#prompt: fulfilment

[daydreamingfoxglove]

Day Thirty-One: Fulfilment

@microficmay, words: 160, ship: drarry, rating: T for cw: death 

_ _ _ 

Scorpius lies in the master bedroom of Malfoy Manor. His parents sit on either side of him, their eyes bright with unleashed tears. 

Harry fluffs the pillows. It's the tenth time in five minutes. 

Draco cradles Scorpius’ right hand, presses the back of it against his cheek, kisses it. 

Draco's tears are cold against Scorpius’ hand, his cheek smooth like polished marble. Scorpius wears his age spots and wispy hair like a badge of honour. His parents stand frozen in time, their souls marked in ways their bodies will never show. 

Death darkens Scorpius’ doorstep. Scorpius welcomes him. He cradles Scorpius’ face, like an old friend, admires the deep interlinked wrinkles that map a fulfilled life, smile lines even deeper. 

Death drops a kiss to his temple. Scorpius succumbs to it, letting his soul be carried away. Weightless, knowing his children, his grandchildren, his great grandchildren and generations to come, are all under the safe hands of his immortal fathers.

_ _ _

Last instalment of my eternal, a mini-series of microfics telling a nonlinear narrative for microficmay 💞

[microficmay]

Day 31: Fulfilment

Prompt List

AO3 Collection

[stealingyourbones]

There’s a new drug in Gotham making the rounds, one synthesized by Two-Face’s people; if you take it you will have a 50/50 chance that you’ll experience the greatest high of your life or that you’ll die.

Batman is desperately trying to find the main lab and cut off the production from the source and hasn’t been able to find a lead in weeks.

That’s when Gordon gives him a file that was given to him by a “white haired ghost kid”. It’s a detailed report written similarly to a scientific journal with detailed sources that are mainly first hand accounts from deceased victims of the Two-Face drug.

At the very end of the paper there’s an address to a Gotham University dorm room with a sticky note next to it that says “if you need help with death or the undead. Yours truly; Danny Fenton.”

[asha-mage]

MDZS AU where Jiang Cheng realizes that Lan Sizhui is the Wen orphan that Wei Wuxian took care off during the Burial Mounds arc, decides that's close enough to qualify him as Nephew, declares that no Nephew of His (much less a surrogate son of Wei Wuxian's) is going to be raised in the Cloud Recedes, and immediately launches into a custody battle with Lan Wangji.

But since neither Jiang Cheng or Lan Wangji can acknowledge that Sizuhi has any connection to Wei Wuxian, both begin steadfastly and stubbornly insisting that he is a Cultivator of peerless potential and skill and he belongs in their sect thank you very much, and would clearly be very unhappy in the other's. This confuses the hell out of the already mystified Cultivation world, who had barely adjusted yet to gossiping about Sizhui being Wangji's illegitimate child by mysterious love affair.

(Eventually the common consensus in the rumor mills is that both JC and LW where in love with Sizhui's mother and both believe themselves to be Sizhui's real father.)

(LW couldn't care less what gossips say, but JC has to bite his tongue till it bleeds to avoid telling anyone the truth in a fit of anger.)

(It was Nie Huaisang who put that rumor out in the first place, partly to troll JC, partly because, in a way, it's a little true.)

[wavewavethoughtsonly]

I hope they put this scene in the sequel. Full Video

[raphaerolo]

@codywanfirstkissbingo : Sleight of tongue

I wasn't super duper focused on the prompt - I mainly just wanted an excuse to draw wlw codywan. theyre pretty.

Bingo card under the cut

[jakeperalta]

@giftober 2024 | day 28: mess ➛ 9-1-1 + mess is mine by vance joy

[bobbinalong]

Teen Lantern sharing her culture for @/dcforgaza on Twitter. You can still donate there until August 18th -- you don't even need a Twitter account -- and receive some art or a fic in exchange.

[tmos-time]

the amount of times i think about eridan finding excuses to call sollux darlin' or sweetheart astounds me <3 anyways day 1 prompt of honey for this years @erisolweek lmao

(and as a bonus, my favorite thumbnail sketches of eridan <3)

[mischievous-thunder]

Logan: Where have you hidden all of my shirts?

Wade: First of all, they're my shirts. Secondly, you can buy them from me at the cheapest price if you need them.

Logan: I don't have any money.

Wade, grinning suggestively: I think I know a way you could pay.

Logan: Or I could wait for you to go to work and then take them. Or I could kill you and take them now.

Althea, from the other end of the sofa: Such romantic words from someone who's seen wearing slutty vests the whole day and definitely not a shirt.

[reidphobic]

Prompt 28 and 36 please!! :D

mdni. cw: sub!spencer, ass play (m receiving), feminisation. prompts here. part of the neighbor!au

wc 774. probably not what you were expecting, hope you enjoy anyway

you kiss spencer slowly, indulgently, moaning happily and twining your bare legs with his. “morning, pretty,” you mumble, rubbing your foot along his calf.

it’s one of his rare days off, and an even rarer day he’s agreed to spend the day in bed with you instead of planning an elaborate (wonderful, but exhausting) date. “morning, baby.” he pretends to just be shifting in bed, trying to get comfortable, but you can feel his dick pressing into you where he tries to grind against your body.

“did you have a good dream?” you tease, and he flushes.

“being awake’s better,” he answers, pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips. you make out with him for you don’t even know how long, content to let him map every inch of your body with lips and hands, map his in your turn. but you can feel him getting restless, and soon enough he breaks away to blink at you with lust-blown eyes, his lips swollen and spit-slick. “i want— i want you.”

you grin widely. “what do you want, honey?” spencer’s face is flaming. “if you can’t say it, you’re not ready for me to give it to you, okay?” you cup his jaw, smile at the slight stubble under your palm, thighs tingling at the prospect of feeling it between your legs.

spencer presses his lips together in a thin line, apprehensive. you brush your thumb reassuringly over his cheek, give him a gentle smile. “i want you to, um…” he fumbles for the words. “i want you to fuck me… with— with your fingers,” he murmurs, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

you can’t help but feel a little proud at his openness. god, he’s come so far. “all you have to do is ask, sweetness,” you croon, fishing under your pillow for a bottle of lube as you kiss at spencer’s neck and jaw. “you’re so pretty, baby. mommy’s gonna make you feel so good, promise.”

spencer writhes as you trail your hand down his body, and he whimpers out a plea. “why are you already squirming?” you coo, gazing up at him from where you’re knelt between his legs. “i haven’t even started yet.” you slide a slicked-up finger between his legs, circle his hole, his entire body jolting. “almost there, sweet, just breathe for me, okay?” you murmur as you slip one finger inside.

“mommy,” he chokes out as you start to thrust your finger, carefully add another. “i— oh, my god,” spencer gasps, incoherent babbling stumbling off his normally curated tongue. “please!” he moans after a few minutes of teasing thrusts, never quite pressing your fingers where he desperately needs them.

“take it like a good girl and stop whining,” you say, gentle but firm, and spencer’s eyes roll back in his head. “can you do that, honey? can you be a good girl for mommy?” spencer’s entire body convulses, mouth opening and closing like he can’t find the words.

you lean down, press a kiss against his chest. taking pity, you find his g-spot and spencer damn near screams. “oh, honey. so desperate,” you murmur, dripping condescension. “you want mommy to make you cum?” he nods frantically, chest heaving. “just gotta do one thing for me first, okay?”

“anything,” spencer promises instantly, voice shaking with want.

“tell me what a good girl you are for mommy, baby. just say that one little thing and i’ll give you what you want.”

you scissor your fingers a little, making him gasp and twitch, tossing his head back and forth and screwing his eyes shut. you press encouraging kisses to his chest and stomach. “m’your… your good girl, mommy, all yours, please!” he gasps, hiccuping through desperate tears.

“was that so hard?” you say softly, taking up a rhythm in earnest that drives him wild. “that’s my good little girl, honey.” after barely more than a few quick, sharp thrusts, spencer screams out your name, back arching as cum splashes across his belly and lands on your tits. you smirk catlike down at him. “feel good? don’t think i’ve ever seen you cum that hard before, baby,” you say smugly.

spencer winces as you pull your fingers free. “every time i think there can’t possibly be anything new…” he says, laughing through heaving breaths.

“you should know by now, sweetness. i’ll never be done with you,” you giggle, crawling up the bed to plant a kiss on his slack lips. “and, speaking of…” you pat his cheek. “i wanna ride this pretty face of yours. you gonna let me?”

spencer’s tongue is inside you practically before your next heartbeat.

[lurking-loaf]

FazEnt Marketing Team: "Kids like memes right?"

Day 5 of DCA Promptober - artistic license redraw of the "You wouldn't download a car" meme

Since I had to shrink and trim the original art really small to make the gif fit tumblr's maximum upload size, here are the images in non-crunchy form.

The way the two images are laid out above is actually the way they were going to be posted before my 11th hour "Hey! Let's try animating it!" moment. Also, I had zero experience doing any sort of digital animation before this simple one. I'm not sure what the protocol is for using meme templates so I approximated the original text for use in this piece just to be on the safe side. I also redrew the daycare logo itself and changed aspects of it for some reason. Also also, I used the noise brush for the first time to made tv static instead of just finding and using a royalty free image of some sort because it is essential I make things more difficult than they need to be.

[akakumoeteru]

The weather's getting colder!

[smile-files]

mommy let you use her ipad, you were barely two

and it did all the things we designed it to do

now look at you, look at you!

(objectober 2024 day 10: internet)

[jesuistrestriste]

Projecting cos i need money but payipig art ...need him to buy me shoes and ask me to step on him with them

art would absolutely spoil you. he’s got a lot of money from his tennis career, and he’d like nothing more than to spend all of it on a beautiful, dominant individual.

you two met through a kink website and now he’s your personal wallet. and he prides himself in that title ! he’s given you his credit card to keep when he’s off to train at the courts, or when he’s at a match, or when he’s doing press interviews for sports magazines.

his cock gets impossibly hard when you tell him how much money you’re draining from his bank account each day. you usually inform him through texts..

200 dollars down the drain, baby.. just got a new pair of heels 💋

he swallows and texts you back quick.

can i please see them?

a notification from you pops up a minute later.

attachment: one image

he fumbles with his fingers, desperately tapping the banner at the top of his screen, and he has to stifle a whine when he opens the photo in your guys’ chat. it’s a picture of your limbs from the calves down; a pair of sleek, tall, black heels slipped over your feet.

his lips part, drunk with lust, and he feels his mouth go dry in an instant. pulses of heat flood his gut and he lets out a shaky breath as he texts you back.

oh god… they’re perfect on you.

you’re perfect.

please..

the response from you comes a minute later, and art has to resist the urge the shove his hand down into his pants.

you like? xx

his brows pinch together and he replies quick.

are you kidding? i love them. i really want to see you later. can we meet?

two texts from you follow.

hmm. maybe. i’m pretty busy today, but i could probably squeeze you in after i make a trip to chanel and blow another 500 bucks ..

i can bring the shoes.

now he’s nearly panting like a dog as he spares a glance down to the tent in his clothes before his fingers are back on the screen. he blows up your phone.

oh please, yes.

yes, yes, yes… i want you to step on me when you get here.

kick me, spit on me, tell me what a worthless guy i am.. i don’t care.

tell me im only good for my money and that’s it. please.

i’m begging you, goddess.

his hips are twitching against the fabric and his lids flutter as he imagines all the things you might do to him later.. god, he needs you like air. his eyes roll back, and he lets a little moan slip out.

he wants you to use him.

a small *ding* from his phone sends his baby blues darting back down.

one text from you. one sentence. it gets him leaking copiously.

see you in an hour 💋

[a-leg-without-fear]

The Miranda to His Ferdinand

this is actually the response to this ask from the lovely @yarrystyleeza!!! i was so frickin inspired and ended up writing this :)

Ship: College!Matt Murdock x f!Reader

Rating: 18+

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: lots o' Shakespeare, kissing, suggestive material

Series: Request Fulfillment

Your dorm's mattress creaked as you and Matt settled on top. He sat to your left, braille script clutched in his hand, with his sunglasses tucked into his shirt collar and his hair ruffled after a long day. An easy smile settled over his full lips.

"What's the play, again?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked as a large hand swept over the front page of his script. Long fingers traced the raised bumps on the solid white pages.

"The Tempest," you replied with a sighed chuckle, "It's about a woman, Miranda, who's lived on an island her whole life, knowing only her father and their slave, Caliban. Ferdinand shipwrecks on their island, then he and Miranda fall in love. Typical Shakespeare stuff."

Matt laughed at your synopsis, shaking his head, "And you're auditioning for Miranda, I'm guessing?"

"Nope, Caliban," you snarked in return. Matt rolled his eyes as you stuck your tongue out at him.

"Alright, Caliban. Which scene are we reading?"

"The last part of Act Three, Scene One," you said, flipping your script to the correct page, "Should be page ten in your booklet."

Crinkling pages filled the comfortable silence between you. It was quick work to find the correct page, considering the section you'd be reading from was labeled "MIRANDA AUDITION." The booklet lay open in your palms as you scanned briefly through the lines. You could almost feel the adoration formed by the prose, the pure affection woven into the words. Shakespeare truly was a genius.

"Okay, page ten," Matt announced, breaking your silent reverence of The Bard. You cleared your throat.

"Right. Ready?" you asked as you straightened your posture. Matt nodded, gesturing for you to start. A deep breath filled your lungs, chest expanding like a balloon, as you tamped down your nerves.

"Do you love me?" you read from the script. You glanced at Matt out of the corner of your eye. His lips ticked up in the corners as he read his part.

"Oh heaven, oh earth, bear witness to this sound," he began, fingers rapidly skimming over the pages, "And crown what I profess with kind event if I speak true. If hollowly, invert what best is boded me to mischief. I, beyond all limit of what else in the world, do love, prize and honor you."

You couldn't breathe. Not when Matt's sightless gaze was fixed right between your eyes. Not when this profession of love came from him so earnestly. Not when your years of pining after him had finally bubbled to the surface.

"I-I am a fool," you stuttered. You shook your head, clearing the distracting thoughts, then tried again, "I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of."

Matt placed his free hand on your knee. Your heart pounded against your ribs, anticipation leaking into your blood like ink in water.

"Wherefore weep you?" he read softly. His dark eyes traced the space around your head. Almost searching, scouring for your answer in the planes of your face.

"At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer what I desire to give, and much less take what I shall die to want. But this is trifling. And all the more it seeks to hide itself, the bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning, and prompt me, plain and holy innocence. I am your wife, if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow you may deny me, but I'll be your servant. Whether you will or no."

A tense silence fell over the two of you like a sudden burst of snow. Your pulse coursed rapidly under your heated skin. The weight of the line you'd read felt world-encompassing. Would he understand that it wasn't just you reading words? That the meaning behind them is what you felt?

"My mistress, dearest, and I thus humble ever," Matt whispered, a faint glance of understanding passing behind his eyes. You swallowed a lump the size of a baseball.

"My husband then?"

The hand nearly burning a hole in your knee wrapped its fingers around your own.

"Ay, with a heart as willing as bondage ever of freedom. Here's my hand," Matt breathed, fingers tangling with yours. Your breath caught behind your lips. This is happening.

"And mine, with my heart in it," you said shakily.

That same silence. Charged like the static before a lightning strike. Nearly choking you with how intense the moment felt. The pad of Matt's thumb rubbed circles into the back of your hand.

“Does Ferdinand get to kiss Miranda in this scene?” he asked, gaze landing on your lips. Your heart leapt like a horse over a hurdle. Swirls of anxiety and finally! chased each other through your mind.

“It-it’s not in the script, but I think ad-libbing is more than okay,” you said as your heartbeat roared in your ears. Matt’s signature, cocky smirk pulled at his lips.

His hand seemed to move in slow motion as it lifted from his braille script and cradled your jaw. Palm warm, almost searing, and calloused like you could barely believe. Yet you’d never felt anything softer. His thumb passed over your flushed cheek slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, before it caught on your bottom lip.

“Is this okay?” Matt asked, voice barely above a whisper, as his thumb pulled gently on your lip. A shudder rolled over your spine like rumbling thunder.

“Yes,” you uttered with a quick nod.

Before you could blink, his lips were pressed against yours. Lightning struck your mind and rendered you breathless. Shocks coursed through your veins. Your heart nearly stopped beating.

He was kissing you.

Matthew Michael fucking Murdock was kissing you.

You quickly reached out and clung to him like he was your lifeline. You didn’t want this moment to end. This singularity that felt impossible, your whole life building to this one kiss. 

Warm fingers carded through your hair and tangled in the strands. Matt pulled you closer, your chests pressed together. He swiped his tongue along your lips to silently ask permission. You more than welcomed the intrusion as an involuntary moan kicked up your throat, opening your mouth to grant him entrance. A groan of his own matched yours in kind. He licked into you like you were the first drop of water after a month in the desert. Drinking from you, clinging to you, almost desperate.

Your head was spinning. You could barely breathe. Your hands shook where they clung to Matt’s t-shirt.

And just like that, it was over. Matt parted from you like separating two strong magnets. His forehead rested against yours, heaving breaths puffing along your cheeks. You screwed your eyes shut at the loss of his lips on yours.

“I could… I could do that forever,” Matt laughed breathlessly. You grinned as you opened your eyes. His sightless gaze was fixed on you. Pure adoration flowed from his joyful expression, how his eyes crinkled in the corners and how his dimples dug into his cheeks. You couldn’t help but match his wide smile.

“Me too,” was your clever response. You inwardly groaned at your quick wit. Matt chuckled, placing a chaste kiss to your hairline.

“When’s your audition?” he asked, like how close he was didn’t render your mind completely useless. You took a moment to gather your deteriorating thoughts.

“Tonight. At eight,” you said. Matt hummed.

“And what time is it now?”

You glanced at the digital clock that sat on your nightstand. In bold, red letters, the clock displayed “4:48 pm.”

“Almost five,” you replied. Matt ran the tips of his nails over your scalp. Pulses of pleasure coursed through you, your head tipping back in his hands, as your eyes fluttered shut.

“I think that’s plenty of time to run the scene some more, don’t you think?” he suggested, voice a low rumble deep in his chest. All you could do was nod.

And if rehearsal ran long, who were you to object?