#keep a certain corner of this fandom away from this post

[kitramune]

This Shoujou-ass cover

[itsscriptory]

Another Post About Showing and Telling

I feel like it’s a rite of passage for a writing blog to talk about show, don’t tell, so I’ll take a crack at it. 

First of all, to get it out of the way, show, don’t tell is good advice for specific situations, but it’s been taken to mean always show, never tell and that’s not helpful. If you really want to paint with broad brushstrokes, then the better advice would be: Show more than tell. Showing and telling should both be tools in your writer’s toolbox. 

But why should we show more than tell? Because showing is the key to the reader's emotional experience with your story. There are many posts and books out there that go over how to turn your telling into showing (like using active verbs instead of passive, for example, or using concrete, specific details in your descriptions), but I think it’s important to fully digest why we’re making those changes and why the reasoning will push us to become better writers. 

It all comes down to emotion. Writing For Emotional Impact by Karl Iglesias encourages writers to start thinking to themselves: “I’m in the emotion-delivery business, and my job is to evoke emotions in a reader.” Dialogue, theme, setting, pacing, character development, word choice, structure, POV, showing and telling. These are all tools a writer uses in varying proportions to best manipulate a reader’s emotions. The good news is that when a reader picks up a book, they’re willing to be manipulated. In fact, they hope to be. The tough news is that you have to deliver on a sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph, scene by scene, and chapter by chapter basis. But that’s okay, because you’re a writer, dammit, and this struggle is where the art of the craft is. 

Showing is where the emotional complexities of our characters, theme, and plot can be revealed gradually without giving too much away too early and robbing engagement from the reader. Showing is what makes the resolution and the journey satisfying. So you can see how much weight it carries and why we want more of that than telling. We’re trying to evoke emotion from the reader, not talk at them like we’re recounting a dream we had last night (yawn). And it’s easier to evoke emotion if we keep them curious. Engaged.

Part of revealing the story gradually through showing is planting evidence for a conclusion that you leave the reader to make themselves, or a conclusion that you will reveal later. Donald Maas in The Emotional Craft of Fiction writes, “The ingredient behind effective showing can be summed up in this word: subtext. When there’s a feeling we’re not being told, but it is evident anyway, that underlying feeling is the subtext. It’s the unspoken emotional truth.” And then a fandom is born and continues to thrive for decades after the show ended! Really, though. Subtext is an ingredient in showing, which fosters engagement, which makes the reader feel something. Sometimes passionately. Every story I love and keep coming back to in one form or another has that special place in my heart because of how it made me feel.

I’ll try to give a simple example here to illustrate subtext and reader engagement at work. Using setting and a couple action beats as an opportunity for subtext, let’s say a character and her sister arrive at their grandmother’s house. Character A remains standing in the corner when invited in, hugging herself, frowning at the green knitted blanket hanging over the couch that looks like the color of nausea. Character B walks easily into the living room, running her hand over the green blanket that reminds her of nature and wellness. In Character B's perspective, she admires her grandmother's craftiness. But it's only in Character's A perspective that we notice the store tag on the blanket. Who do we think has the better relationship with their grandmother, given the evidence? Which one seems more naïve or eager to see her grandmother in a certain light? What assumptions can we make about the grandmother? Might she be putting on a performance of being grandmotherly? The mental work the reader does here would be completely thwarted if the scene had started with “Hannah didn’t like her grandmother because she valued material wealth and appearances over forming a genuine connection with her family.” We can show that instead over time by filtering the world through the perspectives of our characters, and even making it pack an emotional punch if we’re strategic about it.

But I had mentioned that contrary to what show, don’t tell asks us to do, telling isn’t something we should throw away. It can be a tool in its own right. 

Telling is explaining, and explaining keeps people distant from what’s happening in the story. How many times has an “I love you” felt kinda meh in a story because that character hasn’t earned that confession by showing their love through their actions or making some sort of sacrifice? How many times have your eyes glazed over while reading the fourth paragraph of an info dump? How many times, when talking about a book you just read, have you said “well, the first 80 pages were slow…” because it was all backstory? Or maybe a story is entirely forgettable because the telling leaves nothing to the imagination. Donald Maas writes, “Put on a page what a character feels and there’s a pretty good chance that, paradoxically, what the reader feels is nothing.”

However, telling has one thing on showing: efficiency. If a book only showed, then it could go on forever and ever. So a writer has to learn how to weave both showing and telling into the story to control the pacing and delivery of information. If you want subtext or you want something to be vague on purpose, then you’ll probably want to show. If you want to deliver information quickly and with clarity, then you might want to try telling. Does it need to make logical sense to understand the upcoming scene? Maybe tell. Is this transition unimportant to the story and you don’t want to linger? Try telling and see how it works! Ask your beta readers how it worked for them. Of course, if you’re writing in the literary genre, you might be doing a whole lot of telling because what propels the reader to the next page and the next chapter is the form, the prose, and the sheer depth of the exploration of flawed characters. 

It’s all about balance. And practice. Next time you read a book and you find yourself moved, try to figure out how the author just evoked that feeling from you. Was it stated plainly, or was it shown through action? Was it stated plainly after a whole book’s worth of setup through subtext? Was it unexpected? What was the balance of showing and telling that led to it? Or, if you find your focus trailing off, try to figure out why. Then, when you’re editing your own work, you’ll have the tools you need to identify the weak points and make revisions. And it’s okay (even expected) if the perfect balance of showing and telling doesn’t occur in the first draft. The Artful Edit by Susan Bell (highly recommended) talks a lot about the revisions that went into The Great Gatsby. You'll find that his writing struggles are comfortingly familiar. Luckily, he certainly had a wonderful editor :)

For further reading/watching: 

[VIDEO] ShaelinWrites—Show, Don’t Tell | what it means and how to use it

[BOOK] Showing and Telling in Fiction by Marcy Kennedy [BOOK] A Writer’s Guide to Active Setting by Mary Buckham

[biancasaidstfu]

Let me just start by saying that I do think there is more to all this than what we are being shown and I do think Nic and Luke are together. But I am curious your thoughts on this push of the adjacents? Ok, Nic may not necessarily be pushing it, but in my opinion, she is at the bare minimum leaning into the JD storyline. I guess I’m just questioning why now? Do you think it’s simply because they are just not ready to go public and are using these “relationships 🙄” to distract? I’m starting to wonder if these sudden J and A storylines might be because Nic and Luke want us shippers to back off? I mean we have Nic with her “my buddy” and “my dear friend” and Luke with his appearances with A.

But then I start doubting that too for a few reasons. I mean, they are both adults and could just ask fans to stop shipping them if it’s what they really want. Also, to us, we are so entrenched in it that I think alot of us believe that everyone is shipping them but I think it’s actually a small group of folks that are still on the ship in comparison to the Bridgerton/Polin GA. And I think the vast majority of us keep to our quiet little corner of the internet and keep our shipping discussions to like minded blogs, so it almost seems like they would have to be searching for the shipping discussions. Not saying that some people aren’t loud as fuck about it and posting/commenting on all their insta posts, but I am just saying most are shipping respectfully. And the last reason I will mention that I don’t think they care if we continue to ship them is because it’s always this same pattern: Nic/Luke start sharing stuff almost as a warning that something is coming, then we get hit with adjacent pap pictures or something, then we get what seems almost like coordinated posts that could be seen as a hint that everything is fine.

Or they just really are with these people and we have read everything so very wrong. Which I know is always a possibility. But at the same time I find it so hard to believe. Anytime we see Luke with A, he just genuinely doesn’t look like a man happy and in love. But then we see him with Nic and it’s like everything fits together perfectly. And I won’t even mention Nic and J because it just makes absolutely no sense to me.

I’m so sorry to have rambled on for so long. I guess I’m just feeling v confused and don’t have anyone to talk to about it. 🫨🥴 I would just love to hear your thoughts on this if you are willing to share.

Thanks Bianca, for your amazing blog! I know we don’t always make it easy for you, but we are grateful for all you do! 💜

The fact that there’s an established pattern here that a lot of people are aware is proof enough imo.

These things wouldn’t continuously happen like this if they were just out there “living life” in these pictures.

People really struggle with this when they only look on the surface level. These pics work on the GP who don’t actively participate in the deep fandom where these things are discussed which I believe is the goal.

They want people to believe they’re in other relationships currently.

Why?

I don’t know. I would like to think things are coming to a close soon but maybe they have deals they need to settle before then. Certain things need to be played out before that happens.

Maybe they don’t want to come out period, idk but I wish they would make that more known so I can go 🤣 because I’ll be so real I wanted to jet earlier this week because it’s starting to feel just a bit ridiculous and like we’re never going to reach a conclusion.

Regardless, everyone feels how they feel about this situation but from my perspective, they’re showing the public one thing and living out their lives in a completely different way away from prying eyes.

[yandereonepieceimagines]

Hi there! I’m the anon that asked for yan!kizaru, and you more than delivered with it!! Your yan!one piece blog is a breath of fresh air, bc from i’ve noticed there aren’t many, if not any such blogs now. The amount of details you include in your posts is just *mwah* *chef’s kiss*. I really love that banana man 😔. Reminds me to some extent of the man with the yellow hat from curious george 😭💀. Anyways, thanks again for it, it was a really great post!

So I’m back for more, if you don’t mind, while you’re at it do you think you could do a romantic yan!kuzan (feel free to decide whether it’s during or after the marines) hcs for reader both sfw and nsfw? Also, would his yandereness be any different when he’s a marine vs not?

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Oh my gosh, thank you so much for the kind words! 😄 They truly mean a lot to me. I'm really glad I can bring something fresh to the fandom. I've noticed the recent lack of posts like this too, so it's nice to hear it's appreciated!

Of course I don’t mind you coming back for more. Feel free to bombard me with the admirals anytime. 😉🤣

This post will focus on the pre-timeskip era, and I believe his yandere tendencies would be quite different during that period. It really depends on when, where, and how he meets his obsession. For instance, if that meeting had happened during his time as an admiral; or shortly after, he might not have even ended up joining Blackbeard’s crew at all.

If you're curious about how I’d interpret him in such moments, feel free to request that too! Or when he's in said crew, of course.

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Warning!: NSFW Below!

Kuzan Aokiji

SFW

* Kuzan first met you during a seemingly routine Marine check on a lawless island you were exploring. Despite the tension and professional setting, he made a shockingly bold suggestion near the end of the conversation, eyes half-lidded and voice low: "You know... You're just the kind of woman I'd freeze the whole sea for just to keep under me." The sheer audacity of it, delivered so lazily it almost felt like a dream, stunned the other Marines nearby. You laughed it off, unsure if it was actually a joke. But from that moment, his gaze never left you.

* Your strength, autonomy and refusal to be categorized by Marine standards captivated Kuzan. He couldn't help but keep tabs on you under the guise of surveillance. He'd say that it's because you are too dangerous to be left unchecked. But the truth was far more personal. Your unpredictability and independence sparked something obsessive in him.

* Using Marine intel as cover, he monitored your every move. Not because he was ordered to, but because he needed to know where you were at all times. Being near you became part of his routine.

* Whenever he ran into you (by chance, of course), he'd offer vague, almost cryptic warnings. Remarks about how certain islands weren't "safe" or how you should "stick to more civilized places." You found them confusing, especially since you weren’t breaking any laws. But that was the point. Kuzan wasn’t warning you for your safety or for legal reasons. He was trying to subtly manipulate your course, steering you toward more populated islands where he'd have an easier time monitoring you... Or isolating you. Beneath the lazy charm was a calculated attempt to keep you within reach. Not as a Marine, but as a man quietly staking his claim.

* One night, you found yourself cornered by a group of pirates who thought you'd be easy prey. Before you could draw your weapon, a frozen path spiraled around you, trapping them all in blocks of ice. Kuzan stepped out from the shadows with a casual question if you were ok. That was the first time you suspected he might be watching you more closely than he should.

* You weren’t breaking any laws, but Kuzan still found himself at odds with his responsibilities. He hated how often his duties pulled him away from monitoring you, from subtly inserting himself into your life, from doing what he felt was necessary to secure his place in your world. Each time a mission demanded his attention elsewhere, it infuriated him in a way he barely understood. He started resenting the very uniform he wore, not because of what it stood for, but because it distracted him from you. And when he sensed you pulling away emotionally, when you grew distant or wary, he began delaying assignments and pulling strings. Not out of laziness, but to buy himself more time. Time to handle you delicately, to avoid driving you too far. He needed just enough leniency to keep you from slipping through his fingers and he would manipulate the system however he had to.

* Kuzan never raised his voice, but his words often held a chill if he felt like you drifted too far off. Especially when you began actively resisting his advances. It was only then, when your distance became more than just emotional, that he let a hint of something darker slip: "I’d hate to see you become an enemy. Then I’d have to stop you. And I don’t want to freeze something in place that I... like." His tone was flat, almost bored. But the weight behind it was unmistakable. It wasn’t a warning for what you'd become. It was a desperate assertion of what he still wanted you to be. His.

* Whenever you spoke with another man; even a local guide, Kuzan would show up shortly after, coincidentally patrolling the area. He never acted outwardly jealous, but you'd notice the frost creeping over nearby surfaces and the shift in his normally placid expression.

* Once, when he was summoned back to Marineford, he said with a simple, low and terrifying calmness: "If you disappear, I'll find you. Even if I have to freeze over every ocean to do it." He wasn’t threatening you. He was promising you.

NSFW

* When you finally gave yourself to him, Kuzan’s usual lethargy melted away. His hands, cold at first, trailed over your skin with reverence and hunger. He made sure you felt every differentiation. The chill of his fingertips and the heat pooling where he touched. Every movement was slow, deliberate and even a bit worshipful.

* Kuzan takes his time. He’s patient, thorough and completely focused on you. He knows exactly what he's doing and enjoys drawing every reaction out of you, especially when you try to maintain control. It’s the only time he abandons his lazy tone. Because when it comes to you, he's anything but passive.

* During intimacy, he speaks quietly and intimately. Low murmurs against your skin about how long he waited for this, how he knew you’d come to him eventually. His voice is a blend of calm and possession, calling you "mine" more than once, as if saying it aloud makes it permanent.

* Sometimes, he uses his Devil Fruit ability to carefully cool parts of your body during sex just so he can warm them up again with his mouth. He gets off on the contrast; the control, the sensation and the way your breath catches from the shock before melting back into pleasure.

* Afterwards, he’s wrapped around you like a glacier that doesn’t let go. He’s endlessly affectionate in a way that borders on obsessive. Holding you almost too tightly, murmuring about how he won’t let you out of his sight again. He watches your face, your breathing, your pulse… Everything. As if memorizing the moment in case it ever slips away.

* He still carries that slouched, sleepy air in public. But behind closed doors, he becomes intense, insatiable and deeply focused. You’re the only one who gets to see this version of him. The one who gives and takes without restraint, as though proving every time why you were right to choose him.

* Kuzan never threatens you after you’ve accepted him, no matter the circumstance. But there’s always that edge in the way he holds you, kisses you, touches you like he’s reminding you there’s no going back. He loves you far too much to ever let you go. And now that you’re his? You never will.

[booksandabeer]

Ramblings on Fandom: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, Delusional Shippers, and Alleged Misogyny

So with the release of Season 2 of What If…? emotions are once again running high, the outrage is outraging, and people are up in arms about the whole Captain Carter situation. While I do think that some reactions are a little overblown, even needlessly aggressive in tone to the unfortunate detriment of their otherwise convincing arguments, I share the confusion and frustration about the sudden centering of a long-dead & never excessively popular character, the sidelining of the Steve-Bucky friendship, and the as-inexplicable-as-it-is-total exclusion of Sam Wilson as Captain America. However, I’m not here to talk about the show because (1) I haven’t watched this season and have no plans to (why waste time torturing myself with something I know I’ll hate?) and (2) other people have already written dozens of metas about it, so what could I possibly add at this point.

What I do want need to talk about (lest I explode) is something that has irritated me for a long time and that is now happening again: Every time someone even mildly criticizes Peggy Carter, expresses doubts about her suitability as a heroine, or even just questions her disproportionate importance to the franchise post-EG, inevitably a certain section of fans will come out of the woodwork to immediately throw around accusations of misogyny and yell about how we’re all just a bunch of delusional Stuckies who are mad that she got "in the way" of our ship. Sigh.

This is gonna be a long one, so I’ll put it under a cut. Rant incoming. You've been warned. If you don't want to read, simply keep scrolling.

First of all, let me state very clearly that I’m not debating the existence of misogyny and sexism in fandom spaces—or in the media from which these fandoms originate. At all. It exists, it’s a thing, I’m not denying that. Which is exactly why it frustrates me endlessly to see these accusations thrown around as a gotcha! argument to shut down any and all critical debate around a female character. All it does in the end is escalate rhetoric and radicalize attitudes.  

In the case of Peggy Carter, specifically her treatment by Stucky shippers, I’ve always found 'misogyny as a motive' to be a largely unsubstantiated accusation.¹ Now, I neither presume nor do I want to speak for the entirety of Stuckynation, so I will not claim that there aren't corners of the fandom where people discuss her in ways that I find off-putting and deeply unserious, but I will say this: If you genuinely believe that disliking one (1) fictional female character equals “hating all women” and wanting to suppress and marginalize their presence in fiction and real life alike—then I think we need to take that word away from you until you’ve learned its true meaning.

You might also want to ask yourself how exactly reducing a female character to a mute trophy wife or a heroine who has to act out her love interest’s recycled storylines helps your feminist fight.

As for the “getting in the way of your ship” part of the argument. Very simply put: No character can get in the way of something if there never ever was “a way” to that something to begin with. “Being mad” implies that there was a reasonable expectation that wasn’t met, a substantive hope that was crushed. Now, I’ve said this before and I’ll gladly say it again a million more times: No Stucky shipper in their right mind ever truly thought that there was even the slightest chance that Marvel Studios owned by the Walt Disney Company would allow Steve “Captain America” Rogers and Bucky “Winter Soldier” Barnes to be canonized as an explicitly romantic pairing in their billion dollar franchise. Be serious. That was never in the cards. I wish we all lived in a world where it was, but we don’t, and it wasn’t. The best we could ever hope for was for Steve and Bucky to get a good, satisfying, in-character ending. And if, in Steve’s case, that would’ve included hints (or more) about a possible rekindling of his, uh, aborted romance with Sharon—then so be it. But we never got any of that. The characters never got any of that. Instead they sent Steve into 1950s suburban hell, literally trapped him behind a white picket fence, and condemned him to a life of passivity and lies, all so he could be married to a woman he barely knew a long time ago in a completely different world; who built and ran a top-to-bottom Hydra-infested organization, but apparently never noticed that there was anything wrong with her life's work. For decades. Great. As for Bucky—well, we’ve all seen the devastatingly grim-faced, utterly lonely, and deeply sad version of him that was presented to us in TFATWS. Happy endings all around, I guess.

So. Am I mad that Steve didn’t get to ride into the rainbow-colored sunset with Bucky at the end of EG? No. Because that was never going to happen anyway. Would I have been mad had he ended up with Sharon or another female character in the 21st century? Also no. Granted, I wouldn’t have been ecstatic about it, but mad? No. But am I mad that Steve ended up with this specific female character under these specific circumstances as presented in canon? Fuck yeah, I am.

The thing is: I personally believe Steve and Peggy to be fundamentally incompatible when it comes to the way they view the world and their respective places in it; their morals and values; their capacity for compassion and empathy; their ability and willingness to compartmentalize, compromise, and collaborate with people and institutions whose ethics and/or politics do not align with their own. I have a real hard time believing that a relationship between these two (or worse, a hasty marriage) could be either happy or long-lasting.

I don’t believe Peggy to be inherently evil, I don’t hate her, I simply think she operates within a different moral framework than Steve (and even genuinely believes it to be a righteous one).² Your mileage may vary, but I personally happen to find that framework reprehensible, even indecent, and ultimately dangerous. After all, over the course of the 20th century, we have seen exactly where that kind of “the ends justify the means” brand of pragmatism leads—over and over again. Not to mention that the people who use this line of argument to defend characters like Peggy (or real-life politicians for that matter) never seem to want to look too closely at who gets to define what "the ends" are in the first place and who decides when they've finally been met.

(Never. The answer is never.)

And to be clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with depicting, and even centering a narrative around a morally (dark)gray character—oftentimes it’s actually the more interesting option—but you cannot at the same time claim that they are purely good and should be only admired as such when their actions literally tell an entirely different story.

So, no. I will not accept Peggy Carter as the shining aspirational heroine that the MCU so badly wants to sell her to me as—while simultaneously continuing to reveal things that paint an increasingly darker picture of her character. And I will certainly not celebrate seeing one of my favorite characters of all time—whose defining trait was that he couldn't ignore "a situation pointed south"; who used to fight for the little guy and against the establishment; who once said about the very organization that Peggy Carter helped build that it was so corrupt, it all needed to go—rendered morally inert for some hollow happy ending that may as well be a conservative’s wet dream full of false nostalgia for an America that never really existed. I cannot find it in me to be anything less but mad about that.

But that does not make me a misogynist. It does not make me a delusional shipper. It makes me someone who looks at what the MCU has been telling me about Peggy Carter for years now—over and over again—and takes them at their own word.

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¹ If you’ve actually read a a fair number of Stucky(!) fanfics you will have noticed that the reverence afforded to and "page time" devoted to her character and her relationship with Steve is somewhat disproportionate to anything that's backed up by canon—well, up until EG, where she was suddenly reanimated as The Great Love of Steve’s Life—and in my experience, it's highly unusual for any fandom to put so much (mostly) positive attention on another character, let alone a potential love interest that is not part of the endgame ship.

² I also want to emphasize that if you love Peggy and she's your fave: good for you! I genuinely have no beef with you. People can agree to disagree. All I ask for is that we maybe stop willfully ignoring the less savory aspects of her character. You don't need to pretend she's perfect to justify your affection for her. I LOVE Steve, and yet I have no problem conceding that he is FAR from perfect.

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Grandpa Ackles

Summary: Y/n was enjoying her husband’s new style post Supernatural, that is until a certain pair of glasses come onto the scene. How will Jensen feel about her teasing? 

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K+

Warnings: Language, age gap (implied), unprotected sex (don’t be silly..)

Author’s Note: This baby was born from a little razzing session I had with @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons regarding those glasses Jensen wore. It quickly turned into this mess that I forgot about in my drafts. I hope you enjoy it. As always I would love to hear your feedback xoxo Alex

Check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

The love and support of the Supernatural fandom had been the spark that helped Jensen to come out of his shell. From singing at conventions to releasing his album and everything in between. He was far more at ease now than he had been back in 2005. But the truth was she hadn’t seen him blossom more than since the series finally wrapped. From getting to grow out his hair and the relentless press junket for The Boys, he’s been getting to show off his creativity and style like never before. Most of the time she was behind him all the way, but today’s choice had her questioning the man she had married. 

They were currently on set with Entertainment Weekly doing yet another interview. Y/n had followed her husband across Europe and now Los Angeles to support him in his recent endeavor. Now she found herself standing behind the cluster of monitors that showed each camera angle. Naturally, she was focused on Jensen, but not for the reason one would expect. 

It was like a train wreck, something she couldn’t look away from no matter how hard she tried. Her husband had first slipped the blue-tinted glasses onto his perfect face when they were about to walk out of the dressing room. At first, she had thought they were sunglasses and she was rightfully confused about him putting them on at that moment, but he walked right onto the set with them still in place and that’s when it hit her. They were a statement piece for his outfit. 

God, she loved her husband but she was seriously questioning his choices. The black-framed glasses were ever so slightly to big for his face. The lens appeared prescription strength in the way that they distorted his eyes to appear larger than reality. Sure, he wore reading glasses periodically at home but never had they made it into any sort of interview or red carpet before. Though he wouldn’t admit it to her, she knew it made him self-conscious about his age, especially considering the difference between them. So she would tell him how much she loved them, which wasn’t even the tiniest bit of a lie. Those glasses framed his face well and made him look refined. These on the other hand, well, as much as she tried to love them, it simply wasn’t happening. 

The interview lasted roughly an hour before they were back in his dressing room to pack up their things. Once he had cleared out the dressing room they hopped into a car to take them back to their hotel. Y/n waited with bated breath for him to remove the glasses, but he never so much as acknowledged them. Jensen conversed politely with her until they made it back to their suite. She plopped down onto the edge of the bed, watching him as he began to unpack his bag from the day. 

“Are you going to tell me why you keep looking at me like that?” He questioned finally, his one eyebrow quirking at her. 

“I-” Y/n chewed on the corner of her lip while she tried to find the words. “What is with the glasses?” 

“What do you mean?” Jensen crossed his eyes, playfully attempting to look at the specs without taking them off.

“Did you lose a bet…” her words trailed off, earning her a frown from her husband. 

“You don’t like my glasses.” It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t… not like them,” she tried with a smile but her husband knew her better than that. Jensen crossed his arms with a warning look, asking her to tell the truth. “Okay fine, they look like a bad 70’s accessory. I’m sorry, baby, but they are not it.” 

“These are Gucci,” he defended. Y/n hid her mouth behind her fingers, stifling a smile at his knee-jerk reaction to her opinion.

“I know this, and I love you, but just because you are playing, as you call him, a grandpa, doesn’t mean you need to dress like one.” Y/n made air quotes with her fingers as she talked. She knew she was digging herself a hole but damn it if she couldn’t stop talking. 

“Whatever, I need to change,” he scoffed as he began undoing the buttons on his shirt. The blatant roll of his eyes told her he was over this conversation but that didn’t stop what slipped out next. 

Y/n cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered, “Start with the glasses.”

Jensen froze, his eyes narrowing at his wife. She smiled at him, her tongue peeking out between her teeth. Before she could blink he darted towards her, his arms encompassing her as he tackled her into the bed.  A shriek left her mouth as the couple barreled into the plush furniture, quickly dissolving into giggles as he pinned her to the mattress.

“Careful, Jay, don’t need you breaking a hip.” Her words came out between snickers. She was quick to realize how worked up she had gotten him. 

“Funny, you weren’t saying that two days ago,” Jensen encompassed her with his form, one hand on either side of where her head lay. 

“Guess that was before I realized how close you might be to needing help from a little blue pill…” She let the words hang in the air, watching her husband’s jaw drop. 

“You gonna regret that,” he mumbled, dropping his voice as he cocked his head. 

“Promise?” Y/n bit her lip, a final challenge before Jensen dove in, capturing her lips with his own. Immediately she melted into the comforter, her hands moving to finish his job of undoing his top. Her work was distracted as the actor trailed his pillow-soft lips down her jaw and neck, using his tongue to suck the tender flesh into his mouth. A moan fell from her lips as he nipped her collarbone, the action egging him on. When she finally popped the last button, she hurriedly pushed the thin fabric from his shoulders. 

Jensen sat back on his legs, working open his belt and jeans as Y/n lifted her dress over her head. He let out a low whistle, letting his eyes roam down the expanse of her body, now just in a pair of panties. 

“I’m waiting, Grandpa,” she smirked, raising her arms above her head to emphasize her breasts for him. 

“Damnit woman,” he grunted, now in a hurry to rid them both of their offending bottoms. Once they were both exposed to the other, Jensen leaned back over her, again capturing her lips with his own in a heated kiss. He sucked her lower lip between his teeth as his hands ran down her curves. The action set her nerves aflame, warmth amalgamating low in her belly. 

In a second, his warmth was gone, and his large hands were flipping her onto her stomach. She rose to her hands and knees without a second thought, knowing that Jensen was not going to do her the courtesy of prepping her for him. The woman got no warning before her husband entered her from behind, his cock stretching her in every delicious and agonizing way. Her chin dropped to her chest as he set a grievously slow pace where she could feel every inch of him. 

“Fuck, Jay. Faster, please?” The words were a breathy plea on her lips. 

“What was that, baby?”

“I need more,” she reiterated. Jensen ran his fingers through her hair before gently tugging on the strands, pulling her frame up and flush against his own. His arms wrapped around her torso, the new muscles she loved so much dwarfing her body as he drove into her, faster with every thrust. His grunts were low, but deafening from their proximity to her. The sound was like music to her ears, each one helping to push her closer to the edge of oblivion. 

“Look at you, so wrecked from taking me like a good girl,” Jensen breathed out, his praises earning a whimper from his lover. “Do you think you deserve to come?” 

“Oh, fuck.” It was the only thing her brain could formulate at the moment. She knew this was a torture of her own creation. Y/n had pushed him to prove himself, knowing full well what would come of it, and damn it if she wasn’t regretting that now. The thing was he absolutely would deny her if she didn’t grovel. And it wouldn’t be the first time either. 

“I can’t hear you.”

“Nobody can fuck me like you. My body is yours.” It was the truth and had been since that first night together so many years ago. He had thoroughly ruined her for anyone else and still to this day proves that he knows her body better than herself. “I can’t come without you.” 

“It’s a start,” he murmured, his game punctuated with every thrust of his hips. His left hand traveled up to her throat, applying light pressure just above her collarbone. 

“Please.” She was nowhere near above begging him for release. 

“Since you asked nicely,” Jensen finally relented, using his opposite hand to press against her clit. The combination of sensations sent her over the cliff like a switch had been flipped. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the overwhelming sensations he continued to deliver until he too finished, rutting against her as he spilled himself inside her. 

His grip against her loosened and he let her back against the hotel comforter, taking care to keep her steady on her trembling legs. Y/n rolled over onto her back, staring blankly at the ceiling as her breathing evened out. Her husband joined her, resting his head against her stomach. Mindlessly her fingers came down to run through his long blonde locks. 

“Still think I need the blue pill?” He asked and she could feel him smile against her abdomen. 

“Fuck you,” she huffed out a laugh. 

“I think you just did.”

“Ugh, fine, you win this one, Ackles,” Y/n playfully pushed her husband from her side. “But next, time don’t expect me to cave so easily.”

“Oh?” One of his eyebrows shot up on his forehead and immediately she regretted her words. The actor was on her before she had a chance to blink, ready to prove himself as many times as it would take. 

Forevers: @440mxs-wife @akshi8278 @emoryhemsworth @ever-mischief @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @jbsgirl4ever11 @jensengirl83 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maggiegirl17 @maliburenee @muhahaha303 @mrsjenniferwinchester @sexyvixen7 @spnwoman @suckitands33 @stoneyggirl22 @supernatural3002 @traceyaudette @xlynnbbyx 

[mermaidslabyrinth]

Thank you HotD Fandom

I have been writing since I was around 11. All my works would stay in notebooks, on my word document, or printed out on paper and stashed away. I did post my first fic when I was around 13. Then sporadically through the years. The last time I posted any writing of mine was 10 years ago. But I’m trying to open up more with my writing, creative thoughts, by exposing my work little by little. And out of all the fandoms I’ve been in, it was the HotD fandom, the people I found, that made me feel comfortable enough to do so. Also, I’ve never been more proud or had more love for an OC I’ve created before Rhagerys. I’ve commissioned pieces of art of him, something I have never done with an OC before, and I am quite excited for that. 

So my thanks to all the HotD fans that I have had the pleasure of interacting with (following, being mutuals, reblogging their posts through someone I follow). I have had such a wonderful time and do hope to continue to do so.  I decided to write this because who knows what the future will bring. And I wanted people to know just how much they can make an impact.

Many thanks to: 

@emilykaldwen her ask started it all and I will always be grateful for that. for she was the one who helped me step away from the corner and join in with the other creators. It’s a slow process but I am getting there. 

@selfproclaimedunicorn seeing your OC tags on regular posts emboldened me to start doing the same. It’s another, subtle, way for my work to be put out in the universe. Doing so has even helped me flesh my OMC more in the tags of certain posts. 

@happilyhertale for her wonder writing (I will reblog them. They are on my list). And her continued supply of Daemon/Matt posts. They keep me going with writing Daemon scenes.

@ewanmitchellcrumbs for that ask she answered very recently about just going for it with your writing. It inspired me.

@thought--bubble for being such a lovely person. Your writing skills are top notch (your stories are on my list). 

@vhagar-balerion-meraxes you helped me from being a wallflower to slowly coming in and joining along with the rest. You were the first person in the HotD fandom to extend a hand and pull me into the fun. You make beautiful gif sets. You are very sweet. I appreciate that I was able to find your blog. 

@sylasthegrim I know I don’t show it but I am so happy I follow you. You are slowly converting me to a Cregan appreciator. Like I get it. Your stories are so creative (I will read them they are on the list) and you are so open and kind in your inbox. 

@multiverse-of-multifandoms your fantastic gif making. You help me feel comfortable when I’m joining in on the fun. 

@livmondcole you are one of the sweetest ppl I’ve been lucky enough to follow. You show patience and kindness through your words. 

@dr-aegon you are one of the reasons I was able to get a commission of my OMC. I checked your blog one night and you had a reblog of someone who opened up commissions. They are working on it now, I’ve seen the line work and I’m excited, and I have you to thank for it. Besides that you are one of the reasons that I started to really like Aegon. I see how much you care for him and it warmed my heart and the little disaster did as well. 

And even though she is no longer part of the fandom: peachysunrize was such a wonderful person to follow and read her stories and read the asks ppl would send her. 

Honestly all my HotD mutuals. 

Also shout out to the artists, your works are amazing to see. And shout out to the other fic writers, your writing is enjoyed by many people who like reading about their favorite characters. And the gif makers, the creativity and patience you have. The sets I have seen have blown me away. I know all of these are talents that need to be praised more. The work you all bring to the fandom is always such a gift.

[gayvecchio]

I had the idea earlier this year to write 30 fics for 30 years of due South, unfortunately, I didn't quite get there. Still, it was a very prolific year for me, having posted 20 fics in total to ao3, 17 of them being dS fics. I'm pretty proud of that number, especially given that 2024 was a very tough year. Writing for these characters was a bright spot for me, and I loved being able to contribute something to this wonderful show/fandom that has been going strong for 30 years.

So, here is my due South fic round up for 2024! I hope to keep writing even more of these characters in the new year!

(*) indicates the fic is a personal fave

What Were You Doing New Year's Eve? *

Ray wakes up on New Year's day to find a man in his bed; how he got there is a mystery. (F/K)(T) word count: 2743

Reaching Out 

Just a quiet morning during the quest. (F/K)(G) word count: 100

Morning Warm-Up 

“When I first opened the door and saw you standing there, I thought I must've fallen asleep; I was afraid I had dreamt you.”

“I’m definitely no dream, Benny” (F/V)(E) word count: 1102

Tea and Tiaras 

Ray, Fraser, and Dief have a tea party with Ray's niece. (Gen)(G) word count: 1054

30 years 

Ray could hardly believe that it had been thirty years since the Mountie wandered into that holding cell… (F/V)(G) word count: 488

Three of a Kind

“Hey, Benny, they're playing our song.”

Fraser tilted his head, eyes lighting with recognition, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Ah, the gymnasium at the St. Fortunata School.”

“Where we had our first dance.”  (F/V/K, pre-ot3)(G) word count: 491

Worthy of Worship *

To Fraser a cross was just a cross. Except for the one that dangled from a certain neck. (F/V) (M) word count: 300

A Mountie Under the Influence *

"Listen, you are not in your right mind right now. You don't know what you're doing. I'm pretty sure if you had any idea what you were doing you wouldn't even think about doing it. So, under the circumstances, I cannot in good conscience allow you to keep licking me." (F/V) (T) word count: 1965

High Adventure 

Ray wasn’t the adventurous type. Not in the Great Outdoors sense anyway. (F/K) (G) word count: 139

Never Leaving Las Vegas *

It’s starting to feel like this gilded strip of desert is all he’s ever known (Ray Vecchio, gen/character study) word count: 139

give me something good

Ray Vecchio gets a surprise Trick or Treater at his door. (F/V) (G) word count: 466

Watch Your Neck *

“This is exactly what I was talking about, Benny. There’s no way I’d be out hunting vampires before you came into my life.”  (F/V) (T) word count: 2613

Riveted *

As soon as he laid eyes on the car in person, Ray could see his future with Ange, all the plans they’d made, crumbling away. Handing over the cash, he imagined the disappointment in her eyes, heard the hurt and anger in her voice beneath the thrum of the engine as he pulled out of the lot. It should have been enough to make him turn back. (Ray Vecchio, gen/character study) word count: 2148

Thanks for Nothing 

Apparently, even mobsters took the holidays off to spend with their loved ones. Armando Langoustini, however, didn’t have any of those. No real friends or family to speak of—unless you counted The Family, but none of them seemed to have room for him at their tables. (F/V) word count: 1382

Thankful

Ray couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat down for Thanksgiving with an actual family. His parents hadn’t been back to Chicago in years. Stella’s family had been big on the holidays, sure, but those dinners were...complicated. Formal in the worst way. Stuffy. He didn’t think it would be like that at the Vecchio’s, but he still wanted to make a good impression. (Gen) (G) word count: 2082

Home for Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a Vecchio was stirring, not even the wolf. (F/V) (G) word count: 2159

Blame it on the Eggnog

As soon as Kowalski kicked the door shut behind them, a flurry of hands descended, fingers tangling in their haste to get Fraser’s tunic undone. Vecchio swatted Fraser’s hands away with a smirk. “Let us, Benny,” Vecchio murmured, his lips brushing the shell of Fraser’s ear. “Yeah,” Kowalski added, grinning as he pressed a hard, eager kiss to Fraser’s lips. “You’re the present—we get to do the unwrapping.” (F/V/K) (E) word count: 6091

[kuoukyeee]

Helloo!! I see that you haven't posted on tumblr for a while, so I hope you are doing well and that you are safe and happy.

We both share an interest in Kengan Ashura!! (Wakatsuki is adorable fr fr) But I don't know if you are comfortable in writing this certain character......

If you are up for it, can I please get some NSFW headcanons on Akoya Seishu getting pegged pleaseee???

warm hugs and hot milk, anon

Hiiii , I'm sorry that I haven't posted in a while. Thank you for worrying about me! I'm okay!! I've been busy and I also feel like I have lost some interest in Kengan especially since this fandom is small and I haven't gotten much content about it on my feed, so I have drifted a bit away from it.

I'll try writing for Akoya, but I'm not into him (I only like dudes who would be head over heels for me) so it might be a bit out of character !! Also I dont really know much about pegging so corrwct me if anythings wrong!

NSFW, I tried keeping it gender neutral (reader can have a strap or a penis), mentions reader getting penetated, reader teasing Akoya, just Akoya being a bit of a clueless dickhead

Not proofread!!

• Its going to take you a looooonnggg time for him to penetrate you, so you're going to have to wait even longer for him to even consider allowing you to peg him. This is due to the fact that hes probably always busy eradicating 'evil' so he doesnt have any time to fool around and because of the power dynamic (?). He feels kinda vulnerable getting penetrated.

• When you bring the subject up to him he looks at you as if you grew a unicorn horn. He will initially reject this idea sternly, but you explain to him all the preparation and how good it will feel and he grumbles grudgingly that he will think about it. (A win is a win)

• After a while you'd start to think that he'd forgotten about your question but on an evening after work (eradicating evil) he comes up to you and not too enthusiastically mumbles to you some incoherent sounds.... what is that Akoya?? Could you repeat that????

• This dude would act all high and mighty. Grumbling between laboured huffs and groans as you ghost over his hole, that its going to be a 'one time thing, so don't get ahead of yourself'. But you ignore his jabs, hoisting his thick legs on your hips and pushing into him, albeit quite hastily and without much preparation. (This bitch is getting a taste of his own medicine).

• Hed try to hold back making sounds, scowling when you tease him. But he cant stop them when he feels the sweet pressure on his g spot.

• When hes close, his big calloused hands fly to your back and hold you tightly. His grip is so strong that you feel like he's gonna break ur spine 💀You can see the salty tears forming in the corners of his unforgiving eyes, the sweat on his broad chest and the flush of his hot skin......

• Seeing him in this state, you cant help but toy with him some more, reaching out to his dick and pumping it slowly , the combined pleasure making him arch his back (lol). You run your hand from his base to the tip applying just enough pleasure that hes seeing stars.

•When he orgasms its nothing like youve ever seen before. His face is flushed and hes gripping the bedsheets as his thighs flex and quiver, cumming all over your hand.

• His chest rises and falls as he tries to regain his composure. And when he looks up at you with blown out eyes, he cant help but look a bit sheepish. Maybe he did like this after all.....

[umbry-fic]

Epitaxy

Summary:

Cursed to be the saviour, she wonders if she must walk eternally alone.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia

Characters: Colette Brunel

Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving

Rating: G

Word Count: 5584

Mirror Link: AO3

Original Post Date: 29/08/2024

Notes:

Written for the TOS 21st anniversary celebration! Happy birthday Symphonia! 🎉 (This is the furthest thing from the theme of "celebration" haha but I wanted to write my favourite character :P)

Something of a Colette character study, written to Empurple by Harumaki Gohan. There is a slight canon divergence regarding Colette's illness. More notes are in the endnotes on AO3.

~~~

The world had fallen away from her unfeeling fingertips, numbness creeping up her skin like an insidious creature, seeking to devour her whole. Her mouth tasted like ash, her heart coldly silent in her chest, so much so that it could be mistaken to have shrivelled and died. Rays of sunlight danced cheerfully across the room, but they seemed so oddly far away, their warmth unable to reach her. An unbearable pressure was building up inside of her, but when she opened her mouth to let it rush out of her, she found that it got stuck in her throat, her lips unable to utter a single sound.

Her entire body beginning to tremble, she raised her gaze to the mirror she knew hung on the other end of the inn room, already certain of the sight that would face her.

Red eyes met her gaze.

Colette shot awake, blanket clutched close to her chest as she panted, panic squeezing tight around her heart as she struggled to get air into her lungs.

She had no desire to find the same mirror that had starred in her nightmare, hanging tauntingly on the opposite wall and encroaching into the corner of her vision, reflecting her terrified form. But she had to know - and thus, keeping her gaze firmly rooted to the floor, she silently got off the bed and padded over with hesitant steps, her breaths still rattling in her chest and threatening to overwhelm her.

Heart pounding in her ears, she jerkily raised her head, bracing herself for what awaited her.

Blue. Her eyes were still blue. The same as they were when she checked every morning after waking up and every night before going to bed.

All the breath rushed out of her, and she gingerly placed a hand against her reflection. Her mirror image didn't waver at all, nor did it dissipate like a mirage crafted just to dangle false hope over her head. Her wide blue eyes didn't darken and dissolve into red - they remained the very shade she'd been born with.

Just a dream, she told herself, in an attempt to calm her rapid breathing. It was then that she noticed that the glass against her palm, which should have held the early morning’s chill, didn’t register at all against her skin. Neither did the smooth wooden panels against her bare feet. There was only the faint echo of sensation, a prickling like the cold was attempting to force its way past a nigh-impervious barrier.

Turning her hand over, she sighed, watching her Cruxis Crystal wink in the morning sunlight as she shifted away from the mirror. One of those days, then.

“Colette?” A voice blearily called out her name, a messy head of brown hair slowly finding its way out of the mess of the covers she’d made in her flight from the bed. “Is something wrong?” Lloyd asked, holding back a yawn, sleepy russet eyes blinking at her.

For a moment, she was tempted to say nothing. But…

Redirect, Zelos had sighed the last time they'd seen each other, reluctantly giving her advice as he slumped over a table, the shared weight of her secret, heavy but brittle, resting in the space between them.

“Bad dream is all,” she whispered, her shaky voice easily carrying over the silence.

It wasn’t a lie.

Just not the full truth.

“Come here,” he offered readily, his gaze flooded with so much affection that she couldn’t help but look away, guilt raking its claws over the walls of her heart. The boy she loved wore his heart on his sleeve, and he was not at all aware of the complicated web of deception she had once again spun around him as she continued to pull the wool over his eyes. Nails digging into her arm, she wanted nothing more than to confess the truth, to ease the vice grip over her heart. But as always, the words stuck in her throat, growing thorns that lodged themselves into flesh.

Even now, she couldn't live true to herself.

Still, she gladly clambered into his open arms, his familiar embrace calming her as she buried her face in his chest, grasping for the tiny fragments of warmth she could salvage. His presence was comforting - that was a single truth that would never change. Fingers ran through her hair as his lips brushed against her forehead, his gentle touch slowly soothing her, even as she was stabbed in the heart with a dozen broken shards.

As she took his hand, she prayed that one day, he might understand.

~~~

When she’d stepped out of the Seal of Fire and into the arid desert, leaving behind crumbling rocks and a smothering sense of heat that had been relentless, she didn’t realise she’d left behind something else among the endless, smouldering lava, lost forever.

Agony had held her in its clawed grip as she struggled to draw breath, what felt like burning hot metal pressed against her chest. Sleep was the furthest thing from her mind that night, and she gasped a sigh of relief at the peek of the morning sun over the dunes of sand, for with the gentle touch of sunlight left the pain, leaving her hollowed out but alive.

It was only once the sun said farewell once more, sinking below the horizon, that she was able to place a finger on what had been missing for the entire day as she walked alongside everyone else, seeing nothing at all as she retreated into her thoughts. The gradual pull of fatigue had been absent, leaving her wide awake even as darkness set in. Sleep had been a constant, if unnoticed, companion all her life, and it had simply vanished within moments, leaving her to stare at Kratos’ still back under the brilliant light of the stars as he sat guard and she feigned sleep.

Quietly, she told herself it was a good thing. It meant she would never again be plagued by nightmares of her possible failure, of all the people she would have condemned to suffer if she didn't complete this Journey. It meant she had more time at night to let her gaze rove over the friends she held dear, who she would inevitably have to let go of when she ascended the Tower. Her gaze lingered on Lloyd - the unruly flop of his fringe over his eyes that could never be tamed, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft expression on his face as he slept.

Just a little more time to memorize that which was precious to her.

As the days passed, bone-deep exhaustion settled in every inch of her body, unable to be alleviated by the solace of sleep. While her eyelids didn't feel heavy, her head did, like her brain was stuffed full of cotton wool, liable to leak out of her ears. She passed the nights counting the stars, staving off thoughts about all the ways she was inadequate. Already, she was so far from the perfect image of the Chosen that existed in everyone's minds. A lost cause from the very beginning, no matter how many times the priests chastised her, for it seemed nothing could mould her into that perfect figure that everyone wished to see.

Unbidden, her thoughts turned to an old memory. Of waking her father up as a small child, no longer able to remember the bad dream that had so rudely torn her from the gentle embrace of sleep, but still shaken, tears welling in her eyes. Before everything had changed, before she’d learned to hide her emotions and draw away from those around her even as she stood right next to them, to tuck away anything that could be considered undesirable.

Suddenly blinking away tears that never came, she was glad that they had been taken from her, if only so they could not give her lie away.

With the chilly night air that made her shiver and the stars as her only company, she passed the night alone.

~~~

She’d denied it, at first, the hints of green speckled on her shoulder the more pressing issue. She'd brushed off the gradual wavering of her senses as nothing, firmly pushing it into a tiny box in her mind that didn’t need to be opened. Nights when she couldn't sleep were simply because of worry, keeping her up and unwilling to give her a break. Meals she couldn't taste must be because of anxiety. Days when the touch of her peers faded to a whisper of warmth…

As the green scales continued to spread down her arm, each inch of skin it took hostage radiating a burning pain, she kept quiet. There were more important things to be done! Like reuniting the two worlds, putting a stop to Cruxis’ machinations, and ensuring no one else had to suffer. Compared to what everyone else was going through, her own problems were minuscule.

Even after her affliction was exposed to everyone, as she shied away in shame, clutching her arm close to her side, she said nothing. She was already worrying all of them enough, making them run around the two worlds, wasting time just to find a cure for her. This would surely go away once she was cured, so there was no need to tell them.

None of them suspected a thing. The genuine joy that had bloomed in her heart when she’d first wrenched free of the prison her soul had been trapped within had been enough to convince them that the loss of her senses had been put far behind them, even as that joy withered.

After all, it had been enough to convince her as well. The soft brush of the wind against her skin, the patter of raindrops against her palms as she’d raised them to the sky, the food she had practically shovelled down during dinner, the taste enough to bring her to tears… It had been enough to convince her, for a short time, that it was over. That she could be…

It's your own fault, her voice echoed in her ears when she stared into the mirror, watching herself get consumed by scales that glinted in the light of the dawn, reminding her of the Cruxis crystal attached to her neck, no longer able to be removed, a constant reminder of the role she had played.

Surely this was punishment for her failure. For abandoning her duty, for hesitating at the final sacrifice. For even daring to think that she was allowed to be happy. An imperfect weakling, through and through.

All she could do was endure.

~~~

She frowned when she raised the fork with spaghetti wound around it to her lips. It tasted like nothing, its texture like cardboard against her tongue. Across from her, Lloyd was grimacing and eating around the chunks of tomato like his life depended on it, loudly complaining all the while and barely avoiding spitting chunks of food into Genis’ face as Genis frowned at him. The sight, and the usual consequences (namely Professor Raine smacking Lloyd on the head with a rolled-up textbook) were usually enough to elicit a smile, but now all they did was light an uncomfortable flame in her heart, licking at its walls.

So this was the next thing to be sacrificed, then.

When Lloyd ran over to her and offered her the tomatoes, as he’d been doing since they were children, she took them from him, telling him that he didn’t need to take her bell peppers anymore. Ignoring his surprised blink and the slow furrowing of his brows, she forced down the tomatoes he’d left behind on the plate, feeling each piece as they dragged painfully against her throat. Her free hand held onto his tightly, refusing to let go, clinging to his gentle warmth.

She could still remember the moment she’d first tasted bell peppers as a small child. Her grandmother had packed her lunch for a long afternoon spent entirely with the priests memorising the scriptures, having to endure their barbed tongues whenever she stumbled over a verse. She’d sat down on one of the pews, shoulders slumped in exhaustion, before sitting ramrod straight when she felt a glare settle on her. Shakingly taking one bite of her lunch, she’d promptly choked and spat out the accursed slice, unable to stand its texture against her tongue.

The priests had not been happy. To be picky over food was too petty a thing for the Chosen, they had said with those severe expressions drawn on their faces, reminding her of the leering monsters that crept in dark shadows in scary stories. Think of the people who had laboured over the fields to grow this produce, who had shed sweat under the vicious sun, while the threat of the Desians hung over their heads all the while. To refuse to eat the food that had come from those efforts would be like spitting on it, like forsaking the gratitude of the people she would save.

It was not fitting behaviour for the Chosen.

So this was a good thing, she decided on the days to come, as she accepted new meals from whoever was cooking that day, uncaring of what it contained as she forced down all that she could. There was no longer any need to be picky when everything tasted the same.

She could finally live up to those virtues that had been hammered into her skull since she was young, which had always been out of reach, no matter how much she chased after them with her hand outstretched.

Because without that, she had nothing at all.

~~~

“Couldn’t sleep?” Zelos’ casual voice broke the silence of the night as he slid smoothly onto the stool next to hers at the otherwise empty dinner table.

She swallowed, realising she hadn’t heard him coming at all, as lost in thought as she had been. Over the flickering flame of the candle that had been burning all throughout the night, valiantly keeping the shadows to the corners of the mansion, his piercing gaze rested on her, causing her fingers to tighten on the handle of her cup. A cup of coffee that she knew was hot, but was barely warm in her hands.

“You're really not going to tell anyone?” he asked, leaning forward, their respective Cruxis crystals reflecting the waning light, the tone of his voice telling her exactly what he was talking about. The tension leaked from her shoulders, and she sighed. Figures he would be the one to catch her in the act.

It might have been easy to pass him off as nothing more than a lazy, arrogant young man, but behind that facade was a highly observant person who had also worn the mantle of Chosen, who had witnessed the ugliness that hid behind the shiny veneer of the title.

“You didn't either,” she whispered. It was not an accusation, nor a judgement. Simply an observation.

Sheena had told her about the orange wings that had shone on his back in the darkness of the Tower. And that would mean he’d endured the very same process she had - slowly losing everything, and yet keeping it all under wraps, a secret cradled close to the chest. He'd done it alone, spent the sleepless nights awake without letting anything slip.

“You're right, I didn't.” The smile that sliced across his face was bitter and tired, a far cry from his usual smirk. “But you could say there were… extenuating circumstances.”

She sucked in a breath, feeling the cold of steel against her bare neck, and shoved those memories far away.

“I will tell him.” She hated how weak her voice sounded to her own ears, even though she wasn’t painting yet another lie. She wanted to tell Lloyd, with her own words, without needing to have the truth dragged out of her like a chain, link by painful link. She wanted to place her trust in him, like he’d told her to, for she knew he would never betray it. “Just….”

It was so difficult to push the words onto her tongue, to ignore the tiny voice that still whispered in the back of her mind that her suffering was hers alone to endure.

“I know.”

She stared at the steam rising from her cup, and they both lapsed into silence. A moment of commiseration between two liars who had never learned how to stop lying, who found it nearly impossible to bare their souls, fearing a retribution that would never come.

Two smiling fools, through and through.

“You don’t have to stay up with me, you know.”

“I really can’t sleep.” Zelos waved off her protest, and she smiled gratefully at him, even knowing the reason he couldn’t shut his eyes was because of the vivid images that would flash behind his eyelids when he did, haunting him even now, months after the worlds had been reunited. She had experienced the same, after all.

It was the simple matter that her heart now felt just a little lighter, the weight of her secret shared between two souls.

~~~

Stumbling out of the Balacruft Mausoleum, she heaved a sigh of relief, having once more successfully driven off the assassin that kept popping up along their Journey. She wished to know what fueled the determined spark in the assassin’s amber eyes, so that they might come to an understanding and lay down their weapons. She had no desire to shed any unnecessary blood.

“Colette!”

She turned as Lloyd’s voice reached her ears, eyes widening when she nearly lost her balance and fell. It was then that she realised he was holding her hand in his.

When… had he taken her hand? She hadn’t even noticed. Had he been holding it the entire time? How… hadn’t she…

“Your hand!” Lloyd exclaimed, worry written across his face, and she stared at the blood oozing from the cut in her palm. A wound she hadn’t even felt, would never have even realised she’d sustained if he hadn’t pointed it out.

Red leaked and leaked over her skin, and she found herself suppressing trembles as she was unable to tear her gaze away, even as he fussed over her. The dying embers of her soul scattered to the wind, pouring out of her from a crack that could not be sealed as she remained frozen in her own tiny world, an incessant buzzing in her ears. She had long since stopped resembling anything close to human - she was no longer even the girl who had walked out of Iselia, knowing she would never return.

Even as Lloyd refused to let go of her hand, she found that she could no longer feel his touch. Not the roughness of the calluses she had memorised long ago, not his fingers running soothingly over her knuckles, not his warmth which had never failed to make her feel safe. It had been locked away from her forever, and she could only struggle to remember the ghostly remnants of it, nothing but cold emptiness against her skin.

This was fine, she whispered to herself that night. It meant she could no longer feel pain from all the tiny scrapes and bruises she accrued from her various trips and falls. She would no longer have to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out in pain, rapidly wiping away tears with her arm so no one would see. It was…

Curling into a tiny ball, she screwed her eyes shut, all the lies she had told nipping relentlessly at her heels.

~~~

It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried telling him. There were so many instances when she had tried, when she had opened her mouth only to stumble at the finish line. When she’d taken a bite of the lunch they’d prepared together while camping in the forest and found it bland against her tongue. When he’d rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched his back while she sat calmly, having counted the stars all night. When she’d tripped and he’d caught her, the two of them nearly toppling over, his arms securely wrapped around her waist, his warmth failing to reach her.

She had tried, and tried, and tried, in a way she never had before. To clumsily get the words out, to explain that the Angel with eyes the colour of blood had never left, looming behind her at all moments with a cold hand on her shoulder, grip so tight it hurt.

But he always seemed so happy.

So light, the weight that he’d carried with him for the final leg of their journey having been lifted, scattering into tiny motes of stardust. His smiles were bright as he explored this newly reunited world, awe and wonder clear on his face as he helped as many people as he could, all while collecting Exspheres at a steady pace, moving ever onward towards his goal.

(There were, of course, still nights when he awoke gasping, eyes wide and seeing something else entirely, his hands twitching for his swords. She would hold his hand on those nights and hum softly under her breath, running her fingers through his hair until he relaxed.)

And, every time, she would close her mouth, swallowing the words.

She didn’t want to weigh him down. To hold him back in any way. To shatter that joy with something as trivial as what she was facing. After all, it was nowhere near as bad as it was before!

On most days, she could enjoy the warmth of his embrace. On most days, she could fall into the thoughtless escape of sleep, letting all of her anxieties dissipate. On most days, she could taste the sweetness of fruits, coming to rest on her tongue. On most days -

Whenever her thoughts raced in this direction, she would forcefully bring it to a stop, letting her excuses run right into a brick wall. She could at least admit to herself that it wasn’t alright, not at all. That she was once more drowning as she painstakingly maintained the perfect facade, waiting and waiting for the day the forming cracks got too wide. Terror that she was doomed to slip back into that prison roiled within her - a wild, vicious beast, clawing away endlessly at her insides. Old guilt over her perceived failure as Chosen still refused to die, hissing in a discordant chorus that this was already a merciful punishment - she deserved so much worse.

Holding close the memory of a little girl who had so easily opened her heart, she would sit silent, reminding herself not to lie to her own self anymore. At the very least, she could do that much.

~~~

Lloyd had dug and dug, refusing to give up, until he had finally dragged the truth from her. The ugly, bleeding truth, once more leaving her hollow, her heart having been scooped out of her chest long ago. But somehow, he hadn’t glared at her in disgust, even knowing now what she’d become, knowing that something had broken permanently inside of her. He had only pulled her closer, and she had -

Her throat had burned, and she’d wanted so badly to cry, for reasons she couldn’t understand. But she could admit that it was nice, for someone else to know. For there to be someone helping to cover for her, so that she didn’t need to pretend so much to be sleeping, or eating. For a few moments, she could release the mask and let it drop to the dirt, and simply be. Now there was someone who really knew, who could pull her back when her mind drifted away into that endless void. She was so exhausted, whole minutes slipping between her fingers sometimes when she couldn’t recall what she’d just been doing.

The fourth seal stole her voice, and swaying unsteadily outside the Tower of Mana, she barely restrained herself from scratching at the pale skin of her neck, hoping that it would somehow free what had been taken from her. With her voice permanently dead in her throat, there was no longer any hiding her condition from the rest of her companions. The veil had been ripped to shreds, leaving her vulnerable.

There was no rejection to be found there either. Only compassion and even anger, all for her sake, so passionate and warm as it washed over her, patching the cracks in her soul. It was a kindness she didn’t deserve nor understand, but she craved it nonetheless, cherishing it as she counted down the days till which she would have to climb the endless stairway to Heaven.

Still, she concealed the final piece of the puzzle, knowing she had to keep it hidden at all costs. That was a truth that no one else could know - it was a truth that she could no longer even reveal, no longer having the words to do so, even if the temptation was there.

Slipping from her inn room in Hima after speaking a farewell for each of her friends in her thoughts, she gave the stars that had kept her company for the past months a final glance, before taking the first step towards the Tower that loomed in the distance.

~~~

She giggled when the little puppy licked her hand, its rough tongue leaving a trail of sticky saliva behind. Not at all minding the mess, she petted its head with her clean hand, ruffling its brown fur as its tail rapidly wagged. Next to her on the bench, Lloyd grinned and leaned back against steady wood, content to watch her as the gentle breeze caressed their skin.

“Bye, puppy!” She waved farewell to the dog as it padded away. It was so cute! The ways its ears flopped, its soft fur… There hadn’t been time to come up with a name for it yet, but if she and Lloyd came across the same dog tomorrow, she would certainly do so!

Turning her head to once more squeal over the puppy to Lloyd, she met his warm gaze, and… And all of a sudden, she found that she didn’t want to lie anymore. She didn’t want it hanging over her head constantly, creeping into her thoughts during peaceful moments like this one, casting a cloud over her cheerfulness as she suddenly found it impossible to breathe.

“Lloyd? I… I have something I need to tell you,” she whispered, taking his hand, watching his expression go from curious to worried, likely finding this situation very familiar. Even as she sat silent, slowly mulling over the words she was attempting to string together, he didn’t say a word, occasionally squeezing her hand to remind her that he was right there beside her, ready to listen.

The unrelenting fear from before was still there, rearing its ugly head and beginning its final vicious struggle. Fear that something terrible would happen, that this was still her fault, really, that she should just shut her mouth and endure like she’d always had. But it was easier to pin the emotion down, to take a deep breath and step past it, for she could vividly picture Lloyd’s reaction - he would call her an idiot for keeping any of this from him, and then he would do his very best to help her. Because he loved her, even if it had taken a while for that to sink in and become fact in her mind.

Perhaps he would be angry that she’d kept this from him for so long, lied and concealed as if her life had depended on it when she’d promised she wouldn’t do it again. But she could deal with what came after. Once she was finally free, once she had eased the burden she’d carried, once she knew, with full certainty, that she would never need to let go of that which was precious to her.

She wanted to be the one to speak the truth this time, instead of having to hiss it through gritted teeth. To finally break the cycle.

So she pushed past the lump in her throat, letting the first word fall from her lips. Clumsy, messy, unrefined. But it was a start.

The rest would follow.

~~~

With her heart locked in chains, all she could do was curl into a tiny ball, no longer bothering to suppress the tremors that wracked her entire body.

She had all the time in the world to think, watching through red eyes as her body moved without her input. The world seemed so far away, muted and quiet, and so she pulled further away in the opposite direction, inch by inch, something shuttering in her heart. All that swirled in her mind were not the memories she had wished to cherish before she had set out for what she had known to be her final journey, but rather the events of the last few months.

Everything that she had lost, her entire self gradually, excruciatingly being carved out of her, for this. She had thought what awaited her was death, but surely this was worse. Unable to die, all of her thoughts stuck in a never-ending loop in her head as she slowly faded away, endlessly facing her failures, reflected in the floor of the Tower of Salvation, and carrying the legacy of a dozen other girls, staring at her with dead eyes and wings that had lost their light long ago.

What appeared in her mind was the young girl who had been so open with her feelings, who had freely sought the company and comfort of others, who hadn’t hesitated to speak the truth. That girl was long dead - she had personally sunk the knife into her heart and scattered the tiny pieces into the night, murdering her old self in pursuit of the perfect Chosen who she could never find.

Yet she was all she could think of now.

She’d been such a fool. Who had she really been lying to all this time?

~~~

She couldn’t breathe, the air freezing in her lungs as blood congealed in her throat. Her wings, usually weightless, now felt like they were pulling her to the monochrome earth. An Angel, chained to the ground, unable to fly -

Someone shook her awake, her breaths coming rapidly, one after another, tumbling into each other until they all got tangled together. She couldn’t see much through her blurry vision, just a smudge of vibrant colours that was a stark contrast to the images that had flown through her mind just moments before. A hand gently brushed the tears from her cheeks as a voice calmly talked, all while she simply breathed, returning to a steady rhythm instead of the stuttering mess it’d been before.

“It was just a dream,” Lloyd whispered into her hair as she opened her eyes once more, his arms lowering to wrap around her - an impregnable wall that would always protect her. “You’re alright now.”

Taking a few more deep breaths, she leaned into his touch, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Warm, though it was a little muted.

“How is it today?” he asked, because he always did nowadays whenever she awoke violently from a nightmare. It was a routine they’d both become used to. Her sense of touch was the most volatile, and it tended to fluctuate with her mood. It was useful for him to know if it had gotten particularly bad, so he could keep a watchful eye for the things she tended to miss whenever it dipped below a certain threshold - the small scrapes she sometimes accrued from innocuous activities, or the larger injuries that she might not realise she’d sustained from when they stumbled into an unavoidable battle.

The tender manner with which he tended to her wounds - carefully bandaging a deep cut, or applying ointment to a small scrape - always made her heart clench in her chest as gratitude welled in her heart. He never begrudged her for wasting time, never complained, even when she was the one to bring up how it was an inconvenience. Only bumped her shoulder with his, telling her with great conviction that he really didn’t mind.

On the worst days, when all her senses went haywire and everything was too loud, each little sound blaring in her ears like a siren, he would sit with her and keep her company, gently refusing her insistence that she was fine to move on. And on the best days, he would initiate contact as much as possible - the curling of warm fingers against her own, the brush of soft lips against her forehead, the safety of an arm around her bare shoulders - giving her more to remember on days when she felt endlessly cold.

“A seven?” she replied, pressing her hand against his to gauge if the number was accurate. “I don’t think it’ll get any worse.”

Nodding, he opened his mouth to say something more - only to let out a massive yawn that made her giggle. “We… can rest for a little while longer.”

Still giggling, she snuggled closer to him, amused to find that he had fallen asleep mere moments after those words had left his mouth. Letting her eyelids flutter shut, she pressed her ear to his chest. Wrapped in a gentle embrace, she drifted off to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

In this moment, she was loved.

[solarjaya]

The Ask Game Boboiboy edition

OP post

1. What was your first OTP?

Suprisingly it's GemIce. I need someone to write GemIce. Please I need to take care my 30 wip HaliSol I can't do it-

2. What is your current OTP?

HaliSol.

3. Do you have any OT3/OT+ ships? What are your favorites?

HaliGemSol rock. They both want Hali. Or Hali want them both. It work in every direction.

TauBlazeThorn because they are chaos, and the line on windara fucking hurt even if it's a joke.

HaliIceSol because they will never talk and in a frozen state of staring at each other. Lovely. I love them all so why not combine my favs together.

BoEl poly in general because fuck yeah I got all of my rareship at the same place.

4. What is/are your favorite trope(s)?

Complicated relationship, angry x calm, dom x dom, idiots in love, hurt/comfort, highschool au

5. What is/are your least favorite trope(s)?

Mpreg, pregnancy in general, omegaverse, cafe au, main character death (I'm weak), no comfort.

6. Do you have a certain kind of ship you’re more attracted to?

I like rareships. I just do.

7. Are most of your ships “pure” or “problematic”?

Lots that people consider a "problematic" but actually not that much. I like simple falling in love fic.

8. Who is the most shippable person you can think of?

HALILINTAR 100% NO DOUBT and Boboiboy the main character.

9. Are there any fandoms you don’t have any ships for?

Yes, manly because I'm not invested to the characters long enough to meet their "ahh that's the one for you" character.

10. Do characters have to have canon interactions for you to ship them?

I'm smiling in a corner of no HaliSol interaction. Of course not. Why would I limit myself honestly in this fandom.

11. What makes a great ship in your own opinion?

Hating each other but keep getting forced to meet each other again and again. The "you're not that bad". Never interact in canon because I'm just work like that. One of them is my fav.

12. What drives you away from a ship?

Popularity.

13. Is there anything you ship but refuse to interact with the community for?

Nah, I always try to scrapped anything shippy from this fandom (except the M/F cus it's not my thing. This fandom doesn't make my M/F alarm go explode)

14. Has a fanbase ever made you ship or not ship something? Why?

Popular ship because it's everywhere and it pissed me off. I can't see them together without immediately thinking about the ship. I hate it.

15. Do you like/participate in ship wars? Why or why not?

Not interested. Plus it has no benefits for me.

16. Are there any ships you just can’t/don’t understand? What are they?

Not disclosing!

17. Are there any popular ships that you just don’t like? What are they?

So many, but it's not big in the fandom in the first place that I feel bad. Read a few just to see and yep, it's still not my thing.

18. What is your favorite unpopular ship?

HaliBlaze HaliIce HaliThorn HaliSol

TauGem TauBlaze TauIce TauThorn TauSol

GemBlaze GemIce GemThorn GemSol

BlazeThorn BlazeSol

IceThorn IceSol

it's a lot.

19. Do you prefer fluff, angst, or smut for your ships?

ALL!! I'M NOT PICKY!! COMBINE THEM!!

20. Do you prefer bigger fanbases or smaller ones?

Big fanbase is a "holy shit there's two cake!" situation and I love it, but it also has this problem where it won't branch out new ideas so it's slowly generalizing itself. It’s not a bid deal if you like that stuff but for someone who like niche things it's probably hard to find the good stuff.

Small fanbase is great! Often overlooked, increase a chance of interaction too if you want that, but also tend to be easily attacked if it's "problematic". It suck when it happened. Still love it, I'm contributing to my rareships too now.

21. Have you ever received hate for a ship you liked?

Not personally, but I see people using the ship name for a duo name and it suck. Especially when they intentionally do it and act suprise when it attract the shippers. Like dude what are you expecting it's your fault. Also putting "haha just a joke kys whoever ship this" beside it or in the tag. Fuck you.

22. Do you have any ships that you ship, but would never want to see as canon?

All of my ships. I never want it to be canon because they are mine. Let's face it, Monsta will never do romance justice especially gay relationships.

23. Have you ever had a ship become canon, but you didn’t like how it was portrayed?

Never in a million years /cry

Okay, but if the fusion is consider their kid then no I have no problem. Except Gentar. I still have no idea who's kid is that like babe why are you like that 😭

24. What is your favorite canon ship?

I got nothing

25. What are your favorite ships from a dead fandom?

Dead fandom? I have no dead fandom-

26. What are your favorite shipping scenes?

HaliSol : Their fusion in Movie 2 and Windara duh. But also when Retak'ka take Solar and the other watching it, the Kadruax arc is a bit of crumbs but I'll take it, and dear god I hope they talk for once.

GemIce : THE FUSION!! I DIDN'T EXPECT GLACIER 😭 My soul fucking died and go to heaven. Also they got stuck together for the whole training arc c'mon.

GemSol : when Gempa told Solar to stop attacking Retak'ka 💔 also Hang Kasa seal Retak'ka away with his Gamma power. You could say Solar lose half of his power because of Gempa.

TauBlazeThorn : Windara eps. Hurt Taufan.

GemBlaze : they got stuck together in the training arc. Also in bbb classic Kaizo arc we can see their golem fusion it look so cool. Also in the cooking competition.

27. What are your views on reader x canon ships?

Not my thing.

28. What is your best shipping advice?

Have fun and gatekeep your kids because canon will never do them justice. Also feed your people please.

29. Do you like OCs (Original Characters)?

I have ocs but I'm not interested to read other people ocs or ship my ocs with other people ocs.

30. What are some of your favorite shipping blogs?

There's only me here. Help.

[dreadnotau]

Happy three years everybody! As always, there’s a lot to say on the occasion, so pop in at the end of the post for the tl;dr if you don’t have time for my detailed diatribes, haha

Boy, time flies, huh? Feels like the second anniversary was just yesterday, but maybe that’s just the several long hiatuses getting to me. I’ve been scarce on uploading anything anywhere for a while now, even though I promised I’d actually pick up the slack this time around. What gives? Well…

For one, college hell, and for two, a lot of unfounded anxiety about putting my art out there. Allow me some theatrics for a moment and I’ll actually get back to the comic at hand… I’ve never had an exceptionally supportive environment for making art. It wasn’t suppressive, not in the slightest, but it also wasn’t… encouraging. It was always treated as a hobby or a distraction rather than something I was allowed to be fully proud of, especially because a lot of my art focused on more cartoon-y and fantasy ideas, rather than still life studies and painting (which people generally outside of the art sphere tend to value more, arbitrarily). Couple that with a childhood full of being bullied over minute shit you hadn’t even considered could be an issue before, and you get a teenager hellbent on never sharing his interests or ideas with anyone, mostly due to the fear of rejection.

I’ve grown, thankfully, but that paranoia and fear doesn’t go away overnight. As I’m sure you all know, Meowchela was the one who originally encouraged me to post this comic, and the only reason she succeeded was because she was the first person in a long time who listened and engaged with my interests and my art in a meaningful way. It’s kind of obvious her friendship had a profound impact on me, and I’d cite her as one of the reasons I was even hopeful enough to apply to an art college in the first place! This comic, and that bond with another person, proved that maybe these things I’m so passionate about weren’t duds, and weren’t something I had to keep to myself.

So, fast forward a few years. About three years, in fact.

During one of my classes, right before this hellish two weeks of exams started, one of the class assistants talked me into showing my comic pages to one of my professors. He’s generally a pretty open guy when it comes to new mediums, but I’m always… apprehensive about showing my less “traditional art”-y things to professors, but, he ended up being genuinely proud of it. Specifically, I showed him pages 85-87 (because they’re my favourites) and, he didn’t read the text, just the visuals were enough for him to say “good job, keep it up” (which is HIGH praise from that guy). When I mentioned I’ve been meaning to simplify the visuals because I didn’t have time to work on the comic very often because of college and classes, he dismissed it on principle. I was honestly caught off guard. Heavily paraphrasing, he suggested that worsening the visuals for an arbitrary deadline was counterproductive to making something that’s Good™.

That’s kinda stuck with me. For a good few years now I was more focused on optimisation rather than visual improvement for the comic, and though it HAS contributed to better visuals in some ways (cutting corners sometimes makes for a less pointy and jagged end result), it’s kind of weird I’m treating an art project that way, isn’t it? I set a lot of… arbitrary deadlines and standards for myself, in the form of expectations and what I “should” or “shouldn’t” be doing at certain stages in my life. I’ve thought of Dread Not as a passion project second and a stepping stone first, if I’m being honest. As if it was too… fandom-y and derivative to be treated with more gravity than that, like it’s an immature project because I was still a child when I came up with it. As if it was something I’m making to Build Up to Something Else, something Bigger and Cooler and More Important, and… the more I think about the future of Dread Not, and even my future career options, the more I realised that’s, ironically, a really immature way to think about it.

If there’s one thing going to this art college has taught me, is that there’s no “right” way to make art, and there’s no “right” way to success as an artist. There’s no clear-cut paths, just more commonly treaded roads, but even those are heavily overgrown. Why should I try to box myself into thinking I have to make things from complete scratch to be taken seriously? What’s so bad about Dread Not as a story and as a comic that’s caused me to vaguely keep it under wraps when conversing with people in my day-to-day life? Why wouldn’t I put all these skills I’ve acquired to improve and expand this project that’s Right There, WAITING for me to finally get off my ass and get pages out there again?

I wish I could say I’ve used all this time away in a particularly clever way, but I really haven’t - at least, it feels like I haven’t. My art has undoubtedly improved over time (though admittedly the art for this post was Very rushed, fuckin exams), and while I’ve been working on projects in the background, chipping away at them in a VERY disorganised way, I haven’t been posting that progress anywhere, and I haven’t made any good progress on my biggest project, Dread Not, because of the other ones. And, honestly? Admitting that kinda stings. This comic means a lot to me, and I wish I actually gave it the time and attention it deserves instead of letting it sit out hiatus after hiatus because I keep failing at structuring my time.

So, my new plan is a little more abstract: find a way to work Dread Not into my school schedule, and slowly build a habit of working on it more often. No clue how long that’ll take, but I think it’ll be worth it to consider it as an option, and hopefully finally end these long, drawn out hiatuses with short bursts of uploads in-between. HOPEFULLY. Building habits was never my strong suit, so please bear with me while I figure this out in what will probably be the most hectic upload schedule in this comics history, which is: no schedule at all.

From now on (until the end of Act 1), I’ll upload pages when they’re ready, and depending on how the weeks go and how complex the page is, they could be weeks or days apart from one another. Hell, some might even take a month to finish if school stuff gets REALLY hectic (god knows Hellish Exam Week number 1 and number 2 won’t be giving me much time to work on the comic), but I’m determined to do this. I want to be able to put my all into this project again!!

(And hopefully finish Act 1 by the end of this semester…)

TL;DR: College is giving me life lessons I didn’t expect, and because of them I’ve decided to give myself a non-existent upload schedule for Dread Not: Pages will be posted when they’re ready, and the spacing between pages could wildly vary depending on circumstances and the actual complexity of the page itself.

As always, thank you for being here, thank you for reading, and thank you for being patient!

If all goes well, there will be new content very, very soon.

[vellaphoria]

i haven’t been into dc for a while (the saccharine traditional-family focused bat dynamics in modern comics sorta lost my interest tbh) but i’m never gonna unsubscribe from your ao3 because it always makes me smile to see an email notif pop up to show you’re still chugging away writing your lovely dicktim fics. i deeply admire your dedication to them. keep on trucking i am still waving my pom poms from the sidelines!

That's so sweet of you to say! 🥺

I get that though - while the character dynamics in modern comics are a bit better than they were right after Flashpoint, I'm going to keep lurking in my post-crisis corner. At the same time, certain parts of the fandom's strong focus on nuclear family dynamics is a bit off-putting to me, so I'm just going to stay over here doing my thing. But!! It means a lot to me to hear that you still stay subscribed even though dc isn't your thing anymore ❤️❤️❤️ It's also nice to hear from you in general! Your comments have always been kind and engaged, which made them some of my favorites (do I still go back and read them sometimes? perhaps lol). They really inspired me to keep writing for this ship ❤️ (And I appreciate the continued pom pom waving! 😂 😤)

[hancocksbestgirl]

The Raider and the Bear, Part 2/3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary:

After losing control and finally admitting to himself that he has growing feelings for his new Overboss, Porter Gage is struggling to restore the professional balance of their relationship - mostly so he doesn't destroy everything he's built for himself so far.

But as they continue to work together, he can't quite seem to forget how badly he wants her.

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: F/M

Fandom: Fallout 4

Word Count: This chapter, 6k. Entire work, 22k.

Relationships: Porter Gage/Female Nuka-World Overboss, Overboss Colter & Porter Gage

Characters: Porter Gage, Original Fallout 4 Character(s), Female Nuka-World Overboss (Fallout), Mason (Fallout 4), Overboss Colter (Fallout)

Additional Tags and Warnings Under the Cut.

NOTE: The tags on this fic have recently changed!!! There were some things I missed tagging on chapter one that apply to the work as a whole. Those have been updated there AND added here. Please reread the tags under the cut to be certain that the work is still in keeping with the type of thing you want to be reading!

Updated Tags and Warnings:

Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Not Canon Compliant, Brief Mention of Past Abuse, Brief Mention of Past Harassment, Brief Mention of Animal Cruelty, Post-Apocalypse, Alternate History, Romance, Fluff and Angst, Pining, Awkwardness, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Raiders (Fallout), Nuka-World Amusement Park (Fallout), Fallout 4: Nuka-World DLC, Hurt, Morally Ambiguous Character, Original Character(s), Coworkers to Lovers, Love Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Service Kink, Panty Kink, Cussing, Submission, Non-Sexual Submission, Injury, Secret Crush, Masturbation, Fantasizing, Face-Sitting, P in V Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Frottage

_________________

The Brotherhood of Steel had gotten in the way of one of the Operators various little schemes.

The broad strokes of these things were always the same: the Operators had happened upon some good loot, caps, guns, whatever… and then someone, the Minutemen, the Brotherhood of Steel, Diamond City Security, went and fucked it up for them. The Operators would send a runner with the bad news, and then Mags Black would come slinking out of the shadows of The Parlor, requesting help from the Overboss.

Gage was tired of the whole thing, perhaps more so than usual. He believed the gangs needed to keep control of as much loot as they could, but the Operators were wearing him out with their constant requests for backup.

After the cart had hit him, as expected, his hip had exploded in a riot of colorful bruising. First it turned a deep greenish black, which had eventually given way to a purple and red sunset, which had eventually lightened to green and yellow fields of pain. It had swollen, keeping him off his feet for a few days, then receded, allowing him to walk once more.

The Overboss had been nice enough about it, by her standards anyway. She hadn’t said much, only asking after it once when he’d emerged from his forced rest, but she had allowed him to while away a few days in his backroom without any harsh comments whatsoever. 

The morning after the incident with her underwear, battling his own stiffening hip, Gage had limped to the sink to guiltily wash them, then hung them up in his room to dry. He’d only returned them to the clothes basket once he was back on his feet, though. 

So while they dried, he’d been laid up on his stomach with a pillow under his pelvis. Staring at them.

He just couldn’t help but spare glance after glance at the now-clean underwear hanging from the corner of a box as he rested. He’d been distinctly aware of being in two types of pain: each time he looked at the panties, his heart would constrict in his chest as he remembered what he’d done, and his aching hip would tense in reply.

The break from the Overboss, paging through a few crumpled issues of Guns and Bullets but not really reading the words, had otherwise done him some good. By the time the bruise calmed, the panties were returned, and he was comfortable walking long distances once more; he at least felt some semblance of control over the way he thought about her.

It helped that the Overboss had gone back to her cold, offputting self. She was mostly silent once more, decked out in the bearhead at all times, fully covered by her clothes again.

Now, they found themselves trudging through mud near Jamaica Plain, scouting for the team they were supposed to meet up with. If the high level Vertibird flying over was anything to go by, they were definitely close to the point where they’d meet up. 

They were a long way from Nuka World, about half a day’s walk from the transit station, and already Gage was looking forward to unrolling a bedroll and passing out somewhere. He didn’t sleep well out in the field, but he also didn’t sleep that well at Fizztop either. Getting off his feet though, that was sure becoming more of a priority than it had been in his youth.

Maybe about a half mile ahead, Gage could see the telltale cluster of Operators, looking like a bunch of highly conspicuous, fancily dressed assholes.

God, he was tired.

At the very least, it seemed that Mags Black running to the Overboss for help was a reasonable request this time. No sooner had they approached the Operator team, hellfire had begun to rain down on them.

Read More on AO3

[not-goldy]

Goldy, this is coming from a place of respect, so please hear me out.

First of all, let us replace the word "victim" with "survivor." I think we can all agree that this is an appropriate word choice for Jimin.

And yes, Jimin is a survivor of harassment, stalking, homophobic slurs, death threats, misogyny, etc. And yes, he has more than once, indicated he feels safe with JK and depends on JK to protect him.

But JK hasn't done such a great job of protecting Jimin from any of this so far, has he?

What do I expect him to do, you ask? Exactly my point. How do people envision the muscle bunny will protect Jimin in the MS?

I get the idea that people are picturing Jimin surrounded by a group of homophobic assholes and JK fighting them off, one by one. But in this scenario, obviously Jimin would fight side-by-side with JK, and not just wilt in a corner. This is Jimin, right?

But we know it's much more likely that any threat (see the list above) will be much more insidious. JK may be brawnier than Jimin is, but is he cleverer? They aren't going to a deserted island, after all. Does JK have a better understanding of human relations, law, psychology, etc.? I mean, who is the Slytherin here?

And who is THE survivor? (Again, see list above.)

I'm sure there will be times when JK's courage and strength will help support Jimin in the months ahead. But there will be just as many times--perhaps more--when Jimin's courage and strength will help JK.

If people are going to make them a team/couple, can we please just make them an EQUAL one?

I want to be goofy and belt out I'm ah survivor I'm not gon give up, imma suhvaaavv keep on suhvaaavin

This is the point my teacher yells at me to walk out the classroom 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Survivor is woke- describing Jimin as a Survivor is both powerful and optimistic however I'm uncomfortable with it especially since I feel he's still surviving these mofos every single day.

Also, I understand your pov however I do think there is such a thing as overly idealistic.

Here's a few of my recent posts- in case my numerous posts went over heads- talking about individualizing Jimin, holding him to the same expectations we have of Jungkook, how he's equally supposed to be protecting Jungkook as JK should be protecting him and that it shouldn't be one sided.

So I think you preaching to the choir.

However, what we are talking about is a little bit deeper than that. More nuanced than that.

When we are talking about things Jimin, "survives" in this shit hole of a Fandom, I do not think it is in any way comparable to or EQUAL to that of his couple mate as you put it.

And that's just because they are disproportionately affected by certain things, Homophobia for one. While Jungkook may occasionally have misogynistic slurs hurled at him for "behaving feminine" Jimin is the one who is constantly being berated just because of his androgynous appearance- which he cannot help.

Yes they are partners, and equal if not we wouldn't insist on calling them a power couple, however it's just one of them that gets slutshamed and treated as if slut is his second name.

And just because we express worry over the things that affect one more than the other don't mean we are victimzing that person. I think people who keep spewing that narrative have lost it fr.

For instance, while they are equal, certainly we cannot say they received the same commercial support from their company or Fandom. Saying that does not take away the fact Jungkook is equally oppressed out in these streets.

On the topic of protection, I honestly don't think your assumptions about how JM is being perceived as being protected by Jk is accurate or what at all we mean when we talk about that we are happy they are enlisting together- does it make our shipper hearts glee? Absolutely. Do we want to dance on Graves? Oh honey yesssssssssssssssssszzzzzzzzzzzzzzah.

But do we think Jungkook is going to be his personal body guard in there swatting off homophobic flies- now ma'am. Let's be real. Jungkook is also a gay man. What makes you think we think Jimin will be receiving blows after bliw while JK goes unscathed- i mean God forbid it happens- but If Jungkook is queer doesn't it stand to reason we should be and are equally worried for him? Because he is not exempt from the scathing heats of homophobia?

However he's also not the one receiving death threats and threats to out him to the military now is he?

I think I- we- are well within our rights to express concerns about these matters. And I think objectively that is not victimizing Jimin. But to each their own.

If you've ever experienced homophobic violence, or "survived" anything in your life you'd understand how scary these things are.

Also when we speak of protection- I don't think it's necessary to swing the pendulum that far off. There's safety in numbers is all we are saying and I think that's objectively accurate too. Jungkook or whomever don't need to physically carry his frying pan around to protect Jimin or for Jimin to protect him.

I think every female in here can attest to the fact merely sharing your location or letting your uber driver know someone is waiting for you on the other end and will come looking for you if anything happens to you makes us feel safe and protected in certain situations.

I know a couple who liked to leave the stereo on to create the impression people were home to deter theives from breaking in when they were away.

Protection can be as psychological as is physical. Honestly you are giving male privilege if you can't relate to these things. Or if all you think about when we mention Protection is physical exertion of force or violence.

Jikook can be eachother's support blah blah blah in there or not- the point is it puts our minds at ease knowing Jimin is not going to be alone in there.

And I know you are not about to ask me why my concerns are for Jimin and not Jk- no. It's not because I think he can't defend himself. A. He's my bias and he gets emotional priority in certain situations. B. As I said, he receives the most homophobic/misogynistic attacks c. It's my page and I can do whatever I want.

And I think I speak for Mama Park and Mama Jeon when I say that we are happy Jimin will not be alone- he has family with him.

We are women. Our maternal instincts will always be to protect our babies 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

That said, Park Jimin I am not your mama I will fuck you given the chance. Be warned accordingly.

[a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin]

Shrinkage

Fandom: Demon Slayer/Kimetsu no Yaiba

Rating: Mature/Explicit- Minors DNI (18+ only)

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Kyojuro/Female Reader

Tags: Mommy Kink, Oral Fixation, Unprotected Sex, Under-Negotiated Kink, Titty Sucking, Desperate Kyojuro, Praise Kink, Awkward Boners, Bottom Kyojuro, Soft Dom Reader

Wordcount: 3.5k

You're wearing a low-cut shirt, and it's taking everything in him to keep his eyes off your tits.

Cross-posted from my AO3 account.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kyojuro didn’t know when his fixation on you had started.

The two of you had met through mutual friends, spending time together more and more often. Initially, he found you quiet and a bit forgettable, but he quickly realized that your reserved and shy exterior was a front put up to all new acquaintances. Each time the two of you met, your smile grew more natural, your laugh louder, and your harmless quips bolder and more entertaining. It was around that time, he supposed, that he began to notice the more… intimate details of you.

The smell of your hair.

The way your cheeks dimpled if you smiled a certain way.

How often you chewed your full lower lip.

These details he filed away in the back of his mind, eyes lingering on you during your interactions. He began to look forward to seeing you, making excuses to meet up outside your normal weekly group hangouts. He ran into you at your favorite café; completely unintentional, of course- it wasn’t like he’d stalked your social media to find out when you’d be there; that would be absurd. Conversation always flowed well between you, and Kyojuro couldn’t help the slow obsession that began to consume him during his waking (and sleeping) hours.

He could, however, pinpoint the exact moment he realized his body would react to you whether he wanted to or not.

He swallowed, trying to look anywhere but your chest. Usually, you were clad in a t-shirt and jeans- comfy clothes- but today you’d opted for a crop top with a deep plunge neckline, your bra obviously doing you several favors by holding your tits up and together. The smooth skin threatened to spill out at a moments notice, each movement you made making your chest jiggle.

Kyojuro covered his lap with folded hands, leaning forward to hide the bulge in his denim trousers. The living room echoed with conversation around him, his friends talking over each other here and there in layers of sound he couldn’t comprehend while trying not to focus on his growing discomfort. Sanemi and Tengen were seated diagonal from him on the couch, engaged in some kind of verbal peacocking (for who, he wasn’t entirely sure. They tended to show off at the oddest times). Your frame was tucked against the arm of the sofa, on Tengen’s right, body bouncing a little as he gesticulated with both hands, shaking the couch from his weight shifting around. Obanai and Mitsuri were cuddled up together on the loveseat across from him, talking in low conspiratorial voices that blended seamlessly into the hum of a movie that someone had put on in the background an hour ago- as if there wasn’t enough noise already.

The rest of the group sat on the floor or in beanbag chairs pulled from corners, oscillating between trying to watch the TV, and engaging in conversation. Kyojuro pretended he was focused on the film, the tension in his stomach not disappearing like he’d hoped it would. His mind kept replaying the jiggle of your chest. His hands itched to slide up your sides and fondle your tits, your hands on him. He wanted to nip marks down your neck and on the skin that would be exposed if you wore that v-neck crop top again.

His thoughts did nothing to alleviate the ache in his loins as he bit down on his lip in concentration. Your eyes flickered over to him, and your lips pulled back into a soft smile, showing just a glimpse of your front teeth. The trace of concern on your face was not lost on him.

“You okay? You look a bit warm.”

His face must be flushed, Kyojuro realized.

“Do you want some water?”

Kyojuro shook his head. “I’m alright. Thank you, though.”

“’ll have some,” Giyu said from his spot on the floor to your lower left.

Kyojuro ignored the way his dick jumped when you readjusted to move your legs out from under you to stand, leaning forward and flashing him a direct look at your half-bare chest. You disappeared into the kitchen, the expanse of your skin between where your shirt ended, and pants started making him swallow down a groan of desire.

“Is that one of your old shirts, Mitsuri?” Tengen paused in his argument with Sanemi to look to the pink-haired woman.

“Yeah, it got shrunk in the wash so I gave it to (Y/N),” Mitsuri laughed. “It looks good on her, huh?”

“She certainly wears it well,” Tengen agreed.

Kyojuro didn’t like the way the conversation had shifted. He wiggled a bit in his seat on the beanbag chair. It did nothing to help the ache. You returned with two glasses of ice water, handing one to Giyu and the other to Kyojuro.

“I got you some anyway. I don’t want you to get dehydrated. It’s pretty warm in here.”

Kyojuro accepted the glass, frosted with condensation. The cold bit into his feverish fingertips with icy teeth. It was a welcome relief and distraction. If he could focus on that, maybe he wouldn’t think about burying his face between the two pillows beneath your sweet face.

How Kyojuro survived another hour was beyond him. People began to trickle out one-by-one, citing various reasons for departure as the night dragged by. Kyojuro didn’t want to leave any sooner than he had to, even if it meant he could relieve himself sooner of the throb between his sturdy thighs. Mainly because if he stood, it would be revealed that he was sporting quite the erection currently hidden by the way he sat.

Obanai stood, pulling Mitsuri up with him after whispering something in her ear. The woman had a heavy blush on her face as he did so, her hand covering her mouth.

“I-I’m spending the night at Obanai’s tonight,” she squeaked out as she followed him out the door, leaving only you and Kyojuro in silence.

“Well…” you turned to Kyojuro. “That’s the third night this week.”

Your giggle set him on edge, but not in a bad way. He echoed your laugh, eyes crinkling pleasantly despite the lingering discomfort in his boxers. His eyes dropped to the shadow between the swell of your breasts. It was a chore to tear his gaze away in a timely manner.

“It’s pretty late,” you commented, glancing to the clock.

Kyojuro was nothing if not polite. He could take the hint. Heaven would be allowing him to stay for another few moments, but alas, he was still in the world of the living.

“I suppose I should be heading home,” he smiled, trying to mask his disappointment.

“O-oh, no,” you waved your hands, embarrassed. “You don’t have to leave. I was just trying to make conversation…”

Your face was flushed a pretty pink. Kyojuro wanted to take a picture so it would last forever.

“I don’t want to keep you up,” he shook his head, standing up before he realized what he was doing.

Your flush deepened and spread down your neck to your chest. Kyojuro wet his lips, willing his gaze to stay fixed on your face. The silence between the two of you was deafening, and Kyojuro swore he could hear your near-silent breathing from where he sat. In his haste, he’d forgotten about the very thing that had tortured him all night. He could feel the slight strain against his pants, and felt his face mirror yours in color.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, hands pulling his shirt down lower to try and cover the distinct tenting.

Kyojuro wanted to bury himself in a hole fifty miles away from where he stood. The shame that washed over him paled every other embarrassing experience. What should he do? If he told you the truth, you might think he was a pervert, but if he lied he would have to come up with an explanation for his untimely boner.

“Your shirt… looks very good on you…”

His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but you caught it none-the-less. Your hands came up to cover your warm cheeks, feeling the heat of your skin under your cool fingers.

“Th-thanks… I did wear it to get your attention.”

The admission had Kyojuro’s fingers twitching, eyes snapping to your face.

“You did?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze.

“I… wanted you to look to me. I thought if I wore something a little more… sexy?”

“Well, you got my attention,” Kyojuro took your hands in his. “What do you want from me now?”

Your pupils were blown out as you stared up at him, bolder now that you were sure he wanted the same thing as you.

“I want you to kiss me.”

“Gladly,” Kyojuro crashed his mouth into yours, barely avoiding clicking his teeth into yours as he tasted the wet cavern beyond your lips.

His hands found their way to your hips, pulling you flush to him so you could feel hardness in his pants. You pressed closer to him, your chest against his. His head dropped to the expanse of skin that had captivated him, burying his face in the plush skin. He didn’t know skin could feel this soft. His lips brushed against the curves, hands dropping to under your rear as he boosted you up to wrap your legs around his waist. With your bosom leveled to his face, he carried you towards the bedroom. He could hear your giggles above him when he bumped into the doorframe, your body blocking his view, but he only smiled against your skin.

Once you were tossed onto the bed, however, and your chest bounced in that mesmerizing way, Kyojuro wasted no time in ridding himself of his clothes, while you stripped off yours. Clad only in his boxers, and you in your undergarments, Kyojuro nipped a bruise onto your neck, and peppered dark stains across your chest, laving his tongue over the marks he left behind and relishing in your breathy moans of pleasure.

His cock ached to feel you, and he rutted against your leg as he pulled at the clasp on the front of the bra. He was thankful it was in front and not the back, as it meant he didn’t have to fumble around behind you. Once your tits were free, Kyojuro latched onto a nipple. He sucked greedily, his other hand burying in the mound of flesh opposite. You were half-propped up on pillows, running your hand through his hair encouragingly.

It made your cunt throb to see the cheerful, eager man you’d had a crush on for the last few months get lost in nuzzling himself against your chest. He almost seemed to forget about the strain in his pants as he melted into your touch.

“Good boy,” you cooed, cradling his head and pulling him closer.

A whine left Kyojuro’s throat, surprising both of you. Your stomach and thighs clenched with butterflies. He looked embarrassed, but you stroked his hair again, dropping your lips closer to his ear.

“Good boy,” you fanned your breath across his ear, feeling his cock jump against your leg.

Kyojuro’s entire face was red, and it had steadily crept down his chest. You couldn’t help giggling as you pulled at him, readjusting him so he could sit between your legs while still suckling your tits.

He was in heaven- or maybe hell, with how you were grinding yourself against his front, your core covered by cotton and lace and nothing else. Kyojuro wasn’t the kind of man to freeze up in the bedroom, but with the way his head was buzzing from the way your voice had called him “good boy”, he was having a hard time keeping his thoughts straight. He knew his mouth was on your heavenly teat, and your hot, damp front was pressing against his aching groin, and beyond that, he was lost in the smell and feel of you.

Your hands made their way to his waistband, and you freed him from the confines of his boxers, watching him spring up and smack into his stomach. Kyojuro’s mouth popped off your nipple with a quiet whimper as he winced. You offered a kiss to his jawline in apology, and pulled your panties to the side, offering him access. It took a moment for him to realize what you were asking, the hazy look in his eyes clearing a bit as he lined himself up, stopped just before he pushed in to glance up at you with a questioning look.

“Go on,” you encouraged. “Fuck me like a good boy?”

You’d phrased it as a question, but Kyojuro seemed eager as he entered you, one inch at a time, desperately holding himself back as you lifted a hand to scrape your fingers against his scalp.

“You feel good…”

Your voice tapered off into a gasp as Kyojuro bottomed out, squeezing his eyes shut and relishing in the feeling of your silken walls caressing him. His hips snapped forward and he ground into you, bringing his head back to your chest to chase your bouncing tits as you threaded a hand into his hair and tugged it gently, earning a moan in response.

“F-fuck,” he gasped. “You feel so-fuck- good!”

You keened in response, the praise flooding your belly with warmth. You wanted him pressed against you, impossibly closer.

“Kyojuro,” you held out your arms, and he leaned into them, burying his face into the crook of your neck as you tightened your grip.

You could feel Kyojuro’s hips stuttering, the pacing growing erratic. You pushed him up and were pleasantly surprised to find him willing and pliant to move where you directed. He rolled over like an obedient dog, keeping you atop him as you positioned yourself to ride his dick.

When you were on top, you could control the angle and depth, and like this, you were hitting that delicious spot while also being able to grind against his lower stomach. Your throat constricted in a groan as you bounced atop him, watching his mouth fall open and eyes fix on your chest. You slammed your hips into his and were rewarded by a heavenly cry from his soft lips.

“Please!” he begged.

“Please?” you questioned; your breathing ragged.

Your hips repeated the motion, receiving another desperate moan from the golden angel below you. His chest was flushed ruddy, gleaming with a thin coat of sweat. You reached down and tugged his nipples, rubbing them between your fingers and smiling at the whine you heard.

“Please- ah- please go faster!”

“Are you close?” you asked, the thrill of having him under your control making your core clench around him as you slowed your movements to tease.

“Yes-yes! Please- don’t- I need-”

“Need what? Use your words, Kyojuro,” you nearly purred, despite still trying to catch your breath. You were moving agonizingly slow- and not just for Kyojuro. You wanted to slam him into you, but the desire to have him begging overruled your want for immediate friction.

“Move! Please- please I need more!”

“That’s not a very nice way to ask,” you tutted, leaning forward.

“Please…”

Kyojuro had tears in his eyes as he jerked his hips upward, trying to get some kind of relief on his aching cock, your pussy lips teasing his swollen head, just barely brushing against the reddened tip. He looked so pretty laid out beneath you, and you granted him mercy by slamming your body down into his. Kyojuro let out a choked cry, the tears streaming down his face as you bounced on his throbbing member, ecstasy blowing out his pupils as they were covered in a haze of need and pleasure.

“Ah! D-don’t- please don’t stop!”

You were so focused on keeping up the brutal pace and driving the man under you towards the brink of orgasm that you didn’t notice his babbling start to become more desperate and incoherent until-

“Ple- m-mommy, fuck!”

Kyojuro’s body arched upwards as his hands grabbed at your hips, head thrown back. You could feel him twitching inside of you, his eyes glassy and half closed as he trembled, body relaxing as the last throes of his orgasm receded.

You’d stopped moving, waiting for him to come down from his high. His eyes blinked slowly, the haze disappearing as he gazed up at you, face red from exertion, chest heaving. Your mouth was parted a bit, hot air rushing out with each huffing breath. He could see how blown your pupils were from his spot beneath you on the bed.

“Mommy?”

The low questioning voice in which you asked the question sounded almost innocent, if not for the smoldering gleam in your eyes. Kyojuro’s face lit up in horror, his hands flying up to cover his face in shame. He began to stammer out apologies, words running into each other and tumbling over.

“I liked it.”

Those three words had Kyojuro peeking through his fingers, hesitant as he gazed up at you.

“You… did?”

You nodded, this time feeling your face warm. The two of you sat in silence for a few heartbeats. Kyojuro looked down to where your bodies met, and you could feel him softening inside you. Suddenly, guilt wrote itself over Kyojuro’s features.

“You didn’t get off, did you?”

The look on your face answered for you, and Kyojuro sat up, eager to please you.

“Let me help you.”

“How do you want me?” you asked, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious and shy.

“How would you like it?” Kyojuro countered, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Um,” you licked your lips and glanced down at him.

You felt a little bad for wanting him inside you again, burying himself to the hilt and pounding you roughly until your legs gave out. You were grateful Kyojuro was attentive, as he seemed to guess what you wanted. He wasted no time in flicking his wrist and pumping himself a bit until he was hard again, his free hand running up your sides and coming down to press at the bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex. Kyojuro sheathed himself inside you a second time, thrusting at an even pace while you played with his hair, enjoying the way your body bounced almost lazily in time with his thrusts.

“You feel good,” you praised him, taking note of how he glowed under your praise. “You’re filling me up so good.”

Flesh slapped flesh and a groan escaped Kyojuro’s lips. You wanted to try something out, but it took a few moments of bracing yourself and making sure you wouldn’t chicken out in the middle of saying it, and chance ruining the mood.

“You fill mommy up so good,” you cooed, managing to keep your voice from pitching at the end in embarrassment.

Kyojuro’s hips faltered for a second, and you wondered if maybe you’d made a mistake, but they immediately picked up again with renewed vigor, and you could feel him trembling as his eyes locked onto you.

“I do?” he asked. His tone was pleading for praise.

“So good,” you tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “You fuck me so well, Kyojuro.”

He whimpered, burying his cock deeply and grinding against you, trying to rut his way further into you.

“You take good care of mommy, making sure I feel good,” you praised him, feeling bolder. “Sucking on my titties and filling me up.”

“I-I like making you feel good,” he panted, arms moving to press your legs towards your chest, but choosing to push them out to the sides a bit so he could fit his mouth around the erect bud on your left breast.

“Such a good boy,” you threw your head back with a gasp, nerves tingling with the sensation of a tongue rubbing and pressing against them. “Good baby boy-”

Kyojuro’s rutting had become frantic as he let go of your legs to slot one hand between your legs to press against your clit and the other to scrabble and grab anything he could ground himself with, which happened to be your hair. The slight tug alongside his tongue on your chest and cock in your cunt had the tight coil in your stomach finally snapping and your garbled cry was paired with a whimper from Kyojuro as you yanked hard on his hair out of reflex, muscles spasming. It must have pushed him over the edge as well, because a moment later his mouth had fallen open and his body shook, your insides painted white a second time.

Both of you collapsed on the bed, heat rolling off of you in waves. It took a while for you to come down- it usually did- and when you blinked back to the present, Kyojuro was stroking your hair, eyes fixed lovingly on your face, a faint blush across his cheeks and nose.

“Are you alright?”

It was a sweet question, and you smiled, pressing your face into his palm.

“Mmhm. You?”

Kyojuro’s eyes flickered away before tracing up your body and back to you.

“I’m perfect,” he purred into your forehead as he pressed a chaste kiss there.

You sank into his side, burying your face against his chest.

You definitely needed to thank Mitsuri for accidentally shrinking her newest shirt in the wash.