The FAQ/Intro post (including template boards for you to fill with your prompts over the course of the year)
The Monthly Badges
The Generic (Alt) Prompts
The January Prompt Sheets - SFW, NSFW
The February Prompt Sheets - SFW, NSFW
The March Prompt Sheets - SFW, NSFW
The April Prompt Sheets - SFW, NSFW
The May Prompt Sheets - SFW, NSFW
The June Prompt Sheets - SFW, NSFW
We also have a discord where we do sprints and stuff - it's very laid back. Feel free to stop by!
Hi! I’m new to the whole bingo thing and I just wanted to know if I join now would I still be allowed to join. Sorry if this been addressed before but I’m just a bit confused about the whole thing.
Absolutely! You can join whenever you want, and do as much or as little as you'd like :)
Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con
Category: F/M
Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types
Characters: Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s)
Additional Tags: Mating Rituals, Ritual Sex, Magic, Mental Control, Altered Mental States, body control, Bondage, non/dubcon, Darthomirian Culture Building, Nightsister Culture Building, Nightbrother Culture Building, ritualized rape, Depersonalization
Language: English
Words: 1,371
Summary:
Rancor is summoned to attend to his masters.
@fandombingo: Drugged and Passed Around at a Party (Technically), Cursed to Obey
Horror and Darkfic: rape
Noncon Bingo: Bondage, Drug Use, Gang-Bang, Public, Mind Rape
Porn Bingo: Public Use, Free Space (Altered Mental State), Bred - for population
@julybreakbingoevent:
Pre-July 1x5: "Take what you need."
Bloody Hearts Bingo: Bloody White Trueheart
@fandom-free-bingo:
Untamed 5x5: Mind Control, Free Use
OKAYOKAY I forgot to say this on here, but I'm participating in @fandom-free-bingo this year!! Yeah, hahahaha I know I'm announcing it so late, but I actually did ppst two entries already earlier this year. I didn't have time to write because of school, work and travel, but I'm almost done school now, so I have some time to get back into writing!
I'll post my first two fics here, and then post the other I finished today in a separate post!
I decided to make different cards for each theme since my bingo card was getting PACKED with every month's prompts on them lmao. So here is my January card!
Fandom: Original Characters
Ratings: Gen
CW: None
Fandom-Free Bingo: January
Prompt: Teleporting to Someone Special
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fandom: Fields of Mistria
Relationships: Olric & March
Rating: Gen
Tags: Teasing, siblings, nicknames
CW: None
Written for Flufftober Spring Edition
Challenge: @flufftober on tumblr
Prompts: Silly Nicknames (Spring 2026, Day 2), "I hate you" - "I love you too" (Fall 2025, Alt 23)
Challenge: @fandom-free-bingo on tumblr
Prompts:
- February: “The Greatest Thing You’ll Ever Learn is Just to Love and Be Loved in Return.”
- March: 'They Came to Collect Silver and Gold'
- April: Sibling Caretaker
Excerpt:
His brother was becoming a professional, really. It was awesome to see him come into his own and really make it in the world. And Olric was happy to help.
March grunted in reply and moved to the tools on the wall. "If we don't get a couple more jobs this month we might be in trouble." The words were soft, to himself. Olric knew March didn't mean for him to hear them, so he pretended he hadn't.
🚫 I do not authorize my fics to be reposted on any other platform or translated into other languages (I handle translations myself). This also applies to the graphics and dividers used in my stories—these were created exclusively for my own use.
Some creators offer free-to-use resources—mine are not among them. If you’re looking for that kind of material, please support those who share their work for public use.
The only exceptions are the dividers I’ve given as personal gifts—those now belong to their recipients.
If you ever find any of my work published elsewhere and it’s not under one of my official accounts, please let me know.
🐾 Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
📜 DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters from Marvel (unfortunately). The only things that belong to me are the original characters and the stories I’ve created.
🐶 Main masterlist.
🐕🦺 Add yourself to my taglist here.
🐶 The other media I publish are Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter.
All my entries for @fandom-free-bingo Madness May Edition Fandom Free Bingo:
🚫 I do not authorize my fics to be reposted on any other platform or translated into other languages (I handle translations myself). This also applies to the graphics and dividers used in my stories—these were created exclusively for my own use.
Some creators offer free-to-use resources—mine are not among them. If you’re looking for that kind of material, please support those who share their work for public use.
The only exceptions are the dividers I’ve given as personal gifts—those now belong to their recipients.
If you ever find any of my work published elsewhere and it’s not under one of my official accounts, please let me know.
🐾 Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
📜 DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters from Marvel (unfortunately). The only things that belong to me are the original characters and the stories I’ve created.
🐶 Main masterlist.
🐕🦺 Add yourself to my taglist here.
🐶 The other media I publish are Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter.
All my entries for @fandom-free-bingo Fool’s Edition Fandom Free Bingo:
Square: Bound, helping the injured, early morning cuddles, cave in, standby, poison, human hybrids, drunken confession, breaking in a new bed, bad omen, can't keep their eyes open, hiding scars, warning colouration, tongue cut out, placating the spirits.
Rating: Teen.
Summary: The mission went... wrong or successful?
Major Tags: Fluff, angst.
Additional tags: My entry for the @fandom-free-bingo Untamed Edition.
Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.
@saiyanprincessswanie
My native language is Spanish, so I wanna improve my English writing skills. Please let me know if you notice any mistakes, and I will correct them.
I don’t grant permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or in different languages (I personally translate my work) or for the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this. I created them exclusively for my fics; please respect my work and refrain from stealing it. Some people here create dividers that anyone can use; mine is not of this type, so please look for the dividers created by others. The only exceptions are those I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my work on a different platform that is not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
Add yourself to my taglist here.
My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.
If you like it, please vote, comment, and provide feedback to help me improve my skills. Consider reblogging as well.
Not the natural silence of a snow-covered forest. You felt it before Brock said a word. When he raised his hand in a waiting gesture, you knew it wasn’t your imagination.
“Do you feel it?” you asked in a low voice.
Brock Rumlow scanned the surroundings carefully before nodding.
“Bad omen.”
You took the job out of necessity.
Officially, you were a companion, an escort hired for discreet trips. But that was just the surface. In reality, you knew how to navigate secrets, information, and situations that others avoided.
Brock was the kind of man they called when everything had already gone wrong.
The mission seemed simple: escort a client through a remote area plagued by strange reports. There was talk of human hybrids, mutated creatures, and undetectable natural poisons.
None of that was in the initial contract.
The accident happened on the third day.
The ground gave way beneath your feet, and everything came crashing down.
A collapse.
When you regained consciousness, the air was thick with dust. The pain in your side made you gasp. You tried to move, but something stopped you: a rope tangled around your wrist and Brock’s firm hand gripping it.
“Don’t move,” he ordered. “There are traps.”
Traps hidden everywhere.
He helped you sit up carefully, quickly checking your injuries. There was blood on his forehead, but he didn’t even seem to notice.
“Breathe,” he said. “Ribs?”
“Maybe one’s broken.”
He sighed but began to improvise a bandage. Rough, but effective.
Further inside the cave, you weren’t alone.
You saw them first.
Humanoid figures, but deformed. Their skin was vividly colored—reds and yellows—with bright patterns serving as a natural warning, like poisonous animals signaling danger.
One approached slowly.
It opened its mouth, but it had no tongue. Just a scar.
A chill ran down your spine.
“They cut out their tongues…”
Brock clenched his jaw.
“Or something worse.”
They didn’t attack. They just watched. He didn’t lower his weapon, but he hesitated. You slowly left a small offering on the ground and backed away carefully.
“It’s an offering to calm them down.”
The creatures approached, not you, but what you offered. Brock exhaled slowly.
“Speak of the devil,” he muttered. “And something even stranger shows up.”
They managed to get out, but the weather had changed.
A white storm rose without warning.
The wind cut through their skin, and visibility vanished.
“Great,” Brock growled. “Lost in a blizzard.”
They barely managed to find an abandoned cabin.
Inside, the cold remained intense.
“We have to stay warm,” he said.
It wasn’t a suggestion.
He helped you lie down on an old bed; you could barely keep your eyes open.
Without saying a word, you moved closer.
“Doing this counts as breaking in a bed, right?” you murmured with a faint smile.
Brock let out a low laugh.
“The worst version I’ve ever had.”
But he didn’t pull away.
In the middle of the night, he spoke.
The little alcohol they had softened his tone.
“I should have kept you out of this,” he said. “This job wasn’t for you.”
“And yet here I am.”
He stared at you.
“Yes. And that’s what I don’t like.”
It was a clumsy confession, but an honest one.
You didn’t answer. You just moved a little closer.
Relationships: Verandis Ravenwatch & Rada al’Saran
Word Count: 1,890
Summary: Takes place during the Markarth DLC. Rada al’Saran has captured Verandis, and Verandis wants to know why. Their first talk during his captivity shows that this conflict has them digging at old wounds long thought forgotten.
Written for @fandom-free-bingo Gingerbread Edition
Additional tags: My entry for the @fandom-free-bingo Madness May Edition.
Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.
@saiyanprincessswanie
My native language is Spanish, so I wanna improve my English writing skills. Please let me know if you notice any mistakes, and I will correct them.
I don’t grant permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or in different languages (I personally translate my work) or for the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this. I created them exclusively for my fics; please respect my work and refrain from stealing it. Some people here create dividers that anyone can use; mine is not of this type, so please look for the dividers created by others. The only exceptions are those I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my work on a different platform that is not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.
Add yourself to my taglist here.
My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.
If you like it, please vote, comment, and provide feedback to help me improve my skills. Consider reblogging as well.
Just a clean, brief ding enough to jolt you awake with that uneasy feeling that something wasn’t right.
You lay still for a few seconds, staring at the darkness of the ceiling, trying to convince yourself you’d imagined it.
Then it rang again.
This time, more clearly.
You got up.
The house was silent. Too silent. Not even the distant noise of the city managed to seep in that night.
“Steve?” you murmured as you walked down the hallway.
There was no answer.
You looked through the peephole.
Nothing.
You opened the door carefully.
And there it was.
At first, you thought it was a pile of stuff lying around.
A bag.
Old clothes.
Something abandoned.
Until it moved.
A slight movement.
An attempt.
And then you really saw it.
It was a person.
“Steve!”
You don’t remember ever screaming that loud before.
You only remember the sound of quick footsteps behind you, and then his presence by your side, firm, immediate.
“What happened?”
He stopped short when he saw him.
The man, or what was left of him, was leaning against the doorframe, unable to stand on his own. His skin was bruised, his lips split, and his eyes were barely open.
“He’s alive,” you said, kneeling immediately.
Steve was already by your side.
“We have to get him inside.”
They didn’t hesitate.
Moving him was difficult.
Not just because of his weight, but because of his condition.
Every time they touched him, his body reacted as if expecting pain.
He’d flinch.
He’d tense up.
As if even help were a threat.
“It’s okay,” you murmured. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
You didn’t know if he understood you.
But you kept talking to him anyway.
They laid him down on the sofa.
Or rather…
They tried.
Because as soon as they let go of him, he slid to the floor.
He stayed there.
Still.
Without trying to get up.
“…He prefers the floor,” you said quietly.
Steve looked at him.
And something in his expression changed.
“It’s not a preference.”
“Then what?”
“He’s used to it.”
The marks on his body weren’t random.
They were patterns.
Repetitions.
Areas where the skin was tougher.
Others found it too fragile.
“This isn’t recent,” you murmured.
“No.”
“This is… constant.”
Steve nodded.
“Someone’s had it like this for a long time.”
When they tried to sit him on the couch again, he went rigid.
Motionless.
Staring at a non-existent point.
Empty.
“Hey,” you whispered, moving a little closer. “It’s okay.”
He didn’t react.
He didn’t even blink.
“He’s dissociating,” Steve said.
“What do we do?”
“Give him time.”
“What’s his name?” you asked.
Silence.
“Can you tell us your name?”
Nothing.
Just that look.
Lost.
“Maybe he doesn’t remember,” you murmured.
“Or maybe he wasn’t taught that it matters.”
The following days were… strange.
They couldn’t take him to a hospital without questions.
Without someone trying to classify him, label him, or turn him into just another case.
Medicalize him.
Reduce him to symptoms.
“We’ll do it here,” you said.
Steve didn’t argue.
He never argued when you were confident.
At first, he didn’t speak.
He didn’t move much.
He just existed.
In silence.
Sometimes on the floor.
Sometimes in a corner.
Never on the couch.
Never in a bed.
“They gave him a role,” Steve said one day. “Something that wasn’t human.”
“Like an object.”
“Yes.”
“Like… furniture.”
Steve didn’t answer.
But he didn’t deny it.
One day, while you were cleaning the kitchen, you felt something behind you.
You turned around.
And there it was.
Standing.
Watching.
“Hello,” you said softly.
It didn’t answer.
But it didn’t leave.
“Do you want to help?”
You didn’t expect it to.
But it came closer.
Hesitantly.
Slowly.
You handed it a rag.
“Just… wipe here.”
It looked at you.
Then at the rag.
And finally…
He did it.
Clumsily.
But he did it.
One afternoon, while you were changing his bandages, you noticed something.
“You were bitten,” you said, pointing to an old mark.
He didn’t answer.
But his body tensed.
“Was it someone?”
Silence.
“A bully? Someone who…?”
You didn’t finish the sentence.
There was no need.
The answer was in his reaction.
“It’s okay,” you murmured. “You’re not there anymore.”
