do this kind of thing. Right? Haha...

[ky-landfill]

Just wondering but have you read “the big road home” by crumpetz? I’m rereading it now (and taking extreme levels of emotional damage from doing so) and it seems like something you’d really enjoy

"Tim does excitement a little differently than most people, a little quieter and with less movement, but it’s really obvious once you know him. He’s not saying much or screaming or anything, but Tim looks like a human sunbeam. Like he’s glowing under his skin."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Old Men(tor) Big Naturals

(for @3luecactuz)

[triona-tribblescore]

I saw you wanted fluffy suggestions so here ya go:

Baby Mikey blabbering and Donnie responding like it’s a philosophical discussion.

Big! Sweaters! Big fluffy sweaters!

Disaster twins in the get along shirt

Raph and Leo in the get along shirt

Raph napping while Donnie happily rants to him

All boys walking together down an overgrown subway tunnel and relishing in sunlight and plants!(if ya need some background practice)

sooo uhhh, this ask may be four months old BUT! I was saving it for a rainy day and, would you look at that, its raining outside :D

some close-ups :)