#it got me deeply into how animation works

[abbotjack]

So here’s the thing, I haven’t watched Animal Kingdom and I am also insane. But Pope reminds me a lot of the Minotaur from the labyrinth. Like before he was shaped into a “monster” he was someone’s baby and there was love there once. And he’s always trying to find his way back to that. The Minotaur had a name too, but no one ever called him that. I often find myself wondering if, when Thesus dragged him out of the labyrinth, if he finally got to see the stars for which he was named again? Is Andrew hoping to see the stars again? He wasn’t always a weapon or a threat. But being down there in a dark all alone would make monsters of us all.

And to go on a different tangent, there’s a line by Ocean Vuong that I’ve been turning over in my head for years and I think might be applicable to Pope:

“What I really wanted to say was that a monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr. To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.”

I didn’t have a point beyond needing to tell someone this. And also, your writing is incredible. I’m constantly looking to see what you’re up to while I’m rereading your work. Thank you!

God.

You don’t even know what you’ve done with this ask. I read it and just sat there. Staring. Because it didn’t just make sense—it shook something loose. Not because I hadn’t thought of Pope as a monster before—but because you reframed the word. You reminded me that the monster didn’t make the labyrinth. He was just left inside it.

And yeah. Pope is the Minotaur. Not the horror-movie version—blood-soaked and howling—but the tragedy. The cautionary tale no one ever finished reading. The part where the boy was born into a house that already saw him as wrong. Too much. Too dangerous. Too emotional. Too intense. Where people locked him away and then blamed him for what he became in the dark.

Because here’s what kills me—Andrew wasn’t always Pope.

He was a twin. He was somebody’s baby. He was Julia’s brother. And for a long time, he was just a kid trying to survive in a house where love came with strings attached and violence passed as loyalty. He was a boy who loved so deeply and so literally that when Smurf told him protecting the family meant hurting people, he didn’t even flinch. He just obeyed. Because what else do you do when the woman who gave you life also teaches you how to take it?

That’s the labyrinth.

It’s not some mythical stone maze—it’s Smurf’s house. It’s the way she shut the doors behind him. The way she turned him into a weapon and then acted like she had nothing to do with the blood on his hands. The way she gave him one job: Protect them. And how every time he tried to protect someone, he ended up hurting them instead.

And still—still—he wants out. Not out of the family, not really. But out of the story they wrote him into. The one where he’s the threat. The one where he’s always the one people warn each other about. “Pope’s crazy.” No—Pope is traumatized. Pope is exhausted. Pope is made of a love so feral and so misdirected it devours him from the inside out.

So your line—“I wonder if when Theseus dragged him out of the labyrinth, if he finally got to see the stars for which he was named”—it wrecked me. Because I don’t think anyone’s ever asked that. Not about the Minotaur. And definitely not about Andrew Cody. But yes. I think he’s still looking for them. I think every time he climbs onto that roof and stares out at Oceanside, he’s trying to find the stars again. Trying to remember that there was light before all this. That there was a boy before the monster. That he had a name before they took it from him and made it something to be feared.

And Ocean Vuong—don’t even get me started. That line has lived in the back of my brain for years like it was waiting for a name to attach itself to. “A hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.” That’s it. That’s Pope. That’s the way he stands in front of J with a gun in one hand and grief in the other. That’s the way he holds Lena like she’s breakable, even after everything he’s done. That’s how he stands over Julia’s grave like a ghost. That’s what it means to be him. That’s the tension I’m always writing toward—the impossibility of being both danger and protection. Of being the knife and the hands that pull it out.

And maybe this is where I get too personal, but I don’t care. Writing Pope feels like standing in a house you built out of barbed wire and trying to convince yourself it’s safe. It’s exhausting. It’s cathartic. It’s holy. Because I’ve never written anyone who makes me ache the way he does. Who feels like a myth I want to rewrite from the inside out. He’s not clean. He’s not neat. He’s not the hero. But he never stopped trying to be something more than what they made of him. And that—that’s the part that kills me.

So no, your message wasn’t pointless. You gave me a whole new frame to write from. You reminded me that monsters didn’t name themselves. And more importantly, you reminded me that the Minotaur—like Andrew—was always trying to get home.

Thank you for that. And thank you for reading. For seeing the shape of the man beneath the myth. For tracing the outline of the boy in the dark. I promise, he’s still in there.

[amoromniaodium]

Animal Kingdom

Andrew Pope Cody

Thank you all for reading the preview! I didn’t expect such a positive reaction to my writing. Your likes and comments have truly inspired me — I already have two more parts planned. Feel free to share your thoughts, whether good or bad. I always appreciate honest feedback.

We’ll be seeing more of the Cody family soon, but I wanted to give you some background on Pope and my character first.

Chapter 1

The Revival

—

When she was five, she witnessed something she’d only later come to recognize as bipolar disorder in her mother.

Her mother didn’t believe in medication. Said it made her too foggy, too far from herself. So she replaced prescriptions with “the good drugs.” And from then on, her daughter saw things no child should ever see — things done to her mother, things done by her mother.

By the age of ten, she was the unofficial head of the household. She cleaned, cooked, kept the apartment running. She stole — not because she liked it, but because it was the only way to survive. She lifted money from the men her mother brought home. Took soap, toothpaste, and pads from school. Stole lunches from bigger kids. She was a pro.

She loved her mother. Deeply. Enough to make sure she ate, drank water, showered. Enough to keep watch when her mother’s “friends” were over. She loved her even when she didn’t understand her — especially then. That’s where her obsession with psychology began.

She had seen people overdose. Seen how depression and addiction twisted people until they became unrecognizable. She didn’t judge. She watched. She asked questions. She wanted to understand. Needed to understand.

Her schoolwork improved. She started talking to the men who didn’t make her stomach twist. She made them feel seen. Safe. And in return, they opened up. She never gave advice. She just listened. By sixteen, she had done more emotional labor than most people do in a lifetime.

She read psych books from the library and used the tools they taught. Guided conversations, helped others find their own answers. She helped build relationships, and quietly helped end toxic ones, too.

They cried in front of her. Sat with her in silence. Let their rage unravel in the safety of her presence. And when her mother spiraled — manic or depressed — they were there. They helped her study. Helped her apply to university. Helped her celebrate when she got into med school on a partial scholarship.

And they were there when her mother overdosed.

In the quietest, darkest part of her chest, she was relieved.

She left. She studied. She was great at it — not just because she was smart, but because she understood. She could see pain before it was spoken. And she was determined to help fix both mind and body. That’s what led to her final rotation, at Folsom State Prison — and to the man who would change her completely.

⸻

Her first day at Folsom, she knew: this was not where she wanted to be.

Her attending was kind — as kind as one can be after decades in a place like this. He laid out the rules, the code, the expectations. Who to trust. What not to wear. How to walk, how to speak. He gave her a list of patients, diagnoses, medication routines.

That’s when she saw his name.

Andrew David Cody.

A massive dose of Thorazine. Enough to sedate rage. She didn’t meet the inmates until two weeks in.

And the moment she saw his eyes — dark, empty, emotionless — she should have known it wouldn’t end well.

⸻

There’s something to be said about leaving employment to return to school.

After her residency, she realized she didn’t want to be a prison psychiatrist. Not because she couldn’t handle it — but because she had no real power to help. She thought of a pair of eyes — dark, sad, and unblinking — and knew that wasn’t enough.

So she returned. Started a certificate in criminology, hoping to understand them better. But maybe it was something simpler than that: maybe she just didn’t want to grow up. Not yet.

Maybe she should work at a hospital in California. Maybe she should leave the country. Or maybe… maybe she should go back to her mother’s apartment. Let herself rot quietly, the way her mother had.

But then, walking out of class one evening, she saw him.

Not saw — felt.

A presence.

Straight-backed. Arms at his sides. Short sleeved shirt buttoned to the top like a priest.

And eyes — hawk-like, locked on her.

Andrew Cody.

But this time, for the first time since he’d been released, there was something new in his gaze.

A flicker of light in all that darkness.

⸻

There was something to say about the first time she saw him in months —it wasn’t fear that struck her. It was relief. A twisted kind of happiness.

Not about how he found her. Not how he knew where to look.

But because he was out. He had made parole.

Her first instinct, naive as it was, hoped he hadn’t gone back.

Not to that house. Not to her.

That maybe he’d gotten his own place, finally freed himself from the grip of that obsessive, broken mother — and the suffocating loyalty to his family.

But no.

She knew better.

Of course he hadn’t. They were the only thing he had ever known.

Letting go of them would be like letting go of oxygen.

She understood.

The only reason she ever left was because her mother was six feet under. These thoughts flickered and died the moment she saw him — standing there awkwardly, stiff as ever, eyes locked on her like always.

She moved toward him, not quite running, but not walking either.

Stopped just short of touching distance.

“Andrew!” she breathed. “You… you did it. Oh my God, I’m so happy for you. I knew you could do it.”

He didn’t say a word.

Just stared. But she saw it — the barest twitch of his mouth, a subtle lift of his brow.

He was happy to see her.

“How are you feeling? Have you seen your brothers?” she asked gently.

He replied, voice low. “Yes.”

She didn’t ask about his mother. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to open that door. Not yet.

So she reached for the first thing that surfaced — something safer.

“The fountain… did Baz ever finish it?” Her voice came out too light, too casual — even she could hear it.

But it was the only thing she could grab. He had once told her Baz promised to finish it while he was gone.

A flicker again — this time annoyance. A tilt of the head, the slightest grimace.

“No. I’m making it.”

So he was back there.

“Ah,” she said softly. “Well… I’m not really surprised. From what you told me about Baz…”

(From what your eyes told me. From what your silences said.)

“But it’s good, right? Keeps you busy. Keeps your mind quiet.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared.

“Right. Sorry… are you hungry? Want to grab something to eat?”

“I thought you were done with school,” he said.

“Yeah. I was. I don’t know —” she gave a nervous laugh, tugged at her sleeve, “—I guess I’m just not ready for the real world yet.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “I understand.”

“I know you do, Andrew,” she said gently. “Let’s go. There’s this Mexican place nearby — it’s amazing.”

She reached out instinctively, about to touch his arm — but paused.

He was watching her hand. Not with fear. Not quite with hope. Just a quiet, unreadable stillness. Like he wanted it more than anything but wouldn’t let himself show it.

There was something in his eyes — not pleading, but almost… waiting. The kind of stillness a child holds when something precious is near, afraid to move and scare it off.

She hesitated, her fingers curling slightly.

She knew how vulnerable he was in that moment. Knew what it meant — what it would mean — to touch him here, like this. There was desire under it, yes, but not sexual. Not yet. It felt more like comforting a child after a nightmare.

So she moved slowly.

When she finally took his hand, his fingers didn’t flinch. Didn’t tighten. Just rested there — solid, warm, resigned.

But he didn’t pull away.

And that was everything.

She led him forward, her grip light, his steps heavier — like he was trying not to fall into her.

[aeris-blue]

AND BRINGING UP THE END WE HAVE—

Z is for Zero from the Nightmare Before Christmas 🎉

[devotedlystrangewizard]

the school arc to me is so good because it drags ciel out of his position as a powerful figure and literally places him in the shoes of the person he could have been. the circus arc ALSO drags him out of his position as big bad queens watch dog/head of the phantomhive estate but the school arc feels like a mockery of a future that never was. this is what he could have been had his parents not died. and even then its NOT because he will never be that kid.

he never was.

[sskk-manifesto]

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[wolfwarrior142]

"...reject history as a narrative of strength, and instead have faith that it can be a narrative of love."

Another great example of why I love this show so, so much. The life lessons and morals on it can be just amazing, especially ones like these. The whole part in s2 that encompasses the flashbacks and Callum reading the letter from his dad is just beautiful with what it teaches, and how it shows how different the characters are. Definitely one of my favorite parts of s2. And the section where Harrow says that love is not a weakness like most people think it is; it is actually strength. And remembering the love in things rather than the strength is important. I love that. I love that so much.

[nabsthevulture]

ALSO OMG?????

Thank you guys so so so much for your help with Kaine's vet bills <3!!!!!!!!!!! We're about halfway there for covering it all. Like you guys know, I've been unemployed for a while and even at my last job with the hours i was getting I would have to pay with three weeks of pay. The job search is not going as good as I hope, so this all went on my credit card and I can't keep piling money on that with no back up plan, so your help is incredible and I can't thank you guys enough.

Big big love from me and my big baby. If he could type I'm sure he'd say thank you too. I'll post a picture of him in his donut for your viewing pleasure.

[keeps-ache]

[walks into a wall] [spins around and leans against it like i meant to do that] i have downloaded another program :)

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[silverskyeline]

'bad idea, right?' 18+ dofp!logan x f!reader

summary: your father hired him to protect you, not to fuck you. but logan never really liked playing by the rules. (1.7k) tags: set in the 70s, logan goes down on reader, fingering, squirting, lots of dirty talk, messy, overstimulation if you squint, logan calls the reader 'princess, babygirl' etc, for the 'timetravel' prompt for logan promptober.

"that's it, there we go. . ." logan hums, his voice muffled as he eagerly laps at you with his large tongue, "daddy never let you have any fun, babygirl?"

he grins, ". . . but, daddy ain't here right now though, is he?"

you know this is a bad idea, know you shouldn't be doing this. your father's vengeance upon the stranger between your thighs would be so swift and cruel, but you find yourself unable to care.

his tongue expertly drifts through your wet folds as he groans, sending reverberations right to your core. those large, calloused paws of his grip at your thighs, his thick digits pressing into your soft flesh deeply. he's messy, the best kind of messy, lapping at you like an animal, like a man deprived.

"taste so fuckin' good," he grumbles against your pussy, deep hazel eyes finally opening to look up at you. they're glazed, and so is he, his chin dripping with your slick. but he's not done with you yet, "look how fuckin' wet you are already, you're literally dripping. . ."

your cheeks flush at his almost mocking tone, fingers threading through his hair as if to encourage him. you're not sure how you got here, except you are. the moment he walked through that door, sent by your father to protect you, you felt an ache build between your legs.

you could tell he sensed it too, the way his words and sentences were crafted almost expertly to have you wet and wanting all within twenty minutes of first laying eyes on him. no other guard has ever had you moaning like this, soaked like this, splayed out on your back like this.

but you're pulled from your thoughts when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently. your head falls back, moans spilling out into the apartment your father had rented as the man your father had rented devours you.

"such pretty sounds," logan growls against you, tongue flicking before pressing flat against you, "you're gonna wake the neighbours. c'mon, let 'em hear what i'm doin' to you."

your head is spinning, his words causing heat to pool low in your belly. he nuzzles against you, nose brushing against your swollen clit before he dives back down to your entrance, tongue dipping back inside to fuck you. it's almost too much, the way he makes light work of you as if it's so easy, as if he knows your body better than you know it, without even knowing more than just your name.

"that's it," he coos, grinning between your thighs as he kisses his way back up to your swollen bud once more, "moan for me, wanna hear you scream. i told you, want them to hear how good i'm fuckin' you." that's when you feel them, his thick fingers circling against your hole, teasing you, almost warning you.

but it's not a warning, it's a promise. one that you want - no, fuck that, one that you need. you roll your hips a little in response, moaning and whimpering beneath him, pleading without words.

logan smirks, he knows what you need, of course he knows. he saw the way you eyed his hands, the way you watched him flex them subconsciously - he knew you wanted them buried inside of your begging cunt as soon as he entered the apartment, could smell your want, your hunger.

he was paid to protect you, after all, and how better to protect you than to keep you fucked out in his hands at all times?

just one, at first. one finger slides inside, testing you. it's tight, really tight, and wet, a soft slick sound filling the air as his finger slides inside of you. "oh, been a good girl have you?" logan teases, but it's not like he cares how many people you've been with before him. he's the only one who's ever going to matter, anyway.

then another, you're gasping and moaning at the feeling of him filling you. his fingers are pretty big, much bigger than your own. his tongue dances across your clit, urging you to relax as he stretches you, and you do. he feels you settling, a groan rumbling from his throat as he eases into you.

but when a third finger enters on the next thrust, you're gripping the sheets and calling his name. it's thick, his three fingers filling you almost completely. you wonder how big he actually is and how he compares to his fingers, but your thoughts dissipate as he begins pumping them in and out of you steadily.

"that's it, there we go. . ." logan hums, his voice muffled as he eagerly laps at you with his large tongue, "daddy never let you have any fun, babygirl?"

he grins, ". . . but, daddy ain't here right now though, is he?"

your breath catches in your throat, looking down at him through hooded lids as he fucks his fingers into you faster. his eyes are locked on yours, lips and tongue lavishing your clit with the attention he knows it deserves.

"never had a man like me before, have ya?" logan mumbles, mouth half full with you, "never had a man to really show you how it's done."

you'd answer if you could, but your mind feels like liquid, unable to form or grip any solid coherent thought other than you don't want this to stop, don't want it to ever stop. instead, you tug at his hair, moaning his name over and over like a prayer. his name tastes sweet on your lips, a name you know you'll be calling out in a lust-filled haze on nights when you're particularly lonely. nights where you want, crave the touch from that stranger who nestled between your thighs and lapped like you were a fresh spring and he, a desperate parched man.

he feels you flutter around his fingers and he smirks against your clit. the sweet symphony of your moans reverberating against his ears has his dick twitching in his jeans, aching for release, aching to replace his fingers.

but not now, not while you're writhing so perfectly for him, coming undone at just a few strokes. you wonder how you would handle his cock when you're already close to bursting with his fingers, but who could blame you? the way he curls and pumps and glides them in and out of your tight pussy, you'd think he already knew all of your sweet spots, knew you inside out, without knowing you at all.

logan is just a stranger, but you know the memory of him will be burned between your thighs, making you throb, forever.

"gonna cum, aren't you?" he growls against you, picking up the pace. his fingers curl just slightly, enough to brush against your spongey g-spot on the next thrust, just enough for you to tense up and gasp.

you can't deny it either, there's a tidal wave coming that threatens to destroy you. it's rising slowly. you can't stop it. and it's crafted by him, by the man between your thighs. but you don't want to stop it, you just worry about who you'll be when you resurface on the other side, gasping for air, lost at sea, changed forever.

nodding, you let a whine slip from your lips, feeling a sensation build, your breathing ragged. it's coming, you're cumming. and instead of taking it easy on you, calming the waters, logan encourages the overwhelming waves with a curl of his fingers.

that's all it takes, all it takes for you to cum harder than you've ever cum before. you feel a gush, hot liquid coating your thighs and along his face as he fucks his three fingers into you deeper, hitting that same spot in every thrust. you're screaming his name, fist clenching in his hair in an iron grip as you roll your hips against his face. he's taking it too, tongue assaulting your clit in all the right ways to increase the pitch of your desperate screams.

and he loves it, loves the way you become so messy for him, coating those fresh sheets and his skin. he's moaning too, not that you can hear it over your ecstasy, but it's there, low like a growl beneath every cry.

"good girl. . ." he groans, pumping his fingers in and out of you relentlessly as you clench around him rhythmically, feeling his cock throb in his jeans at the sensation. he just knows you'll take him so well, knows you'll sound even better when it's his fat cock you're cumming around instead of his fingers.

it's almost too much, feeling yourself come apart at the seams as he stitches you back together with those calloused fingers of his through each thrust. and just as quickly as the waves come, they calm all at once, washing over you slowly, sending goosebumps rippling across your soft, supple skin. logan slows too, licking stripes along your cunt to catch the remnants of your release.

"holy shit," he grins wolfishly, proudly as he presses a few kisses to the inside of your thigh, "don't need to introduce myself to the neighbours anymore, i guess, already know me by name."

you flush deeply, running your fingers through your hair as you release his, resting back against the bed fully. there's a witty quip on the tip of your tongue, but it melts away at the feeling of him pulling his fingers out of you.

"this. . . can't happen again," you whisper, shaking your head as your eyes fix on the ceiling above you.

but logan smirks, he knows you don't really mean that. knows you're just trying to convince yourself that you won't crave him in your core, that he won't flash in your mind when another person finds their home between your thighs.

"whatever you say, princess," he shrugs, sitting up as he wipes your delicious slick from his beard and chin.

you glance up at him, his bare chest, muscles tensing coupled with those pretty blue jeans. fuck. fuck. this wasn't happening. dad would kill him, kill you too probably.

"but," you find yourself beginning to speak, unable to stop the words from fighting their way out, "suppose it could be our secret. . . if it did."

ah, there it is. there's the admission logan knew was coming. he knew it was gonna come the second he wrapped his lips around that swollen little clit of yours. you just needed someone to fuck you right, fuck you proper, fuck you dirty like you deserve.

besides, logan never really liked playing by the rules, anyway.

[spicymancer]

Somethin I've noticed about your designs is that you've got a fair number of big boys (large, muscular, chunky etc.) but most of your female characters tend to stay pretty thin and lithe, with the biggest they get being kinda muscular.

Do you have any intention of adding some big girls to your cast?

I have a few! Though you're right, the percentage disparity is pretty telling.

To be honest, it's absolutely a weakness of my character design sensibilities, and I'm doing my best to improve. I really should draw more varied body types.

To look inward for a moment, I suspect that I'm experiencing a bit of a brain poison feedback loop. Drawing is, on one level, a leisure activity I do to have fun, and on another level a Job that do for Money. Both having fun and making money are important for surviving in the Capitalist Hellscape we all occupy.

When it comes to leisure, I obviously tend to draw inside of my comfort zone. I learned to draw by mimicking artists that I admired growing up and comic/manga art has historically not been great about body diversity. This then reinforces the feedback loop of mostly drawing one kind of face or body type. (in this case: cute anime girls) A common artistic bad-habit exemplified here in this Nozaki Kun comic.

(Monthly Girls Nozaki Kun is incredibly good and a little too real)

Combined with the fact that being less practiced at drawing outside of my comfort zone, makes these designs end up taking more work to match the quality bar I have set for my work, this in turn means that it's more of a struggle to build up those muscles and bring those characters to the point where I'm happy with their design, which then makes that sort of drawing feel discouragingly like Work. Even if it's work that's worth doing (which it absolutely is)!

On the "monetary" side, I've built my audience on the characters I find easy to draw and so many of them expect/want me to draw more of that sort of thing. And having built an audience that desires that thing, they are often less engaged by things outside of that. Not to mention the economic strain of posts that do poorly will affect how much money I make in a given month.

This isn't limited to "bigger women" but a lot of MxM stuff I draw tends to do poorly in my algorithm, discouraging me from drawing more of it even when I want to! This phenomena is probably worst for folks on Youtube who are DEEPLY punished by the algorithm for daring to make videos outside of their established niche. ("You're a videogame content creator, how DARE you have an opinion on BOOKS")

This is all to say that I am grateful for you reaching out and expressing interest in seeing more variety and it's a good reminder to expand my artistic horizons a little more. Nothing is for everybody and there's definitely sections of my lovely audience who are underserved by these absences.

For more thoughts on this sort of discussion: there's some excellent TBskyen posts on this subject.

In addition I'd like to shout out artists like @jam-etc and @lillhappycloud who draw incredibly fantastic and appealing bodies of all kinds!

I hope you'll bear with me as I work to improve while probably still drawing a lot of my Usual Stuff. I'll now leave you with a relevant Princess Bride Quote.

Best Wishes.

[squipa]

got your heart in a headlock

aka soft secrets and domestic moments with jason todd

———

jason grew up in fire. all that he is and all he that knows is cigarette smoke and uncaged adrenaline. he never used to pretend to be something different, he knew what he was and he lived with that burden like he did any other. in the past, he never lied to himself, or let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be something else.

something good.

enter you, you who is good and whole and endlessly kind. you with lips full of sugar, arms full of warmth, and eyes full of love. you, who was made with starlight and wonder, who never looked at him like he was a bad dog, like you were capable of being bit. you, who is light and closeness and understanding. who loves him so deeply in a way he doesn’t deserve to be loved.

so when he comes home from his world of ash and blood, he becomes someone who wears your vanilla shampoo, just because he likes to smell like you. he becomes someone who has the time to watch cheesy romcoms and lengthy youtube videos, just because he gets to hold you in his arms. he becomes someone who sleeps in a bed with eight pillows and dozens of stuffed animals, because he can listen to your soft snores all night long. in your home (which you insist is his too), he is not made of jagged, broken edges, he is not unloveable, he is not a violent dog.

he starts to believe that your love could make him something beyond bloody knuckles and restless nights.

he’s your jason, and he thinks that’s all he wants to be. even if he’s not good at showing you how much he cares. even if he has trouble accepting that your kindness and goodness don’t come with ulterior motives or strings attached. even if he can’t be the guy he thinks you deserve, he still loves being your jason. it’s his duty more than his role, he lives to see you smile, to hold you in his arms on rough nights, to kiss you senseless. because you’ve given him a strange sort of hope that makes him believe he can be more than he is.

normally, you’re not able to sneak out of bed without waking him up. vigilantes senses and whatnot make him an infuriatingly light sleeper, but today was one of those rare mornings you managed to slip from his iron grasp and get up to pee without disturbing your sleeping beauty.

you take a second to watch him, smiling softly as his chest falls rhythmically while he breathes. you don’t often get to see him so peaceful, where his body isn’t tense with the weight of the world, his eyes don’t have that worried glare. you like that, at least in his moments of unconsciousness, he doesn’t feel so unfathomably stressed when he’s with you.

you gently close the bedroom door, making sure you’re quiet enough to not let your boyfriend continue to rest. once you hear the satisfying click of the door, you move to the kitchen, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

you turn on some soft music, ensuring that the volume is low enough as not to disturb jason’s sleep, as you work, pulling the ingredients from your pantry, preheating the oven. you crack three eggs into a small bowl, humming to yourself as you go through the motions. you don’t notice jason until he slips his arms around your waist, pulling a yelp from your throat.

he breathes you in, carefully smushing his nose into your hair. he’s so warm you think, you want to live a life in those arms, big and protective and a wonderful source of heat. “tell me i didn’t wake you up.” you wince, leaning back into his chest, looking up at him. he shakes his head, yawning.

“you didn’t, ma.” he says, sleep plaguing is voice. his obvious exhaustion not stopping him from smiling down at you. “what’re’ya making?” a twinge of an accent bleeds into his voice, the jersey he doesn’t care to hide so early in the morning, a part of him you revel in getting to hear.

you smile back, looking back down and continuing your work with the ingredients in front of you. “i’m baking a pie for mrs. lewitski downstairs.” you explain. “her cat just died.” you say, a small pout pushing at your lips.

jason shakes his head, frowning softly. “poor lady. can i help?” he asks, his voice twinging with empathy. he wonders if, before he met you, he would care about such a thing. if he would be the sort of person to sympathize with something as small as a cat funeral without your guiding hand.

you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would.

you nod, pointing at a cutting board and a pile of granny smiths. “cut the apples.”

he nods, pressing a kiss against the tippy-top of your head before he pulls away, a goodbye that feels like torture. “yes ma’am.” he says, carefully taking a knife out of the knife block before heading over to his station.

neither of you talk, lost in the comfort of each other’s company. jason peels and cuts the apples with expert precision, you form the dough for the crust. it’s quiet little moments like these that make up a life together.

“jay?” you ask, after giving up on rolling out the particularly tough dough. “could you give me a hand?”

he looks up from the apples, of which he’s already almost finished (damn those vigilante skills), and gives you a nod. he sets down the knife, coming up behind you, pressing himself against your back.

“of course, baby.” he whispers into your ear, his teeth lightly sinking into your cartilage, just enough to make you shiver. he gently places his arms over yours, holding his calloused hands atop yours. he moves the rolling pin slowly back and forth, putting his strength into the dough.

he pushes dough slowly, his breath hot against your neck. “like this?” he asks, once the dough gets thin enough. again, you shiver, his voice sending little waves through your spine.

“little thinner.” you say, leaning back into him.

“little thinner.” he hums, his voice a low mumble in your ear.

jason todd grew up in fire, he was born in it. but that fire makes him emit a pleasant warmth that you can’t live without. it makes his touch burn against your skin, sending electric shots through your body. it makes him the only person you’ve ever wanted to come home too, the only person you’ve ever been capable of loving, the only person you could ever love. his warmth was made for you, a cocoon of his fire you can only pray surrounds you for as long as you live.

he continues rolling, until he gets the crust rolled just right. truthfully, you extended the moment a little more than necessary, lightly instructing just a bit more, oh wait, can you make it thicker? to allow yourself to bask in the fire a second longer. you can feel a knowing smile pressing into your head, noting how he does move ever-so-slightly slower in service to you.

once he’s done, he pulls away, his hand trailing against your waist, lingering in the small of your back for a second longer than he likely should. he goes back to chopping the apples, humming with a small smile on his face. you too continue your task, making a sugar mixture to pour over the cubed granny smiths.

eventually, you both finish, and he helps you pour the apple-brown-sugar mixture into the dough-lined pie tins he helped you make. his hands are surprisingly gentle with the pasty. you didn’t realize that he was scared of ruining something as delicate and beautiful as something your hands were benevolent enough to create. but he would do whatever you asked, even if he was unsure why you would want his help. he doesn’t create, he destroys.

“can you press a fork against the edges, like this?” you ask, demonstrating how he could press both ends of the pies together. he simply nods, his fingers brushing against yours as he carefully took the silver from your hands. “i’ll check the oven.”

you pull back and open the oven, sticking your hand into the scorching air to test its temperature, earning a small frown from jason. you quickly close the door and turn back to him, moving across the kitchen. your hands slide around his waist, meeting just below his belly button. you lean up, pressing your head into the back of his neck, planting a small kiss against his spine.

“you’re good at that.” you say, watching as he works.

“yeah?” he mumbles, a soft smile on his face. he doesn’t quite believe he’s doing less harm than good, but he likes the reward he’s getting for it.

“i should make you my official pie-presser.” you respond, placing another kiss against his neck.

“i’d be honored.”

“you should be.”

“you’re making it a bit hard for me to focus, ma.” he says, shivering as you kiss him again and again, making sure to breath him in.

you smile against his skin. “i only need you to focus until we put these in the oven.” you mumble seductively, breathing hot air into his ear.

he pauses, stiff and still for an entire moment, before his shoulders drop and he returns to work like a man possessed. you squeeze yourself into him, breathing in his scent- a mix of irish spring and leather.

he only moves to put the pies in the oven, giving your arm a squeeze before he pulls away. “how long?” he asks, his fingers brushing over the keypad on the oven timer.

“twenty-five minutes.” you say, leaning back against the countertop. he presses the buttons carefully, before making his way back to you.

he smiles, not just with his mouth, but with those piercing blue eyes you can’t seem to tear yourself away from. his hair, messy from sleep, falls a bit in his face and, well, it’s your job to push it back. once he gets close enough to dip his head down, your hands are all over him, one against his forehead, smoothing his hair, and the other trailing down his arm.

“you’re my favorite helper.” you say, as he leans closer, a grin forming from the smile that had such a hold on his lips.

without warning, his hands slip on the bottoms of your thighs, and he hoists you up on the counter, eliciting a yelp from you.

“jay!” you exclaim, giggling. you spread your legs just enough to make room for him, letting him lean in, placing your arms against his shoulders. he’s wearing a shit-eating grin, but looking up at you with stars in his eyes.

“you didn’t think all that help was for free, did you?” he says, moving closer, his lips a breath away from yours. you playfully roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the smile on your face, or the red that dusts your cheeks.

“and what exactly do i owe you?” you ask, raising a brow.

he leans in closer, his lips taking yours. for a moment, all you are is jason, all you can and ever want to be is a person that he loves. his lips crash against yours, in a perfectly soft rhythm that you two have learned to follow with each other. passion isn’t a word intense enough to describe a kiss like this, especially when compared to the loveless kisses you’ve given your past partners.

this is love.

neither of you want to pull away, but you do. something so good means eventually you’ll have to come up for air.

“y’know, we’ve got—“ jason pulls his head back, checking the oven timer. “—twenty minutes and fifty three seconds before you have to take out the pies.” he points out, his eyes darting back to yours with a mischievous sort of grin. “why not make the most of them.”

you giggle a little bit, like he’s not your jason and you haven’t been in love with him all this time. it’s ridiculous your boyfriend of a year has such an effect on you still, but here you are, a blushing mess of a woman, infatuated with the man in front of you.

“and how would you suppose we do that?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

his grin spreads across his face, and before you can think to do more than flash your dopey smile, he pulls his hands under your ass and picks you up, holding you against him.

you yelp again, giggling as he pulls you closer. your legs wrap around his waist, and your arms meet at his middle back. he smiles up at you, pressing a chaste kiss against your smile, before moving you towards the bedroom, sucking a soft kiss against your neck.

the secret you keep from jason, only because you know he wouldn’t believe you if you dared confess it, is that he is inherently good. yes, he was forged in fire, tossed around by a universe with little care for his happiness or his safety. you’re not sure how he hasn’t realized that that’s what makes him a good man, a man who cares about cat funerals and revels in making you feel warm and loved. you know that he credits you with his goodness, that you’re the reason he loves and deserves to be love, and if he needs you to be that reason, you’ll do it proudly. but jason is good beyond you, a man with unwavering character. that’s why you love him so.

[luvnette]

-𝐶𝑜𝑤𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙!𝑆𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑘𝑎 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠-

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Cowgirl!Sevika x Fem!Reader

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡/𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: SFW, men and minors DNI, fluff, Sevika has both arms, she is younger (like 20 idk) and a little immature in the beginning, r! and Sevika get married, r! gets pregnant by her (don’t know how and it doesn’t matter), just happy western lesbianism

𝐴/𝑛: This is a little based on the game Rdr2, so don’t be surprised if there are parallels between Sevi and the characters. It also turned out kinda story-ish, hope u don’t mind. Anyway, have fun!<3

Cowgirl!Sevika was an outlaw in a small gang of 4 (Her, Silco, Vander and Felicia) when she met you, killing, robbing and hunting for the food on her plate. She loves to tell you stories about how she nearly got caught a few times or what kind of people crossed her path. She’ll also show off her scars from brawls and fights.

Cowgirl!Sevika is pretty good at drawing, she has a journal with sketches of animals, flowers or random objects in them- and you, of course.

Cowgirl!Sevika will pick the prettiest flowers for you while she’s out, giving them to you when she comes back. “Here, these reminded me of you, sweetie”

Cowgirl!Sevika couldn’t afford fancy dates back then, but she still managed to make your time with her quite enjoyable. She took you out on rides, showing you her favorite places, drawing you or just talking about all kinds of stuff. Sometimes you two even camped together, her teaching you some ‘cool survival skills’ (they’re either basic outdoor 1x1 or really dangerous)

Cowgirl!Sevika loves Black Jack. She likes it even more than poker and could play for hours while you’re perched on her lap, watching her win every single round

Cowgirl!Sevika is a pretty big woman, that’s why she prefers to ride draft horses like Shires and Clydesdales. She will gladly show you how horse riding works, if you don’t know that already.

Cowgirl!Sevika will flirt with you like she sees you for the first time when she’s drunk, super excited and giddy- and when you remind her that you’re already dating, she gets all flustered and happy. “Sucha’ pretty girl like you..*hick*..need a ride by any chance?” she asks, swinging her arm around you. “Sevi, you’ve been my ride for the last couple months” you chuckle, giving her a small peck on the cheek. “Oh..right..*hick*..well, lucky me then!” she blushes, peppering your face with kisses

Cowgirl!Sevika is a huge fan of PDA. She’ll show everyone how deeply you two are in love, kissing and touching you whenever someone is giving you a dumb look. If you’re not into it though, she’ll simply give you all her attention later (in bed *wink*)

Cowgirl!Sevika gives the greatest bear hugs. No matter if it’s a goodbye, you feeling sad or her being touch starved, her embrace is strong, warm and caring. She also likes to have you really close while sleeping

Cowgirl!Sevika will give you her hat when it’s too sunny or her poncho when you’re cold.

Cowgirl!Sevika loves to go on sunset rides, you sitting in front of her in the saddle, your back pressed against her chest. Sometimes, she hitches her horse onto a tree, helping you down to cuddle up in the grass and enjoy the view together. She’d also propose to you this way after a few years, you two passionately making out in the greenery until she suddenly stops to look you in the eyes. “Wanna’ get married?” she whispers, giving you the sweetest smile. At first you’re staring at her surprised, but then you pull her in for a long kiss, murmuring a happy “yes..” against her lips.

Cowgirl!Sevika will save up money after you’re married to buy a small farm for the two of you. She’ll build a house and a barn with the help of the other gang members, plant crops, purchase some cattle and earn money by selling farm goods from now on.

Since then, cowgirl!Sevika can decide her own work-hours, making sure she spends most of the day with you. And sometimes, when you two got nothing to do, you’ll sit down on the porch together, drinking tea and enjoying your peaceful little life.

Cowgirl!Sevika truly loves entering the house to the smell of cooked or baked food. She’ll join you in the kitchen, tenderly holding you from behind, kissing your neck. “Need help darling?” she’ll ask. “You can set the table, my love” you answer, kissing her soft lips. She always trys to help you with literally anything.

Cowgirl!Sevika’s favourite snack becomes strawberries and cream, especially when you make it for her. She also really loves apple pie though.

Cowgirl!Sevika absolutely adores soft mornings, the warm sun shining into your shared bedroom, you dressed in your nightgown, dozing on top of her chest. She’ll run her fingers through your hair and simply listen to your soft breathing.

Cowgirl!Sevika starts to dream of you being pregnant after some time on the farm. She thinks about it more and more often, getting a huge baby fever. “Sweetheart? can I ask you something?” she says, waking you up in the middle of the night. “Hmm?” you hum half asleep, slowly opening your eyes. “What if we.. you know.. start a family?” she asks, mumbling the last part. “Well.. I actually thought about that too..” you whisper, giving her a slightly concerned look. “No matter what you want, I’ll be here loving you” she smiles at you and gives you a kiss on your forehead, before you two get back to sleep.

And after around 10 months of cowgirl!Sevika being constantly around you and your growing belly, you two become mommy and mama to your first daughter. She couldn’t ask for more when she sees you holding her baby, her eyes always getting a little wet.

Cowgirl!Sevika’s life couldn’t be more perfect with you in it, her beautiful and lovely wife<3

[gurugirl]

Quiet Xmas Morning blurb | bfd!harry

⋆꙳•❅‧ ☃️‧❆ ₊⋆

Summary: Your heart is full and you have so much to be thankful for on Christmas.

A/n: I know it's not very long but there's a lot of new things in this one. If you haven't already, I'd suggest reading the previous part before you read this.

Word Count: 1,507

Warning: soft fluffy cuteness - no warnings!

best friend's dad!harry masterlist

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

The house was warm and quiet as you sat in the glider chair with your newborn in your arms. She was falling asleep slowly. She'd suckle and then her eyes would lull shut before she'd startle herself awake and start to pull at your nipple like a ravenous animal again. You smiled and smoothed your fingers over the soft hair on her head. It'd only been a week and a half since she was born but you already felt like she was your everything. It surprised you how deeply you already loved her.

Elara came a little early but you were ready for her. Harry said she wanted to make it in time for Christmas. She had to be monitored for a few extra days but she was healthy and she was perfect.

You saw the glow from the Christmas tree lights filtering into her room from downstairs and then heard a little rustling. Harry must have also been up. He was sleeping when you got up to feed the baby but he often would wake up when you'd get up. It was still something to get used to. You were more exhausted than you'd ever been in your life but maybe that explained why you were so deliriously in love with her.

Her suckling grew weak again, little eyes closed, and then… she was fast asleep. After waiting a few minutes, just in case, you carefully and gently got up from the chair and tiptoed to her crib to lower her down all without waking her.

She was perfect. Yes. That was true. But she was easy to wake and she'd cry for hours if she was woken up before she was ready.

Harry stood behind you and placed a hand on your shoulder as he looked down at your little creation with you. He knew better than to even whisper so you both just smiled at one another before quietly padding out of her room and closing the door behind you.

Your body was still sore. You knew it would take time to get back to feeling like yourself. Even walking downstairs felt like something was going to knock loose and fall out of your body. Harry held your hand.

"Merry Christmas, Mama," he kissed your lips softly when you got to the first floor.

The living room was dark except for the soft golden lights wrapped around the faux Christmas tree. You preferred a real one normally but it was too much work that year. Plus the smell bothered you when you and Harry had gone to check out the tree farm weeks earlier.

"Got your gift under the tree," he motioned.

You looked under the tree to see one small box with a bow. You hadn't wrapped any of Harry's and they were all tucked away, hidden in the closet in the basement.

"I didn't wrap yours. I'm sorry," you reached up to cup his face and he brought an arm around your back.

"You already gave me the best present I could ever ask for."

You grinned, "That I did. But you played a major role in that gift. So technically I could consider that a gift from you as well."

He grinned and pressed his lips to yours, "I'd say my role was very minor. All I had to do was get off a few times. You did all the hard work. All the stuff that counts."

A laugh puffed from your lips, "Okay. That I agree with."

You smelled coffee suddenly and realized Harry was making a pot.

"Decaf." He raised his brows at you. You were staying away from caffeine since you were breastfeeding. The doctor said you could have a little bit every day but Elara was fussy enough as it was. The last thing you wanted was a grouchy, angry baby hocked up on traces of caffeine.

"My mouth is watering," you spoke with a smile.

"Why don't you sit down and I'll get your coffee. Then we can open up your Christmas present."

Harry frothed a little milk for you while he took his coffee black. Even he was drinking decaf when he could have just had regular. He walked back into the living quietly, two steaming mugs in hand before handing you yours and sitting his down on the coffee table.

You took a sip as he reached under the tree to pull out the small red box. It had a small golden ribbon tied around it.

"What is it?" You held your palm out as he placed the box down into your hand.

"Well, you have to open it up first."

Taking another quick sip of your coffee before you leaned forward to place the ceramic mug down you looked at Harry with a big grin. The glittering lights from the tree were twinkling off his eyes as he looked down at the box and then up at your face.

You pulled at the ribbon and then paused when he sat up, about to push himself off the cushion, "What are you doing?"

He swallowed and you noticed that he suddenly seemed nervous, anxious. He shook his head and shrugged, "Nothing. Was just getting comfortable is all."

You squinted at him as he looked down at your hand. Then it was your turn for the nerves to take over. You couldn't be sure what was in the box but something told you that it was going to change everything. You knew Harry very well and his sudden excitement had your heart pounding in your chest. And given the size of the box…

"Harry…" you blinked your eyes and placed your hand over the lid as you swallowed.

"Just open it, baby. See what it is." He was still sitting at the edge of the cushion, watching you as you pulled the lid off. Inside was another, smaller box—a jewelry box.

You inhaled and looked up at him. He wore a soft smile on his face as he tensed his arms, like he was about to spring from the couch.

The moment you placed your fingers on the velvet-hinged top to lift it, he pushed himself onto his knees and scooted in between your thighs as the beautiful little shining diamond glinted from inside the box. A ring. But not just any ring.

He waited for a beat, his eyes on yours as your jaw dropped and you covered your mouth before looking at him in surprise.

Harry took the ring out of the box and held it between his thumb and pointer finger, "I love you. I want forever with you, Y/n. I know we're not in a rush but I couldn't wait another moment to put a ring on your finger. Tell the whole world you're mine."

You gasped out a quiet sob and just as he was about to continue you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck to kiss him hard. You never imagined that you'd cry when he finally proposed but of course, your hormones were all out of whack and you'd been finding yourself crying for the smallest things lately.

He laughed when you pecked kisses over his cheek, "Yes, Harry…"

"Baby, I didn't even finish th—"

You smushed your lips over his again, swallowing his words as he pulled you into his arms until you were in his lap on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

"I love you, Harry…" You smeared your lips down to his jaw and he chuckled quietly.

"Gonna put it on?"

Pulling away from him, you looked down at his hand and spread your fingers out for him to slip the ring onto your finger. It was dainty and perfect—one small diamond at the top, set in white gold. You held your hand up, and you admired the way it looked on your hand for a moment.

Harry wrapped his big palm around yours and pulled your hand up to his mouth, "That's a yes? You'll marry me?"

You sputtered a laugh and nodded, "Of course I will."

He kissed your knuckles and grinned at you before you pulled your hand away and wrapped your arms around his neck to squeeze him tight. Harry tucked his face into your hair and put his arms around your back.

It was going to be the best Christmas day ever. Fae would be coming by for a couple of hours and then your parents later in the evening. Telling everyone you were finally engaged would be exciting but the best part was that you and Harry had the most precious gift lying upstairs sleeping already.

You placed your hand over his chest and ran your nose against his, "I'm so happy, Harry. I love you so much."

He shifted his legs and ran a big palm up your back, "That's all I want, for you to be happy, Y/n."

Harry got exactly what he wanted because you'd never been as happy as you were in that moment.

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[foldingfittedsheets]

We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.

I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.

Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.

Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.

Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.

I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.

We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.

But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.

I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?

Fancy.

She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.

It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.

Her assassination almost worked. But instead of beheading me the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her murder had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.

My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on attempts on my life were a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.

Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.

But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.

[sunniques]

— 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 !

➺ PAIRING: choi seungcheol x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepdad au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: in which you find out your stepdad is as big of a freak as you are.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infedilty, age gap, daddy kink, drugging, having sex while someone else is in the same bed, nipple play, grinding, begging, breeding kink, unprotected sex, squirting, creampies, overstimulation

➺ WC: 3.9k

NOTE: part two of PLF. don’t like, don’t read.

You stare at your phone unseeingly, mindlessly scrolling through your timeline as you wait for time to go by. It’s late, and you know it’s only a matter of time for your mom’s new sleeping pills to take effect. You pout impatiently, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to soothe the ache between your legs.

Ever since you got a taste of Seungcheol’s cock, you had gotten addicted to it. So much that you didn’t care to go and take it even when your mom was home.

After two painfully long minutes, you decide that you’ve waited long enough and get out of bed. Your smirk is devious as you strip out of your favorite pajamas. Completely naked, you saunter down the hall to the master bedroom. Wetness smears between your thighs as you push the door open to reveal a sleeping couple on the large bed. Images of your stepdad fucking you like an animal in heat on that very bed has your pussy clenching.

You don’t try to be quiet as you walk over to Seungcheol’s side of the bed. The room is quiet even though your footsteps definitely weren’t. A satisfied smirk crosses your face when you realize your mom’s pills have taken effect. She’s usually such a light sleeper that any slight noise is enough to wake her. Bit just as you hoped, your mom had fallen into a deep sleep, completely unaware about what you were about to do.

Licking your lips, you crawl under the covers and immediately cozy up to your stepdad. You palm his big cock, slowly rubbing and squeezing it until it’s hard. Excitement courses through your veins as you attach your lips to Seungcheol’s neck. You place gentle kisses on his pulse point before they grow into needy licks and bites. Your movements grow eager and rougher as you grow more and more impatient.

“Daddy.” You whine, not caring that you sound desperately needy. “Wake up.”

And he does. Seungcheol’s soft laughter is deep and groggy and so damn attractive that it has you clenching around nothing. He goes to pull you closer and moans when he realizes you’re completely naked. His eyes are dark as he pushes your hand away to release his leaking cock from his sweats.

“My needy little brat wants her daddy balls deep inside her, huh?” He growls out as he lifts your leg to slide into you.

You both moan loudly when he sinks into your hot cunt. The feeling of his big dick stretching you out is has you crying out loudly as if your mom isn’t asleep right beside you. Not that you care. You know her new sleeping pills are working wonders in the best way.

“So fucking tight.” Seungcheol growls as he feels your arousal coat his cock.

He gently starts to thrust into you, still not sure how strong the sleeping pills are. As an impatient brat, you start to meet his thrusts, eyes rolling back as his tip hits your sweet spot. You whine as he grinds against you, his pelvis rubbing over your swollen clit just right. His balls smack against your ass with every hard thrust. The wet slapping sound of skin on skin just drives your arousal higher. 

Rutting into your body, your stepdad’s fat cock grinds against the spongy spot along the front of your cunt. Your juices gush from your pussy as he hammers against your g-spot so perfectly that you can’t help but squeeze him tighter and tighter. 

“Missed your cock, daddy.” You mewl out, already feeling the familiar knot in your stomach coming undone. “Missed you stretching me out like this.”

Seungcheol groans deeply at your words and changes the angles of his thrusts. It hasn’t been long since he last fucked you, but you’re so addicted that even going one day without his cock feels like torture. Not that he can blame you because he feels the same way. You feel him deeper with this new angle. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix with every snap of his hips. Your hot cunt is becoming impossibly tight, and he can’t help but smirk because you’re already so close to cumming.

“Nasty little princess.” Your stepdad moans, no longer caring if his wife wakes up. In a sick way, he almost wishes that she would so she can see just how addicted you are to his cock. “So cockhungry that you don’t care if your mom wakes up and sees you fucking her husband in her bed.”

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum.” You groan filthily as Seungcheol continues to thrust inside you.

Your filthy moans mix in the heady air that smells of sex, and the sound of his balls slapping your ass becomes more erratic. His words push you over the edge. You babble out loud cries of daddy, daddy, daddy until a guttural moan spills from your throat, thighs quivering as your pussy clamps down on Seungcheol’s dick like a vice.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby.” Seungcheol moans as one of his hands trail down to squeeze your ass and help you fuck his cock. “Cream all over this cock. Making such a fucking mess.”

“Cum inside me, daddy.” You mewl out as your stepdad fucks you through your orgasm. “Stuff me full!”

You don’t say please, but Seungcheol doesn’t care. He wants the exact same thing. The thought of filling up his cute little stepdaughter while his wife is right next to him triggers his own orgasm. He cums with a loud roar of your name, shooting his hot load into your tight cunt. You lean forward to devour his moans, forcing your tongue into his mouth as he fucks his cum deeper inside you.

“So fucking good, daddy.” You groan against his lips.

Seungcheol gives you a filthy smirk, knowing that this is only the beginning of a long night.

Seungcheol is livid. After many thrilling nights of fucking you raw and stupid, it all comes to an abrupt end when his wife decides her to stop taking her sleeping pills. Apparently, she doesn’t like how deeply she sleeps which has caused her to almost be late to work.

After an entire week of this, Seungcheol decides he’s had enough. On a night where he’s completely abandoned all his morals, he executes his plan. He plays the part of the sweet, doting husband well. With a kind smile, he brings his wife some warm milk in bed. She thanks him happily, sipping on it unsuspectingly. Seungcheol has to insist that she drink it all. He crushed three of her sleeping pills in the milk, and if he wants his plan to work he has to make sure she drinks every last drop.

They get into bed shortly after she finishes it all, and the minutes it takes for his wife to completely knock out feel like hours. Once she starts to snore, Seungcheol wastes no time in getting out of bed and walking down the hall to your bedroom. He leaves the door open after entering your room, a sick thrill going through him at the off chance that your mother could wake up and find him fucking you on your bed.

It looks like you’ve fallen asleep while on your phone, laying on top of your covers. He slowly takes off his clothes as he approaches your sleeping form, loving the switch in dynamic for a change. Seungcheol licks his lips as he crawls on your bed, cock already throbbing when he sees the skimpy nightie you have on. Fuck. It’s like you knew he was coming tonight.

You slowly stir when you feel someone hugging you from behind and a pair of big hands groping your tits. Something hard is poking your ass, and you immediately get wet when you realize what’s going on.

“You awake yet, princess?” Seungcheol coos against your ear, squeezing harder. “Daddy missed you so fucking much. I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t feel that tight little pussy wrapped around my dick right now.”

You mewl quietly when he pulls down the loose garment and tweaks your hardening nipples. Already, you can feel your panties sticking to your cunt as you start to squirm against your stepfather’s broad body.

“You’re more sensitive than usual, baby.” He purrs in your ear, pinching and pulling on your hard nipples over and over until you’re writhing against his stiffening cock. “Missed me that much?”

“Daddy.” You moan out as one of his hands trails down your body to tease your cunt.

“Fuck.” Seungcheol groans, fingers dipping underneath the band of your panties to rub your slit, gathering all your juices to rub your sensitive bud. “My little brat needs some relief, hm? Wants her daddy to fuck her raw until she’s dripping in cum?”

“Fuck yes!” You cry out, rutting against his hand.

Seungcheol grabs you and sits you up, cock throbbing when he sees the hunger in your gaze. He helps you straddle his lap, tugging your nightie off in one fluid movement. He groans at the sight of your pretty tits, nipples all sensitive and hard for him. Your stepdad grabs you by the waist and makes sure to place your clothed cunt directly over his aching cock. You both groan at the feeling.

“Want you to keep playing with my pussy, daddy.” The needy whimper you let out makes his entire body shudder. “Want you to keep being rough with my nipples until I can’t take it anymore.”

A low groan comes from deep in his chest, hands gripping you tighter as his cock throbs against your panty clad pussy. You kiss his jaw until you reach his pouty lips. All the desperation you feel is displayed when you smash your lips on his. You lick and suck on his tongue, messily forcing your own into his mouth after to have a taste of him.

Seungcheol feels drunk with arousal ass you rub your clothed pussy all over his leaking cock. His stomach is doing somersaults at the debouched way you grind on his hard cock. You’re so turned on and wet that your panties are completely see through now.

“God, princess.” Seungcheol moans as he pulls back, big hand moving up your body to grab your tits. His thumbs smooth over your hard nipples as your juices leak all over his cock. “You’re so fucking hot with these pretty nipples on display—all for me.”

With a wanton whine, you grind harder on his cock, desperate to have it inside you. Seungcheol smirks as he tugs and pinches your nipples until you’re whimpering and clawing at his broad shoulders. To have you on top of him, writhing like a bitch in heat is so hot that he thinks he should record it so he can save it for when he can’t fuck you.

“Fuck.” Seungcheol groans. “Just look at you. So turned on by letting your stepdad play with your tits.”

“I know.” You cry out wet panties leaking all over his throbbing cock. “It’s so wrong, but it feels too good, daddy. Want you to play with them all night.”

“Goddamn, Y/N.” Your stepdad grits out, cock leaking with so much precum that he can feel it start to dribble down his length. “Such a demanding little brat. You’re lucky daddy loves you so much. I’m going to suck on these pretty nipples until you’re creaming in your panties.”

You rock your hips with more vigor, letting out a filthy moan. “Fuck, daddy. You’re so dirty.”

“I am.” Seungcheol agrees with a ravenous hum. “It’s nasty that I want suck on my stepdaughter’s lovely tits until she’s gushing all over my lap like the needy slut she is. But it’s my fault for always giving you what you want, right, baby?”

“Yes, yes!” You mewl loudly. “Want your mouth so bad, daddy!”

Your needy plea makes his eyes flutter shut for a moment. When he opens them again, he’s staring hungrily at your tits. The sight makes him descend like a starving man. Seungcheol closes his mouth over one of your taut peaks, tongue lapping at the hard nipple like you love.

“Daddy!” You squeal in pleasure, more slick pooling in your thin panties as you watch him suck on your tit eagerly.

Your hips are moving vigorously now, rubbing your covered cunt all over his wet cock. It only makes him suck on your tit harder. Seungcheol then switches the other one, mouth sporadically swapping back and forth like he can’t decide on which nipple to keep in his mouth.

“So fucking sexy.” Your stepdad pants, nipping the soft swell of your breasts. “God, your tits are better than your mom’s.”

His depraved words shouldn’t please you as much as they do. But you’re beyond any moral reason, and the filthy confession has you grinding down on him harder with a loud moan, pussy dripping steadily. Seungcheol grabs your hips so hard to help you move that you know he’ll leave marks.

“Gonna cum, daddy.” You mewl out in shock, hips never stopping. “Fuck. You’re making me feel so good!”

Seungcheol pulls back and trails his hands up your body to squeeze your soft tits. He pushes them together and descends on your sensitive nipples again. He’s kissing, licking, and sucking on them with one purpose in mind—to have you cum in his lap. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, thighs and hips twitching as you let out a keening cry. You cum violently, saturating the fabric of your underwear until it feels like a second skin.

Your stepdad groans in satisfaction as you soak his lap with your release. He pulls back to get a better look at your panties stuck to your puffy lips. Seungcheol lick his lips, knowing he’ll have to keep ruining you all night.

As you slowly come down from your high, you bite your lip at the sight of your stepfather’s wet mouth. He looks so hot after just having sucked on your tits. You wish you could take a picture.

“Gonna let daddy fuck your messy little cunt now?”

You shudder in delight. “Fuck yeah.”

His devious grin is so fucking hot that it has your pussy clenching in need. You’re flipped on your back, panties slowly being pulled down. Seungcheol groans at the wetness of the fabric and shoves them in his face. You both moan when he starts to lick and suck on your soiled panties.

“Gonna keep these, princess.” He moans into the fabric before carefully tossing it aside.

Seungcheol’s eyes are dark when he sees you readily spread your legs for him. Your pretty pussy is all messy and wet, ready to be split open by his fat cock. He yanks you closer, slapping his aching cock on your throbbing clit. “Fuck, you make me crazy, princess.” He hisses as he rubs his cockhead all over your messy cunt.

“Hurry up and fuck me, daddy!” You whine out petulantly. “Need you inside me!”

Seungcheol’s hips buck forward, his throbbing length sliding through your puffy lips. “Bratty little girl can’t wait to be stuffed full?” He tsks meanly, his tip pressing against your hole only to slip away to rub against your slick folds. “So fucking cockhungry.”

You give him a grin and look at him through your eyelashes—a look he can never resist. “Only for you.”

That’s all it takes for Seungcheol’s hips to snap forward, forcing his cock into your hot cunt and making you cry out at the abrupt intrusion. He moans deeply and starts to roughly fuck in and out of your squelching pussy.

“My stepdaughter’s pussy is all for me, huh?” Seungcheol coos adoringly, thumb gliding across your clit to rub soft circles over your sensitive bud. “That means I’ll have to break in your tight little cunt until it’s the shape of my cock.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your nails scratch down his back, leaving your mark on him not caring that your mother would surely question him later. Not that Seungcheol cares either. He’s too lost in the feeling of your velvety walls gripping him like they want to keep his cock inside you forever.

“You feel good, princess?” Your stepdad wonders through a soft laugh. “God, I needed this. Couldn’t go any longer without feeling this juicy cunt squeezing me.”

Arching your back, you let out a loud moan. “Daddy!”

Your pussy clenches around his cock as he keeps hammering into your g-spot with every deep thrust of his hips. Seungcheol growls at your wanton cry, grinding his cock deeper into your pussy. Juices are leaking down your ass, filling the room with the lewd sound of skin slapping and loud squelching. Your room smells of sex, and as you give a quick glance to the door you wonder if the scent is strong enough to be detected from the hall.

Perversely, you get turned on by the thought of your mom walking by and smelling it. How she could just peek her head in and see her husband fucking you raw. Another coat of cream stains Seungcheol’s cock as you lose yourself in the debased fantasy.

“Daddy!” You whimper. “It’s so deep.”

Seungcheol sighs in pleasure. His hips are snapping into your sopping hole, not thinking about anything except how pretty you look under him. Tits bouncing, fucked out eyes gazing up at him like his cock is the only thing you could ever want. Fuck. He needs to breed you.

“I know, baby. Daddy’s gonna cream in your sweet pussy until you’re dripping in cum.”

Shivering all over, your pussy throbs at his words. Seungcheol can feel how much you like the idea. He growls possessively and fucks you harder. The sound of his heavy balls smacking your ass mixes in with your lovely moans perfectly.

“Gonna fuck you full of cum so you can smell me even after I’m gone. Fuck. Pretty little pussy is gonna be full of me all the time. Not even your mom can stop me from stuffing you full.”

You can’t stop moaning and whining, voice getting higher as he keeps speaking such filthy words. Your pussy gets wetter as Seungcheol’s thrusts get rougher. His cock is spearing into you so hard your upper body is bouncing along with your pretty tits.

“Breed me, daddy!” You cry out suddenly, feeling an overwhelming sensation to have his seed deep inside you. “F-Fuck, daddy! Gonna cum! Gonna cum all over your cock!”

Your head melts into your pillow as Seungcheol fucks you into the mattress. Thighs trembling as his leaking tip slams into your sweet spot.

“That’s it, princess.” Seungcheol groans, sliding his thumb to your pussy to rub your clit fast and hard. “Cum all over daddy’s cock. Let me hear me how good I’m fucking your tight little pussy."

“Oh fuck! Daddy! Daddy! Da—!” You chant loudly, back arching sharply as your orgasm slams into your body.

You wail wantonly as your pussy gushes all over his cock. Seungcheol loves every second of it. He keeps fucking your spasming hole, addicted to the feeling of you creaming on his dick. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as your stepdad buries himself in your wet cunt to the hilt. His soft growl makes you throb as his cock spurts a hot load deep inside you. Gently, he keeps fucking it into you until he can’t handle the overstimulation.

“Such a good girl for me.” Seungcheol murmurs the praise through a heavy pant. “Milking daddy’s cock like a good little slut.”

You whine at the praise, pussy squeezing his cock to milk it some more. It works. Your clit pulses greedily as he pumps rope after rope of sticky cum inside you. Once he’s absolutely done, he slowly pulls out of you with a satisfied grin.

“God, sweetheart. That was fucking amazing.” Seungcheol says as he rubs his half-hard cock between your warm folds, eyes hungrily taking in your sweaty tired body.

You bite your lip, reaching down to stroke his cock against your clit. The feeling has you both shuddering in pleasure. “Fuck me again, daddy. Fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Seungcheol’s cock throbs in your hand, hips bucking as he lowers himself back on top of you. He kisses you heatedly, biting your lower lip before he thrusts his tongue into your mouth. You grind your sloppy pussy all over his hardening cock, eager to get him to fuck you again.

“Such a dirty girl.” Seungcheol groans against your lips. He whines as you press his thick cock against your messy hole.

“And you’re a bad stepdad.” You mewl filthily. “Wetting your dick with your stepdaughter’s pussy.”

“Fuck, I know I am.” He moans as he fucks his cock back into your cunt with a gentle thrust. “I’m sick for liking your sweet little pussy wrapped around my cock.”

You both moan when he bottoms out. Your arousal and his cum leak down his length and make a creamy ring around the base of his cock. Seungcheol pulls back a bit just to thrust right back into your pussy. He keeps you pressed against the bed, strong arms boxing you in as he starts to roughly thrust into your sloppy cunt.

“Goddamn.” Your stepfather moans through gritted teeth. “I’m already close. Fuck, baby. You got me addicted to this tight little pussy.”

Seungcheol’s hips are bucking wildly, thick dick splitting your pussy open deliciously. Your eyes flutter as his abdomen brushes against your clit. Pussy fluttering around his dick, you feel your third climax right there on the cusp of washing over your body. He nips your earlobe before dragging his lips down to kiss and bite your neck.

“Fuck. Can’t believe your mother almost stopped me from having you.” Seungcheol growls as he gets more aggressive with his thrusts. “But I took care of that, baby. I’m gonna have you all night. Juicy little cunt belongs wrapped around my cock.”

His filthy words have a dark edge to them. You don’t know what he means by that, but you don’t really care. All you can focus on is that he’s just as needy for you as you are for him. Much like you, he’s willing to go to great lengths just to get his fix. Your pussy clenches at the very thought.

“Fuck, daddy! I’m cumming again!” You mewl desperately, body wound tight. “Please, please, fuck!”

Your pussy squirts, almost pushing your stepdad’s fat cock out of your clenching hole as slick soaks his dick and drips down his balls.

“Oh, princess.” Seungcheol laughs delightedly, eyes sparkling at the mess you’ve made on his cock. “Daddy made you squirt? Liked him fucking you raw like the nasty little girl you are? Fuck, baby. Gonna creampie your messy cunt again. God—so fucking filthy.”

All you can do is nod along, whines and mewls slipping out of your lips as your feel your body buzz with euphoria. Seungcheol slams his cock into you one final time and spills his second load deep inside your overstimulated pussy. Ropes of hot cum shoot inside you, stuffing you to the brim all over again.

“Such a good girl.” Seungcheol coos against your ear. “Always so ready to take this cock. Daddy’s gonna make sure your needy little pussy gets all the dick it wants, princess. I promise.”

You give him a fucked out grin, loving that he’s just as much of a nasty freak as you are.