#why would this be your fave fraction if not for that

[yellow-yarrow]

fallout 2 kinda sucks but having to shoot the president of the united states and a republican in the face around the end was a nice surprise

[mondaymelon]

— 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲! ♡

໒꒱ || :feat~ xiao, kazuha, heizou, wanderer x gn!reader:

⤷ a handful of my faves since it’s my birthday!! ♡ (july 27th pspspps send me bday wishes i promise i dont bite)

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @solxima, @poweredbyghostadventures, @haliyamori

⤷ how they confess their love to you.♡

Is it really love that XIAO’s feeing? He can’t be sure, especially when he can’t even identify the complicated emotions that are making his heart flutter.

However, there’s no time to sit here pondering and examining, not when his heart longs for you at the very mention of your name, or how he just can’t seem to get the thought of you out of his head. He has to find a way to express what he’s experiencing, and soon, before the three words he dreads to speak escapes his lips against his will.

“I love you.”

You’d think it’d be such an easy task to complete, yet the adeptus grows uneasy at the mere thought of it. Perhaps denying him is the worst possible solution, but what should happen if you grow wary of him? Would you stray from his occasional touch, and fail to meet his eye? Xiao can’t risk finding out, yet by the day his quickened heartbeat seems to be growing all the louder.

“Ah, Xiao.” A faint smile crosses your face as you glimpse the familiar male at his usual spot, standing alone by the balcony railing, his arms crossed over his toned chest. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes,” he speaks slowly, wanting to prolong this moment - to see your warm smile just a fraction longer. “There is something… I must tell you.”

You cock your head, letting out a little laugh upon seeing his troubled expression. “There’s no need to be nervous, go ahead!”

Would there be a need to if you knew what he was to ask of you?

He shakes his head lightly as to clear his meddling thoughts, his hair ruffled from the breeze. “I…I don’t know how to put this, but I-“ His breath catches in his throat, and he forces a swallow. “You’re all I think about, all I dream about. I’d do anything and everything for you. I love you, so please… let me call you mine. I just, I…” Xiao can’t even begin to explain what he’s feeling right now, or give a valid explanation for his actions. His gaze doesn’t miss the shocked expression that flits across your face, his own eyes hesitant to meet yours. But they do, upon hearing the melodic sound of your voice uttering his name.

“Xiao, I… archons, do you know how happy you’ve just made me?” Your words are breathy as you take in a shallow inhale.

He blinks once, and suddenly, you’re in his arms, pressing against him like you never want to let him go.

Warm.

In the pale moonlight, the smile that graces his lips is slight, but catches your attention all the same.

“Perhaps I was made to love you.” ♡

Yes, he’s heard tales of this adoration before, and however unfamiliar, KAZUHA as to convey these feelings before he’s unable to contain them a second longer.

Perhaps that was why he had unconsciously invited you out for a quiet stroll around Guyun Stone Forest, where the Crux was currently anchored. It was an innocent request, but the male did have some ulterior motives in mind - perhaps you’d understand if you read one of the many poems he’s written while thinking about you… lips pressed together in thought, a quill in his dominant hand as the other sat beneath his chin, the dim candlelight illuminating the focused expression on his face, his cheeks just slightly flushed with red…

Ah, but there’s no chance in Celestia that he’d ever show you his works of you. Those words are for him to read, just like what he’ll say to you tonight is for only you to witness.

Kazuha takes you by the hand, his touch warm in the cool night air. His bandaged fingers intertwine with yours, and while you don’t make a move to retract, his grip on you tightens all the same.

“Kazuha? Why’re…” While your companion has always been rather open to displaying his physical touch, he had never been this daring before, to take your hand and not even uttering a word about the manner. Something about his air was different this evening, but it was difficult to put a finger on it, especially with the distracting smile he sent your way that seemed to make your mind go blank.

“Hm? Is there something wrong?” He can’t possibly ask a question with that charming face of his and expect to receive a proper answer. Instead, you just sheepishly tilt your head to where the two of you’s hands meet. At that, he lets out a low chuckle, the gleam in his eyes proving his amusement. He doesn’t know what has given him this amount of confidence, how he’s become bold enough to pull you closer… perhaps it was the sake Beidou offered to him earlier? That’s the only possible explanation.

Gently, like the warm breeze, he lifts your hand, swiftly getting down on a knee as he brushes his velvet lips against your skin.

“Have I made my infatuation towards you apparent yet? I love you.”

The moment seems to pause time, everything, all of it, but you can sense how your lips move despite how you’re still frozen, “I love you too, Kazuha.”

Ah, the way his name rolls of your tongue so naturally sends his heart racing.

“It’s always, always been you.” ♡

As much as he’ll try to deny it, WANDERER, who doesn’t even have a heart to ponder these sensations, knows that what you’re doing to him is something he doesn’t wish to admit.

It’s unfair, really, how easily you’re able to sway his resolve. Every part of you is simply infuriating, from the way you say his name, to the way you gaze at him, it makes his face warm, and seemingly nothing he does is able to prevent that. And it’s strange, how he can still experience these… affections, even with his missing core. If it makes any sense, you bring a sort of humanity to him.

It was a philosophy he had crafted for himself - that there were certain aspects of what made one human, requirements that the puppet had been unable to fulfill. That is, until you appeared, because you made him feel something he didn’t want to confess, and bearing… love… made him like you.

At the same time, it scares him. Love is a foreign concept, if anything, and he’s constantly afraid that he’ll make a mistake that’ll cause you to leave him. He can’t let that happen - he can’t even imagine his life without your warmth now. Ah, but if he told you how he really felt, would that keep you by his side? He’s paranoid, yet desperate for your affection, and a confession seems to be his only solution.

A letter bearing your name arrives at your doorstep, the only evidence of the sender being a small sparrow perched upon the paper, chirping insistently until you had taken the envelope.

Meet me at our usual spot at dusk.

Those seven words are all that’s written on the blue-rimmed parchment, with no signature to identify the individual, yet you let out an amused laugh. There’s only one companion with this amount of audacity, and you can already picture his scowl as he wrote these words.

“Hello?” You tentatively call out his name into the evening air, glancing around yet seeing no sign of him. There’s a great gust of wind, and there he appears, donning his signature ridiculously large hat, the dangling charms on it swaying with the breeze.

“There you are.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you smile. “For a second, I thought you were going to ditch me for the fun of it.” Truthfully, you wouldn’t put it past him.

He ignores the comment. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You’re slightly startled by his suddenly serious tone, but nod along. “Alright…?”

“I like you.”

“…Sorry?” How strange, it seems like today your ears have decided to play tricks on you?

A light scowl makes its way upon his face as he visibly grits his teeth. “Augh, fuck it- I said, I love you, idiot.”

There’s no mistaking the flush that’s descended upon his expression, dusting the tips of his ears and his cheeks. “Uh?” You sound stupid, but that’s the only sound you’re able to utter as you stare at the male in utter shock.

“I’m not repeating myself three times.”

You shake your head, frantic as you can feel your heart rate increasing. “No- I heard you the first time it’s just that- I…” it’s hard to explain what you’re feeling right now, so you don’t, instead wrapping your arms around and pulling the two of you closer.

He seems to melt in your hold.

“I can’t even begin to fathom my life without you, so please, stay by my side.” ♡

(a/n) ive grown old. ive… ripened

[deadendtracks]

Missing your brilliant meta posts of late so settling with salty asks.

Peaky Blinders 5,10,13 (Tommy),19 -> the saltier the better! :)

Thank you! I have just been lacking in any ability to concentrate!

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

idk if 'ruined' is the right word, but i have found some of the discourse around Grace to be so annoying I haven't felt the urge to explore her character or Tommy/Grace in my own fic.

in SPN fandom I felt the same way about Castiel and Dean/Cas despite theoretically liking it as a ship.

I've written a bunch of meta about Tommy and Grace so I do in theory find them interesting it's just... yeah.

I'm getting there with Tommy/Alfie just because idk. The favored approach to those characters at this point is just so far from canon or from what I find interesting that it's like reading OC fic.

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

the cop out answer is Duke. as someone else said, I can see what the potential might have been, but in reality it felt really tacked on and rough draft stage. I liked parts of it.

i mostly just like this show even when it's not perfect, so i'm not sure what other arc to dislike. most of my dislikes are actually about fandom's interpretations of arcs.

the other cop out answer is grace's arc after season 1, because that's a fairly common critique. i don't hate it and i don't even want anything about it to change, but if this show was more than 6 episodes a season it would have been more satisfying to get a bit more meat there.

13. Unpopular opinion about XXX character?

Which character?

19. What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

besides the explosion of OC/Tommy and readerfic, again a cop out answer...

The lizzie vs. grace wars are incredibly tiresome since I hate how both sides approaches their fave and their fave's relationship with Tommy. and i'm just so deeply uninterested in all that.

i think more than 'hate' i am mostly disappointed that there isn't more substantial fic in this fandom. there was never a ton of it, and it makes sense it's dropped off some given the show is finished (pending movie) but i really feel only a tiny fraction of the potential was ever explored in fic for this show on so many levels, and a lot of the fic that does get written tends to deliberately or unconsciously echo a specific ship dynamic/fanfic trope/fanon characterization that i don't enjoy. again, this is the natural life cycle of fandoms but with PB fandom, it was never very prolific to begin with! so it's more crushing to me to see it crystallize already. i don't know why this show never really took off as a (canon) fic fandom or why people seem to prefer readerfic here. That wasn't the case when I first joined 5 years ago, but I guess that's the fandom trend now. As someone else said, I'm just not interested in being railed by that guy. LOL.

[house-of-slayterr]

Major Blog Updates!!!!!

TLDR: I will be on a Writing hiatus as I do some digital spring cleaning and restart some old stories I’m not happy with. But expect many new crazy life updates now that I’ve moved. And some old, or maybe new ocs will start slowly trickling back in.

No wonder I was so stressed last year, I have 11 active series and counting… 💀 and yes, I am insane enough that I’m about to restart most of them from scratch. I wasn’t happy with the way things were going with most of them, and how sloppily they were written as I never expected there to be so many of you, to whom I’m very grateful for 🥺🥰🫀

This move seemed like the perfect time to just reinvent myself as a whole, and that includes my social media presence. I’m trying to build better, healthier habits this year. And one of them is learning how to say no every once and a while. Slow down and enjoy the little things. My Autism and OCD make it very difficult for me to say no to writing requests. But I’m working hard to make sure to only accept requests when I have the energy and the excitement to do so. I would be devastated to give you all content that I know is not my best, which is why I think a rewrite is in order. 🥰

It will be a big daunting task, but the point of it is to teach me to learn to approach my fear tasks like this. I have seriously considered becoming a writer for real and taking this more seriously, and Fan Fics are the perfect way to practice. Because you all always leave such lovely feedback 🥺 and it’s my favourite of writing. There would be no point to my words if they couldn’t be shared, and to have you all want me to write for you all the time is one of the greatest honours I could ever receive.

I love being able to give you all back even a fraction of the joy you bring me, by bringing your wildest dreams to life. You’re all like family to me and I love you so much. 🫀

So yeah, sorry if your faves aren’t back for a while, EVERYONES getting a MAJOR makeover, but they will be back and better than ever! I’ll keep the old stories up in case people liked reading them. But pretty much from here on out, assume none of my old writing is “Cannon”.

Also, New rule for any future requests. Please, please, please make them specific. DO NOT as questions like “can I get a micheal Myers fix” 💀 like sure, you can… but it’s not gonna be good unless you give me a prompt. Also please try to state any specific details you want added if it’s not just a vague x reader I.E. pronouns, name/nicknames, ethnicity…

Bare With me as my tumblr gets a major face lift. I’m gonna be doing a mass edit, making new master lists and fixing side blogs. From here on out all master lists and things to do with OCs will be posted and backed up on @the-slayter-archives I will still post fan fics on here first, but they’ll be backed up on there so they don’t get lost in all my reblogs 😅

Nothing makes me happier than writing for you all, but last year I let it get out of hand and stress me out to a very dangerous point. This year I will be more proactive about taking my time and not overloading myself with requests.

As for the Role Play blogs, they will also be getting a face lift. But do not fret my sweets, I will have everything neatly organised for your handy Dandy viewing pleasure. I will do my very best to keep on top of master lists and links (bare in mind I am still disabled and chronically ill so sometimes it just takes me a while to do things) that way there’s no stress for me in the future and I can keep track of all my things nice and neatly. My autism demands routine and hyper-specific organisation categories. And I’m tried of trying to fight it, so I’m willing to put in the work to make some healthy routines in the hopes that my brain will feel less like that of Frankenstein’s monster.

I will make Rule posts and DNI banners for all my pages. Therefore there’s less room for miscommunications. And I will be far more active about remembering to put Tw/CW. My wonderful partner @disableddee has agreed to help me edit works in the future and proof for triggering topics. Unfortunately Due to the environment I was raised in, it’s hard for me to tell when things are traumatic or abusive. So I never mean to trauma dump or forget tags on purpose. I genuinely do. It realise some of these topics may be triggering to other people, and of course I want to be very sensitive to that. 

Was I sobbing typing this post? That’s a secret I’ll never tell… xoxo Gosip Girl

Tag: @queer-and-utter-chaos @emeraldfangs @mothmans-kingdom @spencermaybank @joelsgeetar @x-littlemoth @frenziedslashers @willowbrookesblog @myers-meadow @ajarofpickledtears @keffirinne

[janggtoco]

songs you associate your moots with?

okie anon. u didn't know this but you asked someone who takes their music recs very seriously so letsgetit (i only picked songs from my fave albums & liked songs playlist, nothing but the best for my favorite people)

@seokgyuu: dog days are over by florence + the machine - the reason i picked this for mitchie is bcs literally the WEEK maybe even the DAY we started regularly talking, i instantly felt less lonely and felt more ready to just. rebuild my life. and she gave me much more motivation and inspiration and i was just a much happier person to be on this app ;-; she's the reason i'm back to being my somewhat normal self.. i'm forever grateful for her love ;-;

leave all your loving and longing behind / you can't carry it with you if you want to survive / the dog days are over / can you hear the horses? / cause here they come

@seokmins: st. patrick by pvris but also lay me down by sam smith - i mean. obviously i had to pick the song that inspired the first chapter of my own series white noise.. but lay me down.. it's just the perfect calming song. i can't explain it but it's so elv-coded for me.. both of these are tbh. elv helps me forget the bad in my life and i hope i give her even just a fraction of the comfort and happiness she gives me ;-;

but please stay / cause i think you're a saint and i think you're an angel / i said you give me something to talk about that's not the shit in my head / you're a miracle

&

told me not to cry when you're gone / but the feeling's too overwhelming it's much too strong / can i lay by your side? next to you / and make sure you're alright / i'll take care of you / and i don't want to be here if i can't be with you tonight

@bitchlessdino: bubblegum bitch by marina - nana just kind of own bubblegum pink in my mind right now (it's also perfect for her online theme for both of her blogs rn).. i don't think this song really embodies nana in any way other than her fierce alter ego that comes out when you wrong her or her loved ones. like she is queen electra heart what can i say!!

i'll chew you up and i'll spit you out / cause that's what young love is all about / so pull me closer and kiss me hard / i'm gonna pop your bubblegum heart

@bisexualgyu: intro/forgive me by chloe x halle but also mundo by iv of spades - listen. rhys has chloe x halle energy. don't fight me on this. like this whole album is lowkey her-coded deservedly so. and mundo is a little obvious (at least for her). she knows why <3

so forgive me, forgive me / i've been going too hard in your city / so forgive me cause i'm not teary / best believe i move onto better things

&

limutin na ang mundo / nang magkasama tayo / sunod sa bawat galaw / hindi na maliligaw / mundo'y magiging ikaw

@97-liners: daddy lessons by beyoncé - picked this one just bcs it tells the trials and tribulations of growing up with a tough parent and ultimately loving them through all their flaws while also realizing the trauma they put you through. not to get deep but yeah skdjfs sorry to give you a country song jackie but at least it's beyonce 😭

tough girl is what i had to be / he said, "take care of your mother / watch out for your sister" / and oh, that's when he gave to me / with his gun, with his head held high / he told me not to cry / oh, my daddy said shoot

@gguksgalaxy: bitch, don't kill my vibe by kendrick lamar - just ready to be straight chillin'. tired of the drama. here for a good time with people who also won't cause too much drama. also just a straight up club banger lol.

i am a sinner / who's probably gonna sin again / lord forgive me / things i don't understand / sometimes i need to be alone / bitch don't kill my vibe / i can feel your energy from two planets away / i got my drink i got my music i would share it but today i'm yelling / bitch don't kill my vibe

@taeiltual: nights w u by tiffany day - just such a lovely feel good person that i love talking to and always brightens my day! this song is just bouncy and lovely just like bex in my mind <3 sdkfjs

but we don't got to talk about it / i just want to dance around / all night with you, you, you, you / cause i don't wanna feel the pressure / know that I'll be better when all my nights / are with you, you, you, you

[thiscomicruinedmylife]

Question: Who would be a character you like/love the most or most identify with? appreciate all you do for this tiny fandom! :>

First of all, thanks!!! Just humbly reposting stuff and discuss whatever people want to discuss :) Second of all, that’s a good question!

Can’t say I wholly identify with anyone, but I do relate to a deadpan look and kind of please-leave-me-alone attitude both Gretchen and Aton are giving, since irl I have a severe case of resting bitch face and on top of that I’m introverted as shit.

As of the character I like/love… wooo boy, where do I even start… I'm gonna ramble for a bit, so please bear with me here. My absolute faves are Tim and Astaroth Matauzier and let me explain why.

Short and simple, I always like funny pathetic losers who get their asses kicked (just look at some of my other faves).

And wow does Astaroth get his ass (nose) kicked a lot.

Doesn’t help that his human counterpart Tim is a poor little meow meow, who’s also getting his ass kicked, but in this instance I just feel sympathy for him, cause here it’s absolutely undeserved.

And for the long reason why I like them… I like the creative potential they have. Not in a sense of development, but the whole concept.

So Tim was supposed to be only that – Tim. But he’s been literally split into two characters since his birth and I kinda can’t treat them like a single one. At least not fully. They were two different people for 14 ass years, how can you unify that and not have some bumps in the road so to speak. Just this fraction is already fascinating enough, how can a person grapple with being two? Two set of beliefs, two set of memories, two behavioral patterns. Top notch angst/psychology fanfic material amirite or amirite.

But it doesn’t stop there! They were presented like two separate characters and then Francis dumps this infobomb on us that Tim and Astaroth's been one person all along, which is… fine, I could run with that, but his explanation doesn’t make sense?

He claims you can’t see Tim and Astaroth at the same place at once, which implies he’s been switching between two of his personalities and teleporting between the human/park world. And then in literally a few panels he says there were two bodies he jumped between. Huh???

Also this weird line.

So which one is it? Was there a single body or was there two? I'd say it's an important difference. Either you have a teleporting dude with split personality disorder or you have one brain shared between twins.

I know this could be a translational issue, but some of native French speakers can’t understand Francis’ explanation either??? HUH?????

Yeah, I also can't for the life of me understand how no one noticed a child constantly disappearing out of thin air for 14 years straight. This weird discrepancy is what makes it so interesting though. My friends and I spent hours discussing, guessing and straight up headcanoning how this child works.

Obviously headcanon territory here, but we came up with “there were two bodies with shared but split consciousness; when one body was active, the second one was sleeping or dissociating or being awake but severely absentminded”. That way he won't disappear randomly and school bullies will have reasons to pick on him. And we headcanoned that when they've become one they were having conversations in their unified head and fought for the driver's seat, which could potentially be either funny or tragic, your choice.

If you survived this long ass ramble/rant congratulations and sorry it took so long :D But I do love this stupid child-who-became-office-rat and he absolutely lives rent free in my head.

fanart by @martapreliy 

[sokkastyles]

Hi,

Hope you are doing well. I have been reading metas about Azula, and from that I can gather that she is a fascinating character. On one hand, she is tragic because she was abused by her father and does not realize it. On the other hand, she also perpetrated abuse and is a villain. Both these takes can and should exist together. But I feel that people tend to stick to one side and hate the other side even though both points are equally valid.

I am just a bit confused on why does one side tend to be angry with the other side. I would like your thoughts on this.

The reason that these two sides cannot get along is because Azula stans don't want us to talk about how she is an abuser at all, and use her being a victim and a complex character to excuse her and silence conversation about how she mistreated everyone in her life who wasn't her father.

You can't say that both sides should "get along" when one side wants to hurt the other side and thinks that abuse is forgivable and even okay.

Azula stans are the ones who are invested in perpetuating the idea that this is a mutual argument, when it's not, just like they want people to think that Azula and Zuko had a mutual rivalry, when they clearly didn't and Azula was clearly favored. Nobody who talks about how Azula is an abuser and a villain thinks she isn't also a complex and tragic character, but there is a difference between recognizing her complexity and blaming her actions on other characters, most of whom happen to be her victims.

The truth is that it's not a mutual argument or divide in the fandom. It's only toxic Azula stans who want you to think it is, because it benefits them to convince you that both sides are somehow at fault. If they can convince you that you bear even a fraction of the blame, it takes the focus off of their own shitty actions. It's manipulative behavior and it's not surprising coming from people who defend a character who does the same things by denying that she did those things at all.

People aren't angry at Azula stans because they want to defend their faves, they are angry because the things these stans say are legitimately victim blaming garbage and would be wrong no matter what character they were saying it about. And people absolutely have a right to be angry in that case, especially when Azula stans go out of their way to harass people who make posts they don't agree with.

[wonusite]

Lets talk about the x in the nsfw alphabet because i am bored af (when i say avarage i mean around 5 to 6 inches or 12-15 cm lenght and 3 and half inches or 9 cm soft thickness. I'll mostly use cm because thats easier for me lol)

Seungcheol definitly has a thick one, not sure about the lenght but absolutely thick, probably has avarage lenght tho, i dont think he is below avarage by any means

Jeonghan is avarage lenth and thickness and i cant see him any other way, maybe a little bit longer than avarage, could be 16 cm maybe

I feel like joshua and Hoshi has long but not-thick-at-all dicks and maybe Seungkwan but he is probably a little bit shorter and thicker then these two

Jun definitly has a long and beautiful dick, idk if youve watched sex and the city but sam describes one of her fuck buddy's dick and says "it was long and as beautiful as a rose" or smt like that and i think this is jun

Wonwoo is definitly a monster cock, around 20 cm (7.8 inches) lenght and 12 cm (4.7 inches) thicknes (i thought about this is soft but then it would be neat impossible to take and i dont wanna make this unrealistic so yeah)

Jihoon is THICK and i dont really think he is longer than avarage but he definitly THICK

Seokmin is long and thick but not monster somehow? He is 17 cm (6.6 inches) and 12 cm (5 inches) thick when hard

Mingyu... Just like Wonwoo he is above avarage all the way and i wont take any disagreement. Around 20 cm again (8 inches, too lazy to write fractions) and 15 cm (6 inches) thick

Minghao is just like jun, he has a beautiful one. Definitly above avarage length but not too much, maybe 17 cm at most and avarage thickness but i repeat he has a beautiful one and idk how to describe it he just has a beautiful one

Vernon is just avarage, may be a little bit thicker than avarage but not much

Chan is thicker than avarage, a good 2 cm (1 inch) thicker AT LEAST but avarage length, 15-16 cm

All of these came from just wanting to write about how both Hoshi and joshua has "long but not-thick-at-all" vibes lol

Also i can confirm that idubilu is my fave song, Minghao singing the line "i dont understand but i love but i love you" kills me everytime, i am officially addicted

And i am on my period so if you dont mind it i will probably send some asks about how members would be like when their partner in on their period and who would be into period sex because why not

this wrecked me so bad omfg 😫

and i absolutely love that line too like it just hits different idk 🫠

ofc i don’t mind bb. i will be waiting patiently for your thots 👀

[chryzure-archive]

whats some media that is soooo chrysijacks/chryzure? what would their fave pokemon be.... any random assorted thoughts you've been thinking abt them lately? and ofc any new songs you found that are chrysijacks/chryzure...

chrysijackscoded media:

moulin rouge‼️‼️‼️

the princess bride

labyrinth….

anastasia

enchanted

ella enchanted too <3

tangled (i want jacks DEAD)

wicked :)

the scarlet pimpernel

all those early 2000s barbie movies. jacks makes an excellent pretty barbie <3

the phantom of the opera, but i also have a chryzure au for this, so i’m putting it in both of their categories

chryzurecoded media!!!!:

beauty and the beast (for reallllll)

the bone witch (azure is coming back to life to be w chrysi… peak chryzure)

the night circus <3

h.hadestown……….

the corpse bride!!!!!

the addams family

THE MUMMY.

nightmare before christmas

haunting of bly manor…

legend of zelda, but esp twilight princess

phantom of the opera !!

the velveteen rabbit… i can make it work, i can MAKE IT WORK

fablehaven <3

the nutcracker….. i will not elaborate.

chrysi’s fav pokémon is probably phantump, since she can see ghosts and talk to them… this is jst another ghost. she has adopted a new child.

my friend showed me a purugly and i literally gasped and said, “AZURE WOULD LOVE IT”, so there’s THAT answer! i’ve never seen a more azure-coded pokémon in my life

jacks i’m less certain of, but i looove espurr’s design bc it’s sooo little creature + i think jacks would take one look at it and jst keep it at all times. he’ll never admit it, but he’d die for this creature

misc chrysijacks thoughts consist of how funny it is in most aus that they’re already divorced. it’s jst a question of them getting back together. why are they trying out this relationship again when chrysi would’ve gladly thrown jacks out a window? who knows! they’re kissing so hard rn though!!!!!!!!

then come the other half of the aus where they’re childhood friends and it’s like. yeah no it’s totally normal for friends to have napped together since they were in middle school, all bc chrysi got nightmares when she slept on her own. it’s totally normal that jacks kisses chrysi regularly. friends do that, esp when one friend is immune to the curse. and then jacks has the gall to be shocked when ppl call him out for being in love w chrysi. okay, darling, don’t worry your pretty little head over that.

misc chryzure thoughts are fkskgkskcjsjzkjfkkdkckfjwksmcnekzmdndns……. like??!!? sticking a fork into the wall outlet rn because i am sooo!!! jst down to the simple day to day domestic life, it’s so clear how much they love each other…. they’re comfy w preparing each other toast and teasing each other for the way they like their tea and they’re both teasingly mad when the cat picks one of them over the other.

and then the whole reincarnation curse makes me go insane go wild. the number of lives they hold, where they loved each other unabashedly and wholly, only for them to die tragically? and the fact that both chrysi and azure have started to look forward to their next life, because the agony will stop, for just a little while… they get to be happy for a fraction of time in each of their lives, and that’s enough. that has to be enough. oh, the agonies…

also, azure’s hickey game is insane + chrysi wears off the shoulder shirts a lot. what’s she supposed to do w these, blue??? knock it off!!!!!!!

chrysijacks songs:

summer // circadian clock, baethoven

love song // sara bareilles (i’m not justifying my choice. jst know this is the same era of chrysijacks as the era when i first discovered his hair would be blue and i was horrified for the next two hours)

casanova // allie x

oh l’amour // erasure (i’ve mentioned this before but it’s sooo chrysijacks to me)

chryzure songs:

tether // sleep state

below my feet // mumford & sons

divine créature // la femme

see you tomorrow // evgeny grinko

[shadeysprings]

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom 😌

Ohhh thank you for the ask!!

Jorah is an alpha in his own right. Yeah, sometimes he'll act simpy, i.e. worshiping the ground Daenerys walked on, probably even Lynesse's, but that's only a fraction of what he his. But when it's show time and the bed calls to be occupied, he won't roll over to be dominated, he'll make sure whoever he's with knows he's in charge and that no one, and I mean NO ONE, can tell him otherwise. Because that's just who he is. Mormonts weren't made to be following dogs, they were born to be pack leaders, hell, they could be the best kings/queens Westeros would have had if given the chance. Aren't we curious as to why they're able to live the way the lived in their island? Coz no one can fucking tell them what to do and it sure ain't happening in the next millenia or so.

choose violence ask game

[madame-vera]

Q&A - Build Your Own Story Week

This time on the writers discord server, the question of the day was set-up as a 5 part response over the week. The moderators spent the week asking us questions about our preferences, storytelling, characters writing and worldbuilding in the hopes it would give us a better understanding of our writing and maybe even give us some potential new WIPS to work on. Some days were simple, others were a bit more complicated or had multiple parts to it.

Instead of posting my responses separately I decided to compile them all here in one post. No messy searching for me XD. Enjoy!

what is your favorite (or least favorite) genre to write, and why? do most of your WIPs fall in the same genre?

I like hopeful fantasy, fix-its, what-ifs, supernatural/mythic fantasy, steampunk and slice-of life.

I like reading romance (but am very fussy) but don't like writing it. Definitely not a fan of crime/horror.

I guess I don't like the dreary, but I do like questionable endings, non-perfect endings, vague endings (so long as the story itself is solid enough). I mean, one my fave stories sever is Harmony by Project ITOH. I also the 'for-want-of-a-nail' trope so the speculative what if this did(n't) happen stories or plots where things line up just so are great.

Most of my WIPS are what ifs, fix-its or continuations. they tend to have a funny/serious or happy/peaceful tone.

if you were to take two of your favorite plot devices and one of your least favorite, what sort of plot could you make from that? (within the bounds of what you’re willing to write!)

Two plot devices I like are non-perfect happy endings that came with some sort of change/loss and for-want-of-a-nail, what-if type situations. Or maybe fond family. That's good stuff.

One I don't like but could maybe possibly write is love triangles or typical hero object quest things.

One I don't like and definitely could not write is those goddamn annoying misunderstandings that could be easily avoided if the characters just stopped, took a breath, and waited for just one damn moment.

Worldbuilding Questions

Does your world have magic? How is it used?

What historical era does it take place in? (OR, if it's your own fantasy world, what important events have happened before this point?)

Is there running water?

What does the difference between the classes look like? (Is there significant class division?)

freebie! pick a random element that you'd like to include and consider how that informs the rest of your world! (for example, the existence of ghosts!)

Magic

I'm undecided on whether or not I have magic. Probably not. But if I do go with it it'll be used in conjunction with science so they'll support each other.

Historical Era

Some undecided millennium after a global apocalypse in a fantasy world. I.E era. There's been loads of technological advancements so i guess it's semi-modern?

Running Water

Some places yes, other places no. Haven't worked out the technology of it yet.

Classism

There are class differences, to varying degrees. There are a lot of displaced people and new nations thanks to the societal and ecological changes from the apocalypse so people are still kind working it out. Some have managed something close to equality or democracy, some haven't.

Quirks

I'll have to pick a few faves, I think.

The Apocalypse: It wasn't anything grizzly like a meteor or disease or something. It's just that there was a difference in space causing the planet to be exposed to a greater degree of light and heat. That fractional amount was just enough to completely through the ecosystem out of wack, which then messes with society.

Leyakist/Manteia: Really cool continents. Solarpunk meets afrofutirism meets fantasy. The continents themselves are made not of your typical land, but one really freaking huge lotus pad shaped fungis. It's one fungi but it has to pad growths so there are two continents. The people can travel to each other through the deep sea stems. No one knows about this. The continents are also completely isolated from the rest of the world because the fungi messes with the wind and ocean patterns.

MaiRycia: A ginormous bow shaped continent often thought of as two because the centre area is under the control of two allied nations. The lower nation is willfully isolated so no one can go through them. Instead they have to go through the top nation which is super wealthy because of all the trade. The right of MaiRycia is entirely a religious empire and the left is a bunch of indivual nations of various governances. People like the centre being cut off for this reason.

Aurora River: The planet has rings that change colours seasonally (which actually makes it a useful annual calander). The shadow it casts is called the Aurora River and is a common travel route.

Kalreem: A continent full of lakes and fault line hotsprings. The aesthetic is a mix of Venice, SE Asia and art nouveau.

Wicklser: Gourd shaped continent with mountains, lakes, rivers and waterfalls. Split by a river that runs along it's length that has a ginormous boat train running on it. The train is also a nation with underground cities.

Belryde: Almost always winter here. Shaped like a penguin.

Main Cast Questions

first and foremost, do you have multiple POVs, or only one? are you writing this in 1st, 2nd, or 3rd?

next, think a little bit about your story so far… what kind of role would your main characters have in this world? do the main events happen to them, or do they go out and seek change?

and, perhaps most importantly… what are some flaws you might give them?

I usually focus on just one characters POV, but sometimes I'll do 2 or even 3 if I'm feeling particularly brave.

I almost always write in 3rd person.

Right now I just have a world, but the stories would probably be on a smaller scale, people living their lives, going through relationships, exploring the world around them, going on their own adventures. The worlds events would affect them but wouldn't be the focus.

Flaws are tricky, depends which characters and story I choose.

so far, we’ve looked at genre, plot, worldbuilding, and most recently, our main cast! now that we have some main foundations, we’re going to look at something a bit more nuanced… antagonists. depending on your story, this role could be fulfilled by a lot of people or things. it might be nature itself, the MC’s flaws, or an external “villain.” so! who’s the villain of this story?

Antagonists! oh no……um……….

This one's difficult to answer since I don't have a set story and only a handful of OCs. I'm still focused on setting up the foundations of the setting. As such I'll answer this in three parts: ideas for my OCs, ideas for planned fanfic wips and the sorts of antagonists i find i tend to like or write.

First things first, the OCs.

Lale, Silvaiarin and Silvaiarins sister (really need a name for her) are all from the same story. Their story is a complicated one so I'll focus on their individual antagonists. For Silvaiarin and his sister their antagonists are their conflicting desires and the people/politics at home. Silvaiarin wants to leave to marry Lale. His sister wants to be the next ruler. But traditions are getting in the way of their goals so they have to not only defy tradition but break it and remake it anew entirely. Lale has to face the uncertainty of Vaias' family when gaining their approval and Vaias' own personal issues. Worse, they're all preparing for a massive war, so the opposing leaders are also major antagonists.

Verita is survivor of a conflict zone, human trafficking and institutional/systemic violence. Her story is about her surviving it, growing through it and taking her place in the world. Her antagonists are the powers that be, the ignorance and prejudice of the common people, the systemic abuse and discrimination and most horribly, herself. No one comes out of that in one piece. She puts herself through the wringer trying to make it out as mentally intact as possible, then she must learn to heal, even if it means discarding the methods that kept her safe and sane in the first place. Her choices themselves are the antagonists.

Myras' story is about her achieving her dream of becoming a prosthetist. I'm not sure what that would make her antagonist? Her lacking skills? A character flaw? Maybe I could make contradicting goals or values. I'm really not sure yet 😅

Next are the antagonists in my favourite fanfic wips and ideas.

The one I'm most looking forward to is a modern au MDZS one where Jiang Yanli leaves her household with her siblings to live in a safe home instead. It's about her no longer just surviving, but living. The antagonists are her parents, conflicting internal goals and values (in particular the importance she places on her siblings and her role as the one who raised them, and her needing to learn to live as herself rather than only perceiving herself through her role as a caregiver), the issues her siblings are dealing with, conflicting wants/needs & values/goals.

Another MDZS fic, I'm going to have Madam Jin overthrow her husband and take over the Lanling Jin Sect by allying herself with his victims, especially his bastards and their mothers. Her antagonists will be her husband, much of the Jin Sect, the cultivations worlds traditional values and her own traditional values and prejudices.

There are a couple of Pet Shop of Horrors fanfics where Leon tries to find D. I'm not sure what this makes the antagonist. Their relationship issues? Communication issues? Distance?

There are others but those are the ones I know best off the top of my head.

Lastly, antagonist types I tend to write or favour.

When it comes to antagonist characters I definitely prefer some flavour, an interesting motive, complicated relationships, depths. Characters that aren't cookie cutter baddy of the day types.

Concept type antagonists are fun when they involve the internal conflicts and growth of the characters, like the conflict between needs and wants or goals and values. The sorts that come with difficult non-perfect choices, especially if there's not clear cut right or wrong and the consequences aren't ideal but work well. You win some you lose some, that sort of thing. Societal/Cultural based conflicts, especially those that provoke thoughts of 'what if' are also fun but I tend to prefer reading them to writing them.

[dancerladyaqua]

2, 7, and 13 for the ask game hehe

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

-spins wheel- Alear would not top (usually) because they're afraid of using their position of power over their partner. They want to make sure their partner is comfortable above all else.

(I do think Alear would top in some circumstances... They feel like a switch to me.)

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

I will not go into specifics but I have a specific character from ygo 5 blacklisted because that fandom absolutely turned me off to the majority of that show and upset me greatly. :) so I can really only enjoy a fraction of it compared to the whole.

13. worst blorboficiation

What??? Does this mean??? Worst blorboficiation that I've done or someone else?

Absolutely blorbo your fave and do what you want. But I guess if I chose my own worst blorbo??? Envy fma because they're a literal monster/murderer and I just. -points- mine

[ssimay]

x

[agent-cupcake]

—zero-sum game

Pairing: Ardyn Izunia x f!Reader

Warnings: explicit smut, non-con/rape

Tags: knifeplay, choking, mind games, cunnilingus, kidnap, violence, blood

Notes: i wrote this as a self indulgent birthday present to myself and i don't doubt it reads like a self indulgent birthday present to myself because i was and am in a silly, goofy mood. here is an approximation of the playlist i listened to on repeat while writing (slvtcrvsher is my fave)

Word Count: 10k

Another pen broke, snapped from the force with which you tried to jam it beneath the metal panel. You cursed as ink splattered your shaking hands, dark and splotchy on your skin in the dim lighting. Beyond the point of trying to electronically open the door through the barely functioning computer consoles on the other side of the room, you had resorted to trying to break into the lock itself and brute force your way through. The scanner blinked cheerfully, reminding you of how easy this would be if you just had a key card. Before, Prompto had used the barcode tattooed onto his arm to open the doors.

Your chest ached, twisting with guilt and fear at the thought of him. Dropping the broken pen, you pressed your clammy forehead against the cool metal door. This was your own fault. Aranea had offered to take you with her rather than going with Prompto to Zegnautus Keep, but you insisted that you wanted to help Noctis. All that confidence, and for what? You couldn’t remember much of anything after the MTs caught up to you, let alone how long you had been knocked out, stuck in the testing containment area connected to the security room you were attempting to break out of.

A shiver snaked down your spine at the thought of your surroundings, a pernicious little thought that something wasn’t quite right about all of this manifesting itself physically.

All you could do was push onward. Gritting your teeth in an attempt to steady yourself, you grabbed another pen from the pile you’d compiled from the abandoned desks. You had only just worked the tip into the crack between metal when you felt it. There was a second, the tiniest fraction of a moment, that you thought it was Noctis. The prince—your prince, as you had fancied him in your wildest dreams—who had come to save you from despair. Because it was distinctly the familiar sharp sound of his Warp ability, and very definitely the familiar breaking of the air around the sudden spacial displacement. But then you nearly broke your neck turning to look, and it wasn’t Noctis. You should have known better anyway.

“And what, might I ask,” Ardyn asked, oh-so casually standing in the center of the room like he had every right to be there, “do you think you’re doing?”

“Ardyn,” you acknowledged, scrambling to your feet and trying to portray a sense of confidence. Seeing him was bad news. Very bad news. He had killed Lunafreya and Prompto told you, at least a little, about everything he had done on the train and at the facility. Bad, bad, bad news. You raised your chin in defiance of your fear. “I’m leaving. So unless you’re going to help me, go bother someone else.”

“Why would you leave?” Ardyn asked in a light voice, head tilting curiously. “There’s nothing out there for you.”

“I’m going to find Prompto,” you told him, speaking just as much to reassure yourself as tell him. But you felt your confidence wavering. It was easy to spout bravado sentiment, but as soon as you got out of this room, you would be helpless. There was a chance you’d manage to scrape by, especially if you could find a gun, but who was to say you’d be able to do so long enough to find your friends?

No. You couldn’t think that way.

“Long gone, I’m afraid,” Ardyn said, waving a hand. "You overslept, my dear."

That made you hesitate, but you knew Ardyn was a liar. If you gave in to his games, he would win. So you raised your chin and met his eyes. “They wouldn’t leave me.”

He smiled. “I wouldn’t be so sure. There’s really no room for a girl in their little boy's club.”

His confidence made you falter for a few seconds, but you knew very well that he was doing nothing more than preying on your own insecurities. That was all Ardyn did. Lie and scheme and torture others. Prompto knew you were here, he wouldn’t abandon you. Noctis wouldn’t abandon you.

“Don’t worry," Ardyn continued brightly. "You played your part marvelously. I can see why Aranea thought to take you under her wing. And it was well worth it! You made quite the trio taking down the Immortalis, even I was impressed. But that’s all over now. It’s time for you to retire.”

“Is that a threat?” you asked, trying to keep yourself from letting your fear show. “Are you going to kill me too?”

“Now there’s an idea. I could kill you,” Ardyn said enthusiastically. He pulled something out from his pocket. In the dim lighting, it took you a moment to realize it was a key card. He waved it around, obviously taunting you. “Better yet, I could open that door and sit back to watch you get yourself killed, rushing headfirst into the daemon hoards waiting just outside that door.” He put the card back into his pocket, either ignorant or purposefully ignoring the way your eyes tracked every movement. “But why should I?”

“I have no idea why you do anything, but I’d rather risk death than suffer your company,” you said, coming to some half formed plan. If he wouldn’t open the door for you, maybe you could find a way to get the key off of him yourself. And after that… something. You would at least be free. It was a long shot and potentially the most reckless thing you had ever done and it was very obviously bait, but it was something.

“Oh, you wound me,” Ardyn said dramatically, placing a hand on his heart. “Surely you don’t mean it.”

“Open the door and find out,” you said.

“Let’s not be so hasty,” Ardyn said, smiling. “You will die when I allow you to die, and not a moment before then. In the meantime, why not enjoy ourselves? I confess to having grown rather fond of you.”

“Funny,” you retorted, ignoring the way your heart dropped into your stomach. “I’ve grown pretty sick of you.”

“Such a sharp tongue,” he cooed. “And so much anger. Nothing like your beloved Noctis’s late betrothed. Her kind benevolence was enough to melt the long-frozen heart of a famously cold blooded goddess—is it any wonder he never gave you so much as a second glance?”

His words felt like someone picking at a half-healed wound, peeling the scab away with a knife. But you refused to give Ardyn the satisfaction of seeing how much that hurt, opting to scowl at him. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That glare of yours doesn’t help,” Ardyn told you. “Forget the prince, you’ll never catch the attention of any of those boys by being so ornery.”

You grit your teeth. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“I, on the other hand,” Ardyn continued, speaking as if you hadn’t, “have suffered enough frigidity throughout my many years. I quite like the heat. Yours especially—so much passion that’s wasted on those silly boys.”

He took a step forward and you tensed up. But that was good, wasn’t it? You would need to get close to get the key, and it was better if he did the work for you.

“Is that supposed to be flattering?” you asked, trying not to seem obvious or concerned about his approach. He took another step and you fought the urge to match it, edging sideways to keep yourself from getting cornered. Ardyn didn’t have a particularly aggressive demeanor, but he was intimidating. Tall, bulky in all those layers that could be concealing any manner of weaponry, and difficult to make out in the dimly lit room, you couldn’t help but feel a little afraid.

“It was a statement of my honest feelings, nothing more,” he said smoothly, taking another deliberate, casual step. For the first time, you realized you weren’t wearing your boots. It left you at even more of a height disadvantage, not to mention it would be a distinct issue when navigating a facility with broken glass scattered around.

The realization stunned you. How had you not noticed before? There was something incredibly off about all of this, something you weren’t able to identify. This room, your boots, the timeline of this situation was all just slightly off their axis, but your buzzing brain encouraged you to ignore it, violently shied away from pondering it any longer than necessary.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Ardyn asked. “You look confused.”

You almost asked him what was going on, knowing he had something to do with it. But asking Ardyn would be pointless, the only thing your discomfort meant was that you really needed to get out of here. “Peachy,” you told him. “I take it you’re not going to open the door for me?”

“Were you listening to a word I said?” he asked, frowning irritably.

“Just checking,” you told him. “I still don’t get why else you’d be here.”

“You seemed rather helpless and confused. I was worried.”

“Really?” you asked flatly.

He huffed. “Think what you will, it makes no difference to me,” Ardyn said. He was very close now. You didn’t dare look at where he had tucked away the key, forcing your eyes to remain on his. “Let us get to know one another, I might surprise you. I know that I’ve found you to be plenty surprising.”

Another step and he was close enough to touch.

Now.

Without thinking too hard, your heart pounding with adrenaline, you made your move. You hoped that your actions would be shocking enough that he wouldn’t immediately react. That was a fool’s prayer. Ardyn grabbed you the moment you began to move, his smile that of someone who had won.

“I cannot believe you fell for that,” he said, his voice unaffected by the effort of holding you from getting away. “I believe that’s check, my dear girl.”

“Let me go,” you yelled, panicking.

“Is this not what you wanted?” he asked, his grip just getting tighter. “A man could get the wrong idea when a girl throws herself at him so brazenly.”

You didn’t hesitate to hit him, attacking and lashing out in whatever way you could. Your blows landed, skin meeting skin in an awful flurry of thwacks, but did nothing to deter him.

“Oh yes, you would be a fighter,” Ardyn said happily, not so much as flinching. With a helpless cry, you hit him again, slapping at his hands, his face, anything you could reach as he pushed you backward. It didn’t matter, he barely reacted except to adjust his grip on the front of your shirt, pulling the fabric tight enough to hurt.

“No! Get your hands off of me, or—” Somehow, your senseless struggling managed to loosen his hold enough to make you think, just for a second, that you could escape.

Ardyn must have been waiting for that moment because you could have sworn you saw the glimmer of glee in his eyes before he slammed you against the door, punching the air from your lungs and knocking your head violently against the cool metal. It rattled in its frame, heavy wood trembling with the impact. If he wasn’t there at the same moment to keep you upright, your legs would have crumpled, but you couldn’t really appreciate being kept from falling, not when the edges of your consciousness burned and curled like a photo held to a flame, your vision blurring and dark.

Something had cracked upon contact, you could feel the crater of damage with its fault lines forming a spider’s web across the back of your skull, sending sharp pain signals in the form of confused sparks throughout your body. You could imagine the splattering gray matter, the disconnect between brain and stem as it rattled around. Physically and mentally stunned, you went limp.

“Or what?” Ardyn asked mockingly. His voice rumbled far away like thunder, washing over you hot and harsh. You blinked stars and tears, swallowed down a gurgling burst of sour nausea.

Fight. You had to fight.

Taking advantage of his momentarily lowered guard, you shouted and lashed out with your nails, managing to claw shallow gashes across his cheekbone before he jerked back.

“That’s better,” Ardyn said. He grabbed your hand and pinned it above your head, using the leverage to slam you against the door again. The back of your head connected against the same sensitive spot. Your brain pulsed against the fracture lines in time with your anvil’s hammer heart. Dark orbs consumed the world. Your eyes rolled back. Pinching, piercing, electric agony zipped down from the base of your skull to the center of your spine, radiating outward. Blood roared in your ears.

Ardyn pressed himself even closer against you, an unyielding, suffocating wall, looming over you, caging you in. He was so close that even as you tried to make sense of the visual noise layered beneath the distortion and tears, you couldn’t see his eyes. The moon, you thought. It was looking in through the window. It illuminated his head like a halo.

“Stay focused, darling,” Ardyn told you. Not the moon, it was the synthetic emergency lights that glared behind him. You groaned, pushing against his chest, trying to leverage yourself against the door to get out from under his arm. “Aww, that’s no good. You must try a little harder.”

It was useless. He was playing with you. This was a game. A no-win game. Check, he said. Checkmate. So you stopped fighting, looking up at him directly. Whatever damage you had done with your nails was already gone. He was, you realized with a sickening jolt, inhuman.

“Oh my, that’s quite a glare, my dear,” Ardyn said indulgently. “Have you given up on the fight so soon?”

“Noctis is going to kill you,” you told him, raising your chin. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me.”

Bravado that felt so good, so powerful in that moment rotted in your mouth when you saw the way Ardyn’s expression shifted. His smile didn’t drop, but whatever genuine amusement there was behind it went black. He dropped your wrist in favor of wrapping his hand around your throat, a move too fast for you to get away from. You choked, made an ugly kind of gurgling noise as he pushed you up the wall to be at eye level. Panicked, you clawed at his arm, his chest, his face, but the fingers just tightened, cutting off your ability to breathe. Excitement danced in his eyes, flickering like hellfire in a void.

“You think it doesn’t matter?” he asked, incredulous. Unhinged, his voice a breath off from breaking into mad laughter. “Oh, my innocent little lamb, you’ve no idea of what pain truly is if you think it ‘doesn’t matter.’ Your ignorance masquerades as bravery, but I see beneath that mask of yours.” Ardyn’s fingers tightened. You sputtered, grasping desperately at his arm and lashing out in a last ditch attempt to get free, your toes barely brushing the ground as you desperately sought traction. He didn’t respond to your gurgled plea to stop, or when your palm dragged clumsily down his face, or when you tried to hit him.

The lights were dimming.

Your body was getting too heavy to hold, let alone fight.

All you could think was that you didn’t want to die, that you really, truly didn’t want to die. But that urgent thought grew ever more distant. Your eyelashes fluttered.

On the verge of complete darkness, Ardyn’s hand loosened. You pulled in a ragged, violent gasp, your body in a rush to get oxygen as soon as you were able.

“Do you feel that?” he asked. “Terrifying, isn’t it? Exhilarating, in a way. The fear of death is a beautiful thing.”

Making out his words was a sluggish process, and even then you couldn’t really interpret them properly. It took a few seconds of just trying to breathe before the world returned in a frantic, confusing mess of stimulation. Scattered, rushing in with pinprick pain and dull agony on the back of your head, the burn of your lungs. Tears and sweat on your skin, the dank, clinical smell of the facility. Something sweeter above it, expensive, the scent of aged wood and wine. Borderline unreal, you didn’t feel any urgency to respond when he crowded in closer, helping to hold your weight by pinning you to the door instead. Ardyn waited until you had enough sense to meet his eyes to speak. His voice vibrated through your entire body, you could feel it all the way in the core of your being.

“It would be a mercy for me to kill you now,” he said, his lips almost brushing yours, “before you learn what a pleasure death is.”

You didn’t react when he kissed you. You barely knew what was going on, your head rushing with pain and sensation and the return of what was left of your sanity. Ardyn didn’t seem to care that you didn’t reciprocate. He seemed to care even less when you began to struggle, groaning when you pulled his hair, fingers squeezing your neck like a reminder. When tried to protest, he took the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth, swallowing down all your cries.

Choking, hurting, frightened, this violation brought you to a new level of panic. The tongue in your mouth wasn’t sexy, or even seductive. It was dominating and unwanted, a vulgar facsimile of physical affection.

Without thinking, you bit him. Hard. As hard as you could. You felt something fleshy and firm give out beneath your teeth—his bottom lip, you thought—but rather than the taste of blood, you tasted something foul. Tar and ozone, clotted with ash. You didn’t understand, and the taste scared you. It was almost familiar. Terrifyingly inhuman.

Ardyn used the grip he had around your neck to force you away from him, uncaring about the chunk of his flesh still clamped between your teeth. Thick, black, ink-like liquid oozed from the wound. It dripped from his inhuman eyes. His face, the skin gray even with the limited light, was twisted in displeasure. In a smooth motion, he turned, tossing you away from him with a terrible growl.

You tried to land on your feet, but you only got one leg beneath you. It immediately gave out with an awful, grotesque snap. And then you were tumbling head over heels, momentum keeping you going, crumpling into a somersault and rolling until you crashed into the side of a desk. The violence of the collision knocked everything off the top, pencils and papers scattering, something falling and shattering loudly.

It was too much to breathe with the collapse of your chest, too much when your heart was pulsing sickeningly in your throat, when your vision was clouded and dark. But it wasn’t too much to block out the pain, that was distinct and crisp. Whatever had happened to your ankle hurt so bad you felt nauseous, not helped by the taste of his blood. Assuming that was blood. You sputtered and coughed and spat onto the floor, gagging on the unfamiliar flavor and pain.

“That sounded like it hurt,” Ardyn called through the harsh ringing in your ears. “Well, I can’t say you didn’t deserve it. Biting...” He clicked his tongue in dramatic disappointment. “Really, my dear, that was low.”

A heavy, broken groan left your mouth, followed by a series of harsh, painful gasps of air as your body tried to reconfigure. There wasn’t time to appreciate your pain, or try to figure out what Ardyn actually was. You needed to get up. Get away. He had kissed you. It was a line you didn’t think he would cross, that you didn’t think anyone would cross. With a shaking hand, you felt at the sore spot on the back of your head. Your skull wasn’t damaged the way you had assumed upon impact. That didn’t ease the pain any, but it was good. Your ankle was a different story. The snap echoed in your ears. Walking would be, at best, an agonizing process.

Ardyn’s boots entered your trembling line of sight. Slowly, patiently. There was no need for him to rush.

Lurching forward, you got your arms beneath you, gritting your teeth against the pain spinning horrible circles in your head. From there, you got onto your knees. It was impossible to find your balance while standing upright with the way your head was spinning and the agony of your ankle, so you leaned against the desk, used it to pull yourself into a standing position. Leaning heavily against the surface, you edged around the side, trying to put as much distance between you and Ardyn as you could.

Ardyn didn’t seem to have any desire to stop you, continuing to approach with the same slow, swaggering pace. The taste of his blood, such as it was, laid thick on your tongue, but the wound was gone, healed as if never inflicted. That should have been impossible, you knew you had ripped his flesh. But, no. He smiled, his bottom lip perfectly intact.

“That’s it,” Ardyn encouraged you, his voice layered with condescension. “Baby steps, now. We wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself further.”

Fear overcame reason and you stumbled back with a half-formed plan to skirt around the room. But your foot didn’t make it to the ground. The floor simply slipped out from beneath you, either from the rush of dizziness or from your hurt ankle giving out beneath your weight. Almost in slow motion, you toppled sideways. The lack of blood flow in your head stripped reality itself of meaning and sense. By the time you could even comprehend the fact that you had fallen, you were splayed out across the cold floor. But it wasn’t cold, not like your brain told you it should be. You landed on expensive carpet. The thick, woolen pile rubbed into your skin. So much of your skin was bare, how had you not noticed that before?

“Were you even listening to me?” Ardyn asked, circling the desk—a desk?—to look down at you. He was so tall, looming like a monument above you. Bearing down on you like a monster. A daemon. He was a daemon.

Escape. Every tingling instinct in your brain and body screamed to escape.

Forcing yourself to move, you rolled onto your back and pushed yourself up with your elbows to scoot away in an awkward crab walk, propelled backward by your uninjured leg. The silky fabric of your clothes slid smooth across the carpet. Although you kept an eye on Ardyn the whole time, you didn’t have the ability to react before he kicked you back down. The bottom of his boot connected with the side of your ribs. Not hard enough to do serious damage, but enough to make you cry out sharply. Enough to knock you flat onto the floor, screaming when the back of your head connected with the floor.

“Pathetic,” he said, genuine disdain lowering his voice. Before you came down from the flash of agony, he put his boot on your chest. Ardyn didn’t push down with much weight, but there was enough force to make his point. Enough to have you panicked, hitting and prying at his leg in an attempt to get out from beneath it. Ardyn watched you, disgust becoming amusement. “Oh, if only your beloved prince bestowed upon you a fraction of his power, you might have had a chance against me.” His heel pushed down, the tread of his boot digging painfully against the bottom ridge of your ribcage, the heel squishing into the soft flesh right beneath the bones. You whimpered. “If only you weren’t so weak that your friends would abandon you. What a tragedy it is to be so fragile, and so naive. This cruel world has no place for stupid, pretty little things like you.”

“Shut up!” you yelled, struggling despite the pain, despite the fear that he’d simply step down and crush your chest. You couldn’t stop yourself, too flush with the frantic energy of adrenaline and mortal terror.

“There are a final few misconceptions that I must correct first,” Ardyn told you. “Your dearest prince won’t come to save you. He was absorbed by the Crystal. Who knows how long he’ll be caught up in its light. As for the others… well, they’ll have a difficult time getting past all the daemons. Insomnia is positively thick with them these days.”

“What?” you asked, genuinely unable to comprehend what Ardyn was saying. Something was wrong. Your rational brain kept trying to tell you that, trying to figure out the truth of the discrepancies between what you felt and what you knew.

“You didn’t notice?” Ardyn asked, tilting his head coyly.

“Notice what?” you demanded breathlessly.

“Where we are,” he said, spreading his arms.

With those words, the room changed. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that the way you understood it changed, your brain finally perceiving it as it truly was. The utilitarian security office of the abandoned facility melted away, the harsh emergency lights becoming moonlight tilting in through screens that were actually windows. The desk you had been thrown against became an ornate end table, the ugly concrete walls revealing themselves to be richly papered.

“I apologize for the charade, I couldn’t help myself,” he said gleefully. “There is nothing that cultivates the fighting spirit quite as intensely as hope. And to see it crushed is one of life’s sweetest, and most simple of pleasures.”

Your memories, blank and stringy, pieced together a new understanding of what happened after you were captured. The sluggishness that plagued your body became the effects of a drug swimming through your veins, the testing room where you awoke taking on the hazy vague shape of a bedroom before snapping into the metal and concrete nightmare that you thought it to be. You had been tricked. Just like Noctis on the train. Your perception of reality warped so that you didn’t question the irregularities, so that you thought you had a chance.

“Where are we?” you asked, your voice cold and distant. Whatever thin understanding you had threatened to collapse at any moment, broken beneath the pain and weight of reality rewriting itself in such a confusing fashion.

“The house that Somnus built,” Ardyn said, smirking like it was a joke. “Where else would a king call home?”

Did he mean he had brought you back to the Citadel? To Insomnia?

You shouted with a hoarse, broken voice when the weight of his boot was suddenly gone and he stooped over, grabbing the front of your silky slip—but hadn’t you been wearing regular clothes, something practical?—to pull you up. Fabric ripped and he exchanged a fistful of clothing for your arm, tossing you over his shoulder like you were nothing more than a doll. Reality blinked again, the movement too fast for your dizzy head to keep up with. By the time you had been tossed onto the surface of the bed, reality was a distant concept far beyond your comprehension.

Despite everything, you did put up some semblance of a fight. There was no thought behind it, nothing more than the basic instinct to survive. Ardyn knelt between your legs and pushed you down by the neck, his hand like a collar right beneath your jaw, pressing down against your frantic pulse so you sunk into the sheets. Even if everything else was slipping like water between your cupped hands, hatred was strong enough of an anchor to cling to. You looked up at him with your teary eyes, narrowed under the weight of your loathing.

“I’ve grown something of an appreciation for that glare of yours,” he said happily. “I’m impressed at how well you’ve been able to maintain it. Your resolve is quite the spectacle. Of course, I think it’ll be equally pleasing to see it stripped away.”

Disgust welled up in your throat, right beneath his palm. The idea that you were playing into his hand, doing exactly what he wanted, was far more potent than your rage, or even the pain.

“You don’t scare me,” you told him, lying through your teeth.

“I should,” he practically purred. “But, by all means, continue to play the brave hero. It is terribly charming.”

Charming. That word knocked around in your aching head for a moment before you realized that banter was pointless. It was exactly what he wanted. He wanted your attention. Your fear. Your disgust. He had fabricated a scenario to give you hope just to strip it away. Whatever cruelty you imagined a person to be capable of, Ardyn surpassed it.

Deciding that it was the only thing he didn’t want, you turned away from him, staring with blurring vision at the locked door. No longer a metal barrier, it was instead made of fine, thick wood. There was no electronic scanner, just a simple heavy lock. It seemed so far away. An impossible distance. If you were where he said you were, and you had ample reason to believe you were, the hope of being rescued was all but null. Fighting had failed. Escape had been improbable from the beginning. You closed your eyes, tears mingling with sweat and dripping down into your hair.

“No, no, we can’t have that,” Ardyn said, his hand leaving your neck to squeeze your face, pulling your head towards him and slapping your cheek so you opened your eyes. “Where did all of that delicious fire of yours go? Don’t tell me you’re all burned out. What would your precious Noct say?”

“Shut up,” you told him through gritted teeth.

Ardyn laughed, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he continued to hold your face. “You really cared for him. How sad that he never so much as acknowledged your feelings. I don’t even think he noticed,” he said. Whatever expression you made, it made his smile grow. “You must have known he would never want you. Not when he was engaged to her. Their romance was written in the stars, no amount of eyelash batting or puppy love could change that.”

“You don’t know anything,” you said, trying even harder to pry his hand off.

“Oh, but I do,” Ardyn told you. “I know all there is to know about you, and all about heartbreak. It’s best to try and move on as soon as possible. I can help you with that.”

“Get off of me,” you told him, suddenly hyper aware of the position you were in. His hips positioned between your legs, the slip you wore had gotten rucked up your hips, your back sinking into the mattress. And it wasn’t as if he was being shy about his intent, assuming it wasn’t just to scare you. When he looked at you like that, you had a hard time believing that was his only purpose. “Let me go.”

“I wasn’t sure about what I wanted to do with you at first,” Ardyn said, his voice louder to cover your pained grunts. “You see, you were quite the unexpected member of Noctis’s royal party, a troublesome addition to the plan I had so carefully prepared. But I came around to see your value in the end. I doubt you could imagine my delight when you arrived in Zegnautus Keep with Besithia’s little failure. A prize, delivered directly to my doorstep. Useless as you were to them, I’m sure you’ll provide an excellent way to while away the lonely hours until destiny arrives.”

Outraged disgust flared red hot in your head and you drew your good leg up, managing to catch him by surprise and land a kick against his shoulder. It was enough to escape his grasp, enough to turn and try to roll off the bed and away from him.

“Where are you going?” he asked, freezing you in place. The words unmistakably came from the same mouth, but it wasn’t Ardyn’s low, uncomfortably seductive voice that delivered them. Your hesitation was enough for him to grab you, pushing you back down onto your back so he could crawl on top of you.

“What is this?” you asked, barely struggling as you looked up at the man pinning you down.

“This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” Noctis asked, his eyes round as his head tilted, the dark irises sparkling in the moonlight.

“Stop,” you whispered, horrified. “You’re not…”

“I find the reactions I’ve gotten to adopting the face of such a mediocre man so fascinating,” he said, a dark sound simmering beneath Noctis’s smooth voice. A force with which you never heard from the real prince. “It boggles the mind to think of what he could have possibly done to cultivate such loyalty. Although in your case, I suspect it’s not so much loyalty as it is lust. Love, even.”

“Stop it,” you said, a bit more strength in your voice as horror wore down to disgust and anger.

“Stop?” he echoed. “But this is what you’ve longed for, is it not? You tried so hard to get his attention, and yet I am the one morally condemned. It doesn’t really seem fair, does it?”

“Stop it!” you repeated, telling yourself that it wasn’t actually him, that it wasn’t actually Noctis looking at you with disgust.

“Conspiring to tempt an engaged man into an affair… If nobody else will, I shall take it upon myself to pass judgment.” He stared at you, dark eyes empty and expression cold. “By any measure of the word, I find you guilty. Not quite adultery, but,” he shrugged one shoulder, “it’s close enough, don’t you think?”

Before you could respond, his arm shot to the side and you watched as an arsenal of blades swirled around him. Not Noctis’s, but definitely the magical blades belonging to a king of Lucis. It didn’t matter if it was only an aspect of the illusion because a short, glowing red dagger dropped into his hand, his fingers wrapping around the hilt and bringing it fully into reality. Terrified, you got your elbows beneath you, taking advantage of his loosened grip to get away. But Noctis—Ardyn—grabbed the front of the slip you wore. The tear down the side seam ripped a little further, the neckline tugged lower to reveal more of your chest. You knew it wasn’t Noctis in your head, but your lying eyes told you it was, filling you with a unique type of humiliation and despair. This was wrong. Wrong on every level imaginable.

“Such smooth skin,” he said, pressing the flat of the blade below your collar bone, right above your racing heart. It was warm, buzzing with magic. His other hand settled around your bruised neck, keeping you in place.

“What are you doing?” you asked, barely daring to breathe for fear of the knife so close to your skin. You tried so hard to portray bravery, but the threat of more pain had you freezing up. Already, your head and ankle ached agonizingly. How much more until it was too much? Until you couldn’t keep fighting?

“I suggest you stay still,” he told you. “It would be a shame if my hand happened to slip.”

The first slash was quick. The knife was sharped to such a deadly edge that you barely felt it at first. Not until blood began to well up, until the stinging, cutting pain registered. You thrashed with the helpless terror of an animal, thoughtlessly desperate to get free.

“Be still, now,” Noctis-Ardyn told you, tapping the flat part of the knife to your cheek. You whimpered, sobbing, but went obediently still. The moment your eyes met his, he added another quick, even cut. It connected with the first at the top, sliced right above where your heart pounded out hot, scarlet blood.

“Good girl,” he said, oh-so sweet. Hearing the praise from Noctis’s lips, real or not, did something awful to you. Hot and twisted, it settled in your core, all wrapped up in the pain and fear and confusion and discomfort and anguish. It was disturbing and unfair and despicable and-

The third cut crossed between the first two to form an A, the letter carved in blood right into your flesh. Noctis-Ardyn released the blade and it vanished in a haze of red magic. You sobbed, bucking up against him. Not because you thought you could get free, but because it hurt. Because you didn’t understand. Because you just wanted it to be over, revealed to be some sort of sick and twisted conjuration of your mind.

“There now, all finished,” he said in a comforting tone, admiring his handiwork. His thumb ran over one of the cuts, smearing blood across your skin. Ensuring you were meeting his gaze, he licked it up. Smoothly, sensually, dark eyelashes lowered over even darker eyes. You couldn’t look away. Not when his tongue ran across his bottom lip, and not when he leaned down, hungrily searching to capture your mouth in a kiss. A part of your brain understood how thin the facade was, could almost feel the drag of Ardyn’s stubble against your skin, but you still couldn’t ignore the senses telling you it was Noctis above you. Noctis kissing you, sealing the taste of your blood between the two of you.

His hand dropped between your legs, slipping up your thigh before pressing against you through your underwear. You weren’t wet, but blood and sensation eagerly welled up beneath his fingers as he traced your slit through the fabric, zeroing in on your clit to make you squirm, hips jumping in a half-realized attempt to escape the touch.

You wondered if he was going to rape you wearing Noctis’s face, and then he pushed a little harder, drawing tight little circles against you through your panties, and your thoughts scattered. With his tongue in your mouth, hand on your throat, and fingers pushing the fabric between the outer lips of your pussy to get more direct contact with your clit, you were barely even pushing against him. So many things hurt, so many things resonated with despair, but the pleasure distracted you. So sweet, so tempting.

He pulled away, saliva stringing between your lips when you cautiously opened your eyes. And it wasn’t Noctis’s gaze that caught yours. Ardyn smiled.

“That’s it,” he said warmly. “I won’t hurt you. You don’t want to be hurt anymore, do you?”

You sobbed, pushing at his chest with weak arms. Ardyn didn’t bother reacting to that, pushing aside your panties so his fingers could touch you directly. And you didn’t think you were that wet, but it was enough for him to drag up to your clit, enough to ease the friction so he could easily draw circles over those hyper-sensitive nerves.

“Don’t,” you said weakly, scrambling for the hot anger that fueled you before and finding only a horrible sense of defeat as that rush of adrenaline and energy grew sluggish in your veins. In its wake, you felt oversensitized and raw, too receptive to his touch, too worn down by the excess energy of before. “Please, don’t.”

“You needn’t fight it anymore,” he told you sweetly. “You did a marvelous job, but our little game is over.”

“No,” you said with a bit more conviction, trying to push him away. “No, I-I won’t let you...”

“You will,” Ardyn said patiently, kissing down your neck. You pulled in a sharp gasp through your teeth, half-heartedly attempting to pry his hand away. “I’ve been watching you. I know how badly you wish to be desired.” His tongue dragged across your fluttering pulse, his fingers dipping back down to test your dripping entrance. “How desperate you are for affection.” His stubble was rough on your neck, so at odds with his soft lips and the brush of his words. You shook your head in denial, stomach twisting with discomfort and despair and the beginning coil of pleasure as his fingers began to shallowly tease in and out of you. “I’ve seen your chest swell at the smallest hint of praise, and your look of despair when you go unnoticed. Oh, yes, my dear. I know exactly what you want. You put on a brave face and act as if you don’t care, but you can’t fool me.”

“You’re wrong,” you said, trying to block out the pleasure, the sensation, the need growing beneath his touch. It didn’t matter that you squirmed in an attempt to escape him, your heart wasn’t really in it. “You’re wrong,” you said again, your eyes squeezed shut to block it out. “I d-oh-on’t—”

“What point is there in being loyal to someone who will never appreciate it?” Ardyn asked, cutting you off by slowly pushing two fingers into you. Your mouth fell open at the sensation, at the tantalizing stretch of your pussy fluttering around his fingers. “All he’s ever given you is pain. I’m offering you what you’ve always longed for.”

Noctis had never hurt you, Ardyn was the only one who had caused you pain. You told yourself that, but the heartbreak in your chest whispered otherwise. The only reason you were here was because, when it came down to it, Noctis had abandoned you. You tried to think about his face, his beautiful smile, but all that came to mind was the cold weight of his flat glare. And it hurt. It really hurt, pulsing pain in time with the blood still oozing from the cuts on your chest, the headache pounding in your skull, the sharp heat of your ankle.

You sobbed, shaking your head, horribly confused in the space between pain and pleasure and despair and need.

“Oh, no. Don’t cry,” Ardyn told you, his fingers curling as he pulled them out, rubbing against your inner walls in a tantalizing way, distracting you once again. “I’ll make you forget all about your heartbreak, you won’t even remember his name by the time I’m done.”

His fingers continued to languidly pump in and out of you as he moved down your body and you must have been arguing or fighting in some way but the voice in your head that urged you to just give in was getting louder. You were so tired.

“Ardyn,” you protested, pulling on his hair. He groaned, positioning your leg over his shoulder. It was the hurt one, the one you didn’t dare move too much for fear of making it worse.

“That’s right,” he told you, his fingers pushing in all the way into your pussy, curling maddeningly against your walls, making you shudder and gasp and scattering your protest into dust. “Aren’t I lucky?” he asked, poised right between your legs.

You knew what he was intended to do and embarrassment overcame you at the heady feeling of him staring at your exposed cunt. You pulled a little harder on his hair, anxiety and disgust churning within you, but then his tongue dragged across your clit and the sharp, wet heat flooded your mind. Surprise, too. It was surprising how good it felt.

He did it again, and again, and again until you were unable to hold back your moans, until you were writhing beneath him, until you were reduced to babbling and begging and shaking your head against the distinct tug and build of pleasure beneath his tongue, against his fingers.

Your body had no idea what to do with the sensation, it was too much, too new, too vivid when juxtaposed with all that you had suffered. Ardyn didn’t seem to care, only bracing an arm across your hips when you squirmed too much, groaning against you when you pulled his hair. The embarrassment didn’t fade, nor did the disgust or the shame, but the pleasure within you grew in spite of it all. Because of it all, mixing and mingling with the pain and coiling tight in your core.

He was going fast, forcing pleasure into you without any regard given to how disorienting it was, how awful it was to spiral so quickly beneath someone’s touch, how helpless you felt. If anything, trying to tell him those things just made him more focused.

Ardyn added a third finger as his mouth continued to drive you insane, scissoring and curling them within you, making sure you could feel the deliriously good stretch as his movements became rapidly rougher, more intense. And, by the six, you were more than wet enough for it, coating his hand. When his fingertips curled against that spongy patch of tissue within you, it sounded like you’d been punched, the helpless sound building into a keen as your body rocked into the delicious sensation.

Too good. It was anxious and buzzing and too much and you knew you were going to come but you didn’t know how to handle it, not when you were utterly stripped of control, not when it hurt, not when it was Ardyn between your legs.

You thought he was groaning at first, you could feel the vibrations of the sound against you, but you realized after a second that Ardyn was laughing. Laughing at you, at your reaction, at your helplessness. But he didn’t let up. He just doubled down, ensuring your pleasure with every flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers.

The word no kept leaving your mouth, not that either of you was really listening to what you had to say. The sound of his fingers in your cunt and his mouth working your clit was far more telling of what you wanted. The way your hands fisted in his unruly hair, the way your thighs clamped down around his head—they weren’t signs of the fight you’d put up earlier, but of the orgasm you were being rapidly pushed into.

And he thought it was funny. Of course he did. Your pain, your pleasure, your despair, your fear—they were all just a part of his game.

By the time you came, you weren’t even sure if you were breathing. You had fallen silent, mouth open and air wheezing in and out of your lungs. Your hips jumped, desperate to meet each thrust of his fingers, but Ardyn kept you in place as he worked you through it, prolonging the white hot bliss until the wave had passed, leaving you boneless and hot.

And used. That was the word that came to mind as your mind came down from that high. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers curling a last time against your g-spot as he pulled them away. Used and filthy, absolutely disgusting, sweaty and fevered and flushed. But there was no time to feel that, to have any chance of making sense of the situation you’d landed yourself in.

“My dear, dear girl,” Ardyn groaned as he covered your body with his own. He was still mostly dressed, but you heard the telltale sound of his pants being pushed down and knew what was going to happen. You met his eyes and they were dark, but you could have sworn you saw the flash of yellow. Gold, evil and piercing and insane. He smiled, teeth glinting. “You liked that, didn’t you.” That wasn’t a question, it was a statement. An accusation. “Helpless little thing that you are… You should feel relieved that I’m in a giving mood tonight.”

“I…” Your sweat stung as it ran into the lines he had carved into the skin above your racing heart. Ardyn’s A, drawn in scarlet ink. You couldn’t think, couldn’t come up with an answer that properly communicated what you felt. Confused, you squirmed, but it didn’t count for much. The tip of his cock quickly caught on your hole when he guided it between your legs, slicking through the arousal he’d teased out of you.

You felt the press of him against the fluttering muscles of your entrance and were struck with a pang of visceral doubt, worry, disgust, fear. It was Ardyn. The Ardyn who had killed Lunafreya, who had tortured your friends. Astrals help you.

“Ardyn,” you said, your voice breathy, “wai-ait, no… No, I-”

“I’ve waited long enough,” he murmured darkly against your jaw, not allowing your best attempts at escape stop him as he pushed into you.

There was too much for him to enter you smoothly, all in one thrust. You weren’t ready, not nearly prepared enough to take him. Ardyn clearly didn’t care, gripping your legs under the knee to push your thighs up, to make more room for him. And it worked. Mostly. Your body jerked with each roll of his hips, your whines and protests growing shrill as he forced more and more of his cock into your tight cunt.

By the time he bottomed out, his balls hitting your ass, you just felt shocked. At the pain, at the violation, at the overwhelming weight of him inside of you, the intense sharpness of the stretch. It was impossible to say if the way your cunt squeezed was an attempt to reject him or pull him deeper, you were too confused and messy to know the difference anymore. Either way, it was your body working against you, forcing you to feel every place the two of you were connected, the way his dick dragged across your sensitive inner walls.

“Do you feel it?” Ardyn muttered lowly, shallowly rolling his hips. You could have laughed, if nothing else than in sheer disbelief that he’d even have to ask. But you didn’t, you just keened helplessly, holding desperately onto his shoulders because it was the only stability you had. “This is how intently I’ve desired you,” he continued, watching the way your lips parted and trembled as he punctuated the sentiment with a harsh, shallow thrust. “Waiting, watching. I knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

The praise made your pussy flutter around him, even you could feel it. Ardyn laughed breathlessly, a mad sound.

“Such a desperate little girl you are,” he muttered in warm amusement.

You might have argued, or at least made an attempt to, but Ardyn kissed you and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You didn’t even consider biting him, could barely think of anything at all when he began to move. How terrible, how gently evil that he would start slow, easing you into stretching around his cock, giving you a chance to adjust to the intrusion. Your body barely even put up a fight, it didn’t want this to hurt. You didn’t want to hurt. It was better to let it happen, to lose yourself in his kiss, in the way his chest vibrated when he groaned.

“Don’t you worry,” he told you as he pulled back a little, his lips brushing your own. “I don’t mind.” Like you were concerned about his enjoyment, like you were worried about how he felt.

But you didn’t tell him how little you cared, or how much you hated him for what he was doing. Stringing together a word, let alone a whole sentence, was decidedly beyond your capacity as he began to really fuck you.

Ardyn’s patience didn’t last long before he began to move faster. It didn’t need to, not really. Your body was ready to keep up as his thrusts sped up, got a little more violent. Your body happily accepted the abuse. Encouraged it, your pussy squeezing his cock to get more out of the stimulation, your hips tilting upward so he could grind more solidly against your walls with each pass so that he could go just a little bit deeper. And you kept thinking it was all disconnected, that you weren’t involved with your body’s natural instincts, but you could feel everything. When your mouth dropped open to moan, long and loud, it was your voice.

And that was an anxious, terrible thought. Disgust choked you up and it didn’t feel good, but you were unable to stop the spiraling, sinking knowledge that you were getting off on this. That it wouldn’t be very difficult for him to tease you over the edge again.

He was disgusting, but what were you?

“Are you paying attention, darling?” Ardyn asked. “Can you hear how wet you are for me? Even I’m surprised, I had no idea you wanted this so much.”

You groaned, shaking your head. But his words had the intended effect of tethering you back to your body, reminding you of your growing pleasure. The pain, too, but it was almost unavoidable at this point that those sensations become twisted up and indistinguishable from one another.

Maybe because you didn’t respond to his taunt, Arydn’s hand dropped to where your bodies met. The first featherlight touch against your swollen, hypersensitive clit made you gasp sharply, your hips jumping and nearly breaking his rhythm.

Ardyn laughed at that, the hand pulling away. You wanted to draw him back, to get more of his touch, to get off. It wouldn’t take much. You felt like even if he just brushed over those sensitive nerves again, you’d come. You were that wound up, that aggressively close to the edge.

But he didn’t.

“Please,” you muttered, begged, blinking your eyes half open to plead with him. It was depraved, you weren’t far gone enough to forget how wrong this all was, you were just desperate enough to not care as much. Ardyn was watching. He had probably been waiting, knowing you were broken down enough to do exactly this.

“That’s right, beg,” he told you. “Beg your king to give you what you need. Go on.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. You were so close it felt like you were going to burst, to go insane. Tears pricked at your eyes, your fingers digging into his shoulders through the layers of fabric. “Ardyn…”

“Is that how you address royalty?” he asked, his voice low enough to make you shudder. “Come now, think. Use that pretty little head of yours.”

You whimpered, unable to get any sort of traction as your shaking hands scrambled against his back, unable to find stability amidst the aggressive thrusts that had the bed knocking into the wall violently. It hurt. Every jolt hurt your head and ankle, every pulse of your pounding heart stung the wound on your chest. There was only one way it would be better. Ardyn was being too rough, too cruel, teasing around your clit without enough pressure to send you over the edge. You whined, a sob emerging with a helpless moan as you tried to think beyond the overwhelming desperation coursing through your body.

King. Royalty. Beg. Somewhere in your brain, a connection was made.

“Please. Please, Your… Your Highn-ngh—Majesty!” you said, the right word finally coming out with a jolt at a particularly hard thrust. Ardyn rewarded you like you hoped, his fingers finally settling against your clit to grind dirty little circles.

“Again,” he demanded. The intensity in his voice frightened you, it was so low and heavy with the sound of arousal, but all that fear amounted to was the tightening of your inner muscles around his cock, the pulse of your clit beneath his fingers.

“Your Majesty,” you said again, surprised at how easily, how loosely, the words left your mouth. It shouldn’t have been that easy, you shouldn’t have given in without a fight, but you were so close. “Please, Your Ma-ah-jesty—”

“Good girl,” he purred. And you could hate yourself later. Hurt later. It was fine for now, you could just let it happen, let the pleasure snap and roll through you, hot and heavy and delicious and maddening, nothing more than liquid insanity as your back arched and your pussy squeezed his cock, your thighs rubbing harshly against the rough fabric of his clothes. Intense and wonderful and hot, you allowed yourself to exist in that nothing-everything state of bliss, just for a few seconds.

All too soon, that high faded into the sweaty discomfort of reality. The world came crashing in, but he didn’t stop.

Ardyn bit at your jaw as his hips lost rhythm, the hand that smelled filthy like sex settling around your neck. You choked, eyes snapping open in fear, but Ardyn was obviously lost, selfishly searching out his own end. Everything that had felt so good, so delicious, so hot, suddenly turned bitter and frightening and grotesque.

“Ardyn,” you tried to choke out, clawing at his hand. “Hurts…”

“No,” he said, his hips slamming against you. Astrals, you were so wet, so weak, that your body just accepted it, just let it happen. His fingers let up a little around your throat and you gasped in a breath. His eyes practically glowed with the intensity of his mania. “You haven’t already forgotten, have you?”

You shook your head, almost as afraid of disappointing him as you were of making him mad. “Your Majesty, please, it-”

His hand crushed your windpipe again and you wondered if he even knew, you doubted he cared. “Good girl,” he practically growled, the words low in his throat as his thrusts became nothing more than violent rutting, skin slapping skin and his cock driving too deep into you every time. He was coming, you realized. Inside of you, you could almost feel the heat of his cum as he used you. “My sweet girl…”

As his strokes became slower, his grip around your throat loosened a bit. There was a laziness to the way he prolonged what you assumed were the final dregs of his orgasm, like he was content to enjoy it just a little more, his nose brushing against your cheek before he pressed his face against yours in an oddly sentimental way.

You endured it, just grateful to be able to breathe.

Grateful to be alive? You weren’t so sure.

When Ardyn pulled out, you could feel the strange discomfort of emptiness, the immediate way his cum leaked out when your pussy clamped down hard around nothing. It coated your thighs, thinned out with your own arousal. Disgusting. Ardyn sighed in satisfaction, pressing a final kiss to your lips before sitting up and letting you roll to the side. You did nothing to fight it, embracing the hollow feeling as you curled up, drawing your knees up with your injured ankle delicately placed over the other.

You needed to get a better look at the extent of the damage, maybe wrap it up. That snap sounded pretty bad.

But you didn’t. You didn’t move.

With empty, glassy eyes, you stared at the wall, feeling tears drip lazily down the side of your face as you tried to think of what to do next. Nothing came to mind, it was like floating. Like falling. Like dying.

This was fucked. You were fucked.

Ardyn made another contented sound as he laid behind you, wrapping his arm around your torso as a lover might. He had finally taken his clothes off, his skin was warm against your own. Too hot, like he was running a fever.

“Poor thing,” Ardyn said, his condescending, indulgent voice rumbling through you. “All tired out already?”

You grunted, tried half-heartedly to pull away from him without moving too much. Ardyn just pulled you even closer against him, his arm unyielding.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided. “If you struggle too much, I’ll have no choice but to assume you’re ready for more.”

You fell still, breath catching in fear. Ardyn laughed.

“I thought not. Don’t be scared. Rest.” He sighed heavily, the air ruffling the fine hairs on the back of your neck and making you shiver. “There’s time for patience now. You and I have nothing but time.”

You wanted to ask about that, but you didn’t. There was no point in engaging questions you really, honestly didn’t want to know the answer to, especially when you weren’t even sure you could get the words out in the first place.

“If I were you,” Ardyn said a moment later, his voice lower. “I’d pray that the gods don’t keep your prince too long. Who knows what might become of you in the meantime.”

[spencersawkward]

omg i’m so glad u have a tumblr!! ur literally my fav mgg fic author ❤️ i’m a hoe for that man can u do sleeping together for the first time with like an age gap or something spicy lmao

hi omg thank you 😊 that literally means the world to me! also thank you for requesting one of my fave things to write haha i love first-time-having-sex-together tropes. happy reading! 

summary: reader is an artist who needs some inspiration, preferably from her new boyfriend.

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, age gap, creampie, a little breeding kink, oral (male receiving), kind of Dom!Matthew vibes, dirty talk, praise kink with a hint of degradation as well (not super prominent). 

word count: 4.4k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

masterlist

I straighten up and bend backward a bit to relieve the pressure on my spine. my hair is falling out of the knot on my head and I push a stray piece behind my ear, placing the wooden paintbrush between my teeth. aside from the warm, mellifluous tones pouring from the speakers, the apartment is silent.

I've hit a creative wall, it seems. every time I've tried to paint this week, I find myself standing above a stretched canvas with nothing but a frown and crossed arms. even little details feel wrong to add; the empty space is taunting me. it doesn't help that my thoughts have been flooded with memories and fantasies of Matthew. we've been on a couple dates now, sweet outings that leave me fluttery inside. I remember the words he says, the shape of his smile and the curve of his jaw, like they've been been in my mind forever. he's elusive, however, and hasn't initiated anything sexual with me. I think he's afraid of coming on too strong. there's a considerable age gap between us, but I don't care. I want him all the time-- whenever I'm at work, or trying to paint, all I can think of is how good it would feel to have those strong, veined hands on me.

christ.

before I can lose my courage, I text him. if anything can inspire me, it's his presence. likely, he's at work and won't be able to respond or come over, but it's worth a shot.

I'm just sliding my phone into my back pocket when the response comes in. a smile spreads over my face; he'll be over in half an hour. in the meantime, I'll sweep the background with shades that remind me of him: rich, emerald greens, honeyed tones that reminisce of his eyes. he'll pop against any backdrop.

I'm bent furiously over my work when he tells me he's arrived, and my heart thuds in my chest. even after hanging out several times, the butterflies are as alive as ever. they flood my stomach while I buzz him into the building.

"hi." he greets me when I open the door, curls messy. he must have just come from work.

"hi, Matthew." I smile up at him. his gaze travels over my face, my body, taking in my appearance for a moment.

"you look lovely." he says it genuinely, despite the fact that I'm literally wearing a paint t-shirt under a pair of rummaged overalls. I forgot to fix my hair, too.

"thanks." I blush, about to turn away when he bends down and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. it's the first time he's said hello that way, and part of me flushes with the knowledge that he's attracted to me right now.

"now," he looks around my apartment as I step back to let him in. "what can I help you with?"

"I have a small favor to ask." I spin the paintbrush between my index and third fingers, reaching out to take his wrist and pull him towards the couch.

"anything," he replies, then sees my setup. "is this your studio?"

"slash living room." I chuckle. Matthew sits on the soft cushions before staring up at me. I don't miss his pupils dilating as they travel over the shape of my body. instead of allowing myself get distracted, I gesture to the wet paint on my canvas. "I need you to model for me."

"like, be your muse?" he beams at the notion, incredibly pleased with himself. I like this about Matthew; although he can be self-deprecating and doesn't take himself too seriously, he appreciates my admiration.

"oh, hush." I giggle. he laughs, reclining on the couch now that he knows why I invited him over.

"how do you want me to pose, Picasso?"

"well, let me re-orient myself." I hold up a hand, grab the abandoned easel, and try to get everything set up. he never takes his eyes off me.

"why were you painting on the floor?" he asks, slightly amused. I jerk my head toward him, narrow my eyes.

"it's my process."

"no judgement." he holds up his hands in surrender. I place the canvas carefully on the easel so that he can't see my work, then gather up my paints, palette, and brushes. there's a moment of pure silence when I frown as I glance between his face and the chasm of space awaiting its representation.

"you look tired." I observe. he lets out a sound that resembles a laugh.

"I am."

"how long did you sleep last night?" I ask as I start painting, focusing on the shape and planes of his face. if I don't get the composition exactly correct, I'll have to throw the whole thing out.

"three hours." he says this like it's normal. my eyebrows shoot up.

"three hours? why?"

"I had to work on lines." he shrugs.

"don't move." I order. he suppresses a grin.

"my sincerest apologies."

"uh huh," I dip my brush into a pale skin shade that I've mixed to match his pigment. "you need to get more sleep."

we continue on like this for a while, making light conversation while I get down the basics of my portrait. I can't handle anything that requires more than a fraction of my attention while doing this, and he seems to appreciate my concentration.

that said, it's beyond difficult to focus when he stares at me like every movement is magical, something he wants to memorize. I feel pliable under his watch, a little bit like a doll. he could bend me every which way, ask me to do anything, and I would give in. and who could blame me?

my thoughts slip into darkened territories, and the hue of my cheeks must do the same, because he gets this mischievous smile on his face that I can't ignore.

"what are you thinking about?" he asks softly.

"hm?" I turn to him. "oh, nothing."

"really?" his brows lift in that intimidating, delightfully entertained way that sets my skin on fire.

"I..." I trail off, wondering if I should give into the chaos in my mind. the thoughts that slash through my psyche whenever I see the width of his shoulders, the fit of his shirt. "I should have asked you to pose nude."

Matthew blushes-- actually blushes-- when I say this, his head dropping momentarily as a grin takes over his features. when he lifts his gaze to mine again, there's a different look in his eyes.

"yeah?"

"mhmm." no taking it back now. "I think that would be too distracting, though."

"how so?" the corner of his mouth tugs up.

"you know why." I avert my attention, only once flitting back to him. his tongue darts out over his lips and he holds contact.

"say it." he dares me. the tone of it, slightly dominant, makes my stomach flip. quietly, I swallow the lump in my throat.

"I have trouble keeping my hands to myself."

we stare at each other, words finding and dying on tongues in the silence.

at this point, my painting has been somewhat abandoned. brushstrokes sit unaccompanied by actual structure, except for the general godly shape of his face, and I'm clenching the utensil between my fingers as if to channel the sexual tension elsewhere.

"is that right?" he notes my absolute stillness and stands up, walking toward me in a relaxed, confident gait. all I can do is look up at him when he stands before me. the top button of his shirt is undone, and I can see the smooth skin beneath, each of the other buttons awaiting my fingertips.

"yes." the word is messy. he runs his index finger over the shell of my ear, bends down, whispers so low that the phrase almost gets lost in the air.

"me too."

he plants a gentle kiss on my jaw, hand reaching tentatively to rest on my waist. I can feel the caution in his actions, the worry he has about pressuring me. I'm cognizant of every breath he takes, especially the hitch when I give into myself and kiss him.

his mouth is warm and soft. the tension twists and knots between our bodies, roiling in the empty space as we resist the energy still. but I don't want to resist. I know that I want this, and he seems to want it just as much.

"Matthew." I pull away, his teeth tugging gently on my bottom lip.

"what is it?" his eyes, dark, search mine. my pulse quickens beneath my skin.

"I want to be with you."

"you are with me." he chuckles lightly, glancing at my features. the full circles of my eyes, the bloom of pink spreading over my cheekbones.

"no," I shake my head. "I mean... I want to be with you."

"you want to have sex?" he asks, clarifying. I nod eagerly, though he frowns a bit. "are you sure?"

"do you not want to?" I try to keep the disappointment out of my face. maybe I misread the situation. the most we've done is make out on his couch and once in an Uber on the way back from our first date. but there's a sweet, burning sensation whenever I see him, something I want to dive into. I want him; I've wanted him since the moment we met.

"of course I want to," he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. relief loosens my chest. "I just don't want you to regret anything."

"I couldn't ever regret this." my eyes travel over his frame, over the little scar beneath his chin. he angles my face up to examine my features. there's a smirk on his face.

"then what are we waiting for?" his hands move to encircle my waist, tugging me to him like I'm something long-awaited, like he needs my weight against his. our lips meet again, my head tilting as we kiss deeply, my fingers twining in his soft hair. I'm standing on my tiptoes as I do it, and one of his hands reaches down to squeeze my ass. he grunts as my pelvis moves against the quickly-forming hard-on in his pants. I can feel it against my stomach as he ruts against me just slightly. I smirk.

"sit on the couch again." I whisper when I pull away. he's holding my face with one hand, staring into my eyes with the kind of dominance that tells me he knows exactly what to do. but I appreciate that he follows my request, pulling my hips toward him as he backs up and sinks onto the cushions. he sits, awaiting my next move. when I sink onto my knees and settle between his legs, he bites hard on his lip. I don't move at first, willing to draw out this beautiful moment when he's watching with undivided attention.

"what are you doing down there, sweetheart?" he feigns innocence when I give him my doe eyes. I run slender fingers over the erection in his pants, his quickened breath an indicator of just how needy he secretly is. I revel in it.

my free hand wraps around his upper thigh, digging my nails in slightly. he's so gorgeous, and the tension of his muscles beneath me is enough to break my resistance. I start to palm him through the fabric, torturing slowly while he runs fingers through my hair and tries not to buck up against my touch. I finally get around to undoing the button on his pants. he waits impatiently. I tug them down his legs, lingering on the waistband of his boxers. when they come down as well, another kind of knot forms in my tummy. he's perfect.

"oh my god." he throws his head back when his dick hits his stomach, the pleasure of releasing it its own sensation.

"hm?" I wonder aloud, wrapping my hand around the base and starting to slowly pump him. he raises his head to look at me.

"you're just... doing so well." he breathes. I grin at how easily I've got him; I was worried about being too shy or him being more experienced, but he's greedy for me. I love the power I have right now.

I surprise him by flattening my tongue against the underside of his cock, dragging it up over the throbbing vein and pausing at the top. I let him stare at me with my mouth hovering over him, the head resting on the tip of my tongue. he moans when I begin to kitten lick the precum that leaks out, grip tightening in my hair as it comes out of the ponytail I made earlier. the veins in his arm clench as I sink slowly onto him. my cheeks hollow. his jaw drops open, dewy skin catching the light, as I start to suck on him.

"fuck..." he trails off. I begin to bob up and down, doing tricks with my tongue and swirling around the head, savoring every single second. his desperate touch, the way he bucks his hips up involuntarily when I try to take him to the hilt, all of it causes me to moan. vibrations draw out sinful noises from him as well, those heavenly sounds that he litters with my name. my hands rest on his thighs at first, then move up to rest on the warm, taut skin of his abdomen. I crave every centimeter of his skin, his contact, especially when I can feel the rushed rise and fall of his panting. I give him full use of my throat, sliding over him and moaning with every tug of my hair. he mutters profanities, praises me, struggles to keep his eyes open just to see me peek up at him from beneath my lashes. his expression tells me he's got plans for me.

"if you don't stop, I'm gonna cum, baby." he groans, smoothly tugging me off of him. there's a slight popping sound and I settle onto my knees, staring up at him. the smile on my face is unmistakable. I love that I can do this to him. I grip his legs and pull myself up into his lap, drawing myself across him just before his erection, glancing down at it. his hands rub over the tops of my thighs, tracing over the curve of my hips and resting on my ass. I start to roll my body down, my lips finding his throat as I suck and bite. my tongue licks over his Adam's apple and he shudders, drawing me closer so that my stomach brushes his cock.

"stop teasing." he starts to undo the straps of my overalls, chuckling a bit to himself as they fall easily. I blush.

"pretty sexy." I joke. Matthew suddenly grabs my chin, holds me in place so that I look him dead in the eyes.

"you're perfect." he smiles admiringly, then toys with the hem of my t-shirt. I reach down, pull it off and toss it somewhere in the room. I'm not wearing a bra, and Matthew slides his hands up my waist, ribcage, pausing just below my tits. when I grab his fingers and place them over me, his dick twitches.

"excited?" I smirk. his fingertips seem to have a mind of their own as they begin to toy with my nipples, the pad of his thumbs teasing me. I sigh, chest pushing out towards him desperately. he holds my body like he's worried I'll crumble, but also in a way that connotes a deep longing. something spilling over.

"can I take you to the bedroom?" he asks me breathlessly, one of his hands leaving my chest to stroke his own cock. the sight makes me groan helplessly while I grip his shoulders and grind against his lap. he picks up the pace for himself. "I can't wait any longer."

I nod eagerly, gasping when he stops touching himself to pull up his pants, hoist me up into his arms, and stand, carrying me with surprising ease down the hallway of my apartment. I point him to the correct room and he laughs when we get inside.

"you're messy." he laughs, although I'm not sure if he means the scattered papers around my bedroom or the whine that issues from my throat as I reach for his clothed dick while I'm pressed to him. it's sitting against my navel and I want to see his undone expressions.

I ignore the playful comment; he lays me down gingerly on the bed, straightening up to gaze at my figure before I push the rest of the overalls down my legs and cast them off. he lets out a giggle as I pout at the work I have to put into getting naked.

"stop laughing..." I blush, smiling. but I'm giggling too. he grazes the inside of my thigh, unable to keep from touching me while I discard my panties.

"I'm sorry." he laughs in a way that shows he isn't sorry at all, but the soft kiss he plants on my lips tells me it's all endearing to him. I wrinkle my nose slightly. for the first time being naked around him, I feel surprisingly comfortable. he watches me with a quiet adoration, like I've spun sugar and gold between my fingers. unable to contain myself anymore, I grab fistfuls of his shirt and undo the rest of the buttons. every second that his skin isn't against mine is a new kind of torture. it comes off easily and then the pants come off, too, until we're just staring at each other.

"do you still wanna do this?" he speaks carefully with me. I don't know where to look-- at his perfect chest, stomach, the purplish bruises already forming across his throat, or his enraptured face. it's almost overwhelming, and the waves of desire crash over me, hindering my words.

"yes," I nod. "yes, yes, yes." the word keeps falling from my lips even as he crawls on top of me, burying his nose into my collarbone and kissing feverishly. one hand supports his arm beside my head while the other reaches down to part my legs. I sigh at the cool air that's interrupted by his dick rubbing over my folds. he starts to grind down, drawing out every second of foreplay while I try to catch my breath. my eyes tilt to the ceiling, fluttering shut. I bask in every sensation. his warmth, his weight, all of it presses down.

"do we need a condom?" he asks softly, his cock throbbing against my center.

"birth control." I shake my head. he nods against my skin, allows me to tangle my fingers in his curls. "I'm clean."

"me too." I reply. he grabs my hip and yanks it towards him, pulling his chest away to straighten while he lines himself up at my entrance. he's concentrating on the place where our bodies meet, eyes full of lust when they peek up at mine.

"tell me if you need me to stop." he says softly.

"okay." I can't think of anything else. every cell of my existence is consumed with thoughts of impatience, and when he slides into me, my thighs tense and my mouth drops open.

"Matthew... oh my god." my voice is more like a mewl, in shock as my walls squeeze around him like they're trying to reject the sudden pressure between my legs. his jaw clenches, sinking into me until he reaches about halfway.

he lets out a surprising groan, leans down to kiss my shoulder as he finds a sweet spot. our chests are pressed together and, judging by the way he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts my torso to his, he likes the feeling.

we stay there a moment, him trying not to hurt me. but then I lift my pelvis up, trying to take more, and he inhales sharply.

"do something," I beg him quietly. "please."

I feel his lips curl into a smile and he pulls his face up to see my expressions. his hips push forward, my body sliding up the bed with the force. he watches my eyes roll back, my ribcage expand, my face overcome by pleasure. his gaze is unrelenting with lips slightly parted as he begins to thrust in and out of me.

I'm already a panting, moaning mess beneath him. he touches his nose to mine, swallowing each other's breaths while he moves.

"is this how you want it, baby?" he smirks, getting lost in his own lust. I nod and he gently turns my face to his. "tell me what you want."

"more." I sigh, hips again raising to meet the thrusts that are growing more forceful each time. my nails drag up his back, the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair and tugging at the ends. he sinks his teeth into my neck lightly and moans. I wrap my legs around his torso.

"such a pretty girl..." he growls in my ear. his grip on the sheets tightens when I clench myself around him, drawing him impossibly closer to my core. I can't help the helpless moans spilling out of me. I'm insatiable right now, scratching at his shoulders until I'm sure I'll leave red marks. he groans lasciviously at the clawing, ramming into me with an unrelenting voracity.

"oh my god," I yelp, back arching as he hits my g-spot. "right there, Matthew." my pleas fall on receptive ears: he holds me tighter to his chest and pounds into me.

"you like getting fucked by older men?" he whispers dirty things in my ear and I nod quickly, hardly able to speak through the ungodly sounds escaping my mouth. I cling to him and he lets me, treating every limb like it belongs to him.

"yes-- fuck, yes." I moan, almost sliding out of his grip from how hard he goes.

"you can take it," he breathes out, fingertips digging into my ribs while he holds me up. he's leaving marks that won't go away for a while, remnants of the full power of his desire. I want more, writhing and using my limited mobility to grind against him. he chuckles darkly over my skin. "look at you."

"Matthew, I'm gonna--" I gasp when he slams into me particularly hard. "I'm gonna cum."

"good." he shudders slightly, that attitude showing again. he reaches his hand up a moment to run through my hair. "cum on me, princess."

my lips part and I try to gulp down air, but it's impossible with the way he's holding my attention. the thing about Matthew is that he's so sweet and gentle that whenever he looks at me like I'm a plaything, it shocks my insides. they turn to jelly, eager to please and quick to satisfy. he switches so easily with me, and he doesn't even need to request my submission. I give it more than willingly.

"fuck me..." I pant out, feeling my pussy start to clench over and over around him. my orgasm fuzzies the edges of my vision, creeping up my spine until it's arched. "oh fuck-- Matthew!" I practically scream while my frame gives out. I'm shuddering, crying out at the absolute euphoria wracking my body.

"scream my name, baby." he groans, his own orgasms approaching quickly. the fluttering of my cunt around him is causing the vein in his forehead to throb. he rocks into me, the headboard knocking into the wall while he nears the edge. "such a good girl for me."

I nod and meet his thrusts with my hips while I ride out my orgasm, inadvertently finding myself wound up again. the pleasure of his fingers when they reach between our bodies to rub my clit causes me to buck into him, whining mercifully while he gets me off again.

"oh--" he sucks in a breath when I squeeze, keeping him here with me. "you feel so good."

he starts to lose control, hips juddering to get as deep as he can get.

"can I fill you up, baby?"

"yes." I reply immediately. he smiles a little, lifting me up more so that he can hold me under my ass while he pounds into me so deeply, I can feel his dick brushing my cervix.

"oh my god," he moans, the sound desperate as I feel him twitch and spill inside of me. he keeps pushing as though to keep his cum within me, panting over my skin. "such a tight little cunt."  

the circles on my clit, combined with the sinful things he continues to say, cause me to whimper and climax all over again. I moan his name, absorbed in the warmth of his seed in my stomach.

"you want more?" he slows his thrusts but pleasures me through my orgasm while I nod helplessly.

"I'll cum in you again tonight." he promises, taking my shaking, weak form as a sign to withdraw. both of us wince at the sensitivity until he lays me back down on the bed so gently, it makes me question if what we just did was real.

neither of us speaks for a moment, trying to regain our composure as he rolls down onto the mattress beside me. I stare up at the ceiling, feeling him drip between my thighs.

"that was..." he turns his head to gauge my reaction. I don't even bother to hide the satisfied grin on my face.

"amazing."

"yeah?" he rolls over onto his side and places one large hand on my stomach. his touch makes me bloom.

"mhmm." I hum. his face is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, a beautiful sight that makes me want to kiss him all over again. I didn't know it was possible to feel this way for someone so quickly.

"can I get you anything?" he smiles. I don't say anything at first, only reach out to cup his face in my hands and pull him to me for a chaste peck.

"no, thank you." I rub my nose with his. "I'm gonna take a shower and make something to eat if you want to join me."

"definitely." he examines my features once more as if to assess damage. but there's only pure joy painted across my face. "are you sure I didn't go too hard on you?"

"you can go harder tonight." I tease.

"what about your painting?" he suddenly recalls the project lying in the living room.

"rain check." I shrug. he laughs, wraps an arm around my waist.

"alright, then."

[olderthannetfic]

Ah, I do see your points, anon. I'm not going to post all your asks publicly because if you really feel that unsafe, it's probably best not to have a bigass chunk of your text for people to analyze and try to guess your identity from. I think one of the best points you made is about how close to home it hits when the non-fave is not only your fave but is similar to you in some way like demographic. You're not wrong for having those emotions. I do wonder if they make it hard to see how some other people feel similarly embattled on other axes.

TBH, I think one of the big problems here is that the large aggregate patterns you're talking about are racist, but most individual fics and fans are not really the problem. It's hard to know how to talk about this or who to tell to "fix" it when we're looking at free, hobbyist art.

A lot of people's tastes are certainly formed by shitty society, but once they're formed, they don't change fast if at all. Asking someone to rewrite their libido is a big ask, yet tumblr does it all the time as though it's as simple as snapping your fingers.

This leaves me with the sense that a lot of tumblr is... like... the political lesbians of porn fic or something: desire is not real, only choosing based on logic and politics. Or maybe people are so asexual that they just don't understand the lizard brain's "YES!" at some porn things and complete indifference to others?

I don't think it's great if great swaths of people feel like bottom!Nicky is super hot and top!Nicky fundamentally isn't, but I also don't think they can necessarily just turn it off like flipping a switch.

(If someone reading this doesn't like their current tastes and wants to attempt to alter them, I do think it's possible. What you should do is line up a large slate of media that prominently features characters of the ethnicity or whatever that you don't find hot/interesting. These should be leads whose emotional development drives the plot and is supposed to be central to the audience's enjoyment of the media. Watch/read/etc. this media all the time. All. The. Time. Try out many pieces because you won't like every character or every show, and we're looking for genuine enjoyment, not the fandom equivalent of a pity fuck. Spend enough time on this, and your unconscious sense of who's hot and interesting will eventually shift somewhat. This is a project you should expect to take a few years.)

But I digress.

The one tweet thing is a very toxic pattern. If TOG fandom is doing that, guys, please try to be more conscious of holding the actors of color to a higher standard (or the women or whomever). I know this often comes from a place of paying more attention to our own and wanting to set a good standard, but the effect is that minorities can't fuck up ever while white dudes get infinite passes.

Okay, on to the fic thing... Gotta say, my instant reaction to that description is "Ooh!"--as it would be for the same scenario with the characters reversed. (Ships who start out trying to kill each other are my favorite! x1000 if they're resurrecting style immortals and they literally do.) I can see how it would feel like slamming into a brick wall if you aren't kinky in just the right way and you didn't know it was coming though.

Part of why I react so strongly to a lot of discourse that runs along these lines is that I am a naturally extremely kinky person. It's not so much about what I do (which as a deeply lazy person in a long distance relationship is essentially nothing), but it's absolutely how I'm wired.

And I can tell you that my quotidian experience in fandom is sharing something I don't even realize is a big deal only to have someone I like, respect, and trust react in horror and tell me that it's triggering and awful and should not be allowed in fandom spaces because it makes "people" unsafe. It's such an instant, kneejerk reaction they don't even realize I was sharing it because it spoke to the very core of me. Lesson learned, friend. Lesson learned.

That sounds a bit off topic, I know, but bear with me: The point of that anecdote is that it's pretty common for me to get people trying to raise my awareness of things I have already thought deeply about while denying my essential humanity and not even realizing. As a kinky person who likes to make my fave the top (and generally a conflicted sadist), this constant request to explain and justify is exhausting.

I doubt most of the top!Joe fans have this precise problem simply because people who make their fave the top are much less common in fandom than people who make their fave the bottom, but I see a similar pattern with fans who are just fundamentally wired for rape fantasies (one of the most common fantasies that exists) vs. fans who just don't get rape fantasies at all. Or substitute your BDSM/kinky/messed up fantasy trope of choice. Covertly radical feminist attitudes towards kink and power are on the rise in fandom, and as a naturally kinky person, boy do I notice it!

I know that it feels like crucial activism to share these insights about why the ratio of top!Joe is hurtful, and the pain you feel is real. But it's also the case that it's a big ask to want people to listen. (Not me. Obviously, I routinely choose to engage with discourse. I mean overall.) The reason for that is that you're only seeing a fraction of what they do or who they are, and you don't know how many previous people they've listened to how many previous times. It's a very different situation from someone whose job is making some major TV series or movie or something. That person does, in my opinion, owe you some amount of listening.

Now, I'm not saying no top Joe fan was ever a jerk. I'll bet they were. There's a tendency to be rude and to publicly air your schadenfreude when you feel like everyone has been yelling at you. What I am saying is that a lot of the problem here boils down to conflicting needs, and that means there isn't a good solution. It's a situation where people are genuinely hurt, but I don't necessarily agree that other people have harmed them.

I like that you did an actual count of the explicit fics, btw. It's good to look at the real numbers. I see too little of that in these situations. My off the cuff reaction is that 2/3 to 1/3 is not a bad ratio at all compared to many fandoms, but yeah, it definitely shows a strong trend, and that can be painful. (I have a fandom where I think there's maybe like 1 bottom so-and-so fic in the entire zine era fandom. One. It's pretty extreme.)

I guess my thinking here overall is: What is the practical solution? What are we hoping to gain? What is reasonable to ask of people?

And it can't be "Well, if they would just listen..." That's just a sneaky way of saying "If you haven't done it my way, it's because you haven't listened to me yet."

So the question I would ask of people is this:

What does a non-racist fic where Joe tops look like?

What does a non-racist sex pollen, dubcon, or even noncon fic where Joe tops look like?

And if you say the latter is impossible... well... sadists exist everywhere in the world. So do doms. So do people who prefer to top in a purely physical sense. People with rape fantasies where they're the rapist exist (people who are not actually rapists, I mean). None of this is restricted to any one group. We can't categorically say fic like that about Joe is coming from a place of racism without denying the fundamental humanity of kinky MENA people who'd want to make Joe like themselves or like their ideal partner. (Yes, I agree this won't be the majority of fic writers writing top!Joe, but this is a place to start for figuring out what the better version would look like.)

IDK, maybe you're that kinkster yourself, but your asks gave me the vibe that you don't really get the drive towards those darker kinds of fics and what might be motivating it besides stereotypes and shittiness.

If we can answer these kinds of questions, we can better critique the way people write what they write without telling them all of their taste is bad and they should just stop writing. Even if we think the latter is true, it isn't going to get us anywhere. Figuring out how to make Joe more multidimensional in the fic they already want to write or finding very specific wording that should be avoided might actually work.

Beyond that, the actions I think are productive would be running prompt fests, exchanges, or other events for bottom!Joe or for top!Joe where he's the main character and the fics are required to be from his POV. Themed collections and recs lists are great. (I've seen a bit of this going around in TOG fandom in the past, and that's an excellent approach! Keep it up!) Positive actions tend to work better here. Make more of what you want. Promote what you want to see.

I don't mean this in some fluffy magical thinking way: you aren't going to change that ratio radically just by the power of positivity. But I've seen this kind of thing play out in many, many fandoms, and going after the people who write what you don't like, even in a well-intentioned effort to educate and even in a polite, kind way doesn't do much. A few people feel guilty. A few feel defensive. A lot ignore you. The overall fic doesn't change. It's not a good use of your limited time and energy.

I'm off to look up that fic to see what I think of it in practice, but I'm going to post this before tumblr manages to eat it.