#☆ writing event

[afyrian]

my plus one atsumu miya x fem!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 871 | prompts: fake dating

    "just act natural!"

  "anyone acting natural wouldn't be dating you-"

  "okay, could you just shut up then?" you question, arm wrapped around atsumu's, a fake smile gracing your face. 

  the two of you enter your cousin's wedding reception, the old italian atmosphere garnering a romantic feeling... if you were with anyone other than atsumu miya. the inside of your elbow interlocks with his arm, hand resting in front of your ensemble. "you are the one who invited me, remember?" he whispers into your ear, keeping an obnoxious smile on his face. 

  "only because you were the only one in town after the tournament," you whisper back, giving your other cousins a wave, trying to hold your smile. 

  he turns to look at you, stopping you in your tracks. his eyes are wide as his hand rests below your elbow, fingers grazing your upper arm. biting his lip, the tips of his shoes touching yours, “you’re such a charmer.. now if you really want to convince them, you’ll let me wrap my arm around your waist.”

  “taking this boyfriend role a little seriously, aren’t you?” you question, narrowing your eyes, hands reaching up to his biceps. 

  atsumu shrugs, raising his right hand to push back pieces of your hair. “only as much as you are sweetheart,” he looks past you and at your cousins, the bride included.

  they’re standing together in a group, chowing down on hors d’oeuvres featuring classic italian flavors. the maid of honor leans against the table, eyes wide open as she spots the two of you together. inciting a domino effect, she alerts the rest of the bridal party to your presence, making note of the man attached to your hip.

  atsumu smirks to himself as you roll your eyes. trying to play it up, his hand moves smoothly from your elbow to your back, pushing you slightly towards him. “now, your cousins are watching, you want to go say hi?” he smiles, raising his eyebrows, reveling in the acting performance of a lifetime. 

  “oh i would love to hon,” you tilt your head, tapping his chest with your hand before turning around to meet your fate.

  atsumu’s hand stays on your back, lowering only slightly to reach your waist. the rest of the reception runs smoothly, people dancing on the floor, the groom talking to a few of his friends. walking up to your cousin, you hold out your hands, moving into a hug, “alisa! i have to say, your wedding was beautiful. and this reception? i’m so happy i was able to come.”

  “i’m so happy you could too y/n! god i haven’t seen you in forever, and especially not since you’ve gotten with your boyfriend… who is??” she sets down her plate onto the table, hands clasped together with an excited smile on her face. 

  “atsumu miya, you might’ve seen me, i’m on japan’s national volleyball team. that’s actually how we met, right babe?” he squeezes you into his side, making sure your family can see just how ‘in love’ he is. 

  looking up at him, you purse your lips, sighing. “yes, i remember like it was yesterday. i was doing some paperwork for their team, and i ended up having to stay late. when someone,” you look up at him, a soft smile on your lips, “brought in some food, and offered it up. although, it wasn’t the perfect meet cute. he ended up spilling chili oil all over me.”

  “to be fair, you were trying to take some of my food and i was just protecting it-”

  “you had way more food than i did, besides, i know for a fact that the meal planner didn’t want you eating any of that because of the upcoming games,” you lean back, shaking your head.

  the bridal party watches with amusement as you bicker, already acting like an old married couple. reaching her hand out, you grab ahold of alisa’s hand, giving her a soft smile, “okay okay, atsumu, would you mind getting us a few drinks so i could talk to my cousin?”

  nodding his head, he lifts his hands up, “yes, i can definitely get those for you. i’m assuming from the punch table. have fun babe.”

  watching as he walks away, alisa immediately starts badgering you for more information. your first thoughts of him, how long you’ve been together, whether you’ve gone to any of games as his ‘girlfriend’ yet. the question that stood out to you the most is when she asks ‘do you love him?’. 

  “love him? i don’t know, maybe? i mean he annoys the living hell out of me. and i probably won’t tell him this, at least not till we’re dating longer, but i do think i care about him. in our own way, you know?” you shrug, rubbing your thumb against her hand, “but enough about me, how’s it feel to be married to the love of your life?”

  atsumu peeks over at the two of you, holding a few glasses on a tray he was able to steal from catering. listening to the sweet sounds of you figuring out that maybe you don’t actually hate atsumu for the night he ruined your favorite sweater… 

a/n: thank you so much for requesting @thestorytellercattie !! i hope you like it

gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

[w1770w]

GUMROAD IS BANNING NSFW CONTENT IN THE NEXT 24 HOURS

I haven't seen anyone talk about this yet, so I might as well.

They've updated their content policy to comply with payment processor Stripe and Paypal's censorhip. They gave 24 hours. On March 16th 2024, Gumroad TOS will no longer allows sales of any written or drawn nsfw content.

This is going to hurt for so many creators. Giving that little time leaves people's source of income wildly unstable, especially with such a huge overhaul of what content is allowed.

I hate this. I hate what censorship is turning the internet into. I hate that nsfw content creators keeo getting pushed to the fringes, that they need to digitally migrate so often, because nowhere can be trusted to allow their art for long.

I don't know what to do next, there isn't some sort of "here's what you can do to help!" People just deserve to know.

[gingerswagfreckles]

After 146 days, the Writer's Strike has ended with a resounding success. Throughout constant attempts by the studios to threaten, gaslight, and otherwise divide the WGA, union members stood strong and kept fast in their demands. The result is a historic win guaranteeing not only pay increases and residual guarantees, but some of the first serious restrictions on the use of AI in a major industry.

This win is going to have a ripple effect not only throughout Hollywood but in all industries threatened by AI and wage reduction. Studio executives tried to insist that job replacement through AI is inevitable and wage increases for staff members is not financially viable. By refusing to give in for almost five long months, the writer's showed all of the US and frankly the world that that isn't true.

Organizing works. Unions work. Collective bargaining how we bring about a better future for ourselves and the next generation, and the WGA proved that today. Congratulations, Writer's Guild of America. #WGAstrong!!!

[itsfirecat]

(text description in ALT and below the cut)

Based on some rumblings I heard, I ended up quickly throwing together a fun little WIP bingo sheet! I'll admit I largely wrote the prompts for writing, but I think a good number of them should also apply to art!

Ultimately, the goal is to have fun, and finish whatever WIPs you can (without burning yourself out or having a bad time). If you needed a sign to pick up that project you've been putting off, the time is now!

3x4 Bingo square titled "Finish your fucking fics february"

the top three across left to right read "Update your oldest WIP", "Finish a WIP that's been buried deep in your drafts", and "Finish a WIP that you haven't posted yet"

the second row reads "Finish a recent WIP", "Finish a WIP you're scared of" and "Finish a WIP that's been haunting you"

the third row reads "Update a partially posted WIP", "Finish any WIP/Free Space", and "Finish the next WIP in a series you've been avoiding"

the last row reads "Update your newest WIP", "Finish a WIP that's been ignored for at least 6 months", and "Finish the next chapter for a fic you've been meaning to for months"

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

4.2 spoilers but it's interesting how Scaramouche and Furina were both made as replacements. But while Ei saw Scara's humanity as a flaw, Focalors thought that's what made Furina perfect.

I need the two of them to interact

[whumperfultime]

Hey idk what writer/artist/creative needs to hear this but: You can create the most garbage self-indulgent poorly made full-of-cliches awkward ugly piece of art on the entire planet and you're still allowed to be proud of it and share it with the world. In fact, I outright encourage you to be proud. You deserve it. I love you. Keep making things.

[srrrokka]

Hey, you want to hear something horrific? Well, there you go anyway!

“You no longer have permission to view this document,” said the pop-up message. “If you believe this is an error, contact the document owner.”

This was how Renee experienced a moment that most of us have heart-pounding 3 am stress nightmares about. All 10 of her works in progress—some 222,000 words across multiple files and folders—were frozen. Not just frozen, but inaccessible on her phone and tablet. When her husband fetched her laptop, Renee logged into Docs and tried sharing the documents again. Then she received her own message from Google.

“Can’t share item,” was the header. “You cannot share this item because it has been flagged as inappropriate,” read the body text.

Stop using Google Docs. And ALWAYS keep local copies of your work.

[purinfelix]

congrats on 1k!!! could i request a hot cocoa for oscar piastri with ever seen?

your event is so so cute <33

the prettiest eyes he's ever seen ⟡ ݁₊ . - oscar piastri

a/n: okay normally i would've wanted a more detailed req but as soon as i read this i instantly had an idea so u get off this time <333 hope u enjoy

this is part of my 1k event - check out the rules here!!

"My gosh, this is uncomfortable," you laugh from the seat of Oscar's race car.

"Well, I only have to sit in there for about an hour and a half at a time," he explains matter-of-factly.

Around you, the McLaren garage is alive with people hurrying around - engineers making sure the last parts are in place before the race, strategists going over data, and even a couple media crew snapping photos. And then there was you and your boyfriend, who had decided that your visit to the garage would be incomplete without sitting in his car.

"It's digging into my butt," you complain, "how do you even do this."

"Well it is my job, baby" he laughs, watching you with an endeared look.

"Yeah, and there's a reason it isn't mine, can I get out now?"

"Wait, wait!" he stops you right as you're about to pull yourself out, rushing off into the distance to grab something. When he appears again, he's holding his helmet for the weekend and donning a mischievous smile.

"You have to try it on," he laughs - and you're so enamoured by the sound of Oscar Piastri laughing that you have no choice outside of obliging. Obediently, you sit in place as he pushes the helmet down onto your head, and you let out a soft grunt at the feeling.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

"Squashed," you reply, voice muffled by the helmet.

"Oh, hold on," he lets out a soft laugh as he reaches towards you, flipping up the visor, "there you are."

"Thanks," you let out, but he doesn't lean back, instead leaning in even closer to the point where his nose almost touches the helmet.

"You have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen," he breathes in awe, just above a whisper. You feel your eyes widen, and you feel slightly grateful for the fact that the helmet covers up most of your face - which you're sure is bright red by now.

"Wh- sorry?" is all you can muster out as your boyfriend straightens back up with a smirk at your reaction, already whipping out his phone to snap a photo of you. "Hey!"

"You're so cute," he laughs, "this one's going in the race weekend photo dump for sure."

[stayatsam]

Eclipse child [OC]

[daily-trey]

Huh...is that how others see me???

BigCartel | Ko-fi | Commissions | Inprnt

[madaqueue]

EPISODE 3: A TASTE OF HONEY IN DEFEAT

satoru thought he would have no problem winning a bet he proposed, but a month is too long to go without a taste of anything this sweet.

themes/content: smut. edging, handjobs, mean-ish dom!reader, satoru being whiney lmao, premature ejaculation + he cums inside, light bondage (satoru receiving). (wk: 2.1k)

a/n: this is part of @luv-lies no-nut-november collab!!! so excited to have been a part of this, hope you all enjoy >:3

“You know I trust you, but don’t you think the ropes are a bit much?” Satoru giggles as you tighten the final knot around his wrists, shoulders bulging and arms stretched overhead.

“I know you trust me - it’s you I’m worried about, ‘Toru.”

“What, worried I won’t be able to keep my hands off you?” The smirk painting his features veers into a grimace as he winces, straining against the tightening rope.

“No. I’m worried you won’t be able to keep your hands off yourself.”

Pink lips draw into a pout. “Aw c’mon, you know I’ll be good! I’m the one who made this bet in the first place, remember?”

You hum as you tug his hands down, testing the strength of the woven cerulean adorning his skin. The headboard shakes with the movement.

“And yet, you were so willing to break the rules.”

It had been quite a sight, truly - your dear Satoru, splayed across the bed, whimpers and moans falling from his lips like honeyed rain. They landed heavy in your ears, sticky and sweet. When the door creaked open, he made no effort to stop the fervent motions of his fist up and down his cock. He was flushed from head to toe, too lost in his own pleasure to recognize the sound of your footsteps approaching. It was only when your hand rested atop his that he jerked up, clouded eyes turning apologetic.

“I know I wasn’t supposed to, I know, I just couldn’t wait-” he had babbled.

“It’s okay,” you purred, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “But you knew the deal, remember? I’m the only one allowed to touch you this month, right, Satoru?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry-”

“And how close you were to cumming, too.”

“I wasn’t going to, I swear-”

You hummed and squeezed his base, earning a gasp. “You know it’s not good to lie, either. Remember, you made this bet, sweetheart. Were you really so willing to throw it all away? To lose?”

“I wasn’t going to lose, I promise, I just needed something-”

He was getting worked up, panicked thoughts racing through his mind. He braced on his forearms to sit up, but with a purposeful push you guided him back onto the sheets.

“It’s okay, my love. If my poor baby is so needy, I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you something.”

His eyes widened when you pulled the ropes from under the bed, eyeing him like your next meal, a starving predator ready to pounce. And here was your prey, so ready for the taking, offering himself to you as a good piece of meat should.

And now, he’s tied up like one, too.

“I wasn’t even going to break the rules,” he whines impatiently.

Sitting back, you admire your work: your strong, determined Satoru spread and waiting. Trailing a finger down his stomach, his skin burns hot in its wake.

“That’s certainly not what it looked like to me.”

“I-”

“Because to me, it looked like you couldn’t handle going even a month without touching this needy little cock of yours.”

He pouts. “I’m not little,” he huffs.

A giggle bubbles from the back of your throat, bouncing past your lips.

“And besides, I can handle it, I swear! I made it almost the whole month, I did, I just-”

Tilting your head, you gaze down at him. “What, got too desperate? Poor Satoru, ‘The Strongest,’ couldn’t even follow the rules of a bet he made?”

Blue flashes against white as he rolls his eyes. One hand ruffles his hair, cooing down at him.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll make you beg to break this silly little bet of yours.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs, hiding the way pink creeps up his neck and decorates his cheeks, stained like flower petals. He’s soft like them, too.

A light chuckle lands in the air when your palm grazes up his length. He twitches in your hold, warm skin on warm skin.

“H-hah, see?” His mouth hangs open between the words. “Told you I could handle it.”

It’s gentle touches at first, to ease him into it: slow strokes, light fingers. And yet, he’s still wrapping his throat around whimpers.

“Aw baby, I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Your lips curl into a smile, breath hot behind them. The words come out syrupy, dripping in sugar (and Satoru has always had a sweet tooth). His stomach aches in hunger - hunger for your hands, your body, your control. Whatever you plan to do to him, he’ll swallow it whole, bigger and bigger bites until his cheeks swell and all he can taste is you.

The grip around his base tightens, running up and down. Something about your skin is so much softer than his, untainted by the cruelty he lives through, only dirtied by desire. It spreads over his skin, glistening white and sticky.

When whines begin to twist through the silence, his eyelashes fluttering to bat away the impending tears, he doesn’t have to say it - he’s close.

Just as his muscles begin to tense, you rip your hand away.

There’s a choked little cry he lets out, hurt like an animal you spared from death. One that was ready for it, for the warmth and comfort it provided.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice is strained already, a high-pitched draw across his vocal cords. His eyes are sparkling and wet.

A peck to his cheek sends shivers down his spine. “Because you’re not supposed to finish, remember, silly? I’m just helping you hold up your end of the bet, after all.”

A sound like untuned violins, haunting and beautiful all the same, plays from his throat. You giggle at the music.

“C’mon, Toru - you wanted this, remember?”

“I know,” he grumbles, scrunching his nose. “Fine, fine, do whatever you want.”

You smile.

(You would have anyways)

Your gaze falls upon the aquamarine rope, the matching eyes, before trailing back down his steadying chest.

It stutters when your fingers trace up the veins of his cock.

It heaves when you cup a palm around his balls.

You squeeze.

“F-fuck,” he groans, hips lifting off the bed.

There’s a word living at the tip of his tongue, its shape burning into his mouth.

Harder.

Luckily, you know your Satoru - you know what he thinks, feels, wants. And as a lover should, you happily oblige.

The sound he makes is garbled and choked, utter nonsense. It came straight from the depths of his body, a pure animalistic response, one he couldn’t have controlled if he tried.

Already, he’s beginning to tremble in your palm - it’s getting easier to do this, make him shake like a lost leaf floating through the autumn air, held captive by the gusts of your wind. Up and down, he travels with you, because of you.

Again, you pull your hand away.

Again, he whines.

“Noooo,” he mumbles, more to himself than anything. It was automatic, the expression of displeasure, ripped from him with the loss of your warmth on his.

“What’s wrong baby? You want me to stop?” It’s more fun when he has an out, when he could say no and chooses not to. When he wants this just as badly as you. “You know you-”

“No.” It's more breath than sound. “No, please. Keep going.”

And as a lover should, you happily oblige.

Precum drips down his length, covering him in remnants of desire. They cling to his skin like silky webs, woven from devotion and need. Each slick pump of your hand up and down creates more and more and more, a beautiful pearl at his slit forming one moment only to be spread by your circling thumb in the next.

Each time you reach his base, you squeeze. Each time you reach his tip, you twist. In this dance you both twirl and breathe and feel in beat, holding on to one another with sweaty hands and tired muscles.

“Remember, you can give up whenever you want,” you coo, the sweet glue of a trap.

But Satoru doesn’t dare taste, doesn’t dare step inside - he knows better.

(Right?)

“I’m not - fuck - giving up.” He tries to throw you a smile, but it lands at your feet.

Fists clench into each other, nails digging into his palms. You almost feel bad, the way he’s beginning to writhe within the ropes. It must hurt, you think, the texture soft but never soft enough - it’s nothing compared to you. In spite of his anguish, he knows better than to give up this easily. You haven’t even really begun, not yet.

When his eyelashes flutter closed, you know to pull your hand away.

He’s getting more subtle, the only sign of his impending pleasure a soft flicker of white and blue. But you recognize it, of course - his pleasure lives everywhere in him. In the way his breath catches, in the way his skin burns hot, in the way he gets all too loud or all too quiet.

There’s barely a sound this time. Instead, he just frowns, displeasure spreading across his sweet features. His lower lip sticks out, and he stares at you with cloudy eyes.

“I know, baby, I know. But this is what it takes if you want to win.”

The words don’t ease the growing ache in his core, but your voice does. Every vowel blurs the pain, every consonant gives him something to cling to. He’ll climb himself out of insanity on your breath.

Again, you wrap around him and drag him closer to the edge. Unable to pull his gaze away, he stares down it, looming, waiting. The free fall must feel nice, the wind against his skin, for a moment before he hits the ground. But with a firm hand on the back of his head, you just hold him there. It’ll be his choice whether he decides to jump. Or rather, when he decides to jump.

Another choked groan leaks from his lips when you pause. There are no words left for him to say, nothing but the agony of desire. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if it’ll make the leap any less tempting.

Hushed whispers, not quite praise, tingle his mind. Little hums of “I know,” or “there, there,” dance from your throat, and he writhes.

Distress always looked so pretty on him. Pretty tears, pretty red cheeks, pretty pouts and pretty cries. Perhaps it’s a curse that he looks like a fallen angel when he weeps - if he looked more grotesque, you wouldn’t feel the urge to bring him back into the jaws of pain.

But he lets you comfort him nonetheless, preen his wings and kiss his tears.

This time, when you stop, he thrashes. His skin burns, crisp like it had been warmed by the sun for too long. Everything is too tight, his hands, his arms, his shoulders, his stomach. They need to be loosened; they need to be released.

“Please.”

It’s so quiet, it’s almost not a word, just little sounds from his tongue.

“What was that, baby? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Tears stream from glossy eyes when he looks at you. His lips quiver as he speaks.

“Please, I wanna cum. Please.”

The smile spreading across your face is cold and knowing; he looks beautiful as he falls.

“I know you want to, but-”

“I lose.” He’s panting, gasping through the plea. “I lose, I give up, I don’t care, just, please.”

Hot tears melt beneath your thumb as you swipe them away. His mouth hangs open, as though he could swallow the air, hold it inside him and let that ease the aching. But the only thing that can help him now is you, the only thing he can stomach.

“Okay, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

A loose smile flows across his face, easy like gentle waves lapping at the corners of his thoughts. The sentence itself barely makes sense to him at this point, garbled in his lust-clouded mind. But he knows you’ll help him now; he welcomes the push over the edge.

Straddling his lap, you guide him to your entrance. Sticky and hot, he presses into you. Just as his tip enters your warmth, he hurls himself into the wind.

Everything in his body trembles, muscles tightening and contracting out of time. Eyelashes flutter, whimpers dance like petals as he comes undone.

The only thing he can do is twitch inside of you, pearly strings pulsing with each erratic breath.

Finally, he opens his eyes to find you smiling. Warm lips press along his cheeks, dried tears salty on your tongue.

“Well, you certainly lost this time,” you hum, resting your forehead against his; he looks at you like you created the earth itself, your breath in the wind and your heartbeat in the sun. “But there’s always next year, right?”

[afyrian]

always open for you sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 1.2k | prompts: brother's best friend + next door neighbor

    "oh shit, no no no no no," you whisper to yourself, running up the soiled stairs of your old apartment building.

  the torn paper sign still stays taped against the metallic elevator doors. they've been there for as long as you've lived there, and you'd be damned before your landlord would ever spend the money on something so 'frivolous'. forcing you to push your way up the steps, sweat beads already piling on your forehead.

  precipitation rests on the back of your neck, the back of your shirt already feeling the affects of six flights of stairs. taking in a deep breath, you make your way up the last flight, hands weary of leaning against the stairwell handles. "shit, i'm going to kill him," you whisper once more, praying for the day you free yourself from the lease.

  pushing open the door to the main hallway, you clamber down the carpeted flooring. some doors stay decorated, fall leave wreaths decorating some of the older couples' doors. a few even have welcome floor mats, begging for a place of their own, their welcome mat beautifully placed on a restored wooden porch.

  walking up to your door, you grab at your pocket, feeling for your key. biting your lip, you look up at the cracked clock at the end of the hallway, fifteen minutes until four. finally, your fingers pull the key from the little pocket hidden within your jeans. however, it fumbles from your fingers, falling to the ground.

  rolling your eyes, you lean down quickly in an attempt to pick it back up. and in a rube goldberg type of scenario, your forehead knocks into the door handle. reaching your hand up to the throbbing spot, you straight your back, moving your foot instinctively. the rubber sole of the shoe knocks into the key, sending it under the door. 

  "no no no, this can not be happening today," you shake your head, pressing your head forward to lean against the slightly scratched up door.

  closing your eyes, you can feel the five stages of grief washing through you. denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. however, acceptance lingers just far enough in the distance that you can only feel the aura of it. "i can't miss this meeting," you whisper to yourself, mind wandering with thoughts of nearby libraries and shitty reception on your phone.

  before you can lift your head, a nearby door creaks open. the hinges begging for even an ounce of oil. "everything okay?" a voice asks, quietly, yet loud enough that it rings loudly in your ears.

  turning around, you see your one and only neighbor, sakusa kiyoomi. he knows you, you know him. his reputation proceeds him as your brother's closest friend. "hi sakusa, i'm locked out. so okay, for the most part, but i have a meeting i have to attend in a few minutes," your gaze glances towards the clock for another second... twelve minutes. 

  you can remember the first time you met. atsumu invited you to one of their charity events, and he walked in with a suit that could rival anyone. he barely spoke to you, but after you moved in from across from you, the two of you begun to see each other every morning.

  and every morning, you wonder how he can bother to stay in this apartment building. especially when you know how much atsumu makes a season. "that's a bummer... you could borrow my computer if you'd like, until you can get a key. gives me an opportunity to have atsumu owe me something," he shrugs, arms crossing in front of his chest. 

  "that would save my life, plus i would love for atsumu to owe you something as well," you laugh, hands clinging to your bag's strap. 

  sakusa looks back at his door and then to you, "but i do have errands to run, could i give you a key and maybe you could return it next time i see you?"

  his eyebrow quirks upward, a smile growing on his lips. there's a unique feeling you garner from seeing his smile. the way it makes your stomach churn undeniably sets you into a minor panic. "yes, i can absolutely do that. thank you again sakusa. it's an important meeting regarding promotions and missing this would kill me," you clasp your hands together, bowing slightly in appreciation.

  sakusa turns around to unlock the door, not seeing your form of expression. "well, we can't have that happening, now can we?" sakusa shakes his head, opening the door to show a beautifully decorated apartment.

  it differs from the general look and atmosphere of the apartment complex. volleyball paraphernalia sits on a few shelves in the corner, some of the walls painted a pleasant pale yellow color. his kitchen has had some repairs, no cracks in the wood like yours. no drawers stuck closed due to the last renter's indiscretions. 

  even a light scent drifts through the air, blocking the musty smell of the hallway's carpet. "your apartment is beautiful," the words come out quietly, a wave of shock rocking you. 

  "thank you, trying to make it feel like home until i can get a home," he shrugs, walking down the hallway into one of the farther rooms.

  down the hallway hangs some photos that he hung up, all framed in a carved, wooden design. some are of the black jackals' team, one even of sakusa in the middle of spiking the ball. as you venture further, you see one of him and who you presume to be his grandmother. she's cleaning something with him, a candid photo of sorts.

  smiling to yourself, you hurry to catch him in the small office room he holds. it's just as good looking as the living room and kitchen, his computer boosting up with a tired hum. "i can't thank you enough for this," you shake your head, turning on your phone to check the time once more, five minutes, "really, this is life saving."

  "it's alright, this room has been collecting dust anyway, what with all of the tournaments and practices happening lately," sakusa shrugs, fingers gripping at a ballpoint pen as he scribbles something onto a blue post-it note. 

  turning to look at you, he presses the sticky residue against the desk, "this is my number, call or text if you need the password or anything. or feel free to save it if you ever get locked out of your apartment again."

  for a moment, it feels like butterflies flutter within your throat. strangling any sense of normalcy within you, forcing you to feel awkward in his presence. "alright, i definitely will. at least then i won't be stuck with annoying the landlord during his 'personal time'," you roll your eyes, noting every time he's ignored your calls.

  "right... yeah, use it whenever, my apartment is always free, even if i'm not," sakusa nods, pushing open the office door more, making his way back to the front of the apartment.

  standing breathlessly, you tap your finger against the post-it note. staring down at it, you notice the quickly drawn smiley face hidden in a zero. "fuck," you whisper to yourself, noting your heart beating quickly and the heat rushing to your face.

a/n: hating myself for not formatting this all on the actually ask 😔 but i hope you like it dodger <33 gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

[yearoftheotpevent]

hello fan creators!

Year of the OTP is officially back for 2025 with a new set of prompts!

we've switched some of the prompt categories around in an effort to make the event more inclusive of all kinds of fanworks. we've also included song prompts this year! the playlist is on spotify here.

we want to give a huge thank you to everyone who participated in the last event - it grew so much larger than we ever expected and it's truly amazing how you all took our last set of prompts and made so many wonderful things. keep it up!

a couple housekeeping notes: we will not be reblogging every entry this year. mods will keep an eye on the blog if you have any questions, but the reblogs were too much last time. thank you for your understanding!

we will be closing the 2023 collection on December 31. thank you for your continued participation, but it's time to look forward!

the link for the new collection will be posted here January 1.

we're looking forward to seeing what you create this year!

alt text below the cut.

Year of the OTP 2025

The Rules: the Ao3 collection accepts any /-ship works inspired by a prompt from this sheet The Challenge: make 12 works for one ship in one year, using prompts from each month

*you do not need to do the challenge to post to the AO3 collection, as long as you follow the rules*

January first kiss ♦ “may I have this dance” ♦ sharing clothes ♦ BDSM AU ♦ stockholm syndrome ♦ Strong – One Direction

February Valentine’s Day ♦ “it made me think of you” ♦ bed sharing ♦ multiple penetration ♦ mind control/mind break ♦ Like Real People Do – Hozier

March fresh starts ♦ “what are you doing with that”♦ florist/tattoo artist ♦ phone sex ♦ major character death ♦ Take Care – Drake

April pranks ♦ “right in front of my salad” ♦ running away together ♦ dom bottom/sub top ♦ raised to be a killer ♦ Drops of Jupiter – Train

May hanahaki ♦ “we’re dating? since when?” ♦ body swap ♦ magical sex toys ♦ stalking ♦ Paper Rings – Taylor Swift

June pride ♦ “I can’t get you out of my mind” ♦ relationship reveal ♦ unconventional sex positions ♦ paying a debt with your body ♦ Good Looking – Dixon Dallas

July vacation together ♦ “I like my _ how I like my coffee” ♦ kidfic ♦ mutual masturbation ♦ dehumanization ♦ You May Be Right – Billy Joel

August Sports AU ♦ “you’re thinking too much”♦ cooking together ♦ object insertion/ penetration ♦ becoming a monster ♦ You Shook Me All Night Long – AC/DC

September high school/college sweethearts ♦ “come here” ♦ date night gone wrong ♦ semi-public sex ♦ abduction ♦ Thinking Bout You – Frank Ocean

October costumes ♦ “boo” ♦ online dating ♦ shibari ♦ mutual non-con ♦ Mr. Brightside – The Killers

November camping ♦ “are you sure” ♦ touch-starved ♦ cockwarming ♦ abusive relationship ♦ A Thousand Years – Christina Perri

December holiday traditions ♦ “where are you taking me” ♦ bathing together ♦ food play ♦ tortured for information ♦ Everything Is Alright – Laura Shigihara

[astearisms]

fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started

[skzdust]

Hotel Showers

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

This fic was a request from @chanchansgirly (here) and part of my 500 followers celebration! The request was prompt #1, only one bed, with Chan, NSFW!

I hope you all like it!

Summary: Y/n and Chan get stuck in a very cold hotel room together... and there's only one bed.

Pairing: Bang Chan x Flustered!reader

Includes: only one bed trope, handcuffs, fingering, cumming inside (PLEASEEEEE USE A CONDOM IRL)

Word count: 1.9k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz, @jeonginsleftcheek

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

“Seriously?” You blinked at the desk attendant.

He smiled back at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m afraid the blizzard’s got us more crowded than expected. The only room we have left does just have the one bed.”

You sighed. “Just give me the key.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

You walked back over to Chan, key card in hand. “Sorry, it looks like they’ve only got one room left, and it only has one bed.”

Chan smiled. “Oh, no worries. It’s just one night.”

“I can sleep on the floor if you want. Or in the chair. Those hotel chairs are surprisingly comfy sometimes. I mean, sometimes they’re just not, but, like, this one will probably be fine.” You found yourself rambling.

Chan laughed. “Y/n, if you’re okay with sharing the bed, that works for me.”

“Oh—okay.” You could feel your cheeks reddening.

He turned towards the elevator. “Lets’ go.”

You went upstairs to your room, and you pulled a book out of your bag to read while Chan was in the shower. You tried to stop yourself from thinking about that shower, about the water running through his hair, down his shoulders, over his abs, and lower…

You closed your book with a sigh, opting to doomscroll instagram instead.

The water turned off, and a few minutes later Chan opened the door. Thankfully for your sanity, he was wearing a shirt. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

You smiled. “Okay, I’ll just be a few minutes.”

You went into the bathroom. It felt strangely intimate, erotic, almost, to be in a bathroom filled with the steam from Chan’s shower.

You started your shower before you realized you’d left your body wash in your suitcase. You resigned yourself to hotel soap before seeing Chan’s little blue bottle on the shelf. He must’ve left it there.

He probably wouldn’t care if you used it, right?

You carefully squeezed some into your palm. It smelled good, masculine and clean.

You got out of the shower, dried off, and put on a T-shirt and sleep shorts. You regretted your decision as soon as you stepped out of the now even steamier bathroom. “My God, it’s cold.”

Chan laughed from where he was sitting under the covers. “I was just messing with the thermostat, doesn’t look like it’s getting any warmer in here.”

You gave a short exhale. “Of course.”

Chan patted the sheets beside him. “Here, it’s warmer in bed.”

You got in bed with him, burrowing under the blankets. “I guess a little bit.”

“Can I help?”

“Can… can you help?” You were confused.

“Can I touch you?” Chan’s smile was soft. “Just to help warm you up.”

“Oh… um, yeah, please.”

Chan reached towards you, pulling you into his arms and cuddling you close to his chest.

You were sure he was able to feel your heartbeat, because you could feel it all over your body, especially between your legs.

“Are you comfortable?” Chan whispered.

“Yeah, I’m really comfortable.” You pushed your head into his chest. “You’re warm, Channie.”

“Channie?” He laughed.

“I— sorry, I just, like, a nickname, you know, like, how, like, friends call each other nicknames. You know, like friends do?” You rambled.

“Y/n, calm down. You’re allowed to call me Channie. I would even go so far as to say I like it.”

“Oh.” You could feel your cheeks going hot.

He paused for a moment. “Wait.” He helped roll you over, so your back was flush against his chest. You could feel yourself growing wet at the manhandling.

He pushed his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply. You took a shuddering breath of your own at how his lips brushed your skin.

“Did you use my body wash?”

“Um… I forgot mine, I didn’t think you’d… mind.”

“I don’t… mind, exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I think it’s hot more than I think it’s a problem. Which is, in and of itself, a problem.”

“Why?” You breathed.

“Because we’re sharing a bed… catch my drift?”

“I think you need to spell it out for me.” You shifted, angling your hips against his crotch. You could feel a bulge forming already.

He hissed. “Y/n, don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing.” You whispered. “I mean it.”

You squeaked as Chan flipped you around again, and you were met with his piercing gaze. “You mean it?”

“Yeah.”

His hand drifted up the inside of your thigh. “How do you want it?”

You were a little taken off guard. “Want it? I— uh, inside me, I think.”

He laughed, then brought his lips up to your ear to whisper to you. “I mean, do you want it rough? Want to worship me? Want me to put you on a leash and choke you like a dog? Do you want me so bad you’d do anything for me?” He nibbled on your earlobe, and you shifted with a whine. “You know, if you’re into that.”

“Yes, Chan.”

“To which one?”

“All of it.”

He smiled, and you were caught off guard by his wide, ray-of-sunshine grin. “We’re gonna have fun. I’ll be right back.” He got off the bed, and you shivered at the sudden loss of his heat.

He shuffled through his luggage before pulling out a pair of leather handcuffs.  You didn’t even want to question where he’d gotten them or why they were in his suitcase. “You want these?”

Your eyes widened. “Ye-yes, Chan, I do want those.”

“Good girl.” He murmured, climbing back onto the bed. “I’m gonna tie your hands to the headboard, okay?”

“Yes, Channie.” You held out your hands. He guided you to lay back, and he fastened the cuffs around your wrists and then clipped them around the headboard. You tugged a bit at them, and you moaned when they didn’t give.

He just sat in front of you for a moment, watching you watch him.

“Beautiful.” He eventually mumbled. “Lift up those hips for me, and we’ll get your shorts off.”

You nodded, lifting your hips so Chan could slide your shorts and underwear off. You were soaked, and Chan dragged a finger through it before licking it clean. “Damn, all this over me just touching you a bit?”

“I— I mean, before, the shower, I was just thinking about— um, about nothing.” You stopped before you could make a complete fool of yourself by admitting to picturing him naked in the shower.

It was too late for that, though. Chan raised an eyebrow. “Were you thinking about me in the shower?”

You swallowed. “Uh… maybe.”

He shook his head, smiling. “You want me more than you’ve been letting on, don’t you?”

“Uh… maybe.” You said again.

His eyes raked over you. Once, then again. “Can I finger you, sweetheart?”

You felt a wave of heat rush through you, and you were hyperaware of your heartbeat again, pulsing through you. “Yes, please.”

He circled one finger around your entrance for a moment before beginning to press inside. You whined.

He paused. “Something wrong, baby?”

“No!” You squeaked. “Nothing’s wrong! Keep going, Channie, please.” You breathed the last word, and you were unsure for a moment if he’d even heard you until he hummed.

“Please sounds so good coming from your mouth, baby.” He all but purred, pushing his finger in all the way.  Your eyes rolled back, and a broken moan fell from your lips. “Say it again.”

“Please.” You whispered. “Another finger, Chan, please.”

“You’re asking so nicely.” He added another finger, as requested, and you arched your back off the bed.

“Fuck.”

“Can you take another?”

“Yes.”

He added in a third finger. You felt so deliciously full of him, and you absently wondered if his cock would fill you up as good.

He pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. His tongue lewdly lapped at his long fingers, making wet noises.

You moaned. “Please, Chan.”

He paused to raise his eyebrows at you. “What are you begging for, hm?”

“You.” You said honestly. “Want you, um, deep— deep inside me.”

“Shy all of a sudden?” He dropped his hand to your pussy, rubbing at your clit. “I’m gonna be deep inside of you in just a second, sweetheart.”

You pushed your hips into his hand, and he laughed. “Greedy little thing.” He pulled away to take off his shirt and pants, leaving him completely naked on the bed in front of you.

“Fuck.” You whispered. You’d known he was muscular, but he was absolutely gorgeous like this, sculpted like he’d been made by Michelangelo.

And his cock… he was big, and he was hard, and you wanted him so badly you were practically salivating.

“Can I fuck you now?” He whispered, his hands hovering over your hips, waiting for your consent.

“Yes, Chan, please, yes.”

You watched as he lined himself up with your dripping hole. “Ready?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

You put your attention to his face as he pushed inside, at the way his expression went slack as he went deeper and deeper inside of you. You tried to reach up to touch him, but the cuffs rattled loudly.  Something burned inside you. The restraints were turning you on.

His eyes snapped open. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just… it’s hot, not being able to touch you, while you touch me all you want.” You said shakily.

He smirked. “Good, that’s the goal.”

“Can you fuck me now?”

He pushed your hair back from your desperate expression, gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Yes, sweetheart.”

He started to rock back and forth, and it took a bit of adjustment before you found a position that was comfortable, but when you settled into it, it was heavenly. Chan’s cock hit spots inside you you didn’t even know existed, and you were soon seeing stars. You gently moaned with each of his thrusts, the sounds of his skin on yours and your moans and his strangled noises filling the room. Chan was so good at this, so good at figuring out exactly what your body needed.

Chan changed angles one more time, and you were suddenly crying out with every motion inside you. “Fuck, Channie, that’s so good, don’t stop!”

“I’m not gonna stop, sweetheart.” He grunted, his hands beginning to feel up your chest. “I’m not gonna stop. You feel so good around me, so warm, so nice and tight, fuck.”

You whined, glad you were being good for him.

Eventually Chan’s movements grew animalistic; his thrusts shorter, tighter. “I’m gonna cum, sweetheart.”

“Inside!” You moaned. “Cum inside, Chan, please, please, Chan, please— oh!”

You could feel him cum inside you just as your own orgasm hit, and you twitched through it while Chan collapsed on top of you.

Both of you were drained. Chan unclipped the handcuffs and took them off, and you cuddled under the blanket. “So cold.”

“It is.” Chan wrapped himself around you. “What do you say we take another shower, together, to warm up and clean off?”

You nodded, snuggling into his chest. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

“That means we actually have to get out of bed, you know.”

You gave a long-suffering sigh. “Fine.”

[mellosdrawings]

Did the devs do Fellow dirty because his name sucks, or did they do him dirty because there is NO WAY this man will ever manage to write it?

A bit early with the Playful Land doodles, but this joke just wouldn't leave my mind.