#HeartlessWIPs
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theheartlesstide.etheirys.social
Out of all the WIPs I have open, this is probably the one that's closest to being finished. (Though I will need to finish Restraint before I complete this one.) I love writing Dark Knight stuff, it's so fun... 🥰

#HeartlessWIPs
And that brought to mind a different memory. A fresher one, one closer to his heart. One when he'd felt a similar desire for a hunger to be satiated. A memory of the time she'd left him behind. They were in Old Sharlayan, recovering from their trek across all of space and their fight against the Endsinger. Cal had been so busy in the aftermath, constantly being pestered with fighting blasphemies and making statements for reports and providing aid to refugees of the Final Days, that they barely saw each other until she retired for the night. And even then, those shared moments were fleeting. The exhaustion that she'd shoved aside while attending to those in need would soon catch up with her, and countless evenings ended with her nodding off in the middle of her recounting of the day's events. It was so frustrating for both of them that, at one point, they made a promise to sit down and have lunch together. Just the two of them. No distractions. But then, just as they were about to begin eating, someone called her name. They needed a clarification on one of her statements about the Final Days. He felt her disappointment, but she still stood up to give her aid. It was important, she'd said, and she promised to return the moment her business was finished. He knew she meant it, and he knew that she would do her best to make it quick. To Calathea's credit, she did; she was only gone for maybe five minutes. But he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming void when she left. Yes, he'd felt a twinge of jealousy as she walked away, but the loneliness was the builder of this particular darkness. Calathea was his compatriot, his friend, his lover. She was the person who helped him stay strong, especially when he felt his weakest. To watch her walk away like that, when they'd both made such careful plans, when he didn't know if he'd ever feel like himself again… It ached, and the ache carved a hole into his chest, a hunger in his heart. It wasn't anyone's fault, he knew that, but it felt rougher, this memory. It made him feel possessive, just a little bit. It made him want to claim every part of her, made him want to take a little bit more for himself. More. Always more.
October 29, 2026 at 6:33 PM
theheartlesstide.etheirys.social
Badly. (I may be writing about it in Restraint. :3c )
#DuMarrLore #HeartlessWIPs
After the incident on the Crescent, the two of them visited a chirurgeon to treat her arm. White magick can only do so much for a fracture like that. Ludo's healing helped the chirurgeon realign stray splinters and set the bone quickly, but that speed came at a price. The cracks were healed at critical points, enough to hold the bone together, but any additional stress on the arm would snap those little points, and her arm would be broken anew. So, in order to give her body the time it needed to heal fully, Cal was sent home all stitched up, with her arm in a sling and an order to rest for four weeks. It may as well have been a death sentence for her, because Calathea hated staying still. Sure, the two of them still took small walks daily in order to enjoy the fresh air and stave off her restlessness, but it wasn't enough for her. It could never be enough for her. Not when her daily exercise regimen included intense sparring matches and mile-long runs along the beach. Not when her off days were filled with hauling crates and climbing up towers and assisting the people of Limsa Lominsa with the rest of their heavy chores. But the chirurgeon told her she needed to heal, and she could only do so if she stuck to the recovery plan. So she did. Cal took her little walks without complaint, and she drew in her sketchbooks, and she lifted nothing heavy except the aforementioned sketchbook when she tossed it aside in frustration, the pages littered with drawings left half-finished.
October 25, 2026 at 4:33 PM
theheartlesstide.etheirys.social
A little #HeartlessWIPs I'm working on as Evercold approaches. Cal and Ludo have made a pretty comfy life for themselves as DT wrapped up. But the dream is ended, and the dawn of a new season approaches.
She's grown to love their little rituals. She'll miss their morning trips to the market, where she'd peruse wonders from every corner of Eorzea before helping Ludo learn how to haggle just as ruthlessly as any of the locals. She'll miss their weekly excursions out to Summerford, the two of them helping out with the harvests and with pest control for a few hours before heading home, their packs nearly bursting with produce that the farmers insisted they take as payment. She'll miss their evening walks along the shore, the earth’s bright aether thrumming against the soles of their bare feet as they watch the sun set. But the world continues to turn, and, as much as they wished otherwise, their little bubble of peace could not last forever. A new armageddon approaches, and these two heroes must throw themselves into the fray once more, to turn the tide or be utterly destroyed by it.
September 5, 2026 at 11:06 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Feeling all kinds of feral in the draftsthis morning, and it shows.

#HeartlessWIPs
“Untie me, Calathea. Now.” Calathea let the scarf fall behind her, its brilliant colors fluttering away like scraps of Starlight wrapping paper. But Ludo cared not for the beauty of it. He lashed out the moment that his wrists were free, his hands wrapping around her waist and flinging her onto the bed. She landed with a soft thud, and, quicker than lightning, he rolled on top of her, pinning her down. Holding her in place as if she were his prey, ready to take her for his sustenance, ready to close his jaws around her throat once more. And that's exactly what he did. He sank his teeth into her, and she couldn't stifle the gasp of pleasure that pushed past her lips. “You are so pretty, sweet Calathea,” he growled into her neck, the stubble and unshaven sideburns scraping against her skin. He glanced up, and a wicked grin spread across his face as those gentle hands grabbed her thighs, his fingers digging into her soft, supple flesh like ripened fruit, splitting her apart to reveal all that he would devour. “Is this what you've been wanting all along? A beast in your bed? A monster?” He returns his attentions to her neck with a fervor, one she'd only seen glimpses of before. It is an assault now, one that she has difficulty standing against. It's not long before her hips begin to roll against his body, desperately chasing her own pleasure as he takes what's his. But her heart still stutters at the word, “monster.” “You're not a monster, Ludo.” Not like I am. “I might as well be, knowing all the things I want to do to you.” “Then hurry up and show me.” He grabbed her, shoved her onto the bed, growling. Her chest rumbled in response, as gold warred with blue. “Are you sure? You don't seem like it.” “I am. All the things you wish you weren't, all the feelings you wish you didn't have…” She reaches up and cups his cheeks, stroking them with her thumb. “I want to see every bit of you.” Ludo froze above her. His eyes grew wide, though whether it was from nervousness or fear, she couldn't say. “Wait, wh— why do you—” he stammered. “I could make you do whatever I want. I could hurt you. Aren't you scared?” “No.” Calathea grinned, wide and vicious, her teeth glittering in the moonlight. “I could never be scared of you, my dear Ludo. I love you. Besides,” and here, she dragged him down, yanked his mouth to hers, and briefly nipped his lower lip, “I know you would never hurt me. You never could hurt me, unless I wanted you to. Because you're mine, Ludo.” Always mine. “Mine to cherish, mine to uphold, mine to protect and to love and to trust.” Her hand trailed down, down his chest, down his torso, down his pelvis, until it wrapped gently around his cock. He shivered violently as she stroked it, sending an overwhelming wave of lust crashing through him. “Mine to service, mine to save, mine to heal…” Calathea chuckled as a rattling purr escaped his throat, the rumbling peppered with gentle moans here and there as his lover touched him tenderly. “My dear, sweet Ludo,” she cooed. “You can't help but love to be good, can you?” He smiled under her praise, even through the soft whines, and he nodded. “Well, you are good; so very, very good for me. You're the best I've ever known! It's one of the things I adore most about you, just how good you are to me. But…” He tilted his head, confused, even as he shivered from the way she caressed his penis. “But- but what?” Her lips curled upward into a mischievous grin. “But… It can be good to be a little bad sometimes. For me, at least. Look at me Ludo,” she ordered, her tone sharpening like a knife as she gripped his chin. Her other hand loosened its grasp, teasing him with touches much softer than the ones she'd been giving him a second ago. Flickers of purple resurfaced in his eyes. “What?” he asked. “Ludo, I want you to be bad for me. I want you to grip me and fuck me as hard as you can. I want you to claim me and mark me, to show everyone that I'm yours as well. I'm yours in every way that you are mine.” In a flash, she let go of his cock. A whine rippled and stretched into a growl as he tried to roll his hips against her thigh, but Calathea pushed him off easily with a chuckle. She pounced on him, watching the colors war within his gaze, the kindness swirling with the lust as he lay beneath her, his hands pinned above his head. “Be monstrous with me, Ludo.”
July 20, 2026 at 2:13 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
A little something from the #HeartlessWIPs. I really need a M*LF shirt, for "Man I Love Fray"
A flicker of shame passes through her, and then that resolute look melts away into something much more vulnerable. “I keep hiding things from you, don't I?” Calathea sighs. The water laps against their torsos as she shifts. “…I've been trying to keep my feelings in check around you, you know. And not just tonight, either. I've been suppressing the big ones these past couple of weeks so that I don't overwhelm you. ” Ludo's eyes grow wide. “That's… that's really dangerous, Cal,” he murmurs. “I appreciate you thinking of me, and I enjoyed what you did in the bedroom tonight, but… you shouldn't bottle up your emotions like that all the time. I don't want you to go through what I did…” I don't want you to hate yourself, he thinks as those dark memories bubble up, breaching through the abyss lurking deep within his soul. “…Even now, you continue to deny it. Well, deny me all you want. You cannot deny what we have done.” “Like sands through the hourglass, everything we fight so desperately to protect slips through our fingers...and what remains...what remains…is us. Only us, and the memory of our sin.” I don't want you to feel like your life is a lie. Because denying the pain only makes it worse, in the end.
July 6, 2026 at 1:56 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Writing a little modern CaLudo today, going for that YEARNING while Cal sleeps off being drunk AF.

#HeartlessWIPs
Calathea laid there, all wrapped up in his canvas jacket, her head pressed up against the glass. And Ludo was shocked at how vulnerable she looked, so unbelievably tiny in that big old coat. The wrinkle she always wore in her brow was nowhere to be found, smoothed away by whatever dreams that currently clung to her. It seemed like the world had finally granted her the peace she'd always sought. She looked like something out of a faerie tale, like a princess locked in magical slumber, waiting for a prince to come along and break the spell with a kiss. “But I ain't no prince,” he grumbled, “an’ I can't exactly kiss you when yer like this.” Ludo gripped the steering wheel tighter, the leather squeaking under his hands as he tried to hold back the river of emotions roiling through him. But that innocent expression on her sleeping face poked holes in his facade, and all his frustrations came tumbling out before he could stop himself. “You're a real piece o’ work, Callie. You know that? If you'da been sober, I woulda said yes to yer offer in a heartbeat. I been thinking about ya all evening, ya know. I always think about ya. About what it’d be like, kissin’ you. Holding you. Touching you. You make me feel like a man stranded in the desert, dyin’ fer a drink o’ water. An’ here you are, a glass o’ the world's finest, askin’ me ta touch you. But you're so drunk that I don't know if it's me you really want, or if you're just needing to scratch an itch. An’ I don't think I'd be able to settle fer just a quick scratch. So if you really do want this, I'm beggin’ ya: ask me again when yer sober.”
March 30, 2026 at 6:46 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Working on a little something sweet this morning for WoL CaLudo. Part of the big 3 spicy fics I'm chipping away at. Me realizing the parallels between this scene and the first time Cal ever gets Ludo off and being like, "...Oh hang on a second..."
#HeartlessWIPs
Something within him shatters, and he obeys her last command. I won't stop. Not this time. Ludo weeps freely as he finally, finally comes. Every emotion, every pleasure that he'd dammed up over the course of their play is released all at once: the fear, the joy, the pain, the gratitude and the comfort… They all spill out, splattering his stomach and his chest and even a droplet or two on his chin with his seed. He feels lighter than air, freer than he'd ever felt before, so free that he half wonders if the only tether to this place of existence is the scarf around his wrists. His mind is not secured by such feeble restraints, however, and it drifts back to that blessed night, the first night she'd ever healed the “illness” he'd kept buried deep within his heart. Back to the first night he'd ever given in to his lust. There are so many parallels between that night and this one, Ludo realizes. The way she looks down on him is the same, so gentle and kind and full of love (though they didn't know it was love at the time). The feeling is the same, too, of being reborn in her arms, of being remade by her hands. Her emotions crash over him like a wave: the worry and the pride, the elation and the sorrow, the love and the fear that she went too far. It's true that their dynamic has changed once more. Their relationship has changed once more. But they are still the same people, and they still share the same love.
March 9, 2026 at 3:06 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
In case you're curious about Mafia CaLudo, something tame. Notes and snippets of an interaction at a party that Cal invited Ludo to. Something playful, though their definitions of playful can differ from time to time.
#CaLudo #HeartlessWIPs
Masquerade Cal dressed as a dragon, her dress a treasure hoard. Shimmering gold, encrusted with jewels. Her mask is brilliant crimson, with two wicked horns protruding from the top. Although it changes color as she shifts, with hints of gold appearing at the edges. She wears contacts to make her eyes look more draconic, the blue replaced with a more sinister yellow, and elliptical pupils to complete the look. Ludo the enigmatic Cheshire Cat, wearing a full mask with a too-wide smile painted on the front. The teeth and the eyes have been treated with special paints, so it glows in the dark. He knows some people who are good with hair, so he dyes his hair and his tail purple. Probably a dark 3 piece suit. Bands of it treated with something glittery, or something to make it look darker, so he has the signature stripes. Lilac pocket square, purple convolvulus (bindweed) flower for boutonniere (though he hides it at first). It's strange, the confidence this gives him. Looking in the mirror is disorienting, like he's looking at a stranger. So he adopts a persona for the night, one more fitting of the character he portrays. He recognizes Calathea immediately. No one else holds themselves like she does, standing alone, her head held high, her head on a swivel. But she doesn't recognize him. She's too busy looking for a sleazy, slouching redhead skirting ‘round the edges of the little clusters of partygoers or hovering near the bar and the hors d'oeuvres table. She's not expecting a confident man striding through the shadows to appear at her elbow and make her jump. “You're looking a little lost, my dear. Are you, perhaps, my Alice for tonight, tumbling head over heels down a rabbit hole?” And it's true, she does look lost. He promised he'd be here. He'd even sent her a little posy of bindweed and a note, one that only said, “Find me.” And Cal has been trying to find him ever since with no luck. She'd retired to a quiet corner of the room to collect her thoughts and try again, but she finds herself interrupted by this strange man. It catches her off guard, freaks her out, and she immediately curses herself for responding with a brusque, “Who the fuck are you?!” But Ludo just smiles with his own Cheshire grin, peeping out from the corners of his mask, and spreads his arms wide. “Come now, this is a masquerade! Who I was this morning isn't necessarily who I am tonight. Tonight, I am an enigma, a Goodfellow, a rogueish guide through the unknown. If you’re having trouble finding what you seek, I am all too happy to provide my services. Although, I must say, I'm shocked that you’d ask me to reveal myself so early in the night.” He leans in close, the edge of his mask pressed gently across her ear, and whispers... He leans in close, the edge of his mask pressed gently across her ear, and whispers, “After all, it’s not like you to give up the game so easily, my Mistress. Do you not wish to play with me?” Cal sees the faintest glimmer of blue behind the mask before he steps back, and she knows. She glares at him, two slits of yellow behind the mask. “I might be willing to play, but are you willing to take the risk?” she sneers. “For Alice I am not; I think you've been misled. Perhaps I am your Jabberwock, instead?” Ludo blinks and takes a step back, completely confused by this strange singsong bit she's doing. “Uh, what?” “With jaws that bite and claws that catch, I fear that you have met your match. Have you brought a vorpal sword to slay me, little kitty cat? Will you draw it now, with a snicker-snack, and take my head?” She grins, sharp and dangerous, and backs him into the corner. Her hand lashes out, and a whimper escapes his lips as nails filed to a point dig into his crotch. “Or shall I take yours instead?” He splutters out incoherences as her grip grows tighter, and he quickly pulls out his boutonniere. “I- I just wanted help with this. Can you help me?” Calathea sighs and lets go. “Of course. Here, bend down a bit so I can reach you.”
February 20, 2026 at 3:06 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Crawling out of my cave to say that yes, I've still been writing, but it's been absolute FILTH from top to bottom. Here, have a #HeartlessWIPs, some Shaaloani Outlaw CaLudo drabble.

This is the least spicy thing I've written, so if you think this is fucked up, just know that this is the TAME shit.
Ludo dreams that night. He sees her ride up to his front porch on her horse. But it's hard to believe that it's her at first, because she's all dolled up in silk and satin and lace. She’s prettier than a picture, dressed like that, her clothes the color of what he's always dreamed the ocean would look like. Waves of azure rippling and cascading over her soft skin, the ribbons of her corset accentuating her curves and pulling him in like the tide. But he can smell her perfume, and he can smell her lust all the way from his rocking chair. She slips off her mare, a small cloud of dust kicking up by her bare feet as she slowly walks up the steps to his home. But they remain pristine, untouched by the sand. The desert would not dare besmirch her beauty. It loves her, worships her, appreciates her in all the ways she ought to be appreciated. But, though the desert is dutiful to its favorite rose, its worship is not what Callie craves. No, she wants Ludo. Her feet pad across the wooden planks of his porch, and that's when he smells the lust. Ohhhhhh, she's so horny, ain't she, Ludo thinks just before she leans over him and kisses him. Their tongues chase one another, eagerly tasting whatever the other can give. They are so hungry for affection, that when his most beautiful Calathea straddles him in the chair, his hands devour her thighs. He's desperate to savor the sweet, supple flesh of her thighs, desperate to let her devour his aching cock with her pussy. She grinds on him, and they begin to rock in the chair. Back and forth, back and forth, harder and firmer and faster until Ludo's favorite chair, the one his pappy hand made, tips backwards and crashes to the ground. …Except they don't land on the ground, but in his bed. His soft, cozy bed, with the metal railing piled with plenty of pillows and blankets to make their lovemaking comfortable. Ludo claws at the ribboned lacing, frees her breasts for him to suck on and make her cry out in delight. She continues to rub against his dick with her slit, still hidden away by lovely lacy undergarments that leave very little to the imagination. But he can't take anymore of this teasing from his sweetheart, his darling Callie. He tugs the lace to the side, he frees himself, and he swiftly plunges into that tropical paradise. It's hot and wet and muggy, and the sweat rolls down his back. It's perfect, and the smell of their sex intermingling with her perfume and his aftershave drives him so close to the edge. And then Callie pulls out the gun. She holds it to his head, even as she fucks him faster and faster and faster till he's about to come. Right before his release. She squeezes the trigger. His blood runs cold, he hears the -click-, and he— He wakes up. Ludo tries to bolt upright, but his panic grows as he falls back down to the bed . “Oh God, I'm dead, I can't move, I'm dead, I'm already fucking dead she really killed me I—” “Oh enough with the dramatics already, Sheriff. You ain't dead.” And there, standing over him, with the moonlight turning her fiery golden hair into softest silver, is Calathea DuMarr. Heartless Callie, his nemesis, his sole point of lust, still straddling him in a black silk corset and stockings and nothing else. She smirks at him as he starts to struggle, watching him rattle the handcuffs looped around one of the metal spokes of his bed frame (which he now realizes was the source of that mechanical clicking sound from his dream; she'd handcuffed him to the bed). A hand trails down his bare chest, drawing out lazy patterns and swirls on his skin while he tries to break free. She's in no rush; she has him right where she wants him. And Ludo is completely at her mercy. “The hell is this?” he spits out. “The hell d’you want with me, Callie?” “To talk.” A finger brushes his nipple, teasing. “You done me a real unkindness in that barn, accusin’ me o’ such treachery. I'd never stoop so low, an’you know that.” The smirk on her face washes away at that, and the sorrow left in its wake is so potent that he actually believes her. His ears droop. I really done her wrong with that, he thinks. “Yeah, yer right,” he says. “I shoulda never said that to ya. You always been pretty straightforward with yer tricks. You ain't that connivin’. That ain't like you.” She stares at him, studying him for a moment. And then she moves up the bed, her hands resting on the rail as she positions herself over his face. Ludo's eyes widen as he's placed in full view of her intimacies, and he can see the sheen of lust coating her folds. He can smell her lust; it mingles with her perfume, just like in the dream, but there's no gun to accompany it. And that's when he realizes how hard he's been this whole time, and that she had been grinding on him, if the nature of his damp boxers are to be attributed to her. His mouth parts, half tasting the air, desperate to taste her. “Well,” she murmurs, “I'm glad ta see that you understand me, Sheriff. I think I'm owed an apology, don't you?” And she chuckles as he nods, in a daze, unable to look away from that blessed place of pleasure. “So why don't you go ahead an’ apologize fer me, hmm?” Callie spreads herself open, moaning softly as her fingers graze her clit. “D’you want it?” “Yeah,” he croaks. “Yeah, I do.” “Well then, go on. Apologize.” “S-sorry, Callie. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…” Ludo turns his head, kisses her thigh, nips the flesh because good God, can't she see how hungry he is?
January 16, 2026 at 12:50 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
More Shaaloani Outlaw Smut GO!
#HeartlessWIPs
Paperwork Ludo goes into the office late one night to take care of some paperwork. He pulls his chair out to sit down at his desk, and he finds Callie sitting on the floor underneath it. She showed up to tip him off about something, but someone knocks at the door. He sits down, hides her under there, while one of his deputies gives him a report of a theft nearby. Ludo's taking notes when he suddenly feels the zipper on his pants unzip. (He doesn't hear it; she's too quiet for that.) Calathea begins to suck his cock while he's getting the report. He's left speechless and turning redder by the second. The sheriff manages to keep his calm the entire time… except when Callie playfully nips his thigh. “Shit!” The charcoal pencil streaks across the paper, a thick black line right through the middle. The Dustwatch deputy raises an eyebrow. “You okay, Sheriff?” “Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just a leg cramp, is all…” He stamps and nudges Callie hard with his foot, who's trying not to giggle and blow her cover. “Maybe you should get up and stretch your legs.” “NO! Uh, I mean, no, I'm fine. I'd rather finish this up first.”
August 17, 2025 at 10:33 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Still in the rough draft phase but I'm cackling like an idiot over the phrase "cum water"

Like girl what the fuck is wrong with you 😂
#HeartlessWIPs
Cal freaking out and him telling her that he banged his neck on the tub when she slipped, her fretting while he was like, "I didn't want to stop, not when you were so close… Did I do alright? 🥺” as she heals him. She cups his cheeks and peppers his face with kisses. “You did an amazing job, Ludo,” she says, and his eyes sparkle under her praise. “But I think we both need a good cleaning at this point. Especially if we've both been either sitting in or up to our shins in cum water.” She gestures to the showers nearby. “Is it alright if I borrow your soap?”
August 14, 2025 at 10:35 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Sorry to anyone who misses my WoLGraha stories.

...Except not really because I absolutely love writing these two. I know CalRaha is more popular with folks, but man... CaLudo is so cute...

If the Scions didn't know they were fucking, they CERTAINLY do now.
#HeartlessWIPs
Sorry, I should do alt text but.... I'm so tired....
August 14, 2025 at 6:52 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
She can't keep getting away with this. #HeartlessWIPs

(First two pics are from a CalRaha fic that I've set aside for now. The third is from a CaLudo piece I'm working on.)
Except from an unfinished piece. The text reads: Applied Study Part 1: Experimentation G'raha Tia is dying. He struggles to breathe, each one shallower and more difficult than the last. His airways are being obscured, muffled, cut off. Panic starts creeping in at the edges, his instincts scrambling for a path to survival as his oxygen reserves deplete within his body. He's being smothered alive. And yet… She has her fingers entangled in his hair. His ears flicker as they brush the smooth, powerful legs resting on his shoulders. And although the heel digging into his spine is painful, it is physical confirmation that he is right where she wants him to be. He is on his knees before her: an act of devotion, of service. And service her he does, as she pulls him deeper and deeper still. His lungs are screaming, begging him to break away, to breathe, to be sensible. But the sensible action is not always the right one, and he intends to do right by her. A poor guest he would make if he let this meal - so dutifully and beautifully prepared just for him - grow cold. If this is destined to be his end, he would welcome it with open arms and face buried between her legs. Excerpt from an unfinished piece. The text reads: “Rule 1.) Be dutiful in your actions. Dedicate yourself wholly to the task at hand.” She relaxes her grip momentarily, allowing him to break free. Instinct pulls him away with a wet smack. He's gasping, reeling, gulping down lungfuls of the precious air he'd denied himself for the sake of her pleasure. Her fluids smear across his face as he leans against her thigh, trying to catch his breath. It is an intimate vantage point, a breathtaking one, he thinks, resting like this. The firm planes of her torso, the curvature of her incredible legs, the…more intimate spaces of her that had been the focus of his ministrations up to this point. He smiles when he sees a triangular red mark on her, on the thigh. Where she had pressed into his crystalline cheek while she locked him in place. Proof that she was enjoying herself. He wants to trace it, kiss it, feel it for himself so that it can be made all the more real. But a gentle motion draws his attention upward. Calathea had propped herself up on her elbows, jostling the mattress slightly. Her half-lidded eyes are fixed on him as she sits up, panting heavily. He takes a moment to appreciate the rise and fall of her chest, partially covered as it is by the blanket he'd draped over her (and barely holding on to her by a thread). She is a vision, radiant as the sun, and he would be content to lay his head in her lap and bask in her light forever. She pouts, nudging the side of his head with her knee, dragging him out of his reverie. “You stopped,” she whines, the blanket finally falling from her shoulders. “Why?” “Because I was unfortunately suffocating,” he chuckles, wiping his face clean of the mess she'd made. Rough outline of an ongoing CaLudo piece. The text reads: She shudders against his mouth, the sounds of her delight crescendoing until she fears that her neighbor will complain tomorrow. Her legs go slack in the aftermath of her climax. Calathea feels him gasp and sigh in relief, and then she grabs his hair and pulls him in again. He muffles a complaint, but she doesn't stop. “Two taps, remember?” she pants. Cal begins to grind against his tongue again, crying out because she's still so sensitive from her first orgasm, but she only picks up the pace as his words are suppressed by his tongue pressed against her dripping wet And then she hears a quick thump thump! behind her as his heels hit the floor. She pulls away, chuckling as he gulps down lungfuls of precious air. “Wh-why did you keep going?!” “Because you didn't tell me to stop.” “…What?” (Face softens, pleadingly, and it's cute to see Fray go 🥺) “You never told me to stop, Ludo. So I kept going.” She smiles down at him so sweetly, strokes his hair and wipes off his face. She beams at him, because he's so cute whenever he makes these little discoveries. “You may be the one that's tied up, but I'm the one who's listening to you. My level of control depends on you, and how much you want me to be in charge. I’ll free you whenever you like.” She slides a hand underneath him, hooks a finger in the knot as she kisses his brow. “All you have to do is say the word. Would you like me to untie you, Ludo?”
July 26, 2025 at 8:36 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
I actually teared up after writing this. Sweet heat, my beloved... #HeartlessWIPs
“Don't be afraid to touch me, Ludo. I want you to touch me. Please…” His eyes flutter open, and he finally sees the way she looks at him. And gods, she really does think he’s her salvation, doesn’t she? With those pleading eyes that sparkle like the ocean’s waves, she begs him for his aid. Drown with me, touch me, save me, heal me. Ludo’s hand slides up her thigh, up her torso, up the valley between her breasts as he places it on her cheek.
July 14, 2025 at 3:45 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Tweaked up a bit of spice I'd been working on in the past. We can let Cal get a little territorial, as a treat.
#HeartlessWIPs
A screenshot of a few passages. It says: She applies the lipstick. “Well?” she asks. “What do you think?” “I think it looks really nice on you.” “Thank you. You picked out a lovely color.” There's a glint of mischief in her eyes as she says, “I can't help but wonder, though… do you think it would look good on you?” And she kisses him. No, wait. “Kiss” is not truly accurate, though that is the action she takes. She marks him with his gift to her, proof of her claim on his heart drawn in brilliant crimson. Crimson on his cheeks, crimson on his forehead. On his nose and his neck and his lips. Crimson on his chest, on his shoulders and his stomach. On his thighs. On his buttocks. On his- Ah. Yes. On his tip. On the base. All along the shaft in thick red streaks as she claims that, too. She claims even more of him as he climaxes inside of her beautifully painted mouth. Every last drop, she makes it hers, another gift he willingly gives to her. Another gift she adores.
March 8, 2025 at 4:06 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Sometimes you get inspired by a phrase that your pal puts forth and you find the tie-in you've been looking for.
#HeartlessWIPs
Love, the fire burning everything else away but that one emotion. For his desire, his hunger, it's all borne out of love for her. He loves her so much that it bleeds into everything else, staining everything with the shimmering gold of her hair and the soft red of her lips and the brilliant cerulean blue of her eyes. Every color he sees, every sound he hears, every smell, every taste, every touch: it all comes back to her in this one beautiful, blissful moment as he reaches his climax.
February 9, 2025 at 2:24 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
(Oh hello I keep neglecting this account oops)

I've not stopped writing, I just stopped posting WIPS because the CaLudo brainrot has taken over fully. Sorry, CalRaha.

#HeartlessWIPs
“B-but you never need to ask me. I'm yours, dear Ludo. Permission granted, now and always.” He shudders with relief, and, with one quick thrust, he buries himself inside of her. And gods, she is truly exquisite. The way she feels gripping his cock, pulling him back in all the way to the hilt. The sounds of skin slapping on skin while the waves of their turbulence splash around them. The sensation of her hot breath against his ear as she cries out his name over and over. It is a perfect storm of ecstasy, and Ludo is at the epicenter, making his rightful claim on the woman he loves as he fucks her with reckless abandon. He feels the fires of his pleasure ripping through his chest, a brilliant blaze that builds and builds and builds and BUILDS until it tears out from his throat in a vicious snarl, and he can't hold himself back any longer. Ludo’s nails dig into the supple flesh of her immaculate thighs. He thrusts himself into her once, twice, and, on the third, he comes inside her. The moon was full that night. He always liked nights like that, where Menphina shone brightest. He liked how it stripped the world of color for a time, blanketed by a special sort of monochromatic beauty. He liked the strange shadows it cast, turning the landscape into some new unknown land to discover. And the way she looked in the moonlight, he liked best of all. She straddled him on the bed that night, the goddess’ light transmuting her hair from its fiery gold to a brilliant silver. This sort of argyropoeia would make most alchemists scoff, but not him. This “lesser” metal was just as precious to him as the former. Maybe even more so, because the sight of her bare skin bathed in moonlight was far more rare. Only he possessed the ability to see her like this.
January 26, 2025 at 11:58 AM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Trying to practice balancing description with sexiness. Catboy in heat! 👏👏👏

#HeartlessWIPs
January 17, 2025 at 4:09 AM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Anyway, #CaLudo spice be upon thee! *Throws and runs away*

#HeartlessWIPs
In the bath, leaning over her, hands gripping the rims of the tub. She's cornered, pinned so beautifully under his large frame. Her pupils dilate as his tip brushes against her entrance, and he chuckles. He bends his head down, like a sunflower bowing to greet the morning sun, and he sinks his teeth into her neck. She cries out, and that sound is far more delicious than any meal they could have shared. Nowhere left to run, my love, he thinks as she whimpers into his ear, his mouth curling up into a wicked grin. “Permission to ravage you, my lady?” he growls, delighting in the way she wriggles against his growing need. He can tell just how desperate she is to have him inside her. But then she doesn't answer. Not until he glances up, fearful that he'd pushed too far. Their eyes meet, and Ludo trembles under her gaze. Yes, it's filled with a hunger and lust, but there's something else underneath of it, something softer, something difficult for him to recognize while he's caught in the throes of carnal desires. He panics. “Please, Calathea, I need you,” he pleads, trying with all his might to keep his hips from recklessly bucking against her. “I need to make you mine. Please, I want you so badly. Let me take you, here and now.” And then Cal smiles, radiant and beautiful. “H-how sweet o-of you to ask,” she stutters, clearly distracted by the way his cock pulses against her. Her arms snake around his, nails digging into his biceps as she holds on tight. “But y-you never need to ask me. I'm yours, dear Ludo. Permission granted, now and always.” He shudders with relief, and, with one quick thrust, he buries himself in her. All the way to the hilt.
January 11, 2025 at 5:13 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Finally trying to shake off the dust on Applied Study. I wanna finish this one before posting (or at least get the last chapter mostly complete before I post anything).
#HeartlessWIPs
Rule 15.) Do not attempt to control that which you cannot. Sometimes you just have to accept the roads that the night lays before you. Calathea slips off his trousers, and her mouth parts slightly. There's no blue down there, thankfully; just warm skin and solid muscle. “Seven hells,” she says, her face breaking out into an enormous grin as her eyes greedily drink him in. G'raha knows he doesn't deserve to be looked at this way. But she does, as if he's a marvel, an impossibility, a perfection made real. She slowly runs her hands along his thighs. “You know, I actually caught a glimpse of this earlier, while you were changing.” G'raha's cheeks grow hot. “You… you did?” “Mmm-hm. Only a sliver, what little I could see through the crack in the screen. I liked what I saw, and I'm glad that I finally have the chance to see all of it.” Her eyes meet his, mischievous. “I hope you don't think me wicked for peeping, do you?” A shiver runs all through his body when she bends down, her lips pressing against the inside of his knee. “N-no, I don't- you could not possibly-” he stammers, but the words are ripped out from his throat almost immediately as her tongue lashes out. It retraces the lines her hands had drawn earlier, mapping out every curve. A chuckle, low and throaty, tumbles out of her mouth as Calathea tastes him. “I'm glad for that. ‘S why I dropped the spoon, actually. You were thoroughly distracting.” And then she dips her tongue just under the hem of his smalls, and the world reels beneath him.
December 12, 2024 at 1:27 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Scribbled out some #CaLudo softness last night and this morning. (There's more but eh)

#HeartlessWIPs
Elpis Flower Ludo twirls the glowing blossom between his fingertips as he walks down the Annex hallway. It shifts from blue to green to people to grey, performing a kaleidoscopic dance as it picks up the different emotions of the residents within the suites. A flower. Upon your return, I'll… The Elpis flower flickers in his hand and stops on a deep magenta. A mirror to the violet sorrow in his heart that he could not stop the Final Days, and to the spark of red rage that someone would even want to cause this suffering in the first place. He frowns. And then a familiar weight lands on him. Tiny talons dig into the fabric of his shirt as Midgardsormr settles comfortably on his shoulder. He noses at Ludo's hair affectionately, taking in the unfamiliar scents of his trip across time. “YOU SMELL OF STARS LONG DEAD, WARRIOR,” the dragon says, rumbling directly into his mind. Ludo chuckles and scratches his little friend under the chin. “Is that your way of saying, ‘welcome home’? Telling me that I stink?” Middy's eyes blink lazily as the young Miqo'te gives him his favorite scritches, and he stretches out his neck to allow for maximum scritch accessibility. “MMM. I NEVER SAID THY SCENT WAS UNPLEASANT. MERELY OLD.” The petting ceases, and his head swivels to the flower. “AH. I SEE THAT THOU HAST FOUND ANOTHER FLOWER FOR THY MATE?” Ludo’s head whips around. “My- my mate?” he stammers, and his face grows hot. “W-w-what do you mean?” “I MEAN THY MATE, LUDO. MY CHAMPION. CALATHEA, MY LITTLE FANG. THY MATE.” Midgardsormr sniffs the glowing petals. “I THINK IT MIGHT BE TOO LARGE FOR HER HAIR.” His heart leaps into his throat. “I-i-i I mean it's for Cal but I would never assume- I mean, that's crazy to think that we'd want to ma-ma-ma- uh, I mean, I…” “WHY? SHE WOULD MAKE A FINE MATE, WOULD SHE NOT? SHE IS STRONG AND BRAVE AND TRUE, WITH A HEART THAT IS BOTH FIERCE AND FULL OF KINDNESS. THOU HAST GIVEN HER MANY GIFTS OF COURTSHIP: DOZENS OF BOUQUETS WOVEN INTO HER HAIR, AND MANY SLEEPLESS NIGHTS OF PASSIONATE COMPANIONSHIP. …DOST THOU NOT LOVE HER?”
December 6, 2024 at 10:51 AM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Okay maybe you can have a little sweet #CaLudo, as a treat.
#HeartlessWIPs
The sun hasn’t risen yet, but, like clockwork, Calathea DuMarr has. Well, I suppose “risen” isn’t the most appropriate word to use here, considering that she’s still in bed. But she is awake. And I suppose we could excuse her tardiness to her morning routines, as she is currently being prevented from rising due to the slumbering form of her dear friend pinning her to the mattress. Her arms wrap around him in a protective embrace, his head rising and falling with their slowed breathing. A small smile plays around the corners of her mouth as she watches the famed Warrior of Light, gentle-hearted Ludo Lewis, sleep on her chest. She absentmindedly strokes his auburn hair, combing through the strands while she replays last night’s events in her head. A revealing of selves. A caressing of bodies. A near tangling of their essences in a pile of sweat and skin and supple flesh. Cal sighs, content in this small moment of peace. One that might have continued well past the dawn if a certain scaly nose hadn’t materialized in her ear. “THY COMPANION IS NOT ACTUALLY SLUMBERING, LITTLE FANG. SURELY THOU KNOWEST THIS.” She feels the corners of Ludo’s mouth turn down. “Tattletale,” he murmurs groggily towards the dragonet who had fluttered onto the bed.
November 25, 2024 at 8:23 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
TFW you write a biting scene and people respond with either cheering or just "SHEESH" 😂

This girl is a bit of a freak.
#HeartlessWIPs
“How hard, Cal?” “Hmm?” What…? Oh. Hm. I guess I got caught with my mind wandering… Calathea opens her eyes, and there he is. G'raha is still looking at her with those brilliant red eyes, and he smiles. “How hard should I bite down?” he asks. “You need only tell me, and I will do my best.” There's a roar in her ears, and it is deafening. “AS HARD AS POSSIBLE. BITE DOWN, BITE DEEP, DEAR MORTAL. CARVE THYSELF INTO MY SKIN, MAKE THYSELF KNOWN TO ALL WHO WOULDST COME AFTER THEE. MAKE ME THINE FOR TONIGHT. MAKE ME FORGET ALL ELSE BUT THEE. MAKE THY FUCKING CLAIM, MORTAL.” Cal winces. For godssake, will you please shut up, Middy? Enough, she thinks as she shakes her head, trying to clear the lingering echoes as Ardbert wrestles with the flailing beast. “‘S difficult to say. Everyone's idea of strength is different. Everyone's idea of pain is different. And it sometimes depends on how I'm feeling that day. But you’ve been quite gentle with me so far. I guess this is my way of saying that you could be a little rougher on me, if you'd like.” She smiles, softly, demurely, carefully steering herself back towards the familiar territory of gentle flirtations. G'raha nods slowly. “Understood. Would you like for me to experiment?” “...Of course.” She turns her head, presents herself to him, but he travels not to her neck, but to her chest. His fingers rest on the top button of her blouse, and they are trembling. He's a helluva lot more nervous than he lets on… “May I…?” he asks. “Um, merely to gain access to-” Calathea cuts his rambling off with a kiss. “Just take it off, G'raha,” she murmurs, her voice rough with dragonfire and lust. “You don't need to ask permission for everything.” “Ah! Yes, my apologies, I just-” Her eyebrows go up, and he swallows down whatever excuse he was planning to make as he gets to work. The buttons are pushed through their holes with little resistance, the blouse slips from her shoulders, and, for a brief moment, the world stops. He looks at her in awe, a spark of hunger in his eyes as the fabric pools around her elbows. And she revels in it, that look. One that rubs its hands along her chest, blazes trails down her torso as it maps previously uncharted territories (for him, at least). A wilderness laid bare to explore tonight as much as his heart desires. He just has to get his hands a little dirty first. “If you want to try it, try it, G'raha,” she says quietly. He jolts, his reverie interrupted. “Unless you're worried that…?” The words catch in her throat when he kisses her exposed shoulder. “No, I'm not worried. I just…” His lips tickle her skin as he sighs. “You are so beautiful, Cal. I know I have mentioned it before, but I am still struck dumb by that fact every time I see a new side of you. …Just tell me when it becomes painful and I will cease immediately.” And she feels the teeth press in. FUCK! FINALLY! She moans at the pressure, that delicious pressure gods how she's wanted it all night— And it is building, slowly, agonizingly, little by little until it begins to tug at her skin, it digs deep, so close to the jugular, tantalizingly close to the jugular… She feels drugged, at the mercy of his jaws, her lifeblood pulsing beneath his teeth and tongue. Calathea grips his shoulder, her talons carving little half moons into his tattooed flesh. It's so good, it's too fucking good, and she feels herself slipping because she cannot shove him off and pin him down and clamp her fangs round his throat for herself. Oh God, oh fuck, bite harder, please bite me HARDER, CRUSH ME DEVASTATE ME BREAK ME PLEASE— It's too much. She cries out. “AH! THERE—!” G'raha drops his hold in an instant. Calathea collapses, melts into his arms, gasping, shuddering… And she can't help but laugh as she rides the high that follows after placing your life in the hands of another. After he bit so hard and so deep that she has to check and make sure the wetness on her neck is from spit and not blood.
November 8, 2024 at 7:53 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
Moving that WIP line down a little further. Finally getting around to discussing the elephant in the room (if the elephant was actually the oldest dragon on Etheirys).

#HeartlessWIPs
October 28, 2024 at 3:02 PM
theheartlesstid.bsky.social
I wonder if people notice me often using the phrase "that's enough" when talking about CalRaha. Because it's important to their story and their love.

Those two words unlock EVERYTHING they are to each other.

#HeartlessWIPs #DuMarrLore
October 21, 2024 at 4:42 PM