#i decided to use that one anon's prompt to finish this one fic i have

[ilkkawhat]

[w2sology]

Kids fic/dilf Harry plsss

big little boss, harry lewis.

summary: harry just can't seem to say no when it comes to his little girl, especially when she's taken his pestering and temper.

warnings: mentions of baby teething, not proofread!

notes: had to pull out the prompt list for this one 😭 anyways babygirl finally has a name thanks to the beautiful anon who recommended it :))

darcy had recently began teething and it was an absolute mare. you and harry were up later than usual trying to get her to sleep or soothing her pain, and nothing seemed to be working. one of the few things that did work was letting her lay skin to skin on harry's chest until she fell asleep.

however a problem with that was that darcy was a biter. as in anything remotely near her mouth would feel the consequences of her not-yet-there teeth.

harry was taking the brunt of it, his skin littered in little marks from when he'd hold her close to him and she'd just grab at whatever was closest to her. and in response, harry would yelp or cuss, hoping she was still in that phase where she didn't yet understand words enough to repeat them back.

with you on the other hand, darcy was much more gentle. she'd only give you a nibble here and there if your fingers were close to her mouth, somehow being able to sense that the look you were giving her wasn't one of approval.

also, unlike harry you actually utilised the teething toys that were gifted to you two at your baby shower, so darcy was pretty much preoccupied with chewing on something else other than you.

today was a pretty regular day for your small family; harry wasn't filming with the boys and you were still on maternity leave with no plans for the day. deciding to use it as a means to go for a big shop later on, you and harry made a start early on in the day.

"did you make her bottle or should i?" harry mumbled as his arms wrapped around your body, tucked in comfortably right behind you as you made yourself a cup of tea.

"that's alright, love, i already did it," smiling at this soft kisses he left along your neck and on your cheek. "is she up yet?"

harry nodded, telling you that darcy was having a bit of tummy time in the sitting room. and as you looked over, you couldn't help but laugh at the makeshift fort harry had made our of pillows to make sure nothing happened to darcy.

he allowed you to finish your tea, opting to get darcy dressed for the day.

"how the fuck does this go on?" harry mumbled to himself, fiddling with the button on darcy's blouse. he really didn't know why kids clothes had to be almost as complicated as adult clothes.

darcy babbled on to herself as harry slid on her socks, making random noises as harry entertained her too, pretending they were having a conversation of their own.

as he picked her up off of the bed, harry looked through his wardrobe in search of his own outfit for the day.

darcy's head lay on her dad's shoulder poking around at his skin before she stopped briefly.

next thing harry knew, her sharp gums were sinking into his bare shoulder.

"ow─── darc!" he groaned, mismatching her smile and refusal to release his shoulder.

maybe that was harry's fault for not wearing a shirt.

"i told you to wear a shirt around her," you couldn't hold in your laugh as you walked in, taking your daughter from her father's arms and wiping over the baby pink mark that she left on him.

"i didn't know she was gonna fucking bite me at every chance," harry huffed, kissing your lips before leaving to get changed himself.

"you," you said, tickling darcy's tummy and hearing her bright laugh. "need to stop biting your daddy."

it turns out you and harry didn't actually pick a place to shop at. usually you'd go to tesco, sometimes asda or costco. but since you didn't plan which of them to go to, harry ended up driving to tesco.

ever since you gave birth, he'd been offering to drive you around a lot more, slotting away from his preferred role of passenger princess. and you weren't complaining, not one bit.

so as you opened up the makeshift shopping list on your notes, harry sat darcy in the kids's seat of the trolley and began to push her.

shopping with harry usually consisted of him grabbing random things and claiming they were needed, whereas you were more organised and actually took note of what you did and didn't have at home.

now with a little one, it was like harry's role had been multiplied by two. whenever she could reach out for something, darcy would make a show of clinging onto it with her little hands until you and harry had no choice but to take it with you to the till.

as you picked out two boxes of cereal, harry was entertaining darcy, who seemed nothing short of unamused. she watched as her dad poked and prodded gently at her, waiting for a smile to decorate her face.

"what's gotten into you, hm?" he frowned, stroking her cheek with his finger, momentarily forgetting his daughter was teething.

"darc, you've gotta stop biting me," harry whimpered, pulling his finger away from her grip. he looked over at you with a frown, cradling his finger but you were to immersed in the food shoo to realise.

you continued to scroll through the aisles, harry and darcy following right behind you. every now and then you'd turn to harry, holding up and item and he'd either nod yes or shake his head no.

it went on like that for a few moments until darcy grew a little agitated with sitting still for too long. just harry's luck, you guys were near the baby aisle, so he took darcy down there in hopes of finding something to distract her for a little bit.

a small teething toy caught his eye, and actually made him let out a sigh of relief, as if darcy would be able to take it out on the toy now and not on him.

"here you go," he smiled, letting her hold on to it. he wasn't sure if you two would end up buying it or not, so he kept it in its packaging, hoping she'd find some entertainment in just looking at it.

and that she did; she was quiet for the rest of the shop aside from the occasional babble and giggle she let out.

now at the till, harry helped you unload the shopping, and it was then that you noticed the nee toy darcy had. "really, harry?" you held in a laugh.

"what?"

"she's got like ten of those already, and some are in her bag," you gestured to darcy's baby essential bag that you brought with you.

harry glanced down at the bag, then back at you, shrugging as he continued to unload the shopping. "one more won't hurt."

harry was such a girl dad, he couldn't ever bring himself to say no to her. quite like he was with you sometimes.

you rolled your eyes, attempting to take the toy away from darcy to place on the till with the rest of the stuff. "darcy, babe, i'm just going to pay for it," you laughed at her super strong grip, and the frown that replaced her smile, similar to how harry looked when he was moping about.

she shook her head, trying to hide the the toy close to her chest. she looked over at harry with those huge eyes of hers, expecting him to intervene.

and that he did. he let you unpack the small amount of items still in the trolley as he picked darcy out of it, kissing all over her face to distract her from the fact that the toy was no longer in her hands, but instead on the conveyor belt.

but darcy didn't seem to notice. instead, both her small hands were on either side of harry's face, squishing and poking as she smiled and babbled to him.

you didn't know how he did it, it was as if he was just meant to understand her better than you. you didn't mind though, it meant that harry was the one who got the end of darcy's little tantrums instead of you.

when it came to pay for the items, harry reached over and tapped his phone on the card machine, ignoring the glare you were giving him as you collected the receipt.

"you thought you almost got away with it," he laughed, knowing that no matter what, he'd always pay if you were with him.

he helped you but the bags back in the trolley, darcy safely in his hold as you walked back to the car.

when she was buckled in, harry handed her the toy that she surely forgot all about, kissing her forehead. "now you can stop biting me," he smiled, going back to the driver's side.

you smiled at your daughter through the mirror, matching that smile to harry's when he put his seatbelt on.

"why're you looking all soppy, then?"

"nothing," you rolled your eyes, smile still on your face. "just happy, is all."

[miasmaghoul]

do you have any thoughts about mountains first time? doesnt have to be a whole ass prompt fill lol but who gets big boy?

(anon I regret to inform you that you sent this while i was disastrously high so you get a Weird One - warnings for terato/monsterfucking, mentions of blood (nonsexual), inhuman anatomy, scent kink, agendered character referred to as "it", use of cunt/clit to describe its anatomy, and some lore at the end)

I still have to finish that fic about his first time bottoming, that's with Omega. But his first time in general?

Well, technically...

Mountain was more feral than most when he was summoned, took a long time to settle into his vessel. He cost a number of siblings their lives before the higher ups decided it was a better idea to let him loose in a warded-off section of the forest. Let him work out the more animalistic traits in an environment better suited to his elemental nature.

He wanders the trees completely unglamoured, with furry, back-bent hooved legs and patches of moss, lichen and bark coating his limbs and torso. His antlers, still budding, grow faster like this and the trees in his path bear fresh gouges as a result. He hunts everything he can, tearing in with claws and elongated jaws alike. The scruffy mane of hair he sports lies matted with days worth of blood, sweat and grime, and it's the fourth night before Mountain finds his appetite sated.

Well, one of his appetites at least.

This new hunger is similar, but very different. He knows lust, of course - no being in Hell wouldn't - but ghouls don't have corporeal forms Downstairs. They feel things, sure, but in the way you "feel" and intense thought, or a specific fantasy. Like this, though, anchored to a physical being he's still learning the ins and outs of, the pressure sitting heavy between his thighs feels foreign. Foreign, but also hot and urgent and fuck he needs.

Mountain paws at himself with rough, inexperienced hands until the sheath between his legs starts to swell. The ghoul watches as it grows, chest heaving when the flared head reveals itself. Already slick and throbbing, Mountain's stomach clenches when every inch is finally exposed and the length of it pulses.

It's then that a certain scent makes his nostrils flare, his eyes go wide, and something deep inside Mountain goes achingly tight. It's not the first time he's smelled it since he woke in the forest, naked and groggy, but it's the first time he's felt the urge to find its source. Now that he does, though?

He needs.

Mountain crashes through the trees on instinct alone, panting and drooling down his chin no matter how many times his hooves catch a root or a row of thorns tears at his flesh. The scent grows thicker the deeper he gets into the dense wood; it's something raw, something syrupy sweet yet intoxicatingly bitter. Like burning leaves on a hot autumn day, rich and earthen but undercut with a sharpness that could only mean desire.

The closer he gets, the more he recalls smelling it before. He remembers catching it when he was savoring the spoils of a hunt, one he'd spent melting into the trees to stalk a particularly jumpy buck. Remembers waking up once, in a small clearing he'd thoroughly marked, only to find a second scent joining his own. Not covering his, not a challenge - though Mountain took great pleasure in...reclaiming his territory anyway. More like an invitation, one Mountain had had no interest in following at the time. That wasn't what he had needed.

Now that he's close to drowning in that scent, though, his cock dripping as it wags between his thighs, Mountain has no idea how he's gone so long without it.

He crashes through the branches of an overgrown willow, blood pounding in his ears and groin in equal measure, and the shiver that wracks him is one shared with the source of this intoxicating scent.

It sits in a nest at the base of the willow, one tucked into its roots and flanked by flowering bushes. There are enough gaps in the tree's limbs to let patches of sunlight filter through, dappling the creature before him.

The one currently on all fours, presenting its flushed, swollen cunt and staring over its shoulder and directly into the center of his brain.

It must be another ghoul, something distant tells him. He only has flashes of the time before the forest, but he can faintly recall a pair of...humans, were they called? They shifted before his eyes, one into a being of black fur and unnatural smoke and the other into scales and fins. They spoke the language of the Pit, and that's the only reason Mountain remembers them.

This one, this creature, looks similar to him, he thinks. He only has a few interrupted reflections in brooks and streams to go by, but it's legs are like his. Back-bent, hooved, but the hair coating them is jet black instead of his own sun-stained auburn. Their torsos differ too - where Mountain could blend in with the bark of any tree, it is instead coated in a combination of thicker fur and sleek black feathers that rustle like the leaves above. No antlers atop it's head, but instead a pair of segmented horns that curl against its skull. It's smaller than he is, more angular, and the few facial features Mountain can see are just as sharp as the talons it has dug into the soft earth.

It makes a sound then, a rattling hiss of a thing, and Mountain growls in response. It's automatic, as is the way he drops to all fours for his final approach. It watches his every move, unnatural eyes wide and growing blacker by the second, and Mountain flinches when it tips it's head and a scratchy voice fills his skull.

New, it rasps in a familiar but broken dialect, forked tongue flicking between it's lips. Maybe a ghoul? It's speech is odd. You're new. New smell. Different.

Mountain watches it's cunt pulse, a thick trail of slick dripping from its hole straight down the fat nub of its clit. That shiny length flexes, and Mountain's cock responds in kind. He snarls as he crawls up to the creature, licking his jaws. That incredible scent, so thick he can taste it, would be enough to drive anyone mad.

Could feel you coming. Could...in the roots and stones...

Mountain barely registers the words floating through his head, but he really likes the way they fade into an audible sharp trill when he buries his nose into the source of his torment.

The taste of it is beyond compare, and Mountain can't help but drag his face through its copious slick while he wriggles his long, thick tongue inside. Desperate to coat himself in it, ears filled with the unearthly sounds of the creature offering itself to him on a silver platter. His hips work in useless, uncoordinated humps, cock jabbing at thin air as that tight hole clamps down around his tongue, and the overwhelming desire he feels to be inside the being before him hits him like a punch to the gut.

You....watching me...

Mountain manages the message as he moves to bracket that smaller figure. It nods, shudders when he settles against its back, snuffling at the crook of its neck. Using his snout to nudge its head, force it to expose its throat so he can feel it thrum under his tongue.

Watched...hunt. Watched me...kill...

It gives a chirrup, and Mountain feels its short, raised tail twitching against his stomach. His cock jumps, the broad head smacking against its clit, and Mountain's growl shakes the earth itself. Those same stupid humps take over, and Mountain stretches his jaws to wrap around the back of its neck to force it still. He uses the last of his brainpower to throw a final thought into its mind.

Why...bring me...to you?

Mountain sinks his fangs into its throat just enough to get a taste of what lives beneath its skin, and as his eyes roll back the creature moans.

Different, it whispers back, canting its hips when Mountain mindlessly tries to line himself up. So long...since something was different...

Mountain's grunting like a disobedient dog, every thrust bumping his cock against its thighs, its tail, it's mound. So focused on getting it inside without releasing the creature from the cage of his limbs that the frustration only builds, his snarls becoming more and more bestial until -

The body beneath him arches as best it can, and as Mountain's aching cock finally squeezes between swollen lips to pop inside there's no way to know which of them is louder.

Mountain doesn't remember much after that.

One day, though, he'll learn the story of the feral ghoul who haunts these woods. The product of a botched summoning, it was always destined to become a creature of instinct. Tied to the realm Above only because its summoner still lives, left to its own devices where it won't pose a threat.

One day Mountain will learn the story of what used to be Cowbell, and when he does nothing will keep him from going back to those woods.

[fourormore]

[Image description: A polyam flag with the words “four or more bingo” on it. End description.]

FOUR OR MORE 2024 BINGO

AO3 COLLECTION | SQUIDGEWORLD COLLECTION

You thought I would stop at a ficathon? Hell no, I have a vision: a world where we can read about polycules and complicated relationships with four or more people until our eyes hurt and our hearts can't take it anymore.

Let me introduce to you: the 2024 Four or More Bingo!

This is a low-stakes, personal challenge. There's no penalty for not finishing or running late.

Cards will be given from October 20th to December 31st. Fills can be posted to AO3, SQWA or tumblr forever.

GUIDELINES

Any medium! Any rating! As long as your work focuses on a relationship with 4 or more people, it's allowed!

All works must be your own and not previously posted. AI generated works will be deleted from the collections.

You may combine these with other events, as long as the other event allows it (examples are @polyamships ' polyartober, lyricaltitles ' bingo, etc)

Small fandoms welcome!

Don't forget to comply with the community guidelines.

MEDIUM SPECIFIC GUIDELINES

Minimum wordcount for fics is 100 words. There is no maximum

Minimum for art is a sketch on unlined paper (figure sticks allowed!). There is no limit to the quality or effort you want to put in your fills.

Minimum for moodboards is a 3x3 grid (9 images individually or edited in one image). Maximum is given by the place where you decide to post. On tumblr, the maximum is 20 images, but on AO3, you're free!

Minimum for podfic is a 100-word fic. There is no restriction on maximum length or effects.

Minimum for fanvids is 30 seconds. There is no maximum.

Other mediums don't have a minimum. Do you want to make an in-universe magazine for your ship? A cross stich pattern? A sculpture? Go ahead and do it! I look forward to all the things you can create.

Prompts, FAQ and more below the cut!

PROMPTS

The following are the prompts that the bingo card will be generated from. Send us an ask if you want a card, and if you want any prompts specifically excluded from it (you can exclude up to 5 prompts). Feel free to request a new card at any time through December 2024, even if you've already received one. If these prompts seem familiar, it's because most of them come from the ficathon! I've chosen some of the most frequent prompts + some new prompts for added spice.

Hide and seek

Growing old together

Getting high together

Moving in together

"It's complicated"

Long distance

Going to a music event together

Medical AU

1920s AU

1950s AU

1980s AU

Y2K AU

Apocalypse AU

Cyberpunk AU

Meeting the parents

"Because I'm heartbroken"

Kink negotiation

Didn't know they were dating

Truth or dare

Skinny-dipping

Aromantic character

Coffee date

Pacific Rim AU

Gamer AU

Game night becomes an orgy

Stargazing

Trust issues

"My turn"

Omegaverse AU

Sedoretu

Sharing a bed

Wedding

Introspection

Dirty talk

Birthday sex

Coming home

Case fic

Morning after

"Don't look at me, this wasn't my idea"

Royalty AU

Combat training

Dancing

Confessions

Experimenting

Redemption

"Let me/us help"

Enemies to lovers

Friends to lovers

"Why me?"

Something made them do it (sex pollen, fuck water, in heat, etc)

Outsider POV

Wearing each others' clothes

Collection

A fandom you haven't written before

A fandom with canon set before the 20th century

A fandom that's 10+ years old

A fandom that's 20+ years old

A polycule with 5 people

A polycule with 8 people

A polycule with 10+ people FAQ

Q: So how do I get a card? A: Send us an ask, preferrably off anon, but if you prefer to remain anon, leave an emoji to identify you by.

Q: How many fics do I need to write? A: For a bingo, 5 prompts in a line (horizontal, vertical, or diagonal). You can even go for a blackout (all 25 prompts). Q: Why isn't X allowed? A: Just because.

Q: I don’t have a Dreamwidth account. Can I join? A: Of course! You don’t even need an AO3 account if you wish to post only on tumblr.

Q: My work contains [INSERT WARNING HERE]. Can I still participate? A: Yes. This is a CNTW (Choose Not To Warn) space.

Q: I don’t want to see [X] content, can you please remove it? A: No. The only content that will be removed will be that that does not comply with the rules.

COMPLETION POSTS

So, you have a bingo (or a blackout!), what now? Well, to acknowledge the fact that you spent time and effort on at least 5 fics, we'll be receiving bragging posts (also known as completion posts) where you can link all of your fills at once. Please follow this format. You may post on your own blog and @ us, tag #fourormore or submit it to the blog.

If you have any questions, don't hesitate to send a message.

Have fun and bon appetit!

[thebigbiwolf]

Mine, if Only for the Night

Summary:

Based on a prompt given to me by a wonderful anon: Astarion/reader fic where he finds out she's never had a lover 'finish the job' so she doesn't see what all the fuss is about, and he decides to use his skills to ruin her for anyone else and show her what she's been missing out on?

Fic Tags: Porn with feelings, Multiple Orgasms, Overstim, Astarion POV, LOTS of Pining, Vaginal sex of all kinds (jesus), and Reader's First Orgasm lol

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), language

Word Count: 5.1k~

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: I loved this prompt. No notes. This is also maybe a bit of a fix-it fic where Astarion does not dissociate during your first time in the woods because my baby deserves to have a good time.

Thank you Lari @imaginarydromedary for being the best beta ever.

-

Astarion leans his shoulder against a tree, surveying the clearing. 

While the surroundings were still a tad rugged for his tastes, he’d taken it upon himself to arrange a few furs and pillows here and there until it felt acceptably comfortable. 

He peels off his nightshirt, discarding it into the plush grass as he works his jaw, wondering where you might be. 

You should have arrived by now. More than an hour had passed since the distant, jovial music and chatter had faded into nothing, and the tieflings have long since said their goodbyes. The night envelopes him in silence, broken only by the distant murmur of a nearby stream and the usual cricket song.

He’s starting to wonder if perhaps he had misread this entire situation. Maybe he pushed too far - made some sort of error in his assessment of you. 

Or maybe you didn't desire him at all. 

The idea gnaws at him - unsettles him more than he’d ever care to admit.

An uncomfortable weight in his chest. 

He brushes the feeling aside, scoffing to himself.

As if you or anyone else would deny themselves a chance to indulge in his body, especially when offered an immediate out. No unnecessary promises. Not even a cuddle.

As if.

And yet, he can’t seem to shake this uncomfortable doubt.

Step by step, he paces, turning your interaction with him at the party over in his head until he’s exhausted every word - until the grass flattens beneath the soles of his feet. 

How the topic of your disappointing sexual history came up could perhaps be attributed to your shared bottle of wine. He’d nearly choked on the damned drink when you explained to him, in detail, about every encounter, every night you spent satisfying a man’s ego rather than having your needs met, and how you no longer believed there was any real point to sex.

He could hardly believe his beautifully pointed ears.

And while he would normally revel in the opportunity to embarrass someone over being the tragic victim of terrible sex, your case is… different.

You are different.

You stood by his side, even through the disastrous revelation of his condition. More than that, you allowed him to drink from you - a favor he won’t soon forget. 

Part of you even enjoyed it. 

He felt it the moment he put his mouth on you, the very second his fangs breached the delicate skin of your neck. He felt it all: the subtle hitch in your breath, your little twitches of excitement. 

And yet, you asked nothing more of him. 

So, what is a friend to do?

It took some insistence - a bit of reassurance that no , offering to bed you properly was not brought about by a sick sense of obligation, nor was it a way to repay you for your kind deeds - but honestly, for the life of him, he doesn’t understand why this feels so damn important - why there's this incessant urge to bring you the release he knows you so desperately need. 

Perhaps it's the promise of a challenge - one that pokes at his male pride like a petulant child. It goads him, raising an egotistical brow his way, the knowledge that unlike all the other men you’ve wasted your time with, Astarion could get you off with ease.

He’d pull out all the stops, use every trick in his little black book to reduce you to a quivering, obedient mess. He’d take his time with you - have you wet and pliant, begging beneath his fingers before giving you everything those pretty little lips could ever ask for. 

He would ruin you, if you’d allow it.

All you had to do was give him one night. No strings attached.

And yet, here you are, keeping him waiting.

Five, then ten, then 20 minutes pass, and only when he’s about to pack his things - when his growing impatience threatens to twist into a feeling dangerously close to disappointment - does he hear movement behind him.

The rustle of leaves, a snapping twig. 

Astarion turns to find you grappling with a particularly thorny bush - your hair a mess, adorned with small sticks. With a frustrated huff, you kick at the plant, muttering under your breath.

You haven’t noticed him yet, too busy fighting to free your foot - and it suddenly occurs to him that your inferior human eyes had to navigate these woods in the dark. 

That little detail must have evaded him when he made his proposition, but realizing it now, knowing that you weren't simply wasting the night away, wrestling with the decision of whether to leave him waiting and wanting… sets him at ease.

“You should have been a druid.” he teases.

You freeze, head perking up and swiveling towards the sound of his voice.

“I don’t see why the lot of them insist on camping out in the wilderness,” you huff,  “There’s a perfectly fine grove less than a mile from here.” 

You finish prying your boot out from the thicket, nearly toppling over in the process. He almost considers helping you, but watching you struggle like a newborn dear is just too amusing to pass up. He’ll make it up to you soon enough.

Making your way toward the clearing, your eyes gradually adjust to the moonlight. They find his gaze, then wander over the pale expanse of his chest, before quickly darting away to focus on the ensemble of blankets.

“Oh. This is… nice.” You remark, gesturing towards the furs, and at first, Astarion assumes you’re mocking him - turning a nose up at his thoughtful efforts.

But when he turns toward you, preparing to make a less-than-savory comment about gratitude, he is instead met with a genuinely surprised, and somewhat irritating, smile.

Just what sort of lovers have you settled for, thinking that this constitutes ‘nice’?

“And you thought I was going to, what,” he scoffs, “Drag you into the cold woods and have my way with you against a tree?” 

Your face flames at the suggestion, burning bright red at his boldness, but you don’t deny it. 

In fact, his keen ears pick up on the subtle flutter of your heartbeat as soon as the words leave his lips.

That’s all the confirmation he needs. 

“Ah,” he purrs, “I see.”

With that, Astarion closes the distance between you, toned arms sliding beneath the firmness of your thighs to lift you with ease. A surprised squeak leaves your mouth as your ankles instinctively lock around his waist.

He takes a few steps forward until the dull edges of bark press into your shoulders.

“Is this what you want?” He punctuates his words with the firm press of his clothed cock against your core, already hardening with interest. It’s almost maddening - how responsive you are, already squirming in his arms when he’s hardly touched you.

His grip tightens on your rear, nails digging into your soft skin.

“Answer me, dear,” he growls, “I want to hear you say it.”

It’s a lie, of sorts. He doesn’t want to hear it - he needs to. Needs you to beg for him, as ridiculous as it feels. 

He’s had more lovers than he could count, heard their sweet cries like a symphony of praise, but they fell on deaf, pointed ears compared to this - to your ragged breaths.

“ Say it .”

“ Please , Astarion. I want this -”

As soon as the words leave you, his lips are on yours, hungry and demanding. He sets you down, one hand leaving your thighs to grab at your jaw and tilting it just so - steering your face into a more accessible angle, the tip of his nose finding its place against your flushed cheek.

His other hand snakes its way to the back of your head, twining the soft strands of hair between his fingers, tightening them in his fist and pulling .

The sudden sting elicits a whine, stolen from your parted lips, and he takes the opportunity to run his tongue along the seam, dipping into the inviting heat of your mouth. Notes of cheap, flat wine still linger on your tongue, but he quickly finds he doesn’t mind the taste - barely notices it at all when you're opening up for him so eagerly.

He long expected himself to turn off - to hide behind his practiced movements, allowing his body to do the work for him - to wake up sometime after you’d found your pleasure in him.

But here he remains - his script thrown to the wind while your little sounds of approval hang in the air between you, driving him with a hunger that is wholly unfamiliar. 

He wants this, but that realization will come later, when he’s gathering his clothes with the heat of the morning sun at his back, wondering why the idea of leaving you there in the plush grass settles like lead in his stomach. 

It’ll wait for him there, hidden behind layers of denial and fear, then follow like a hound biting at his heels for months on end until he makes peace with it - until he chokes on his own tears in the safety of your arms where you’ll welcome him, along with all of his complications.

But for now, he kisses a line down your shoulder, feeling more alive and present with every swipe of his tongue against your collar bone. You sigh, and he pays special attention to the thin skin there, warm and jumping in time with your pulse.

Astarion's deft fingers skillfully unhook the buttons of your shirt with practiced ease. He tears away the offending fabric, and a low growl burns its way out his throat as the last two buttons pop off, landing somewhere in the dirt beside him. You’ll have something to say about that later, he’s sure.

When the morning comes, he’ll notice you searching for them and offer to sew in new ones - more suitable ones, in whichever color you’d prefer. When he hands the shirt back to you just a few hours later, now embroidered and finer than even before his careless blunder, your impressed smile will awaken a fondness in him that will linger naggingly in the corners of his mind for the foreseeable future. 

He’ll ruminate on that later, when his mouth isn’t descending on your breasts, and his hands aren’t palming at your newly exposed skin.

Falling to his knees, he works at the laces of your trousers. Then, when the troublesome strings are finally undone, his eyes meet yours, holding your gaze as he peels the cloth slowly down the length of your thighs. He takes his time with it, dragging the fabric over your knees and trailing the blunt edge of his nails back up to the curve of your hips, watching intently as the skin prickles beneath his touch.

You wiggle, restless and flushed bright red from your neck to your ears, suddenly avoiding his stare. 

It’s a strange, uncharacteristic shyness—until he puts two and two together when he runs his finger over the white lace of your smalls and finds them positively soaked .

“Is this all for me?” he teases, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

His thumb presses knowingly into the wet fabric, petting the skin beneath with practiced pressure. 

You don’t answer - you can’t - with your head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, too busy rocking mindlessly into his touch. 

Well, that certainly won’t do.

A hard slap lands on the inside of your thigh, jolting you to attention. The responding hitch in your breath goes straight to his cock.

“I asked you a question, darling. Is this all for me?”

“I - agh , yes.”

“ Very good,” he purrs, satisfied, “Now, spread these for me.” 

You obey, parting your legs and giving him more space to work with. He tugs at your pants, quickly ridding you of them, then goes back to work kneading lazy, unhurried circles into the thin, sticky, wet fabric. It clings to your skin so perfectly, outlining your form for him as if you were wearing nothing at all.

You're panting above him now - small, rushed breaths suspended in the charged air. The muscles of your thighs twitch with each pass of his thumb over your clit.

And again, you’re not looking at him - head turned to the side and whispering curses quietly to yourself.

Another slap to your thigh, then - the same one, because he’s cruel - now marked with the vivid red imprint of his hand.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

When your eyes meet his again, they’re hooded and glossy, filled with a familiar haze. 

Lust .

He’s got you now.

Pulling the now thoroughly ruined garment to the side, Astarion rewards you by dragging a finger through your folds, watching your arousal drip down his wrist. It practically drools out of you, coating the rest of his digits, slickening his palm as he presses one into your entrance. 

Your hands instinctively fly to his hair, settling atop the tousled, white strands, and your body takes him in greedily . 

Astarion smiles to himself. 

This feels… good - being so in control, pulling little pleasured sounds from your lips. His pride swells as he adds another finger. You buckle forward, letting out a strangled groan, losing yourself to the feeling of being stretched - being prepped for him and every inch of cock he has to give you, sitting impatiently hard and neglected in his trousers.

He pumps in and out of you, slowly at first, but it only takes a few short moments before your impatient squirming turns into a mindless, needy grind. Each small thrust forward has your body taking him deeper, clenching him tighter until he can feel you throbbing around his fingers.

There’s a level of self indulgence here that he would deny if questioned - perhaps even under oath - but the wholly unnecessary way he pauses to tear the fabric of your smallclothes would quickly betray him. 

Your squeak of surprise is all he hears before the press of your thighs deafens him - and if he was naive enough to believe that your blood was the most enticing thing he’s tasted in the last two centuries, it pales in comparison to the mess you’ve made for him. 

An anguished hum escapes him as he drags his tongue through your folds - so hoarse and strained with disbelief, it almost sounds more animal than man.

He drinks you in, letting up for only as long as it takes to press tender, soothing kisses into your clit, sucking gently at the nub before dipping his tongue back into your hole for seconds, thirds -

This is madness . How someone could pass up this opportunity is far beyond him. Your fist in his hair, surrounded by your pulse as it thrums within the warm, pillowy skin of your thighs, the way you chase your release, rocking into his mouth and coating his chin with your slick, is everything . 

It is everything.

In the cornered haze of his mind, he almost regrets his promises. Had he known it would be like this, that you’d be the first and only memorable partner he’s had in the last two centuries, he may have reconsidered. 

Hells, he should have reconsidered the moment his tongue slipped into your mouth and you had the gall to taste that fucking sweet - to be that damned responsive . 

How is he supposed to play this off as if it changes nothing - as if this means nothing at all?

“Shit, Astarion -”

Pesky details. He’ll have to sort those out later.

“I’m - I think I’m close -” 

Astarion is a smart man - smart enough to know that the best course of action here, when you’re on the precipice of coming apart, is to simply redouble his efforts and continue on as he has been. No special trick up his sleeve, no overly indulgent stylized movements, just sucking as gently and generously as you need. He applies the same steady, circular pressure of his tongue, curls his fingers and fucks you with them in a steady, calculated rythm, until -

The moment you fall apart will be forever burned into his mind. 

He will remember it all: the twitching of your thighs, the tight pinch of your brows, the sound of your cries as your hips stutter in his strong hold. He’ll remember the way he moans, earnestly, as he laps you through it, eager to extend your high for as long as your body allows him. And he will surely remember the thrill that runs up the length of his spine at the sight of you losing yourself at his hand.

But most of all, he will remember the moment immediately after - when your movements slow, and your tight grip loosens from his hair; when your warm hand falls to the side of his face, the soft pads of your fingertips rubbing gentle circles into the shell of his pointed ear. 

You may not have even noticed the small gesture, too blissed out and trembling, but when the two of you look back on this moment years from now, Astarion will laugh at how blind he was - how he should have seen the spark of fondness in your eyes as you fought to catch your breath, the kindling that was twisting in his chest at the sight of your flushed skin, and the fire that would grow there until it nearly consumed him. 

He should have known that this was the start of something greater.

But at this moment, all he knows is the sudden, inexplicable urge to keep you here tonight - to prove himself worthy of coming back, should you ever have an itch that needs scratching. Perhaps tomorrow, or the next night, or any other time you’d see fit. 

Astarion places a final kiss on the junction of your hip, right where the skin is thinnest above the bone, then leans back to fully appreciate his work. 

You are breathless , chest heaving from sheer exertion.

“That was…”

You huff out a laugh as you try to find the right words.

“Perfect?” he raises an eyebrow at you, grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “I know. Like I said, I’m quite good at this.”

He wipes at the clear slick on his chin and shamelessly licks his hand clean, sucking your mess off his fingers with a playful pop.

Your face flushes with embarrassment - the pretty color now matching the puffy, reddened skin of your sex. 

“Do you want more?” he asks, as if his cock isn’t threatening to leak a dark patch into his trousers, “We don’t have to, of course, but -”

“Yes.”

Astarion’s smiles are normally calculated - purposeful, and poised to perfection, but the one that finds its way to his face at your eagerness is as real as the ache beginning to bloom in his knees.

“Come here, then,” he says, dragging his weight back to the blankets. He doesn’t even have the time to readjust the decorative pillows before you’re clamoring on top of him, covering his neck with impatient kisses and helping him remove his clothes. 

“Eager, are we?” he teases, but he’s met with no response. Your mouth is too busy sucking bruises into the pale, hard planes of his chest, hands working diligently at the laces of his pants. 

The moment his legs and cock are free, Astarion wastes no time wrapping his arms around your midsection and seating you perfectly on his hips, the searing heat of your slit molds around him, dragging up and down as you grind against his length. 

There’s urgency in the air - in the way your mouth finds his own. It buzzes and hums, growing with every pass of your hips, prickling like burrs beneath his skin. He’s as much a victim of it as you are -here in this little corner of the wilderness - to the strange and unrecognizable pull. 

This desire to touch you.

With one hand anchoring the back of your neck, he takes his length with the other, notching himself at your entrance - an invitation you eagerly accept.

You sink down, enveloping him in suffocating heat . 

The grunt that escapes him is entirely involuntary - the honesty behind it bleeding out between his teeth, escaping with a hiss. 

“Shit,” he huffs under his breath, willing his brain to focus on anything other than how you mold so perfectly to him. It’s almost like you were made for this - for him - and the notion itself is almost enough to toss him right over the edge.

It’s hard enough to believe he’s present with you, here in this moment, rather than falling into oblivion and allowing the act to pass him by.

But to be enjoying it this much? 

Sheer disbelief.

Your hips move experimentally, sighing with relief as you take the rest of him down to the hilt. His grip on the nape of your neck tightens, nails digging small grooves into the base of your scalp. The slow rock of your hips as you adjust to his size would surely be enough to finish him, were he any ordinary man - were he not determined to brand this night into your mind for the rest of whatever time you have left on this earth - tadpoles be damned.

It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to be like this, melding so beautifully around his length. But he has appearances to maintain, and spilling into you now would surely ruin his carefully crafted reputation, so he steals what’s left of his composure and continues on. 

Astarion stares at where your bodies meet, bringing a practiced thumb back to your perfect little nub and pressing . The delicious pressure has your forehead falling to his shoulder.

“Can I - agh, ” you pause as he cruelly begins to rub your clit, much too slow to actually finish the job, but just enough to feel you clench around him. He continues like that for a few seconds, savoring the way you grip, release, and start to dribble down from where he’s rooted so deeply inside.

“Can you what, my dear?”

“Can I move, please?” 

“Hm,” he sighs with feigned indifference, “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

His hands guide you into a comfortable rhythm, stroking your walls and filling every inch of your greedy cunt as it swallows him up - back and forth, rocking into him until you’re good and split open.

You ride him until your legs begin to fail you - until he has to grab your waist to keep you steady as he fucks up into you in earnest. The hard, wet slap of his damp skin against yours mixes with your strained, desperate moans. He pounds you like he’s sating some sort of hunger - fucks you with so much force that your slick forms a thick white ring of cream at the base of his cock. 

His thumb rubs expert circles into your clit with firm, gentle pressure, until he feels that telltale fluttering of your walls around him, and your blunt nails are digging into where his shoulders meet his chest. 

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” he grunts, and the question is met only with an affirmative whine. “Good. This time, I want to feel it.”

His hands move to your rear, squeezing and kneading - pulling and pushing your hips to grind himself even deeper into you until your body gives up its orgasm.

It drags you under like a raging current. 

You wail pitifully against his shoulder - the suffocating grip of your sex working to milk him dry, gushing around him and soaking his thick cock as he relentlessly fucks you through it.

It's almost enough to end him, it truly is, but Astarion is nothing if not thorough, and G ods be damned if you leave this clearing tomorrow morning without your cunt permanently molded to his shape - without this encounter seared into your very being.

His arms wrap around you, pulling your chest tight against his own and turning you over until your back meets the soft furs - his hips rolling into yours as the waves of white-hot pleasure pulse through you. 

There will be many more where that came from. When you eventually crawl back to his tent with a shy gaze and offer him another taste of your neck, pretending it was simply a coincidence that you waited until the dead of night to seek him out, when the rest of your merry little troup were fast asleep in their bedrolls. Couldn’t stay away? He’ll joke, pretending as though his heart doesn’t stir at the sight of you.

He’ll bed you again, and again, and again. Whenever and wherever you should ask: on his desk - tomes shoved carelessly to the ground, between the cracked stone walls of a cave while the others ready their gear, tangled within the sheets of the first real bed you happen to find. He’ll fuck you in those stolen moments with a willing mouth and hands and cock, however many times it takes for him to realize this does mean something to him - even if he isn’t quite sure what that something is . 

And you, being the perfect thing you are, will be patient, and give him the space he needs to figure that out.

“One more,” he whispers hot against your cheek, “I think we can get one more out of you.” 

“This is insane. How are you so - gods, ” he’s got just the right angle now, dragging languidly in and out of your thoroughly fucked hole. 

He’s done quite a number on you already, and you’ll likely need a day to recover the strength in your legs. The others will surely mock you for it, but perhaps you’ll manage to blame it on the hangover?

“Astarion, I - I don’t think I can do another -”

“You can,” he says with the confidence of a man who’s done this before - one who knows the limits of a woman’s body and exactly how to push them. “And you’re going to stay right here, wrapped beautifully around my cock, until you give me what I want.” 

He drives the point home with a sudden, hard thrust, and the rush of it has you keening in surprise, hands flying to his back and heels digging in for purchase. 

In fairness, he’s hardly given you a chance to come down from the last climax, but you sought him out tonight. You knew what you were getting into, no less than a mouse offering itself to a cat. He’ll toy with you until he’s had his fill - the first man in your life to ever make you come apart. Not just once or twice, but three times once he’s through with you.

And while the third takes a bit more work, as expected, he quickly realizes you appreciate a decent amount of force, so he feverishly pounds into you - pinning your wrists at your sides to prevent too much useless, unnecessary squirming. 

Astarion thinks could get addicted to this level of control if he isn’t careful - his brave, unwavering, diplomatic leader held captive beneath him as he wrings every last bit of pleasure from your body, drunk on his cock and fucked out well past the point of any decorum. 

The way you moan for him now would put some prostitutes to shame - eyes glazed over and thoughts entirely wiped of anything other than being split open and thoroughly used. 

It reminds him of why he’s here. The thankless months you’ve spent worrying yourself over every vagrant’s problems are now practically a thing of the past. And after tonight, you’ll surely be ruined for any other man, securing himself in your good graces. A win, win, all around.

Your orgasm almost sneaks past him, too caught up in his own musings to notice, but the subtle rush of slickness and the resounding sound of your body sucking him in even deeper gives it away. Your head rolls to the side as you choke back a sob, tears forming the corners of your eyes as your exhausted cunt barely manages to scrounge up the effort to squeeze him, and that’s when he finally decides you’ve had enough.

“Where do you want me?” he asks.

“Inside? Agh - Inside, please, ” 

Oh.

An unexpected answer, but not an unwelcome one.

And so, he does.

For the first time in his memory, he comes entirely apart. 

With a few more strokes, he spills inside of you, and the sheer impact of it takes him by surprise.

Hissing between his gritted teeth and buried in your warmth he floods you to the brim, floods every inch of your cunt until his come has no more room to fill. The spend clings to his cock with every stroke, drooling out of you and tracing a cloudy white line through the valley of your rear before soaking into the blankets beneath.

Astarion heaves like a man with functioning lungs, groans from the sudden, noticeable soreness in his limbs, and actually, truly laughs at the absurdity of it all.

Just how long had the two of you been at this? Over an hour, surely?

He’s about to ask you - maybe try his hand at a bit of pillow talk for the first time in his life - but when he looks back at your face, he finds that you’re barely conscious, just on the precipice of passing out from exhaustion.

He pulls out of you, trying his best not to grunt through the overstimulating drag of your skin against his.

Astarion could count on one hand how many memorable encounters he’s had since the beginning of his servitude, and even less when considering how many he enjoyed. 

Well, enjoyed would be a very generous descriptor. More so, how many he was able to stomach until the end. And while his anatomy was capable of producing results despite his head being elsewhere, this was… different.

You are different - that much was clear from the beginning, since the moment you forgave him for pulling a knife on you and, for whatever reason, trusted him enough to allow him to stay with you, despite it being an objectively stupid thing to do.

He’ll tell you as much, when he finally confesses his feelings for you. That had it not been for your endless patience and your unfathomable kindness, he may have never learned to love at all.

But he wont have the words, let alone the maturity , to articulate that for quite some time.

For now, here you are, snoring softly beneath him. 

And here he is, with the beginnings of a strange, unrecognizable tingling in his chest.  

What ever will he do with you?

[mistywaves98]

BEST FRIEND I BEG YPU FOR MORE YAN SCARA/WANDERER 🙏🏾🙏🏾

Imagine him forcing you to accompany him on his travels, and whenever he’s like horny or something he forces you off the path/road and just screws you under a random tree or something 😭

I really liked this little prompt and I wanted to use this idea for my event, hope that's alright anon! ^^

✧･ﾟ:* ->Yandere! Wanderer(Scaramouche) x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: Scaramouche is referred to as Wanderer, Plot isn't really that great, Don't question the logic in this fic,Implied degradation, Dub con/Non con, Yandere/Dark Themes, Forced companionship, Stockholm Syndrome (?), Descriptions of messy sex, uhh not really much else to add!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Minor writing smut! DNI if uncomfy!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

He often referred to the both of you as 'travel companions' which usually made people's eyebrows raise in surprise. You couldn't blame them, as you two certainly did not look like equals. Not when your hands were constantly bound together and absolutely not when there was a rope tied around your neck, the end tied to Wanderer's hand. To those who were none the wiser to your situation, it seemed like you were his slave. And at times he did seem to treat you like one, but he also treated you like a friend, maybe even a lover, other times. Most of the times it was the latter but if you behaving particularly rebellious or stubborn, he'd make sure you knew your place.

Sometimes you wonder how you ended up here and it would all come back.

You had met him in Sumeru while on a journey to visit some distant relatives and when you heard he was on a journey too, you offered to let him accompany you. He was taken aback, but also seemed intrigued at the idea of travelling with another person. So he decided to join you.

To two of you walked side by side, admiring the many sights and scenery you passed along the way. The way you smiled so happily made him feel happy as well. Whenever the day turned into night you would find somewhere to stop and rest while he 'kept watch' as he told himself since he didn't actually need sleep, not that you knew and always thought he was just an early bird. The way you treated him, so kind and friendly, it warmed the heart he didn't have and even if he didn't want to admit it, he liked that feeling, the feeling you gave him.

One day however, after you had woken up and gotten ready to set off again, you suddenly noticed that you were going off course and let him know, beckoning him to follow you down another path. He didn't seem to be listening though. His eyes we're focused on something in the distance. Then suddenly, to your shock, he grabbed your arm and pulled you down a different way. You yelped and struggled helplessy and said if his destination needed you to part ways from here, he should let you go. He responded only by saying that he wanted to see the world and you were going to see it with him, like it or not.

Since you wouldn't come quietly, Wanderer was forced to subdue you and tie you up so you couldn't run away, which you tried, each attempt more futile than the last. Now you were stuck by his side, going wherever he wished, 'enjoying' the sights with him, which really was just you waiting for him to finish take it all in before continuing your endless journey.

But that wasn't all journeying him included. Whenever he got horny, however it happened, be prepared to be pinned down and have your guts rearranged until he's satisfied.

It's really random too, one moment you're walking down a dirt path and the next you're being pushed up against the rough bark of a tree. He's not nice about it either, he's mean and rough, holding your hips in place as he pounds into you at a pace you can't keep up with. Drool runs down your chin and your eyes practically roll back into your skull from how good it feels as tears stream down your cheeks at his degrading words he spits at you.

It doesn't matter how many times you've cum, or if you came at all, Wanderer won't stop until he's had his pleasure of finishing inside you as much as he wants. In that moment you're merely a sex doll to him. And when he's done, he simply zips up his pants and pulls on the rope around your neck, a silent gesture telling you to get up and if you can't, well, that isn't really his problem to fault that your mortal self can't taking a little fucking, so you're simply gonna have to be ok with being dragged across the floor, but not before he has a little laugh at your pathetic state, disheveled hair, sweaty clothes, shaking legs and that fucked out face always brings out a dark giggle from.

If there happens to be a water source nearby, say a lake or something, he'll be a bit more generous and help you clean yourself up. Perhaps you two will rest there for a while but most of the times he's too eager to get going.

As time goes by you slowly feel as if you're being eaten alive from the inside. Travelling with him is taking a bigger toll on you than you would have thought. And it shows. Day by day your appearance becomes more and more worn down, you're tired. But you can't do much about your situation now. You're too tired to run away and even if you had the energy to do so, it would only be a matter of time before he found you again and the earth you'd have to face would be borderline unbearable.

Eventually you just accepted it. Accepted that this is your life now, that it's pointless trying to think of escaping. Wanderer noticed it too. The way you were more compliant and less resistant to his advances, it made him happy.

Finally, he's broken you down into the submissive pet he wanted from the start. It's rather sad that he probably won't see you smile naturally anymore, but he can always force one onto your lips, real or not, so he can get over that. He's just pleased that you know your place now, by his side and the both of you will spend the rest of eternity together, he'll make sure of that, one way or another.

[love-minor-poltergeist]

Are you still taking requests? If so, could I please request the Devil having a sorta flirtatious love hate relationship with fiddler. If you ever heard the Song, The Devil went down to Georgia, you’ll get it but the gist is, the Devil challenges the person to a fiddle competition and lost. But the fiddler offers for him to come on back and try again if he likes, quite rightfully proud of their musical skills even refusing a golden fiddle the Devil offered as a reward… supposedly

A/N: Oh anon your mind!

It took me a while to figure out how to tackle this prompt, and I had opted to make a short fic about it! I'm a little out of practice when it comes to writing something that isn't a set of bulletpoint hcs, so please don't be afraid to let me know what you think!

The Devil Went Down to Georgia Word Count: 2.3k

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

Your daddy had always been a religious man, as were most of the folks in your small town. 

Many hot summer Sundays were spent getting up early to get ready for church. The priest, hair thinning and skin glistening with sweat, shouting his sermon; eyes ablaze like the fire and brimstone he preached. All you could remember from his impassioned screaming was just how crazed he looked– the hellish landscape he painted forever burned into your mind. 

While Pa was nothing like that dreadful priest, he took those words to heart. Always warning to be wary of temptation. For temptation was the Devil’s way of leading you astray. You’ve never truly put your mind into the whole Heaven and Hell business— heck, you stopped coming to church long before your twentieth birthday– but you knew that Pa would never do you wrong. 

“The Devil is a man you don’t wanna mess with,” Pa said one day.

You agreed to help him chop some wood after Sunday mass; you don’t remember exactly what led the two of you down this conversation, but you remember feeling Pa’s watchful gaze focused on you as you dozed off during another sermon. 

“He’ll come to ya in a chariot of fire, taller than any building you’ve seen, and try to take ya away. Using pretty words and empty promises, and by the time ya see through that honeyed haze, yir as good as dead.” 

He finished point with one final swing of his ax, the loud crack of splintering wood causing you to flinch. 

Pa’s face softened, mumbling a small “sorry punkin” as he softly clapped a calloused hand on your shoulder. 

The two of you stood over the work you’ve done. Silently basking in the afterglow of progress.

After a few moments, Pa spoke once more. 

“I’m serious, Punkin,” you felt his hand tighten on your shoulder. “Promise me that if you ever meet the Devil, you do the right thing.” 

And so, you promised your pa. Swore on his and Mama’s graves that you’d turn tail and run if you ever crossed paths with the prince of darkness. 

Of course, a part of you thought Pa was paranoid. That he was letting his fear of god cloud his reason. Cause there ain’t no way that the big bad Devil would ever wander down into the middle of nowhere, Georgia. A part of you wasn’t even sure if he existed. 

But you wouldn’t dare say this out loud. Instead, you meekly smiled and promised your pa. Anything to ease his worries. 

And you kept that promise. Life continued. You fell into a comfortable, if not a little monotonous routine. Get up, help with the farm, play your fiddle for the cattle— rinse and repeat. 

That is until one day, during a dry summer not even a week ago, you met the Devil. 

It happened so quickly. Unexpectedly. One minute, you reclined against a stump, having just finished your chores for the day, and decided to relax while playing your fiddle. The very next minute, you had felt the ground shake.

He emerged from the earth. 

The ground was torn asunder as the prongs of a golden trident scorched the terrain an ashen black; a great gaping maw yawned open. Pillars of flame shot forth into the sky, the cries of birds resounding in your skull as the smell of smoke and tobacco filled your nose. You coughed, head swimming as you reached to cover your nose, nearly dropping your violin to the ground as you braced yourself against the roaring flames. 

Through burning pillars, a clawed hand emerged. With a snap of their fingers, the portal instantly closed, the fiery pillars forced down into their earthly furnace; leaving behind a blackened scar against the grass, and a looming figure. 

And as you slowly lower your arm, fingers tightening their grasp on your bow and fiddle– clutching both to your chest, desperate to get an extra layer of protection against the stranger– a small, foolhardy part of your panic-addled brain couldn’t help but notice one thing:

The Devil was a lot shorter than you’d thought he’d be. 

༻︶𓏶︶༺

You didn’t even know what spurred you to accept the demon’s challenge– beat him against a fiddle-playing competition, and you’ll win a golden fiddle of your own. And if you lose, your soul is forfeit. 

Truth be told, it was quite a crap deal. The prize he offered you was a bit… gaudy. Heck, who were you kidding? The thing was tacky and ugly. The strings looked way too stiff, too harsh for your weathered old bow. It wouldn’t serve much for anything other than as an oversized chachki. 

However, the way the demon looked at you– or rather, how his hooded gaze looked towards his talons…

He looked bored. Was he so confident that he’d win? Did he think that little of you?

You were so miffed that you found yourself saying yes without a second thought. The minute you did, a deep, haughty laughter filled your ear, and a pit formed in your stomach. A devious smile formed on his lips, eyes upturned and alight with arrogance. 

The darned bastard had thought he had it in the bag… 

Well. You did make a promise. 

However— Pa wasn’t there. 

And you’d be darned if some stranger could think he could walk all over you. 

So you may or not have… tried a little too hard in your wager. Just a little! Well, you technically had to. Since you didn’t want to lose your soul. However, despite the circumstances, you enjoyed your little competition. Not to mention that the further you two went, the more you felt that warm, drunken feeling of satisfaction well up in your belly. 

Cause for a demon so darned confident in himself, he was only really decent at it. Well, scratch that– he was good, but you played your beloved instrument almost every day. 

And the difference in skill was apparent. Extremely so. 

The Devil had felt his fingers ache and knuckles burn from how hard he gripped onto his bow, lips pulled into a tight frown as he watched you practically dance circles around him. Your hands were a flurry of movement and a grin steadily overtook your face the longer you played. 

By the time you had finished, the demon had already given up. He huffed, hackles raised and steam emanating from his fingertips. The black flesh of his cheeks was aglow with a deep, rusted red as he grumbled under his breath. 

With little fanfare, he tossed the golden fiddle down at your feet. None too gentle as it nearly hit your feet, forcing a jump for you. He turned away from you, his tail whipping about erratically, and raised his trident. 

Wait, that was it? No goodbye, no afterword? Not even a cliched speech about how “he’ll be back”? Is he just going to give up? Darn, you had a lot of fun— the horrible threat of losing your soul aside. No one indulged in music with you, not to mention keep up with your speed. 

You bit your lip, and you looked back towards the demon. 

Oh, your pa would kill you for this. 

Just as a portal was torn open, flooding your nose with the scent of smoke and sulfur, you made up your mind. 

You grabbed his tail.

The limb felt strange in your grasp. It was thin yet dense with underlying muscle; like grabbing onto a cottonmouth. Not to mention it was hot. Overwhelmingly hot. Practically burning your hand. You watched as the pointed tip quickly wrapped itself around your wrist; coiling itself until you felt the blood circulation become cut off.

Nevertheless, you persisted. Biting through the pain with watery eyes as the Devil immediately stopped. He whipped his bed back to you, nose scrunched and face pinched into a sour frown. A low growl emerged from his throat, annoyance clear as day in his sickly yellow eyes.

You grinned.

“Now hold on, Mr. Devil,”  you start, casually placing your fiddle on your shoulder. “I gotta say, that was probably the most excitement I’ve had in this part of Georgia in years-”

“Get on with it.” 

Yeesh. Someone was a little cranky. 

“Alright, alright, keep your pants on, mister,”  you snort. “Now, before I was so rudely interrupted, I just wanted to say you’re always welcome to come back!

”

The Devil’s face relaxed for a moment. Nose no longer as scrunched as week-old laundry and lips dropping its frown. He didn’t relax his grip on his trident. 

“What.” 

“Yup!” you chirp, your lips popping at the p– an action that didn’t escape the demon’s notice. “Listen, it gets mighty boring around here! You’re welcome to come on back if you want to try again!” 

The Devil turned to face you fully now, brows knitted together as he stared down at you. His mouth fell open, then closed, then open again. This repeated a few times as he silently stared at you. He shook his head, leaning his weight against his trident as he lowered himself to your height; eyes narrowed. 

“What.”

“Ya heard me.” 

“Hold that tongue of yours, yokel,” he spat. “What game are you playing?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your offer. You do realize the gravitas of this offer, no?”

“Yessir.”

“You said I was welcome to try again. Your soul will always be at stake, do you know that?”

“Yup.” 

“Once you lose it–”

“If I lose it. Ya haven’t beaten me yet.”

“Oh shut it, you little shoehorn,” he jabbed a clawed finger at your chest. “Once you lose it, your soul is mine, and you’ll be cursed to live out the rest of your pitiful existence as a husk. Devoid of any consciousness.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’ll be a zombie, you moron.”

“Copy that, captain.” 

“Are you normally this stupid?”

He grabbed your shoulder at that point, eyes wild and teeth bared. You felt the hot, piercing tip of the prongs of his trident press against your neck; his breath– rich and hot with the scent of tobacco– hit your face in warm puffs. The demon’s nose brushed against yours, and god almighty if he moved any closer the two of you would be kissing. 

Soft, traitorous warmth found itself seeping into your cheeks. Your heart flipped-flopped about in your ribcage like a trout out of water, and you silently prayed that the demon couldn’t hear it as you mustered up a cocky grin. 

“Nope. I’m just the best there ever was.” 

A growl, low and gravelly, rumbled from the Devil’s throat. A look of annoyance filled his eyes as he clicked his tongue. He let go of your shoulder and rose to his full height. The prongs of his trident eased their bite on your neck, no longer threatening to stab into the pliant flesh of your windpipe. 

Blazing metal slowly traveled upwards, leaving behind whispers of heat in their wake as the Devil slowly eased it beneath your chin. The Devil slowly and methodically craned your head up, quietly relishing the way your throat struggled to force down a nervous swallow. 

The demon remained silent the entire way through. Only breaking it to occasionally growl if you tried to speak; his eyes lidded and lips threaded into a thin line. The Devil's tail moved to and fro in a metronomic pattern as his gaze grew hooded; contemplation weighing the lids down as he raised a large hand towards his mouth. 

The entire interaction lasted maybe only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity had passed before the silence was broken by another low rumble from the Devil. Not quite a growl, but it wasn’t a purr, either. You couldn’t put your finger on it. However, you could guess it only meant something good, as the Devil finally moved his trident away; and you find yourself shakily releasing a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

“Very well.” The Devil shifted his trident beside him once more. “I accept your offer.”

He knocked the butt of his trident against the earth once, twice, and the earth yawned open once more. Red light washed over the demon’s form, illuminating the demon’s back in a crimson halo. 

He grinned, baring sharp teeth, eyes full of malintent, and your stomach rolled as you could only imagine what was going on in that man’s head. 

“I won’t stop until that soul is mine, little mortal.” He pointed a finger towards you. “You best keep yourself sharp. I’d hate to be disappointed after all of that talk.” 

You watched as he stepped a foot within the portal, cheeks pained as you fought to maintain your cocky grin. 

“Lookin’ forward to it, sweetness.” 

The endearment was tacked on at the last minute. You didn’t mean anything by it. After all, you had just beat the Devil at his own game. You were safe. For now, at least. Perhaps it was just the high of victory that had pushed you to be a bit more saucy with the demon. 

What you didn’t expect, however, was the way his face fell. It was hard to make out from the red light of the portal beneath him, but you coulda swore that you saw his dark cheeks become a rusted brown. 

He turned his head before you could look any further, an annoyed huff following after. 

“Good grief you’re annoying.” You heard him mutter. “I cannot wait to crush your pathetic body into the ground.”

“Don’t get too excited, Mr. D.” 

Oh my god, why couldn’t you just shut up?

“Keep talking like that and I’ll start to think that you want to see me again.” 

While a part of you panicked, it was overpowered by a snort as the Devil let out an offended ‘UGH’ before leaving. He had practically leaped into the portal, desperate to get away, leaving behind smoldering earth in his wake. 

As you stood there, heart frantically racing, all you could do was wonder when the next time you’d see him would be. 

And you silently apologized to your pa for looking forward to seeing the Devil again. 

┕━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┙

[nyoomerr]

Do you have any tips for finishing works and getting enough confidence to post them?

sure! just keep in mind that these are tips from my single perspective, and everyone's creative processes are different, etc etc all the usual disclaimers 🙈

↓↓ all advice under the readmore cuz it got pretty lengthy ↓↓

for finishing works, you'll probably have to start by identifying why you don't feel like continuing a particular WIP.

is it a time/energy thing? make sure you're staying physically healthy (good food, keeping hydrated, moderate exercise) and that you aren't forcing yourself to sit down and write at the end of a long day when you've already spent all your mental energy elsewhere. this is one of the lamest points of advice on the whole list but i am being so serious about it.

is it a lack of inspiration? try talking about the fic with a friend, using prompt generators, or thinking back to what originally inspired the fic to begin with. if you started writing the fic for One Specific Scene, go write that scene, regardless of how far out you are from it chronologically! you can always revise or rewrite it later if it turns out that the in-between scenes change some of the context or flow.

is it that you're struggling to get a scene written just right? skip past it and come back later, maybe leaving just a quick one or two line summary of what you want to happen in that scene so you don't forget later. if you can't skip past it, then tell yourself "okay, i'm going to rewrite this later," before trying to write it - if you have already decided that this will not be your final draft, then it can help you feel less hesitant to put imperfect words down.

for gathering the confidence to post a work, it's a bit more tricky...

i think most people want to post things because they want to receive external validation on it... so so valid and relatable 🤝 BUT this motivation makes it hard to actually shut out the factors that can cause nerves (i.e., advice like "turn off comments if you're worried about receiving criticism" is useless, because then you also don't get the positive comments you likely wanted in the first place).

one strategy you could try is starting with a small audience first - just send it to a friend you know will be your hypeman. if you're feeling more bold, you can try sharing it with a discord server or group chat - essentially, narrowing the audience down to people that you know will be supportive of your work, no matter what.

if sharing the fic with your friends actually sounds like the Worst Case Scenario, then i'd instead recommend posting it to an anon collection! if you end up not being happy with the response to the fic, you can pretend it was never yours to begin with - there's no shame in using the anon tool as it was meant to be used. if you end up feeling really proud of the work after the nerves have passed, you can always de-anon it later to tie it back to you!

regardless of how or who you share it with though, my top recommendation is that you sit down and identify every little thing that you're proud of in your work before you post it. write these things out so you don't forget! the people who are going to read your work will not have the same tastes, experiences, and desires that you personally had when you sat down to write the fic to begin with. if they don't like parts of it, it does NOT mean those parts are bad - it just wasn't for them personally!

that can be hard to remember when you're getting feedback, though, which is why it's important to have those things that YOU like about your work written down so you can go take a look at them to remind yourself.

if you try posting a work and afterwards go "oh, that isn't for me, i'd rather just create for myself personally," then that's totally chill! what would be tragic is if you posted a work and then felt so shitty after the fact that it tainted your enjoyment of the creation process itself. that's why, no matter what, please remember that you wrote this fic for yourself, and hold on to the things that you like about it!!

anyway that got pretty rambly but TLDR: 1) figure out why you're having trouble finishing your WIP and tackle that reason instead of blindly pushing yourself forward 2) ease yourself into posting in whatever way is least intimidating for you, no need to jump straight to having an AO3 profile linked to your writing 3) no matter what, make sure you remember the things that you personally enjoy about what you made, and celebrate those things!

[2af-afterdark]

The One True King

Fandom: What in Hell is Bad? Content: Bael x Reader, Reader is clearly in a (currently) one-sided admiration,technically this is based on what 💛 told me so it’s not a general reader but… I am trying, Reader is a devil, not smut A/N: 💛 anon gave me a really good prompt and I kind of wanted to wrote this for them. Uhhh… ngl, I have only written for a specific person one other time before. I usually say to give me a handful of personality traits and I will whip something up. So, you know, this was an exercise. May need more practice using other people's MC’s and self-inserts… Sorry if it’s a little… messy… There were many personality traits I couldn’t include in full because of the setting and length of this fic, but I hope that a few of them are noticeable at the very least. Word Count: 1854

Bael was trying to finish the work that Beelzebub had left behind in his latest rush to escape responsibility. Trying. It was hard to concentrate with all the unusually noisy hustle and bustle happening not only outside his office door, but traveling down the hall. The heavy footsteps were more frantic than usual, with one particular set noticeably pacing back and forth right outside.

He held his breath as he waited for when the person inevitably finally knocked for him; a knock he was slowly getting anxious over given how hesitant that devil seemed to me to call for him. But, call for him they did as they peaked their head through the narrowly open door and said, “There's someone at the front gate asking for Lord Beelzebub.”

Bael cocked a single eyebrow only slightly. It was a well known fact that Beelzebub was rarely in Avisos, let alone the castle. Whoever had come to the visit was looking in the wrong place and causing a ruckus at the same time.

“They won't leave,” the devil in the doorway added when it became clear that Bael wasn't moving.

“The others haven't chased them away yet?” Not to be rude, but now was not a good time to visit.

“Stolas and Naberius still haven't returned from the mission you sent them on,” that would be attempting – and likely failing – to track and follow Beelzebub.

“What about Amon?”

The devil hesitated and Bael knew immediately that he wouldn't like the answer.

“Amon has been… subdued,” they said with no further explanation.

At least, as the devil in the doorway clarified, the person at the gate was a normal devil. It seemed they were another of Beelzebub’s many fans – like the rest of Avisos – and could be convinced to leave once they were assured that the king was not present. If Bael, the current acting king in Beelzebub’s absence were to come outside, then perhaps the visitor would leave willingly.

Bael was exhausted. He couldn’t recall the last time he had slept properly and it was starting to impair his judgment. Having an unexpected and unwelcome guest causing a scene at the palace gates was not helping his current state.

He stood from his desk. “I’ll see them away quickly.” If only so he could return to his work undisturbed. 

He marched out of his office with his head held high and a confident swagger that attempted to hide how completely and utterly tired he really was. A few devils who had clearly decided to stick to their own tasks rather than deal with the unexpected guest stopped only long enough to watch Bael walk by before busying themselves again. In his current state, he was their acting king and that made him someone to admire as he passed by.

But they didn't dare stop him to admire him in full. Even if they tried to, they wouldn't be able to. He was, after all, too used to focusing on the kingdom's operations to be distracted by how devils stared at their substitute king, and that was why he could arrive at the palace gates without delay. That’s how he made it in time to see the unfamiliar devil at the gate speaking through the bars to Amon who seemed to be doing nothing to move them along.

“Are you the one who asked to see Lord Beelzebub?” Bael asked as he approached the two. “You came at a bad time.”

You stared in awe as Bael came closer, the loose strands of his blonde hair dancing lightly in the wind, his skin-tight black uniform hugging his muscles and thin waist, and his uneven eyes staring back.

You were not one of the grand and illustrious 72 like he was. It was rare to be one of the 72 considering that there were, after all, only seventy-two of them in total compared to the entirety of Hell’s population. Still, even those who weren’t part of the 72 had a place serving their kingdom and their kings. What was Hell without its devils, after all?

Nothing. The answer was that Hell would be nothing without the myriad of devils that brought it to life. From the madness of Abaddon to the luxury of Tartaros to the efficiency of Hades, Hell was made by the kings and the devils that swore loyalty to them; each kingdom a reflection of its king and people. 

The only kingdom that could be argued was not a reflection of its king was Avisos, which was want to run rampant without its should-be-leader at the helm. Or, perhaps it was exactly the kind of thing the wandering ruler Beelzebub would want. A kingdom full of mindless pleasures in which frequent coming and going was the name of the game. Establishments in which he wasn’t expected to stay any longer than it took him to grow bored of whatever mindless indulgences they offered. It made for a wonderful economy, but a complete headache for any devil unfortunate enough to have to deal with the actual business and politics of the kingdom rather than simply enjoying all the treasures hidden around every corner.

You were one of those regular devils who called Avisos and its many different entertainment establishments home. The proof of your citizenship was pierced into your skin. You were not ashamed of your status as just another devil in the crowd. If anything, it made it easier for you to accomplish your goal. After all, it was in the nature of the 72 to care about their king, kingdom, and people. Amon already seemed to be on your side after a well placed bribe.

The next goal was Bael himself.

“No,” you corrected, “I asked to see the king.” You held out a wrapped, three-tiered bento box filled to the brim with food. “Have you eaten yet?”

Bael blinked at you a few times before glancing at Amon, who seemed entirely indifferent to the conversation between Bael and the unexpected guest. In fact, he seemed more taken with a piece of paper in his hand rather than anything happening around him.

You continued to speak without hearing an answer from Bael. “You seem like you’re always overworking yourself and it’s important to eat. I have a feeling you won’t take a break to cook for yourself so I cooked for you.”

Bael inhaled in a way that seemed more like an exasperated sigh. “Beelzebub really isn’t here. Attempting to bribe me will not get you an audience.”

“Who cares about Beelzebub?” you said bluntly, seeming to finally get a reaction from Amon who looked at you only long enough to glare judgmentally. You didn’t bother to even look at him before pulling a small envelope out of your pocket with your free hand and holding it out to him. He took it without a word, seemingly content once again. “I came to see you, Lord Bael.” You could feel your face heating up as you spoke. “Haven’t I made that clear by now?”

Bael looked at Amon once more, who was looking inside the envelope with approval. It seemed he really would receive no backup from his cohort.

He tried to put on his most convincing inflection as he began to speak, attempting to send this stray devil away without further delay or incident. “While I appreciate your intentions-”

“Amon, will you make sure King Bael eats something?” You were already waving another piece of paper in front of him; your last bribe of the day.

Amon took the paper and bento without question. 

“Thank you, Sir Amon.” You smiled at Bael who hadn't had a chance to finish his attempted rejection of your efforts. “I'll come by again tomorrow to pick up the dirty dishes, so make sure you eat everything. Wasting food is unforgivable in Avisos.”

You turned away with a pep in your step and tried to hide the absolute glee on your face. Not only had you managed to give King Bael the meal you had made for him, but you also managed to promise him that you would be returning tomorrow. Knowing that had you practically giggling as the distance between you and the gate where Bael still stood grew.

Once you were out of sight, Bael looked to Amon with a sense of defeat in his eyes. “Who was that?”

Amon shrugged. “I don't know.” He held out the bento to Bael so he wouldn't have to be the one to carry it. “Take this.”

Between the strange devil's antics and Amon's lackadaisical attitude toward them, Bael could feel a headache coming on. “If you don't know them, then why were you so amicable to them? Especially when you should have been escorting them away from the palace?”

He titled his head slightly, indicating he was too tired to have this conversation. “They gave me photos of King Beelzebub.” That was all the reason he needed. It's not like they were doing anything bad, so he didn't see a reason to waste his energy on changing them away, especially when he was getting rewarded for looking the other way.

“Is that all it takes to convince you?”

Amon ignored the question. “My arm is getting tired,” he said as he motioned again for Bael to take the bento.

Begrudgingly, Bael took the bento with both hands. It felt heavier than it should have.

“Are you sure all they came for was to deliver food?” 

It felt odd to have a citizen of Avisos storm the palace gates just to give him something to eat; something that, in all honesty, he could not see himself sitting down to indulge in given all the work he still had to do. Perhaps if he tossed out the food or gave it away? It wasn’t as if the other devil would know what had happened to the contents of the bento once it was empty.

“You’ll eat it,” Amon interrupted his thoughts.

“I won’t eat something given to me from someone unfamiliar.”

“Lord Beelzebub would.”

Bael winced, but in a way where only those who knew him well could tell that Amon’s words had cut him deeply.

“Lord Beelzebub accepts what his subjects give him. Sometimes he takes it without being offered…”

Did that mean Bael had to accept everything too? The same way he accepted all of Bell’s work and duties and even his face, did he have to take every gift as well? Because he was simply a substitute for Beelzebub?

“That devil called the fake king a king,” Amon said absentmindedly. “Do you think they know that you're just keeping the throne warm?”

“I’m sure they’re aware.” After all, there wasn’t a soul in all of Hell, let alone Avisos, that wasn’t aware that Beelzebub was the wandering king.

He looked at the bento in his hands.

He turned back toward the palace and began to walk.

“I have work to do.”

“Are you going to eat it?” Amon asked. “They already bribed me to make sure you do.”

“If I have a free moment, I’ll consider it.”

[liveforjeongin]

Hiii!! I loved the doc that you wrote! Can I request number 12 and 41 with Lee!Chan and Ler!Felix please and ty

p.s your amazing

How To Cheer Your Chan Up (1/7)

Awww, thank you anon, you're so sweet<3

And thanks for request<3

-tickle fic, if you don't like that you can keep scrolling

requested by: anon

warnings: cheer up tickles, kinda short imo😭 (I'm sorry)

Prompt 12, list #1: “Come on, let me see that smile!”

Prompt 41, list #1: “I’m gonna tickle the sadness out of you!”

➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷

Skz were preparing for their upcoming comeback. It wasn't a secret for anyone that's such a stressful and hard task, but the members always succeed in that and were getting used to it, so they were fine

Excepting for one of them, Chan

As the leader and producer of the group, he had his head in so many things, too much this time. He really wanted this comeback to be perfect, at least in terms of the music

He was trying to deal with all the stress and the pressure he was having all by himself, and honestly, he was doing pretty good so far, until one day

3racha were all on the studio, finishing the last details for their title track "Lalalala"

It was Chan's turn to record, it was all going well til one part. Chan was having some problems to find a tone for that specific line, and that was getting him so frustrated

"Hyung, do it how you think if sounds good. No pressure" Changbin, who was directing the recording, tried to comfort him

"I'm... Trying" Chan said, with a sigh of frustration with himself

"We know, hyung, but it's okay. No pressures, we have the whole day if that's necessary" Hannie said

About 20 minutes later, Chan got to find a tone that sounded... Decent for him, so he decided to keep it, he'll fix it later

3racha went back to their dorm, where they found Felix, watching a dorama with Hyunjin in the couch of the living room

"Oh, hi hyungs~ Hi Hannie~" Lix waved at the three members of 3racha, and snuggled up more on Hyunjin

"Hi Lix~" Changbin waved him back, ruffling his hair a bit and then walking towards his room

"Hey baby~" Jisung did the same as Changbin

Chan, otherwise, waved the younger in a sad mood, still thinking on what happened in the studio minutes before

Lix obviously noticed that his aussie brother wasn't feeling all good, so him, in his sunshine nature, was decided to help Chan feel better

He just had to know how

Chan walked to his room, locking it without talking much more to any of the kids

"Hyunjinnie, do you mind if I go for a second? I need to talk with Chan hyung" the freckled guy asked

"Sure Lixie, I'll pause the drama and wait for you"

"Thank youuu" Lix hugged Hyunjin a bit, walked towards Chan's room (wemissthem) and knocked on the door "Hyung?"

After a couple seconds of silence, Felix heard his hyung's voice "Come in"

Lix opened the door of Chan's room and saw Chan layed on his bed and wrapped up in his blanket, looking like he just stopped crying

"Hyung... What's wrong?" Felix asked, kneeling down next to the bed

"Nothing... It's nothing, Lix, don't worry about me" Chan smiled a bit, a fake smile of course, and Lix knew it

"Chan... Don't lie to me. There's something bothering you, tell me what it is"

Chan sighed and some tears started to run down his face as he talked "I'm... Frustrated with myself. I didn't do good enough today at the recording..."

"Awww, hyung..." The younger hugged his hyung, trying to reassure him a bit "I'm pretty sure you did your best, you always do, that's what matters"

Chan just cried in his dongsaeng's hug, knowing he could trust him

After some minutes, Chan started to calm down, and the tears stopped to fall

Lix pulled away from the hug and smiled down comfortingly at his hyung "You better?"

Chan sighed "Yeah... I think a bit... Thanks, Lix" smiled faintly at the younger

Lix patted Chan's head "That's good... Now, no more crying, alright?. Come on, let me see that smile!" Lix poked his hyung's side, causing him to shudder and let out a small giggle

"Fehelix! Don't"

"Awww, but you look so cute giggling~" started to poke Chan's sides repeatedly

Chan blushed a bit at the younger's teasing, giggling at the pokes, but not moving. He would hate to admit it, but this was exactly what he needed, and was really thankful with Felix for doing this

"I'm gonna tickle the sadness out of you, hyungie!" Lix started to wiggle his fingers on Chan's abs, knowing that was his death spot

"N-NOHOHOHOHO FEEHEHEHHEHELIX DON'T! NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE" Chan burst into laughter and started to squirm wildly, which just got worse when Felix started to use his other hand to change between squeezing his sides and his thighs

"But you look so happy now, hyung!" Even though Felix was teasing him, and he knew he was driving Chan crazy, the younger really looked so innocent

Until he started to wreck Chan's sides

"OKAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAY FELIX FELIX YOU CAN STOP NOHOHOHOOHHOW!" Chan squealed out

"Mmmmm... I don't think I'm doing~"

Felix just kept wrecking Chan's sides and abs, making the older go crazy

"FEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHELIX! FELIX I BEHEHEHEHEHHEHEG YOUHUHUHU! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA PLEHEHEHEHHEHEASE NO MOHOHOHORE! I'LL SMILE I'LL SMIHIHIHIHIHILE! I WON'T BE SAHAHAHAHHAHAHAD I PROHOHOHOHOHOHOHOMISE!" Chan stated before his laugh went silent

Felix kept on tickling him for a couple seconds more before stopping, he didn't want to kill his hyung after all

He rubbed the older's sides, in order to ease the ghost tickles he was feeling, and hugged him again "You okay? You're not sad anymore?" The freckled boy looked up at his hyung, hoping he's feeling better

Chan was breathing hard and letting a few more giggles out, overwhelmed by the sensation yet, but it's not like he didn't like it... "I'm fine, Lix, and not sad anymore, thank you for... That" Chan replied with a big smile on his face, ruffling his dongsaeng's hair a bit

Felix smiled at his hyung and, after a couple seconds, he left his room, going back to the living room with Hyunjin, they absolutely needed to end at least that episode of the drama

Meanwhile Chan... Fell asleep pretty soon, with a happy smile and feeling warm inside. Felix really knew how to cheer him up

➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷➷

HELLO WORLD, I'M NOT DEAD😻

I'm so sorry I haven't post in a lot, I'm grounded so the only way I get to write is at late night when my parents are sleeping😭😭😭

Plus, motivation left me for a while, but here we are😻

Anon that requested this I'm so sorry for making you wait a lot💔

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the fic :3

[saphirered]

Hiii

I was wondering if you could write something about percy and his scars? Maybe a hurt/comfort with the reader?

I imagine Ripley did a number on him and I feel like it’s and angsty prompt that never gets used

Thank you if you do!

Love ur fics :D

Hello, Anon! Hope this turned to your liking! 😘

Percy is not a man who lacks confidence. Elegance and eloquence are the ways he holds near his heart and mind like a scholar might their life’s work. They are his armour and shield as much as they are his weapon. He knows how dangerous those skills may be with some amount of charm and while he may not have a silver tongue like some of his companions he certainly does not lack persuasiveness in his ways. His charm might be more tailored to the high society where his noble birth does half the job for him and his pretty face the rest, or so you’d told him. You’d also told him in certain situations he might be better off keeping his mouth shut altogether. Of course you’d joked but he’d quipped back sarcastically claiming you seemed to have no issue hanging onto his every word. Your counter could only have been described to be a blatant flirt; he could be reading you the ledgers of Whitestone’s castle staff and you’d be enamoured. Oh the satisfaction in your eyes when he refused to admit his cheeks flushed. You just have him wrapped around your finger don’t you? 

This simply proves a fact; you like him and he likes you. You’ve not been shy about it. He’s not been either. You’ve shared some moments that might just bring you to be closer than regular friends. Sure he confides in his friends sometimes, when he has to and can’t avoid it but to you, it doesn’t take much to coax him into talking to the point the others send you to deal with him when he’s in one of his moods. He’d do nearly anything for you, whatever you ask. He wouldn't go to the lengths he’d go for you for just anyone else. He lets you in when he keeps others at arm’s length. When you embrace him the cold dead winter in his heart eases and knows some sun once more to the point he longs for it. And of course while it’s a bit of a secret you may or may not have shared some things Percy would never engage in with ‘just friends’. This thing between you two it has been evolving. 

When you heard about his sleepless nights where rest would not come to him and he’d push himself to the limits to where his body decides it would take no more, you’d scolded him many times. You’d become a bit of a night’s watch over helping him settle and guiding him to sleep. Despite all odds, it worked. You brought rest to his life. A nighttime routine would start with a cup of herbal tea; your own personal recipe. You’d simply talk, enjoy each other’s company. By the time the cup is finished Percy usually feels his mind rest enough where he will not stare at the ceiling of his bedroom until dawn but he’d taken you up on your offer to stay with him until he fell asleep. He thought it ridiculous at first but you’d simply take a seat near the window and watch the stars. He found himself able to focus on you, commit that image to memory and now when you’re not there, that image soothes him to the world of dreams. You’d fallen asleep in that chair more times than he can count. 

Things have changed since then. You do not sit in that chair that much anymore. Instead you sit with your back against the headboard, a book open in your lap and a hand loosely clasped in his. Percy notes that it must be somewhat in the middle of the night. He woke up but doesn’t feel exhausted, though he would not refuse more sleep. He puts on his glasses. Then he sees you, and first thought goes to what discomfort you’ll be in if you awake like this come morning. That’s concern for something so trivial. Were you anyone else he might have claimed action and consequence and deemed it just that but the mere thought of you possibly in discomfort, let alone on his behalf, he wishes to avoid that. He carefully pulls his hand from yours. You stir a little. Then he takes the book, closes it and puts it on the nightstand. He slides one arm under your shoulders and the other your knees, slowly allowing you to slide down without hurting yourself. Your eyes open sleepily when you’re about half way down. Percy cringes when you mutter incoherently, though it’s somewhat akin to the sound of his name. 

“It’s alright. You can stay here. Go back to sleep.” He whispers but you rub your eyes and blink a few times until you focus on him proper. 

“Are you going to sleep too?” You ask and the sound of your voice makes him fight the urge to shiver. When he doesn’t answer you chalk it up to him do anything but sleep. He didn’t expect you to be this quick in drowsiness. You grasp onto the front of his shirt and pull him down. He catches himself because your mind did not seem to process the fact he’d land half on top of you. “I swear if you do not go sleep I will tie you-“ You had tightened the grip on the neckline of his shirt and gave a light tug but you suddenly fall silent. You frown, let go of the fabric and slide into a sitting position. He follows suit confused. 

“What’s wrong?” Percy suspects the worst. What did you see? What did you hear? Are there intruders? Is something coming? Are you hurt? You shake your head. 

“Percy, what are those?” You’re not even sure how to formulate that question. 

“What?” He’s confused. You go to reach for his shirt, and pull to lift it. “I think now is hardly the time-“ And then he feels your fingers trace one of the raised marks on his skin. Oh. Percy takes in a deep breath. You hadn’t seen them before. They’d been covered previously. Or at least most of them were. It’s not like you didn’t know he’d have some reminders of the life he lives or lived for that matter. You’d seen some when he rolled up his sleeves; the tiny burns and cuts and scrapes from his works and adventures. But what you might have seen just now, those are the ones that sometimes still make him cringe when looking in the mirror, not because of what they look like but the memories associated with them. He’s gotten better but sometimes he still has nightmares after a glance. 

You trail along a jagged scar on the left side of his abdomen. It’s faded but even in the low light you notice the distressed veins around the healed injury. It did not heal well. Percy, out of reflect pulls your wrist into a tight grip. He lets go as fast as you felt his fingers squeeze tightly and you find guilt in his eyes when you retract you hand subconsciously hold it close to your chest. He opens his mouth to apologise but you just twist onto your knees and throw your arms around his neck. You whisper to him; apologies, words of comfort, anything you can think of in a desperate attempt to pull him from whatever dark corner of his mind he might have slipped into. You know he didn’t when you feel his arms wrap around you and rub along your back. You remain like that for a couple of minutes until Percy pulls back. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you-“ He starts but doesn’t look into your eyes. “I should have warned you earlier. I can leave you to your thoughts should you prefer.” You lift his chin, make him look at you and show him with your mere presence you are not going anywhere unless he tells you to. You’re not running. You’re not abandoning him. You’re here for him. 

“Percy, they’re scars. Not a second head that demands the blood of tiny animals. I just- I just got caught off guard. I knew what you went through was-“ You look for the right word to describe what he endured but can’t find the right one. “I just never thought the reminders would be this present.” 

“I tend to ignore their presence when it suits me.”

“Do they hurt?” 

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not anymore.” In all honesty for some of them the nervous damage was enough to leave him deprived of sensation to the area altogether, and leave a numb phantom feeling at best. They haven’t hurt in a very long time. What pain there may be is mostly of the mind and not body. Though, some injuries come quite useful. They act up when the weather changes. Tension fades from him and he’s reminded he’s only had two hours of sleep. You even less most likely. 

“Do they bother you?” Percy lays back down, allowing himself to lay on his back but instead of staring at the ceiling like he so often has in solitude, he turns his head enough to look at you. 

“Sometimes.” He admits and offer a pitied smile and nod, like you’re coming to terms with his suffering and it hurts you. It’s a scary thing to mean so much to another person but he thinks he’s okay with that, given he feels the same about you. 

“When they do, tell me. If you want.” You’re about to take your previous place against the headboard and reach for the book over him on his nightstand where he had put it. He stops you. 

“I will.” He speaks genuinely and you know it. “Now please, don’t kill your back. Lay down. Get some rest.” It’s rare to see Percy this soft but it’s definitely not unwelcome. You don’t reply but follow orders and lay down on your side facing him. Out of habit Percy reaches out to take your hand and hold it to his chest. You snuggle a little closer, take off his glasses and reach over to discard them atop the book he prevented you from getting. His eyes have trouble focussing on you but he can still comprehend the silent message you relay; go to sleep. He sighs, tugs your entwined hands slightly. You accept the invitation until you’re pressed against his side. He closes his eyes and slowly lets sleep overtake him. Percy could feel the pushing and pressing of those dark memories but they gain no ground, not even when he feels himself slip into unconsciousness. He’s constantly aware you’re right there with him, even in the darkness of his dreams, they do not turn to nightmares. 

[tickly-giggles]

Can we have a drabble for lee!Hawks, prompt 12, with his wings? I'm a sucker for lee!Hawks and especially ticklish wings! Only if you want to, tho!!

YES OF COURSE YOU CAN, ANON! Thank you for sending this in, I've been waiting for someone to send one!

A/N: Some sentence starters are a little awkward for me to put directly at the beginning, so this one is a little further down, but it's there! This isn't necessarily connected to my current DabiHawks tk universe, but if you wanna think of this as a little flashback type deal, then go for it! Also, I decided to make this a college AU, cuz I couldn't find a proper way to make it in the normal universe and have Hawks be struggling with something that has a deadline that he could fail on. So, college AU it is! A quick thought just popped into my mind, though, about renewing hero licenses, though I don't know if that's a thing. REGARDLESS, ENOUGH RAMBLING-

Warning: Tickle fic ahead!

Prompt: "I'm gonna fail if I don't finish before the deadline."

Characters: Dabi, Hawks

Shipping: Technically DabiHawks, I promise they'll get together soon, guys

Lee: Hawks

Ler: Dabi

Word Count: 1,072

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yet another sleepless night of never ending studying put Keigo into quite the irritated mood. He sat at his desk in front of his laptop, head in his hands, the screen displaying a document that currently only had three paragraphs written. Birds started chirping outside his window as light from the sunrise began streaming into his dorm. With a frustrated sigh, he looked up at his computer screen and glared at the document. He had never been this stressed in his life.

Keigo’s overthinking was abruptly interrupted by a low groan and the shuffling of bed sheets from behind him. Touya slipped out from under the covers and stretched, then he looked over at his roommate, who had his back turned to him and was still staring at the laptop.

“You’re up early,” Touya commented, shivering as his bare feet hit the floor.

“Haven’t slept,” Keigo replied curtly.

Touya frowned and stood, walking over to his roommate. Empty energy drink cans littered his desk, and a small pile of dirty plates sat beside his laptop. When was the last time he even moved from his chair?

“You gotta get some sleep, Keigo,” 

Touya said as he reached for the laptop. He huffed when Keigo swatted his hand away,

“When’s the last time you showered?”

“Like, last night or something?”

“Bullshit,”

Touya hissed, glaring at Keigo, who refused to look at him,

“I had a hard time getting to sleep cuz your sleep deprived ass wouldn’t go to bed, and that damn laptop is brighter than my fire.”

“Tsk. Whatever, I just need to get this done.”

“You need to look after yourself.”

“I’m fine, Touya.”

“You’re not fine,”

the hot head crossed his arms,

“Your wings are drooping.”

“Dude, I’m gonna fail if I don’t finish before the deadline,”

Keigo finally turned to his friend, 

“You know how important this essay is! It’s due tomorrow, and I barely have anything written down. I know how my quirk works and how I can use it in battle, but I can’t explain it!”

he growled and slammed his fist on the desk,

“Why is an essay gonna be the deciding factor of if I graduate or not?!”

Touya sighed and rubbed his roommate’s head soothingly, 

“Relax, birdbrain. It isn’t the end of the world. You still have a whole day to get it done,”

he then took Keigo’s hand and tugged gently,

“But you need sleep first. You won’t be able to think properly if you’re running on fumes.”

“I can’t sleep right now,” Keigo groaned,

“Please leave me alone.”

Touya glared at his friend, getting more frustrated as time passed. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head, and his annoyed expression quickly transformed into a mischievous one.

“Fine,”

he huffed as he walked behind Keigo and positioned himself at his wings that hung over the back of the chair,

“I guess I’ll have to make you.”

“What does that even me-HEEEHEHEAN! NONONO TOUYA STOHOHOHOP!”

Keigo shrieked with sudden, uncontrollable laughter. Touya smirked as he dug into his friend’s fluffy wings, then yelped when one of them flapped a little too hard and smacked him right in the face.

“You little shit,” the hot head grumbled.

“I-I’m sohohorry,”

Keigo whined, standing up and holding his hands up in surrender while his roommate approached him,

“Touya, please, I’ll go to sleep, just anything but this– TOUYA!!”

Touya wasted no time, pouncing on his winged friend and pinning him to the bed, then scribbling all ten of his fingers over his sensitive feathers. Ever since they were children, Touya knew Keigo’s worst spot was his wings. He loved tormenting him whenever he got on his nerves, or even if he was just bored. His friend never failed to provide an entertaining experience.

“Too little too late, Keigo,”

the hot head smirked evilly, savoring his trapped roommate’s screams of ticklish agony,

“You should’ve decided before I had to resort to this. ‘sides, you hit me with your wings. I deserve some payback for that.”

“IHIHIHIT WAS AN AHAHAHACCIDENT, YOU PRIHIHIHICK!” Keigo cackled, thrashing helplessly,

“YOU WERE TIHIHIHICKLING MEHEHEHE! I COULDN’T HEHEHELP IHIHIT!”

“Not my problem,”

Touya shrugged, moving his fingers toward where Keigo’s wings connected to his back, and he chuckled as his friend’s laughter became more high pitched and desperate,

“Poor little Keigo. Can’t handle it, huh? Is it too much? You poor thing~.”

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUP!!”

“Awww, does teasing get to you? Hmm? Does it make it worse?”

he leaned in closer to Keigo’s flushed face, still talking in that sickeningly effective baby voice,

“Do you like it when I tease you? Huh, little birdie~?”

“TOHOHOHOUYA, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!” 

Keigo felt extremely hot, and he pushed at Touya’s face with one hand while covering his own with his other hand.

“Ohh~? Do you like that nickname, little birdie? Does it make you flustered? Ah ah ah, don’t cover your face,”

Touya huffed and quickly grabbed Keigo’s wrists, pinning them above his head and giving him a little breather,

“Or I’ll make you regret it~.”

The winged student swallowed nervously and stared deeply into his friend’s eyes while catching his breath. He’d be lying if he said this wasn’t exciting and fun, but he still had his paper to write. He frowned and averted his gaze.

“Can I go back to working on my paper, please?”

“Your paper will be there.”

“Touya, let me up.”

“Nope.”

“Touya–”

“That’s it.”

Laughter once again rang throughout the dorm room, only stopping when Keigo’s boisterous cackling turned into silent hysteria. Touya knew he wasn’t going to listen, so he had no choice but to tire him out enough so that he wouldn’t even think of anything but sleep. 

About an hour had passed when the hot head finally decided to let up, and his plan had worked. Keigo fell asleep almost instantly after the tickle attack, and Touya tucked him in gently. He smiled as his roommate snored peacefully. It was an adorable sight - his flushed face stained with mirth and a small smile resting on his lips. He looked so comfortable. Touya sighed fondly and ran his fingers through Keigo’s soft hair, his eyes lingering on his lips for longer than he would admit. Finally, he walked over to the desk and made sure to save his friend’s work before closing the laptop, and began cleaning up the mess. He was positive Keigo would do better once he got some rest.

Request a drabble~

[ysmtttty]

👏👏 That's two compliments for you

🐶 Then one for someone else

PLUS

Pick two Eris Week game prompts you haven't answered yet!!

Hi anon!

👏 - I’ve written more fics for Eris week than I initially thought I would. And at the same time I have time to finish my Sunday chapter for Red Ferrari.

👏 - I overcame my one year long write block to write that Azris fic. And I’m doing good, not feeling like my writing is bad like I used to. So, good job 🫡🥰

🐶 - @nocasdatsgay I’m in love with your Neapolitan bonds series! That was one of the first things I read when I joined acotar fandom on tumblr, and the way you write these characters >>>. Also your Neris so so good, so gentle, soft, sweet😭🫶

🍁 ⇢ What’s the most challenging part about writing or creating for Eris?

To keep him in character, to keep his traits and don’t accidentally change his behavior throughout the narrative. I struggle with it for most of the time with many characters honestly. I’ve read acotar long time ago and don’t remember many many things from there, only some key points that tumblr users remind me. So it’s hard for me to remember and know what would he do in this situation, or in that. That’s actually why I haven’t written any big fics in canon universe.

🔥⇢ When did you first start liking Eris as a character?

I have a really weird journey to love him.

I found his character interesting from the beginning, but couldn’t say he was my favorite right away.

After ACOWAR I was in c.ai and randomly decided to check what acotar characters are there. and Eris’s prompts were interesting, there were few bots but still. That’s when I’ve got first Eris x OC ideas, got really fixated on one of them. And then ACOSF — I was head over heels for him. Dancing scene? Gold. Every witty comment from him? I’m on my knees. Then I’ve read a lot of fics, reread the whole acotar series and my love only deepened.

Tbh, I’m a sucker for every sarcastic ginger in every piece of literature. I just thought that in acotar it would be only Lucien, but Eris is just my love now. My favorite character, my baby, my darling.

[benasabrina]

A prompt for you: Phoenix and Maya attend Trucy and Pearl's high school graduation together.

Ooh, fascinating idea, anon! Let's see what I can do with this~

slight edit: Link to the fic on ao3!

-----

The alarm blared right in his ear. It is Friday and there are no cases to investigate for, no trials to be had. So, why did he have an alarm on for six in the morning? Phoenix would have pressed snooze to sleep in longer but that was not going to happen.

As soon as his finger pressed the snooze button, two figures entered his and Maya's room and immediately jumped on top of his side of the bed, and even him.

"Oof!" Phoenix gruffed out and groaned groggily. "G'mornin'," he mumbled and blearily opened an eye to see Trucy and Pearl staring at him.

"Daddy! It's time to get up! It's graduation day!" Trucy grinned as she silently yelled at her father, not wanting to disturb Maya who was still sleeping. "Mama needs to get up soon too..." she mumbled and rested her chin on Phoenix's raised leg. Pearl giggled softly and peered over Phoenix to see Maya on her side, snoring softly. "The pregnancy must be taking a toll on her if she's still sleeping through this," she whispered and glanced over to Phoenix.

Phoenix couldn't help but feel some pang of guilt... despite knowing that they both wanted this. He just didn't expect her to fall pregnant with twins right off the bat. With a sigh, he motioned the girls to move off of him and he sat up. "You both finish getting ready. I'll get ready then get Maya up when I'm done."

The girls nodded then dashed out of the room.

xXx

Maya ended up waking up as soon as Phoenix was in the shower and opted to join him to freshen up (and to wake up as well). She played nice and decided to not rile him up since they're technically on a time crunch for both Trucy and Pearl's high school graduation.

After the shower, they both finished getting dressed, Phoenix decided to wear just a plain light powder blue dress-shirt with this sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark blue jeans. Maya on the other hand wore a white t-shirt with a light purple maternity over-all sun dress. She looked over herself in the mirror and sighed softly.

Phoenix took note of this. "Everything okay, Maya?"

She grumbled and tried to suck in her belly a bit, but to no avail. "I'm fine, just feeling a bit fat right now." Maya rubbed at her large belly and sighed again. "Can't they just come out now? I'm tired of being pregnant."

He couldn't help but chuckle gently. "You say that now, but you know for a fact that once they're out, you're going to miss them being in there."

Maya's eyes narrowed. "Fair point. This is all your fault, you know."

"My dear, it takes two to tango," was all Phoenix said in reply. "Now come on, we can't let those two be late for their graduation."

"Yeah, yeah."

xXx

The graduation is a bit of a strange one this year. While Trucy attended the local high school, Pearl did not. Pearl actually attended the continuation school near the office so she too can get an education. Thankfully, she was homeschooled, but that can only get her so far. Kurain was not exactly suited for "higher" education as some of the elders put it. So with Phoenix's help, Pearl was enrolled and sped through the courses since she was such a fast learner. Both schools decided to merge their graduations so families can see their teens graduate together rather than picking and choosing.

Once they arrived at LA High, the girls went off to find their classes while Phoenix and Maya went to where the families were made to sit. They arrived at a decent time and found open toward the middle aisle where they both knew the girls would walk down to get their diplomas (and also in case Maya had to get up to use the restroom at any point during the ceremony).

Phoenix breathed out gently and tried to keep his emotions in check about the two girls. No use getting worked up since he knew Maya would also be an emotional mess. But... It felt like only yesterday he met Pearl and also took in Trucy. He glanced over to Maya as she adjusted her sunglasses to just above her bangs. Her gaze caught him staring at her.

"What?" she asked innocently.

He shook his head and smiled gently back at her. "Nothing. Just thinking about the girls and how different our life would be without them. Well... at least without Trucy." His glossy eyes almost gave him away.

She noticed his glossy eyes, but didn't say anything about it. "Our life is going to be even more different once these two are out," Maya replied with a grin. "For better or worst, I think we'll be okay, no matter what."

Phoenix took her left hand and marveled at the wedding ring on her ring finger. He placed a soft kiss there. "For better or worst," he replied and waited for the graduation ceremony to begin.

xXx

The ceremony was beautiful and went by rather quick. Both graduating classes were somewhat small. Once it was all said and done, Phoenix and Maya held hand as they got up and went to find their graduated girls and give their congratulations. They did not have to search long because as soon as they rounded a corner, Phoenix was tackled and hugged by Trucy and Pearl.

"Daddy! Mama! We did it! I can't believe it's finally over!"

"Mr. Nick!! Mystic Maya! Thank you for helping me!"

Phoenix and Maya both laughed. Maya joined in on the hug as best as she can, maneuvering her belly so she can hug them tightly. "You girls did this all on your own! We're so proud of you both!" Maya grinned and kissed the top of their heads.

Seeing his little family brought a tear to his eye. Phoenix wiped at his eyes quickly and coughed into his fist. "I think it's time to celebrate! Where do you girls want to go? We can go anywhere you want to!"

Trucy and Pearl looked to each other and grinned. "Korean Barbecue!" they both said in unison.

Maya cheered alongside them and tugged at her husband's shirt. "Let's go, Nick!"

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, let's go!"

[fantumbatcave]

12 for one liner prompts!

Hahaha soooooooo... this has been sitting in my inbox since February! Uh... My apologies anon. I finally did come up with something for that particular one liner. I can't find the prompt list though (stupid tumblr search).

It's Jujutsu Kaisen related though, so if you don't know the series well enough, I'm sorry. This is actually my first attempt at making a JJK short fic with an OC of mine. If you decide to read, I hope you like it.

-

Think Nothing Of It

Prompt: “… Why are you petting me?” Word count: about 928 Contains: some wearing/cursing OC is nonbinary and uses they/them

The plan was to go out and get some dinner, head to their room afterwards, take a shower, and maybe play a video game for a few hours. Instead, they were in the homeroom working. Ijichi had informed Malena that the assistant managers were backed up with a lot of work. It included curse identification and ranks, mission reports, public sightings, etc.

He assured them there was no pressure if they declined, but they couldn’t bare to say no to him. So here they were, with papers, folders, and a laptop on the desk. Switching from writing, to clicking, and typing. Two empty energy drink cans were set on a corner. It wasn’t a total loss. At least they had company.

Any company was good, even if it was from the King of Curses.

Sukuna would normally demand a “lesson” or story from Malena, but they didn’t have the time or energy to entertain him this evening. After some teasing and yelling, a deal was made. Malena had brought a bag of mochi. As long as he didn’t disrupt their workflow, he could finish the whole thing off.

He was sitting in one of the student desks, and ate as Malena typed and scribbled away. A mumble or two would slip out, but nothing that needed repeating. Their brows furrowed, eyes darting, and fast hand dexterity. One would think they looked angry, but that wasn’t it. It’s just how their face looks when focusing.

Malena’s cell phone began to ring. They didn’t rush to answer it at first, letting it ring a few more times before it went to voicemail. When it ranged again, they looked at the time.

“Shit,” they mumbled.

They pulled their phone out and answered in Spanish. The voice on the other end sounded like an older woman. The conversation lasted a few minutes, ranging from calm to a few laughs. Then, Malena became annoyed. It sounded like they made a demand.

Sukuna picked up two new voices from the call. Malena then switched to English and began to shout. He felt a bit nosy, and cursed that he didn’t understand what was going on. A few swear words he did understand.

It went on and on and on. Once the shouting match ended, the older woman was back on. Spanish again. Malena tried to speak calmly. When the call was finished, they sat the phone down and held their head in their hands.

“Fuck, I wanna kill them,” they grumbled, massaging their temples. “Strangle them in their sleep.”

“Heh, I’d like to see that,” Sukuna commented. “Who are you killing?”

“My siblings. They’re being little shi- I mean, brats. Yeah, brats.”

“Hmm.”

“They’re just so…! I mean for the love of Satan, they can’t be responsible adults! Why’d I think goin’ abroad would change ‘em? Fuckin’ idiot.”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it! No, not even half. The full picture! I don’t know what I’m fuckin’ sayin’. But like…! I’m over here! What can I do? That’s why I told them to do right ‘cuz they gotta be in charge! I can’t be the usual boss for them when I’m over here dealing with my fuckin’ job! Ugh, what’s the point in complainin’? I’ve said the same thing over and over again. There’s nothing new to say about them. Not like you care anyway,” Malena sighed, slumping back in their chair. “I need to make a note before I forget.”

They grabbed a sticky not and wrote on it quickly, then went back to working on the laptop. Sukuna had finished his snacking. He double checked the bag for more, but was disappointed. He tossed it aside. For a moment, he realized there wasn’t any click-clack noise coming from Malena. He looked over at them.

They were looking at the monitor, but their eyes appeared to be glossy. Were they going to cry? Just from that argument? Malena let out a big sigh, as if trying to suppress a sniffle. He rolled his eyes. How pathetic. They continued to stare at the screen, hands in their lap.

Sukuna got up, ready to leave and switch back to Yuji, when he caught a glimpse of something shiny by their eyes.

“Are you crying?” he asked.

“No,” they explained. “I… try not to. But sometimes my emotions get too high and… Just, don’t make a big deal out of it.”

What happened next, baffled the both of them.

“… Why are you petting me?” Malena asked.

Sukuna was beside them, attempting to gently pet their hair. He didn’t care for a lot of things, especially humans. A good amount of anger and sadness usually made him laugh. This time, hearing the frustration in Malena’s voice and seeing the tear had annoyed him in a different way. Perhaps because it was over family. Families were useless, just like everything else he found useless. But to someone like Malena…

“… Pity, I guess,” he responded, his claws now lightly scratching at their scalp.

“Pity? You feel pity for me?”

“Why do you sound surprised?” he glared down at them.

“’Cuz… You’re… Well, you’re you,” Malena shrugged. “Didn’t think it was possible.”

Sukuna huffed and gave a few hard pats on the head before turning away. “Think nothing of it, priest. It won’t happen again,” he said sternly.

Malena looked at him, waiting to see if he’d face them again. When he didn’t, they took the chance to blink a few more tears before wiping them away.

“Heh, right,” they said.

-

[simplysnowbarry]

MARK YOUR CALENDARS ❄️⚡

Big thanks to everyone who voted in our poll recently. We can now announce that Snowbarry Week 2023 - our final full-length Snowbarry Week - will run from Monday December 4th to Sunday December 10th this year!

We’ve chosen the prompts from those submitted to us so as to speed the process along and give everyone plenty of time to create. And we’ve also got extras for artists, as well as a few song prompts.

prompts:

day 1, Mon Dec 4th - First + Last Time

day 2, Tues Dec 5th - Innovation

day 3, Weds Dec 6th - Reconnecting

day 4, Thurs Dec 7th - FREE DAY + any past prompts

day 5, Fri Dec 8th - Fantasy / Fairytale

day 6, Sat Dec 9th - "Just a normal day"

day 7, Sun Dec 10th - Post-canon / Future AUs

extras for artists:

silver and gold

hues of red and/or blue

song prompts:

The Script - No Good In Goodbye

Picture This - Take My Hand

The Heydaze - New Religion

Posting guidelines will be posted closer to the date. We hope to see you all in December, and in the mean time, HAPPY CREATING!

(!) F.A.Q

Who can participate in Snowbarry Week?

ANYONE! Writers, giffers, manip-ers (?), fan artists smol and toll. We welcome fan fiction, gifsets, manips, fanart, fanmixes, …

Can days be combined?

YES! Reconnecting with future AU? Or innovation and fairytale? All joking aside, you can combine whichever prompts you’d like.

Can I create work for both the artists prompts and the writer prompts?

ABSOLUTELY YES!

Can I use the artists prompts for a fic, or the writer prompts for art work?

GO CRAZY!

If I want to contribute something do I have to do something for every day?

Not at all. You’re free to commit to a single day, and we will be so flipping excited to see it. The point is just to have fun with the prompts, even if it’s just the one.

Can I post a WIP that I started working on before that fits a Snowbarry Week theme?

Yes, of course! We’re not a Big Bang, or even a Mini Bang, we don’t require art or fic to have been created from scratch for exactly this week.

I’m going to be busy/out of town during Snowbarry Week. Can I post early/late?

We’d really like to avoid early posting. If you’re out of town or too busy the week itself you can always schedule posts for the correct dates.

Posting late shouldn’t be a problem. Posting Day 1 on Day 3 is also perfectly fine, just make sure we can tell which day you’re posting for, so our heads don’t start spinning.

What does free day mean?

Basically, free day is where you decide what prompt you want to do something with. As long as it’s Snowbarry (or one of its variations like Savifrost, Flashfrost, etc), you’re okay to do whatever you want. A free day in the middle of the week might also provide some much needed breathing space for all the contributors.

Also, the same as last year, our free day now doubles as an opportunity to create for any of our past prompts! If there was a prompt you didn’t manage to finish something for, or just always liked the sound of doing but missed the opportunity, we’d love to see that for this day to have a fun revival of some of the great prompts from past events.

What does [insert theme] mean?

Oh man, this is a hard one to answer. Reconnecting could be about Barry and Caitlin getting to know each other after falling out, or after drifting apart, but it could also be about reconnecting with other things in their life or even as literal as reconnecting cables on some tech as part of an action plot! We can’t tell you which roles to cast your characters in, because everyone has different interpretations. If you can justify the connection, we’re pretty sure you’re good.

Does my idea fit the theme?

Like we said above, if you can justify it, we’re pretty sure you’re good. If you’re really not sure, hit us up!

If there are more questions, please don’t hesitate to drop us an ask. Any questions you don’t want published, feel free to come off anon and ask us as well - we promise we won’t publish what you’re not comfortable with, just let us know if you want it answered privately.