#by now i've learned how to carry a conversation but not for long and not every day‚

[hoe4hotchner]

Hello, my 18th birthday is on the 13th and I was wondering if you had time for a request by then if not it’s fine and if you’ve already done the idea and I haven’t seen it I apologize. The request is hotch x actress reader where they meet her because she somehow involved in the case ether her director is a suspect or the unsub is obsessed with her or something and she a big actress but she keeps her private life hidden well I think I’m asking for a request in the right spot :) if you can do this thank you sm!

In the spotlight | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Actress!reader | WC: 1.2k | CW: Fluff, mention of stalker ish unsub, not really any case related stuff.

A/N: Welp…… a little late, but better than never. I've honestly been so busy the past couple of months. Also I'm procrastinating a lot and doing everything except for studying

The BAU wasn’t typically in the business of celebrity encounters, but when a string of murders pointed toward a high-profile Hollywood set, the team found themselves in unfamiliar territory.

“You’re sure she’s involved?” Morgan asked as they walked through the grand double doors of the studio lot.

“Not directly,” JJ replied, flipping through her tablet, scanning the reports that had made her pick up on the case. “But the unsub has a fixation on her. He’s left notes at each crime scene referencing her movies.”

Hotch had dealt with cases like this before – obsessive fans, delusions manifesting into violence – but something about this case had his instincts on edge.

Then he saw you.

You were a household name. Hollywood’s best-kept enigma – an A-list actress who had managed to keep your personal life out of the tabloids way longer than anyone had anticipated, and still managed to do.

That was no small feat.

You stood near the edge of the set, engaged in conversation with your director. When you noticed them, you excused yourself and approached, your expression unreadable.

“You must be the FBI,” you greeted smoothly, your voice carrying just enough warmth to be polite but not inviting. Your agent had only just notified you of how serious the situation had become a few days before the arrival of the team. “I appreciate you coming. This is terrifying.”

“Agent Hotchner,” he introduced himself, his usual stoic demeanor in place. “These are Agents Jareau, Morgan, and Reid.”

Your gaze flickered over each of them before settling back on Hotch. “I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’ve been in the industry long enough to know obsession breeds danger.”

“We believe the unsub is escalating,” Reid interjected. “Each victim has been found with items linking to your past films, suggesting a deep personal attachment to your career.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Fantastic.”

“We’ll need to go over any recent threats you may have received,” Hotch said. “And we’ll be assigning protective detail.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, though not out of defiance – more out of frustration. “I keep my personal life locked down for a reason. If word gets out that the FBI is babysitting me, the media will have a field day.”

“I understand,” Hotch replied, his voice softer now. “But your safety comes first.”

Something in his tone made you pause. The unreadable steel in your gaze softened just a fraction.

“You’re different from the other agents I’ve met,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else.

Hotch raised a brow, having heard you clearly. “How so?”

You offered a small, knowing smile. “You actually care. I'll have my agent send my relevant details to your team.”

Despite your initial reluctance, you allowed the team to dig through the threats you’d dismissed over the years. It was a pattern, Hotch realized. You had become so accustomed to being watched, desired, and obsessed over that you had learned to ignore the warning signs.

Not this time.

Late one evening, after hours of combing through evidence, you found yourself sitting beside Hotch in your trailer, an untouched cup of coffee in your hands.

“You don’t talk much,” you observed.

He glanced at you. “I talk when there’s something to say.”

A smile ghosted over your lips. “That must be refreshing for your team.”

“They’re used to it.”

You exhaled, eyes flickering toward the pile of letters on the table. “I should be more scared, shouldn’t I?”

“You’re handling this well.”

“I think I’m just tired of it,” you admitted. “The industry, the expectations… the fear. I worked so hard to keep my real life separate from my public one, but it doesn’t seem to matter.”

Hotch studied you for a moment before speaking. “You’ve done everything right. This isn’t your fault.”

You met his gaze, something unspoken passing between you. You had spent years being seen but never truly known. And yet, in just a few days, this man had managed to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built.

He stood then. “We’re going to find him.”

When the unsub was finally apprehended, the weight you had been carrying lifted, but something unexpected lingered, an attachment you hadn’t anticipated.

As the team prepared to leave, you found yourself standing beside Hotch, the energy of the set swarming around you.

“If you ever need anything…” he started, trailing off as if unsure how to finish the thought.

You tilted your head, a playful smirk creeping onto your lips. “Are you offering me your number, Agent Hotchner?”

A rare, almost imperceptible smile crossed his features. “Strictly for emergencies.”

“Of course.”

But you both knew this wasn’t the last time you’d see each other.

As he walked away, you found yourself staring just a little longer than necessary.

Even though the case had ended, Aaron Hotchner lingered in your thoughts long after the BAU had left Los Angeles. You weren’t sure what to make of it. In your world, people came and went, drawn to the fantasy of who they thought you were, but Hotch had never, although you'd know him for mere moments, treated you like a spectacle. He had looked at you, really looked at you, and seen more than just an actress.

You weren’t sure when you’d see him again – until you did.

It started with a call. Late at night, after a particularly strenuous day on set.

“Hotchner.” His voice was calm, although he sounded tired.

You sat up in bed, your heart picking up its pace. “Is this an emergency?”

A pause. “Not exactly. But you told me once that if I ever needed to talk, I should call.” A slow smile tugged at your lips. “And here I thought the FBI didn’t take personal calls.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle. “We don’t. Not usually.”

That was the beginning.

Over the next few weeks, the calls became more frequent. Sometimes they were brief, check-ins disguised as polite conversation. Other times, they stretched into the late hours, with you learning more about the man behind the badge. His job, his son, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. You shared pieces of yourself in return, opening up in a way you rarely did.

It wasn’t long before one of those calls ended with a whispered confession.

“I miss you,” you admitted, voice barely above a breath.

Silence hung between you, thick and charged.

Then, softly, “I miss you too.”

When Hotch finally saw you again, it was different. He wasn’t there for a case. He was there for you.

You met in private, away from prying eyes, and for the first time, there was no pretense, no agent and actress, no investigation or security detail. Just two people drawn together.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” you murmured as he stood in the doorway of your home, looking every bit as composed as always, though there was something softer in his expression now.

“I wasn’t sure either.”

You stepped closer, tilting your head. “But you’re here.”

He nodded. “I am.”

You didn’t overthink it. Instead, you closed the space between you, your fingers skimming the lapels of his coat before you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

Hotch responded without hesitation, his hands finding your waist, pulling you against him in a way that left no room for uncertainty.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“This isn’t simple,” he murmured.

You smiled. “I don’t need simple. I just need you.”

And for once, Aaron Hotchner allowed himself to believe that maybe, he could have something for himself, too.

[sleepy-fiction]

Don't Tell Your Boyfriend.

lin lie x f!reader SMUT

syn: After revealing his hero identity to his long time gf, who is also a giant fan of Iron Fist, Lin treats her with reenacting her wettest, wildest, Iron Fist dreams.

tgs: cunnilingus (male + fem recieving), bdsm, powerplay, degrading kink, erotic asphyxiation, minor breeding kink, throat fucking, role-playing in bed, command play, sweet fluff, Iron fist x reader

an: this might be the best thing I've ever written. it definitely is the longest now. ofc i had to sprinkle a lil AuDHD spec on the reader, its a great fic. Barely beta read

4.8K words

You're pulled gruffly into Iron Fist's lap, your hands cupping his face with a fiendish whine. He grinds deep against you, his bulge making sweet music against your crotch, the friction making you whimper.

You were impossibly impossible. Impossibly horny, impossibly hard to figure out, impossibly stubborn, impossibly silly, and impossobly wild. But you continued to be the impossible, as Lin, your Iron Fist, made it possible for you to be yourself with him.

So you showed him all of your weird colors.

Your weirdest, being how sensitive you were to sexual stimulation, despite the years spent together.

You were quivering now, as he tongued you down in his Super suit. An act you begged him to do once you found out your boyfriend of 2 years was the handsome superhero you had a major crush on. It's worse that he chose to tell you in your room, that was adored with figures and merchandise dedicated to him. Even worse, as, they day you met, you were drunkenly being carried from the bar by Lin, babbling on and on about your one-side sexual pursuit of Iron Fist.

A very dedicated, gorey, and lengthy conversation that he remembers in full, as not a single droplet of alcohol was in his system.

Funny, he left his number on a sticky note before leaving, simply saying that you were "too cute." Or now, now that you know that he is the newest Iron Fist, he simply wanted to toy with you. Fuck, even as your boyfriend, he enabled you so damn hard with your obsession, buying you the first Iron Fist Merch as it dropped, sometimes "pulling strings" and getting them early. Watching every Iron Fist movie, comic, and even taking you to "see him" in person on occasion.

Hell that's not even counting the times Iron Fist saved you from mortal danger, flirting with you until you had to bark him off. Despite your attraction to him, you were loved and was loyal to Lin Lie before anyone else. But still Iron Fist wouldn't give up. You were shocked to note, on a star-stricken patrol that you ran into him, that he remembered your name.

Worst of all, you remember for your most recent birthday, Lin bought a cheap Iron Fist costume and wore it. And let's just say one thing led to another. Despite seeing how similar Lin was to Iron Fist, you literally didn't see the connection of him actually being Iron Fist. Afterall, you had been obsessed with Iron Fist for years, it only makes sense for you to fall maddening in love with a guy who looks and sounds just like him.

Lin loved to tease you about it too, he said the same thing!

But fuck.

It finally all clicked together.

Lin Lie, Iron Fist, was toying with you.

You were too humiliated to look at Lin for a week after learning it all.

So when you finally got back to normal, and all the emotions died down, buried sexual desire crawled out the belly of the deep. Sexual desire for Iron Fist. Sexual desire for Lin Lie. Sexual desire that the only two men you've ever loved were the same. Then came your ovulation week, and it was like the flood gates opened up. Literally and figuratively.

You were dripping wet.

There you are, sitting in Lin's lap in your bedroom. He sat in your chair by your desk, a cool breeze flowing in from the window left open by you. The night air was cool and crisp, the crickets singing their night song, as the blurr of warm city lights melted in from it. You'd been wanting to kiss Iron Fist for a while. Though now that you're here, you can feel how achingly different this was over the cheap costume.

Back then you were fucking Lin Lie as Iron Fist.

Now you're fucking The Iron Fist.

But you have to stop and recall how all of this started.

Iron Fist had knocked on your window, just minutes prior to sending your boyfriend off to sleep. So you can imagine the conflicting surprise that bubbled in you. Even worse, Iron Fist didn't acknowledge that he was Lin Lie. Even worser, he played as if they were too different people.

"Hey, doll. You'll let me in, hmm?"

"L-Lin," you stammered, your heart pounding, your eyes unable to believe what was there before you. The Iron Fist was-- Fuck wait no your boyfriend in--?? Iron Fist? Your Lin was dress-- Ah your brain couldn't come to a conclusion, but what you saw was the impossibly impossible Iron Fist, standing on your fire escape, pushing your window open and stepping into your room.

You weren't used to it. You've only seen the real Iron Fist as Lin Lie-- Or Lin Lie as the real Iron Fist(?) Once and it send you catatonic for weeks. Now he's here again, toying with you.

"Lin? That's your boyfriend, huh? Don't worry, he doesn't have to know," Iron Fist grins, those deliciously plump lips of his a sweet pink. You fall back on your bed, paralyzed in aw, sitting on the edge as you watched The Iron Fist parade around your room. He looked at all your figures, your carpet, the merch hanging on your walls.

Your hand trembled over your heart.

This was different than the cheap costume. He had the aura, the capacity. He stood so tall, he walked with zealous fire beneath his feet, his movement precise and serious. It was the suffocatingly strong presence, those ripped muscles out on display, and in that professionally crafted suit that drove you mad. A mask with eyes that moved. His suit wasn't laughable and plastic-y the way Lin's was, it was pressed, it was hand stitched, the patterns on them glew, glew like the bandages restraining those dangerous fits.

"Wow, you are a really big fan. I'm flattered. Thanks for the support," he hushes slyly.

This was something you've never told your boyfriend before (oh but you have, the day you met him), but you liked to imagine Iron Fist could hurt you with those hands. Not that he does, but just knowing that in one small move, he could completely injure you turned you on. Your legs quivered, your brain frying. He hushes, "Does your boyfriend know?"

Now that you know that is Lin, you didn't feel the need to shoo him or protect yourself from his bewitching gaze.

You ask, "K-Know what?" You're slowly coming to, blinking as you finally process his words.

Iron Fist turns to you and grins worse, "That I'm in here."

He steps booming steps toward you, you flinch your eyes closed, your breath hitching. Your eyes take in the sound of his breath, the sound of his chuckles as large hands dust under your chin. As a thumb steals it, and pulls your gaze up. You hesitantly open your eyes, admiring how close he was, admiring his mask, and how real he felt. God, your head was spinning.

"Hehe... Good girl," he whispers.

You reach to grab purchase of his forearm, but he pulls away. You blink in disbelief, your finger tips ghosting over your chin. But all that is brought away from you as you hear Lin Lie smack his thigh.

Your eyes whip to him, his hands patting him, legs spread out in your chair. He had pulled the arm rests up, giving him all the room to spread.

He looked so sexy, you swallowed thickly. You stood, not needing any further information, and sat down in his spread legs, your core directly on him. Iron Fist grunts briefly, his strong hands building up your waist and feeling your hips.

You short circuit again, eyes wide and lips agape, just admiring with your hands stuck to your chest. "You can touch me too, ya'know. Here, come feel me," he speaks. Iron Fist gently grabs your hand, and lays it assertively on the middle of his broad chest. He's warm, you can feel his slow heart beat, as he guides your hand up and down his broad body.

He soon leaves you there, as your other hand joins in replacement. You stroke up his red and yellow dragon logo, his chest is so large, so strong. Your hands continue up to those burly shoulders of his, feeling how hard they were like stones, before dragging your hands up his neck. You muttered, "Lin," a soft smile dusting your face as you gaze up yo stare deep into his eyes.

Iron Fist's face cracks for a moment before throwing on a smile. His hands trail up your back as he hushes, "He won't know. I won't tell him."

You grin, shaking your head in disbelief, hands falling back to his chest. Iron Fist leans up, his hand stealing the back of your head as he pulls you into a kiss. His touch is sturdy, trapping you to his lips, as his tongue inflirates your mouth. You slurp it up, gripping the edges of his uniform. You moan out, "Iron Fist." And his other hand slips from your hips to grip your ass as a reward. You moan into his lips again.

You're sat in your hero's lap, straddling his body and feeling his heat against you. Your core is pressed against his half hard cock, your hands trailing up to cup beneath his ears as he took you through it. He pushed and pulled the kiss, carrying you in it like the tides chasing the shores. Your eyes were shut close, your heart beat paced, your finger tips familiarizing yourself with the pulse from beneath his warm skin.

When you broke away, grunts and pants fell the air, needy and desperate.

"Mmh, (y/n)," Iron Fist hums, still holding your ass cheek in one hand, "say my name again." It's a deathly command, almost sing sung like a deep growl. Your eyes romantically search his, wide and glossy, as a fond smile braced your face.

You spoke, "Iron Fist..."

"Fuck... Yeah, good girl," he whispers.

He steals back your lips more passionately this time, his plump lips soft like heaven, his tongue hot and wet, desperately licking you through like candy. And you slurped him up as he came in. He started to grind against you, your hands gripping him a bit tighter in shock. You gasp absurdly, throwing your head back. You mewled, "Iron Fist," sensitivity crawling up your body.

Iron Fist smirks, "Shhh, can't be too loud. He'll wake." He reaches up, trailing his hands up your stomach and to grope your breasts, adoring how soft they felt beneath his hands. His hand slips under your shirt, feeling up your hot skin, before unclipping your bra and caressing your breast freely. You moan, the slow friction driving you crazy. You grinded down on him,feeling his clothed shaft brush over your clothed hole. You puckered aggressively and swallowed thick.

Iron Fist pinched your nipples beneath his thumb and index, you shiver softly.

You gasp, "Aah... Iron Fist... I'm your biggest faan," your brain clouds over, "my boyfriend gets me all your merchandise... He even gets them- ooh... Mmng, months earlier than their market release..." It's the truth, the truth that Iron Fist didn't know, only Lin Lie.

He cackles, his sharp, pearly teeth twinkling behind his plump, pink lips. They were so perfect. Your fingers crawled up and ran over them gently as he spoke again, "You'll have ta' thank him for me, bunny." He softly bites your fingertips, hearing you cry out in response.

His hands pull your shirt off your body, you easily help him do so, and then your bra is next to fly off. He takes in the sight with a deep sigh, his hands running over your ribcage soothingly. All that fades, as he slaps your ass hard, hard enough for you to yelp.

He commands, "Get down." Those ferocious hands of his slide away, as you quickly stand. You drop down to your knees in front of him, crawling in deep to his spread legs, and running your hands along his inner thigh. You rest your cheek against one of his thighs, staring at him with big eyes as he fishes out his big cock.

It's eight whole inches, thick and stocky, burly but as pink as the tip of his nose. His head is wide, and he's wider towards the middle of his dick than anywhere else. An amazing cock you familiarized yourself with as your boyfriend Lin's. You giggle at it, scooping up the monstrosity with both hands. You gaze up at him teasingly, "Iron Fist-," you can here Lin sigh wistfully at the name, "Are you sure this is okay? What if the media learns about this... It'll be a big scandal," you whimper as you lean in to pepper kisses on his shaft.

He laughs, "Just giving my biggest fan the attention she deserves." His hands scoop up a fist full of your hair. "Now suck it. Show your hero how much I really mean to you," he spits it with degrading venom, making your eyes shut tight.

His grip is so strong, he's got you locked in his powerful hands. Hands he's seen destroy villians with time and time again. He's restricting you, guiding your lips to bump against his tip. You spread your lips obediently, ogling up at the sight of Iron Fist, legs spread, and mouth agape in desire. He fucks your face down on his fat dick, a quarter of his burly dick fits in your mouth before it hits the back of your throat. You moan on it, the vibrations causing him to hiss out.

You wrap a hand around his base and suck, hollowing out your cheeks and protecting him from your front teeth with your lips. You bob and slurp up whatever could fit in your mouth, the rest massaged by both of your hands. Iron Fist groans breathlessly, "so beautiful."

He was entranced by the sweet sight that was you descending on his cock. He watched as one of your hand briefly left him to trail up his turquoise super suit, pressing deep against his abdomen before sliding back down. You never fled his stare for a second, sucking him so geninuely, so innocently.

He'd been wanting to fuck you like this for so long. He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry with how loyal you were to his real self, Lin Lie. Just once, he wanted a sneaky rendezvous, just to play with your mind and really role-play that high. The high of fucking someone's (his) girlfriend as a superhero. Letting loose and doing whatever the fuck he wanted. He wasn't that kind of person, but when he saved you that one day, your head resting in his lap, stating up at him with glossy beady eyes. God, the fantasy sprung up too much to control.

He started teasing you not for the fun, but thrill of seeing if you'd ever cave. You didn't so, tonight he had planned to make it all happen.

His legs tense as he moans out, your tongue swirling around him, and you bobbed your head. He wasn't much of a head reciever. He liked the power that came with it, but most of the time, more than half of him was left hanging out. Besides, he couldn't fuck rough the way he loved to while receiving. But you liked to do it, so he let you. He'd be lying to say it wasn't good though.

You always pushed yourself to take in more. "Yeah, that's it," he whispered. He pushed more of himself deeper in your mouth, cooing sweet nothings, and slowly thrusting into you. The sounds you made were delicious, as you gagged and huffed, tears panging your eyes. "Take in all of Iron Fist's cock, slut," he cackles, you wince in delight.

He pushes in further, hearing you gag, and feeling his head slip into the back of your throat. Despite face fucking you, he was cautiously slow. His grip on you had lessened, even shook at some of your gags, as if he were nervous. You would giggle if you could, after all, only your Lin would be so worried.

Your hands had moved off to stroke his clothed, turqoise inner thighs, trying to keep your breathing steady through your nose as he pushed in. He kept going all the way until your lips brushed his abdomen, your chin brushing against his balls. He groaned out, "Ffuck, bunny. 'M all the way in your mouth," a strung of mandarin curses flew out his mouth, the sound of it making you flinch and moan, your legs clenching together.

His eyebrows quirks under the mask, "Oh? Nǐ xǐhuān wǒ zhèyàng shuōhuà ma," he hushes out. You grip his thigh more in despair, grunting out as he guides your face up and down his shaft. "Hmm? Tù tù? Aah... Nǐ kàn qǐlái hěn piàoliang... Tù tù," not understanding any of it all, you recognized "Tù tù" as some sort of nickname by how affectionate his voice seemed to turn.

Oh? You like when I talk this way? Hmm? Bunny? Aah, You're too beautiful, bunny.

You slurp your tongue around him, using your hand to lightly smack his forearm away. Despite feeling like nothing to him, it flies from your hair, and you place both hands on his abdomen. You bob down, gagging but taking his cock down in, before jerking your head back up, his dick was covered in spit and drool, the sight so sinful, he bucks into you. You huff deeply from your nose, but he doesn't stop thrusting forward into you, much quicker than before too.

In fact, his glowing hands grab your head again, pushing you down deep against his cock, you pull at his pants. He growls out, "Nǐ bù zhīdào wǒ zài shuō shénme, nǐ bù zhīdào wǒ néng duì nǐ zuò shénme. Dàn nǐ xǐhuān zhèyàng, nǐ fēicháng xǐhuān tā. Bùshì ma, Tù tù?" His tone is so degrading, so harsh and aggressive, ans under the relentless thrusts into the back of your throat, you cry out helplessly.

You don't know what I'm saying, you don't know what I'll do to you. But that's what you like, you love it. Don't you?

"You love feeling so fucking helpless, huh," he spits out in English, and your hands slips down into your underwear to retaliate. Your fingers press and fidget with your swollen, sticky digit, your other hand keeping purchase on his thigh. "Take this cock, Biǎo zǐ... Your Iron Fist's bitch now," he moans.

bitch/whore

Your fingers frantically fuck into yourself, wrist ans shoulder aching and struggling in the restrictions, but you couldn't care less. Manically, you felt and curved your walls, toes clenching as you ride off this high. You want to mewl and cry out his name so bad, it's pathetic how you still tried, and ruptured in nothing but unrecognizable mumbles. More vibrations to send to his high.

"I'm cumming," he pants, thrusting into you a for the last time before pulling out and shooting loads all over your face. You obediently close your eyes, feeling his hot load dribble down your face. "Shit, bunny," he sighs, watching you sweetly open your eyes. He reaches forward, wiping his cum off with his thumb, his free hand stroking his half soft dick. He sits up right, leaning forward and smearing his cumm off on your tits while you cough.

"Ha-ah... Iron Fist," you try to speak but he cuts you off.

"Go lay down, bunny," he says ever so affectionately. Lin was sneaking out again.

"No, Iron Fist," you whisper.

He asks, "Yeah, bunny?"

"Mmh," you pull your fingers out of you, and hold them up for him to see, "I came," you sighed. Your fingers were prune, dribbling in thick white fluids.

Iron Fist's eyes twitch for a moment, a steady groan smoothing out his lips. He grabs you by the neck, you gasp in surpise, "Stand up," he commands. You meekly stand with him, trying your best not to trip over his feet. He walks you back to the bed and drops you on it, your legs flying up in the calamity.

You mewl, "Ooh!" Your hands rushing to feel your neck as he shreds your clothes off you like butter. He grabs your legs, pushing them up against your chest, and moves you up higher on the bed, crawling in after you.

He hushes, "Does your boyfriend fuck you in this bed," his hand clamps around your neck again, his free hand slipping two fat digits in your body, fucking you with them briskly. You gasp at the question, and choke up even more at the sudden speed. "Huh? Answer, Biǎo zǐ."

bitch/whore

You shake your head, your toes curling up your hands gripped tight around his forearm. You squeak, "Mmyes! H-He does!"

"He spent all that effort and money on you, and look at you now. Drooling on my cock, clenching around my fingers... Buying you my shit to satisfy your hunger for me," he cackles, plunging out and twisting his fingers so his thumb could bump your clit whike he thrusted, "Doesn't even know Im fucking you in his sleep. How unfortunate, haah... Mmh, what a good little fan you are, keeping your hero happy, bunny," he hisses spitefully.

Humiliation makes your face grow hot, but he continues his thrusts just as you open your mouth, "L-Lin? Aah--"

"Iron Fist. Call me it, Tù tù," he groans wistfully, trying his hardest not to smile.

You quickly catch the hint, shutting your eyes and moaning out, "Iron Fist-- Iron Aah." You tighten your grip on his forearm, and following your command, he tightens his grip on your neck. You hiss out, "Fuck me please-suh. Please Iron Fist. F-Fuck mee!"

"Holy shit," he moans, slipping his finger out. It takes two milliseconds before he's onto of you, pulling your butt closer to him, as he uses his free hands to aline up with your sloppy hole. He slips a few times, "Shit-shit," but quickly, he glides right into your sweet walls.

You both moan out in unison. You watch IronFist's head sling back, a mantra of mandarin curses slipping off his tongue. His free hand slips down to join the other around your neck, beginning to thrust rough. Hard smacks echo across the space, forcing you to groan out, nails digging into his bandages' arms. He was so beefy, so large, so in control as he glides almost all the way out and slammed back in. Your walls seem to flutter and purr in delight, the slick sounds coating his bare dick in watery drool.

The addictive feeling of Lin Li-- Iron Fist's dick thrusting in and out was mind-killing. His enlarged, thick dick was stretching out your walls. Each full thrust ringing against your cervix, deep into you to stimulate all of you. Not a part of you wasn't buzzing with his piping hot, hard dick. It pillaged it's way through you, opening you up so hot you could feel him press around in your stomach, your bladder pushed and rubbed against. He was so hard but deliciously soft and squishable, the sharpness foreign and erotic, but the velvety softness was easy on your sensitive walls. You felt so full, so completed despite the slow, aggresive thrusts.

The precision on his thrusts kept him hammering the same spot. The wind up of him slowly pulling out, making your breath hitch delectably right before being rewarded with a stimulating slam. Your mind had shut off by then, your face outfucked, mouth agape half sure there's drool dribbling out the corners of your mouth. Your moans are giggly and amused, his name, "I-Iron-- Fist! Ooh! Aah... Iron-- Fist! Mhm," being the only thing you know to say. You break it up everytime, crying out Iron seconds before he slams in, and crying out Fist as the high pangs your body.

Lin's brain too shut off, almost like a dog or an ape, he's fucking you just to hear your sounds. He loves how you wrap around him, how hot you are, both literally and physically. Off in your own world while he pummels you. Both hands on your neck were just for thrust control, but damn, he liked the subtle rasp it added to your voice. You were so sweet, the way you changed his name, it made his eyes haze over, and his cock to twitch deep inside you. He loved you too much. Way too much.

It was in the middle of your chant that he suddenly began to speed up. His pace ferocious, as he leaned his weight down and dropped his head, fucking you just to get off now. You had your fun, he was getting tired. His head was spinning way too much, his dick screaming to buss a load deep within you. The urge was so overcoming, so primal. It rang throughout him, especially when your cervix sweetly kissed him. He loved the way your lips spread around his dick, how your folds hung around him like a coat. How you were enjoying yourself so much.

God he was obsessed with you.

Your moans spiraled out of control, your hands now gripping his meaty upper arms, your chin caught open and familiarizing itself with his thumbs. You were wild, beautiful.

Shit he was going to cum.

He slammed deep inside you, shooting out his ribbons into your cervix, pushing you down into him just as much as he slammed up, grunting and groaning, his voice breathy and strained. He came for so long, his cum sucked up by your womb, the hot sensation making your eyes curl back. "Ff-uck... Oough, Ff-- Shiiit," he groaned out. And when he shot his last, he ripped out of you.

You were a mumbling mess, teary eyed as you desperately tried to exclaim, "Iron... I-Iron fi..ist... Aah mmfist... My- ah... mmy cliitt," your brain was failing you, your hands smacking his arm. He was built like a stone, so it felt like nothing to him.

"Ah," it clicked, "Sorry, bunny," he laughed. He sunk downwards, half resting against the bed and the floor for a second, before sucking in your (now) engorged muscle. You cried out in overstimulation, gripping maddening chunks of jet black hair. He forced your legs open with his hands, knowing damn well you just wanted him to help you out, give you a few twirls so you could cum too. But that wasn't as fun.

You were really crying by now the sound was so sadistically sweet in this context. Your words were nothing but babbles, sentences starting somehow ans ending up nowhere. The only thing he could make out was begging, you begging so hard as your body raised and arched. You arched off the bed, pretty tits flying up in the air. And with one giant gasp, you groaned deep into the air, the sound long and strained.

He licked you so peacefully slow during your climax, eyes gleaming with affection. And as you fell back against the bed, he stood up, tucking his soft penis back in his pants. He stroked your belly with his hand, his other hand caressing your raised knee. There's this stupidly soft smile on his face, laced with goofy admiration. That was totally your Lin Lie, not that you could really focus anyway, you panted hard, your brain completely shut off.

"Well, bunny... Let's do this again, yeah? I've got lives to save," He leans down, kissing your neck slowly and smooth. He leaves one final kiss on your forehead before diving into your lips, "Mmbye," he sings, have of his words stopped by your lips.

You watch almost helplessly, as Iron Fist escapes out the window he came in from. Throwing you one final look before shutting the window, and disappearing into the night. You sat blankly, blinking in confusion, feeling as cum dribbled out of your pussy uncomfortably and ran down your ass crack.

Did he seriously just--

Within seconds, your door flies open. Lin, hapzardly dressed in a tossed on pj's and disheveled hair, stood panting heavily, a warm wet towel in his hands. "B-Buh... Haa," he panted roughly, "B-Baby your clothes... If you uh-- Were needy you've c-couldve told me I wouldn't have went to bed," he heaves. You can't help but laugh, his sweet black eyes narrowing in on your affectionately, his face flushed with a stupid smile.

He rushes over to you and frantically cleans you up, infected by your giggles.

He squeaks, "W-Whoa, bunn-- Uh!"

You laugh worsens, his eyes bulges out.

"Baby! B-Baby, you really did a uhhh... Ah fuck it. Holy shit, come here," he gives up quickly, sinking into his laughing girl, trapping his hands around your head.

He dribbles kisses all over you.

"Did you like it? Were you okay," he whispers into your skin.

"Mmhm... Iron Fist was great," you sigh.

He pulls you with him futher on the bed, laying you on his chest, you can hear how intense his heartbeat was.

"We gotta do that again soon," he smiles.

"Definitely," you giggle.

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Jade Leech - Nightmare Suit Voice Lines

Summon: This is Halloween! I'm sure this will be a frightful night. Aahh, I cannot stop trembling from anticipation.

Groovification: Have you steeled yourself? Here begins a most terrifying and wonderful Halloween.

Home: I'm thrilled to see what may happen.

Home Transition 1: A screaming pumpkin... I would love to decorate the Mostro Lounge with one. I'm sure it would provide our customers with a lovely scare.

Home Transition 2: The more unperturbed someone seems to be by what goes on around them, the more I yearn to startle them by any means possible. For example... Someone like Malleus-san.

Home Transition 3: How befitting of his crown. I'm sure Jack-san has done his fair share of delightful... Ah, I mean wicked tricks.

Home Transition - Login: How wonderful to be able to visit a curiously splendid town. With every little unexpected moment we face... I am thoroughly enjoying myself.

Home Transition - Groovy: Skully-kun is such an upstanding person. ...We have some similarities? Oh no, I am nowhere near his level. I should strive to learn from him.

Home Tap 1: This town is filled with individually peculiar people, including the mayor. I would love nothing more than to carry on a deep conversation with all of them over a spot of tea.

Home Tap 2: I've heard that those who live in Halloween Town spend the whole year thinking towards Halloween. I would not be able to do that.

Home Tap 3: I wonder what that could possibly be over there...? Ah, no, don't mind me. I was merely curious, as I saw Riddle-san's shoulders perk back in fright after peering under the stairs.

Home Tap 4: Worm's Wort and Frog's Breath, hm... Those could be very useful potionology ingredients. I saw Epel-kun jotting that down.

Home Tap 5: Oh my, is my forehead distracting? I know I've an upswept style right now, but please don't poke at it.

Home Tap - Groovy: Heh, well that was a rather loud scream. How long was I behind you, you ask? I suppose you could say... for some time now.

Requested by @thelonepearl.

[suksatoru]

I've never fallen from quite this high, fallin' into your ocean eyes—ft: touya todoroki

synopsis; touya todoroki is boy who can't always communicate his love for you - but you're willing to wait for him, no matter how long it takes.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ my ocean eyed baby boy. touya x reader

You like to think of Touya Todoroki as your only love—the boy across the street who carried you on his back when it rained, the one who climbed through your window to show you new tricks he'd learned with his quirk—and the one who had a hell of a hard time admitting he was absolutely in love with you.

You've known Touya since before you could even walk. His baby photos prove this when you look back at the treasured albums, where a little red-haired baby is wailing beside you with your gummy smile pointed towards the camera flash.

Right now, you're sitting in Fuyumi's room while she paints your nails. Touya bursts into the room abruptly, fingers wrapped tightly around the door knob with his brows pinched together in silent fury.

"You're going on a date?"

You huff sheepishly, turning to Fuyumi with a whine.

"You told him?"

She winces with a laugh, looking between you and her older brother with a knowing grin. You look away from the dark-haired boy standing in the doorway in embarrassment, missing the way the color from his face has drained entirely at your confirmation.

"I'm sorry! In all honesty, it really just slipped!" She confessed, nudging your shoulder with a reassuring smile as you finally turned to Touya, curling your unpainted hand into a fist and tucking it under your chin.

"Besides, why do you care? Surprised someone wants to go out with me?" You tease, the smile on your face making Touya's blood boil as he grits his teeth together, unsure and unable to continue the conversation with you any longer as his short temper snaps.

"Yeah. Who in their right mind would want to go out with you anyways?" He seethes, the bite in his tone covering the jealousy thrumming through his blood as he turns on his heel—slamming Fuyumi's bedroom door with a snarl.

Fuyumi's eyes harden as she yells after Touya, and she's about to get up to yell at him some more before you tug on her arm gently.

Touya was... conflicted when it came to you. You knew he liked you—of course, he didn't know this. It was obvious, you could feel him staring at you just about all the time. He always discreetly fought to sit beside you during dinner and movie nights, then went on to complain how he's always stuck beside Fuyumi's little devil-friend. You'd stick your tongue out at him with a hearty laugh—never once missing the way his eyes would shine with amusement and a tenderness reserved only for you.

He was the boy who scared off anyone who bullied you when you were little, the one who wiped your tears and made you sit on his bed while he showed you how he created letters in the air with his flames—the blue fire would always curve and spin as he spelled your name in the air with a proud grin.

But Touya felt too much. Cried too much and worked too hard—he couldn't confess to you now, not yet. You'd wait as long as you'd have to for him, the boy so emotionally constipated it made you laugh.

"Come on, Fuyumi, I'm fine! He's said worse, you know." You reply, and your best friend seems baffled by your insistent defense for her older brother, who seemingly had no fucking manners.

"Y/n, you are an angel—so I'll curse him out after you've left for your little date with Keigo."

"Not a date!" You sing-song, and she smiles softly before unscrewing the nail polish bottle once again, beginning to coat your second hand in the deep blue shade you'd picked out as her eyes narrow in concentration.

If only Fuyumi knew her older brother had gone to his room and fallen face first onto his bed with a defeated groan- knowing he was in no position to tell you not to go on that date. He'd figure out who you were going out with soon enough and give them a piece of his mind, but for now, he can only watch it all unfold miserably from afar.

The second time Touya lets his feelings seep through the cracks in the hardened barrier he'd specifically created to keep you out is during an occasion he's not too proud of.

The Todoroki household was lavish in ways hard to imagine when it came to money. This is the first time the power has gone out—when the backup generators failed and the shutters fluttered from the pouring rain outside.

Your fear was unexpected. Touya didn't understand why you're so afraid—it's just a little darker than it was before with the lights out, a little louder with the storm raging outside. So when you're clinging to his shirt with bleary eyes, he can only smirk down at you pitifully.

"Scared? I don't think I've ever met someone with a fear as stupid as rain before."

He didn't seem afraid at all—not when the house felt like it was shaking from each crack of thunder and not when it seemed like the rain would flood the entire street. That is why you had sought him out in the dark—calling out his name like a prayer as he mocked and teased you, blowing out the candles lit throughout the dark house and cackling when your frightened cries reached his ears.

In all honesty, he never intended to make you cry. He was just messing around. But he was being too rough, too mean as he blew out the little light you had and left you in the darkness to fend for yourself. When he hears a small, pitiful sob leave your lips, he's lighting every single candle he can see in an instant with his flames.

The blue fire cackles to life and illuminates the tears rolling down your cheeks, and that's when he realizes how badly he'd messed up.

He leads you to the living room with a careful hand placed on the small of your back, avoiding your gaze as the guilt he feels seizes his chest—something like an anchor, sinking deeper and deeper as he gently kisses the tears on your cheeks. The dimly lit room hides the burning blush on his cheeks as he mumbles an apology.

And the third time Touya lets his feelings seep through the cracks in the hardened barrier he'd specifically created to keep you out is when the dam finally breaks, when the flood breaks flow freely and drowns you.

✦　. 　 ˚　 . ✦ 　˚　　 . ★⋆.

The Todoroki family and yours have been close from the very beginning, so it is no surprise that you're all invited to the heroes' annual ball this year—everyone was brimming with barely contained excitement for the upcoming event.

Every one of Fuyumi's siblings is crammed with you in the backseat of Endeavor's limo—of course, Touya is sitting right beside you, huffing and groaning as he leans the entirety of his weight onto you. The complaints and chatter of you, Touya, and Natsuo are all Fuyumi can hear from the front seat.

"If you step on my dress—"

"You're crushing me!"

"Push over, you hog!"

Shoto seemed to be the only one sitting peacefully, looking up at everyone yelling with a curious stare. Eventually, you all tumble out of the car the moment you arrive at the venue—laughter bubbling out of everyone and the atmosphere nice and airy. Your eyes eventually wander to Touya as you wait for everyone to get out of the limo.

He looked so handsome. His dark hair—the one he'd so rebelliously dyed—was combed back with gel, a tie wrapped neatly around his neck as he stood tall and proud in all of his glory, wearing a devastatingly handsome suit.

You were biting your fist when you saw him walk out of the changing rooms for the first time while you all were dress shopping for the ball.

And he looked even better now.

You all enter and greet the other heroes, following suit behind Endeavor and Rei along with your own parents before everyone slowly disperses, moving around as people find each other amongst the crowd of partygoers.

You feel a quick tap on your shoulder and turn around to find Keigo Takami grinning widely at you as he presses a kiss onto your knuckles as a greeting.

"Didn't think I'd get to see you in such a beautiful dress—blue really is your color, huh?" The blonde muses, his hand moving forward as he gently runs a teasing finger down the bodice of your gown.

"And you look awfully handsome in this suit—tell me, was this red tie made specifically to match these?"

Your fingers touch his soft feathers earnestly, and Keigo's smirk tells you all you need to know.

Touya sits beside his father, the metal fork in his hand melting between his fingers from pure rage as he watches you stand so close to Keigo Takami and speak at a distance which prohibited him from hearing a single thing, meaning he could only hopelessly watch you laugh and smile as Keigo cracked joke after joke.

Touya's walking outside to clear his mind after a while with his head hung, unsure of what he was feeling once again. It was an annoying sensation, one that crawled up his spine and seemed like torture from within.

You notice Touya walking onto the balcony and bid your friend Keigo farewell before slowly walking across the ballroom to reach him.

Touya's staring out at the city beneath him—a faraway look in his eyes. He seems so deep in thought, you almost don't want to disturb him. But he sees you before you can walk away, and you send him a smile before slowly slipping the balcony door shut, moving to stand beside him as he lets out a sigh.

"Just can't leave me alone, can you?" He huffs out, annoyed, but you can see there's something else bothering him. You know him better than anyone else.

"I guess not. What're you doing out here anyways, huh?" You muse, watching him run his palm across his jaw in annoyance, turning to you with a glare as his cerulean gaze narrows.

"I came here for some fresh air—by the way, you and Keigo are absolutely disgusting. Don't you remember that time he vomited all over you after getting sick from flying too high? Damned bird—you both are gross." He snaps, irritation and an underlying bite lacing every word he spits out as you snort.

"Sure, sure. Why are you acting like you haven't thrown up on me before?" You ask with a raised brow, grinning when Touya can barely even sputter out a remark, his cheeks ablaze as he looks away with a grimace, remembering the one time his motion sickness made him vomit all over the girl of his dreams. He didn't look you in the eye for an entire week after that incident.

"Touya... is something wrong?" You finally question, and the poor boy wants to bang his head against the railing of the balcony until he can't think anymore when he hears the softness in your voice.

"No."

It's obvious he's lying, and you sigh knowingly as he looks away from you once again.

"Do you want to talk about it? You know I'll listen."

He's silent once again—and you lean against the cold railing, watching him quietly as he finally cracks under your gaze with a groan, dragging his hand down his face before speaking.

"You look... pretty."

As unexpected as it was, his compliment wasn't unwelcome at all. He knows this by the way your eyes light up, and something in his heart hurts at the sight of you smiling so brightly at him.

"And you look handsome as ever!" You pipe up, placing a single foot in front of you as you slowly step towards him.

His eyes narrow in suspicion from the mischievous gleam in your eyes but widen the instant your hand comes around and tugs him forward by his tie.

"Did you match with me on purpose?"

He glances down at his tie with faux confusion before his eyes slowly move to your dress—identical to the blue shade around his neck.

Yes. Yes, he did match his tie with your dress on purpose.

"I mean, you knew what color dress I was getting since we all went shopping together. And it's not like you're matching with anyone else, Tou—"

Touya's lips press against yours with an eagerness that is palpable- his large palms move forward to cup your cheeks as he molds the entirety of his body against yours in a desperate attempt to feel every inch of you against him in that moment-

Finally.

He twists you around so your back was arched against the balcony as he pressed his mouth over yours- pulling back to pepper small kisses all over your lips before his mouth envelops yours once again - he's breathing hard when he pulls away, pupils dilated and eyes wide as you both just stare at each other.

He seems too out of breath to form a coherent sentence, so you take the chance to speak instead.

"Didn't know you were so desperate for me, Todoro—"

He cuts you off with his lips once again, and this time he gently pinches your hip as a warning while you laugh into the kiss.

[enhaeil]

UN-THINKABLE ! ☆ 박종성

"moment of honesty..someone's gotta take the lead tonight, who's it gonna be? i'm gonna sit right here and tell you all that comes to me...if you have something to say, you should say it right now.."

un-thinkable - alicia keys

c/w: situationship to lovers!jay, suggestive, angstish.. fluff.

✩ ₊˚

the night's gone soft as you sit on jay's leather couch, material suddenly feeling hot against your skin.

he's leaning back, hands clasped, gaze locked on you. no sense of urgency on his end, just quietness. waiting.

you'd been dancing around this for weeks. it felt like longer.

the glances that linger too long, the late-night hookups, the conversations that felt too intimate. the way he can find you even in the most crowded rooms, looking at you like he knows something you haven't even admitted to yourself yet.

it's almost too quiet, if it wasn't for the hum of the TV.

"i... don't know what you want me to say." you finally mumble.

"you don't have to say anything you don't want to," he starts. "but i'm not gonna keep pretending i don't want you."

he's not angry, yet his words carry weight. your chest tightens again, eyes wandering everywhere but in front of you.

"you think i don't see how scared you are?" he says softer. "that every time we get close, you pull away?"

he leans foward, elbows resting on his knees.

"i'm not scared, y/n. i've already made my mind up about you."

this sentence hits the air like a confession. almost makes you physically flinch. you attempt to laugh it off, not letting the weight of his words affect you.

"i'm not what you want, jay." you say, eyes focused on your freshly done manicure. "trust me."

he blinks, slowly. but you don't miss the way he shifts in his seat.

"how do you know what i want?"

you fall quiet again. he's right. but did he have to say it like that?

he lets out something between a laugh and a scoff. "i know exactly what I want. and it's you."

you finally meet his eyes, after what felt like days of no eye contact. he doesn't seem upset, or even annoyed with you. he looks at you like you're carrying the world in your hands and heaven between your thighs. and you kind of like it.

"jay ..." you start to say, yet nothing else comes out.

"if you're gonna break my heart, do it now. but if you're ready, come here and show me." he leans back comfortably as if he were okay with whatever option you chose.

after a few moments of silence, your feet move on their own, hesitantly making your way towards the couch jay sat on. he welcomes you with open arms, your body finding warmth in his lap.

it isn't rushed, it isn't frantic. he holds you for as long as you need to be held, a silent vow towards you.

minutes pass, just like that. neediness does eventually fill the air, tension becoming thicker. your kisses linger on his neck, enough to make him exhale through his nose.

you pull back, eyes landing on the light marks you made on him as if he were a canvas.

"can i touch you?"

your breath catches. not because you're surprised at the question, but because of how he asks. like he's not asking for your body, but for you.

"jay..." you whisper. "you don't have to ask. we've done this before."

"i do. and i will every time, until i know you mean it." his hands still rest on your waist, waiting for your permission.

your lips part, as if you had more to say, but your words get stuck in your throat. that's when you finally nod.

"yeah," you whisper. "please touch me, jay."

he exhales, hands finally moving across the body he's learned so well, one hand sliding up your back, and the other landing on the side of your neck.

he kisses you, deeply. not rushed, but purpose with every movement.

that night jay touched you like it was his first time, as if you'd disappear if he did too much at once.

the kind of touch that reminds you that he sees you. he wants you. and he's never been afraid of you.

a/n: ok i wont write any non requests UNTIL I FINISH SOME REQUESTS. I GOT TOO MANY. i just had to get this out my system i fawkin LOVE THIS SONG. also i need to write abt another member for once. i see some sunghoon asks

[the-oblivious-writer]

With Her I Die |15|

Past J.T to Eventual S.S x Female Reader

Chapter Fifteen: Reel Around the Fountain

warnings: physical violence (choking), highly suggestive content (off-screen smut with a build up), psychological trauma and grief, references to pregnancy loss, manipulation, trauma, and references to death.

note(s): you're officially caught up with my wattpad and ao3.

taglist: @morganismspam23 @slutforabbyanderson @serendippindots

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

One week since your return, and the cabin still feels like hostile territory. Conversation dies when you enter a room. Glances follow your movements, some curious, some wary, some outright hostile. You've become accustomed to the weight of their judgment, have learned to move beneath it like carrying a physical burden.

Natalie is the worst, her anger manifesting in cutting remarks and pointed silences. This morning, as you reach for a cup by the makeshift stove, she deliberately moves it out of your grasp.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, voice dripping with false sweetness. "Did you want this? Weird, it's almost like objects just disappear sometimes without explanation. Must be confusing."

You say nothing, reaching for a different cup instead. Her metaphor isn't exactly subtle.

"Nothing to say?" Natalie presses, leaning against the counter. "No witty comeback? No explanation for why you let us think you were fucking dead for weeks?"

"Not this morning, Nat," you mutter, pouring yourself water from the pot.

"Not this morning, not yesterday, not the day before." She makes a show of checking an imaginary watch. "When exactly is a good time for you? Should I pencil something in for next month? Or are you planning another wilderness retreat before then?"

You take a deliberate sip of your water, using the moment to gather your patience. "I've already apologized."

"No," Natalie corrects, her voice harder now. "You said 'sorry' once when you first got back. That's not an apology, that's a fucking placeholder."

Before you can respond, Shauna enters the cabin, arms laden with freshly washed clothing. Her eyes flick between you and Natalie, assessing the tension with a single glance.

"Everything okay?" she asks, the question directed at neither of you specifically.

"Peachy," Natalie replies, pushing away from the counter. "Just catching up with our resident ghost. Did you know they can actually speak? Rarely, but she  can."

She brushes past Shauna on her way out, leaving you alone with the one person you've been most diligently avoiding.

The silence between you stretches uncomfortably as Shauna begins sorting the laundry, separating items into neat piles on one of the bunks. You watch her hands—steady, methodical, familiar in their movements. How many times had you seen those same hands sort through supplies, tend wounds, stroke hair away from your face when nightmares pulled you gasping from sleep?

The memory makes something twist in your chest, a sharp ache of longing for what's been lost. Before your departure, after Jackie's death, you and Shauna had become inseparable—grief and guilt binding you together in ways you couldn't articulate. Nights spent huddled for warmth that became something else, something deeper—her fingers tracing circles on your back as you finally surrendered to sleep, your arms around her when sobs would wrack her body in the dark hours before dawn.

Now, she won't even look at you directly.

"Need help?" you offer, gesturing to the clothing.

"I've got it," she replies, voice neutral but distant.

You nod, taking another sip of water to hide your disappointment. "Sure."

She continues working in silence, and you should leave—give her the space she clearly wants—but your feet remain rooted to the spot. There's something almost magnetic about her presence, drawing you in despite the clear boundaries she's established since your return.

"How are you feeling?" The question slips out before you can reconsider it.

Shauna's hands pause briefly over a shirt—Travis's, from the size of it—before resuming their task. "Fine."

"You look..." You hesitate, unsure how to complete the sentence without touching on subjects she's made clear are off-limits. Thinner. Sadder. Different. "...tired."

She glances up then, meeting your eyes for the first time in days. Something flashes across her face—anger? Pain? Longing? It's gone too quickly to identify.

"We're all tired," she says flatly. "It's kind of a prerequisite for being stranded in the wilderness."

The dismissal stings, but you push forward anyway. "Shauna, I—"

"Don't." She cuts you off, her voice suddenly sharp. "Whatever you're about to say, just... don't."

The cabin door opens before you can respond, saving you from whatever ill-advised words might have escaped. Lottie enters, her movements graceful despite the bulky winter clothing she wears. Her eyes find you immediately, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"There you are," she says, as if she's been searching for you specifically. "I was hoping you could help me gather some herbs today. I found a patch growing near the southern clearing, but it's too much for one person to carry."

You glance between Lottie and Shauna, caught in the sudden tension that seems to fill the small space. Shauna's expression has closed off completely, her focus returned to the laundry with almost aggressive intensity.

"Sure," you finally agree, seeing no graceful way to decline. "Just let me grab my jacket."

As you move to retrieve your things from your sleeping area, you catch the look that passes between the two women—Lottie's expression serene but somehow challenging, Shauna's a flash of something that might be irritation, might be jealousy. The exchange lasts only a second, but it settles like a weight in your stomach, a complication you're not equipped to navigate.

Outside, the air is sharp with cold, the sky a brilliant, merciless blue above the skeletal trees. Lottie leads the way into the forest, her steps confident despite the unmarked path. You follow silently, grateful for the physical activity, the chance to escape the stifling atmosphere of the cabin.

"She doesn't like when I talk to you," Lottie says suddenly, without turning around.

The observation catches you off guard. "Who?"

Lottie glances over her shoulder, her smile knowing. "Shauna."

You focus on the uneven ground, careful not to slip on patches of ice hidden beneath the snow. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." Lottie slows her pace until you're walking beside her. "She watches you when you're not looking. Gets tense whenever I'm near you. It was the same with Jackie."

The casual mention of Jackie's name makes your breath catch. "Don't."

"Don't what? Speak the truth?" Lottie's voice is gentle, almost sympathetic. "Jackie knew it too. Why do you think she was so angry that night? The night she..."

"I said don't," you snap, harsher than intended.

Lottie falls silent, but there's no offense in her expression, only that same eerie patience she's displayed since the crash, as if she's operating on a different timeline than the rest of you, privy to outcomes you can't yet see.

You walk in silence for several minutes, following a path that seems to exist only in Lottie's mind. The forest around you is hushed, dormant, waiting for a spring that feels impossibly distant.

"Here," Lottie finally says, stopping at the edge of a small clearing. She points to a cluster of plants growing improbably through the snow, their leaves dark green against the white backdrop. "Winter herbs. They have properties that help with... dreams."

You kneel beside the plants, recognizing them from Lottie's previous foraging expeditions. "Bad dreams?"

"Dreams can't be categorized that simply," Lottie says, kneeling next to you, close enough that your shoulders touch. "They're messages. Sometimes warnings, sometimes... invitations."

Something in her tone makes you look up, finding her gaze fixed on you with unsettling intensity. "What kind of dreams have you been having, Lottie?"

Her smile deepens, a private amusement playing across her features. "I told you. Dreams about you."

Before you can question her further, her hand comes to rest on yours—a deliberate touch, skin against skin. The contact sends an unexpected jolt through you, a reminder of how long it's been since anyone has touched you with anything resembling gentleness.

"You've been hungry," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not just for food."

You should pull away. Should put distance between yourself and whatever strange energy radiates from Lottie in this moment. Instead, you remain frozen, caught between the desire to retreat and the desperate ache for connection that's been building since your return.

"We should get back," you finally manage, withdrawing your hand with an effort that feels physical.

Lottie allows the retreat, but her eyes never leave your face. "Of course."

You gather the herbs quickly, stuffing them into the makeshift sacks you've brought. The task gives you something to focus on besides Lottie's proximity, the knowing way she watches you, as if seeing beneath your skin to the turmoil beneath.

The walk back to the cabin passes in tense silence, broken only by the crunch of snow beneath your boots and the occasional call of winter birds overhead. By the time the clearing comes into view, you've almost managed to convince yourself you imagined the strange intensity of the moment in the forest.

Then Lottie's hand brushes against yours as she takes some of the herbs from your arms—a touch too deliberate to be accidental, too brief to acknowledge without seeming paranoid. She smiles at your startled glance, then moves ahead toward the cabin, leaving you to follow in her wake.

Inside, the others have gathered for the midday meal—a thin stew that stretches their dwindling supplies, supplemented by whatever protein the morning's hunting has provided. You take your usual place at the edge of the group, aware of Natalie's pointed silence, Van's sympathetic glances, Tai's barely contained disapproval.

Shauna sits across from you, her eyes carefully averted, focused on her bowl with an intensity the watery soup hardly deserves. You try not to stare, but your gaze keeps drifting back to her—to the sharp line of her jaw, the way her hair falls in front of her face when she leans forward, the restless movement of her fingers against the rim of her bowl.

It's pathetic how much you miss her. Miss the quiet conversations in the dark, the way she'd seek out your hand under blankets when the others were talking around the fire, the soft sound of her breathing as she fell asleep beside you. Miss how after Jackie's death, you'd become each other's anchors in a sea of grief and guilt—holding each other through nightmares, whispering confessions too dark for daylight, finding moments of impossible tenderness amid the horror of your situation.

"You're staring," Lottie murmurs beside you, her voice low enough that only you can hear.

You look away quickly, focusing on your own barely-touched meal. "No, I wasn't."

"It's okay," Lottie continues, as if you hadn't denied it. "I understand hunger."

The way she says the word—hunger—makes it sound like something sacred, something primal. You shift uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how close she's sitting, how her knee occasionally brushes against yours beneath the crowded table.

"I'm not hungry," you lie, pushing your bowl away for emphasis.

Lottie's smile suggests she knows exactly what kind of hunger you're denying. "If you say so."

The meal concludes with the usual distribution of afternoon tasks. You volunteer for wood gathering, hoping for some time alone, but Tai assigns you to inventory instead—a deliberate move to keep you within sight of the cabin, you suspect. The others disperse to their duties, leaving you to sort through their meager supplies, counting and recounting items that barely sustain survival.

You're halfway through tallying their dwindling medical supplies when Shauna approaches, her expression unreadable.

"We need to talk," she says without preamble.

Your heart lurches at the words, equal parts hope and dread flooding your system. "Okay."

She gestures toward the door. "Not here."

You follow her outside, past the immediate clearing to a fallen log that's become an unofficial meeting spot when privacy is needed. She sits, leaving enough space beside her that you can join without touching, a calculated distance that speaks volumes.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. You watch her profile, the way she chews slightly on her lower lip—a nervous habit you've always found endearing.

"What are you doing with Lottie?" she finally asks, still not looking at you.

The question is not what you expected. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb," Shauna says, an edge to her voice now. "The herbs, the touching, the little private conversations. What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you reply, genuinely confused by her apparent concern. "She asked for help gathering herbs. That's it."

Shauna finally turns to face you, her expression tight with something that might be anger, might be fear. "Lottie isn't... she's not who she was before all this. Talking about dreams and visions and things that—" She breaks off, shaking her head. "Just be careful."

"Careful of what? Lottie's always been a little weird, but she's harmless."

"Is she?" Shauna's voice has dropped nearly to a whisper. "Are you sure about that?"

The question hangs between you, loaded with implications you're not sure you understand. Before you can press for clarification, Shauna continues.

"You left." The words come out flat, accusatory. "After everything—after Jackie, after... after everything else we've been through. You just disappeared."

There it is—the conversation you've been avoiding since your return. "I needed space."

"Space," Shauna repeats, the word dripping with disdain. "So you faked your death? Let us mourn you? Let me think—" She stops abruptly, swallowing whatever she'd been about to say.

"Let you think what?" you press, turning to face her fully.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter now." She starts to stand, but you catch her wrist, an instinctive gesture you immediately regret when she flinches.

"Shauna, please," you say, releasing her immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was messed up. I couldn't handle being here, seeing you every day, knowing what—"

"Don't," she cuts you off harshly. "Don't pretend this was about Jackie, or about us. This was about you being a coward."

The accusation lands like a physical blow. "That's not fair."

"Fair?" Shauna laughs, a brittle sound that bears no resemblance to happiness. "Was it fair to make me think you were dead? To leave your blood on Jackie's jacket where we would find it? Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

"I wasn't thinking clearly," you admit, the closest you've come to a genuine explanation since your return.

"Clearly," she agrees coldly. "And now what? You're back, you're saying nothing about where you've been or what you did, and suddenly you're spending all your time with Lottie of all people?"

There's something in her tone—possessiveness? Jealousy?—that makes your pulse quicken. "I told you, she asked for help. It's not like I'm seeking her out."

"No?" Shauna's eyes narrow. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're replacing one fucked-up relationship with another."

The implication sends a flash of anger through you. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have a pattern," Shauna says, her voice rising slightly. "Jackie, me, now Lottie. You just can't help yourself, can you? Always gravitating toward whatever's most likely to blow up in your face."

"That's bullshit," you snap, standing now too. "Jackie and I were—that was different. And you and I were never—we didn't—"

"Didn't what?" Shauna challenges, stepping closer, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, close enough to smell the pine soap she uses to wash her hair. "Didn't hold each other every night? Didn't whisper things we'd never tell anyone else? Didn't cross every line except the one we were both too scared to acknowledge?"

Her words leave you breathless, confronting truths you've kept buried beneath grief and guilt and the consuming task of survival. "Shauna..."

"And then you left," she continues, relentless now that the dam has broken. "After everything we shared, after I told you about the baby, about my fears, after I held you through your nightmares and you promised—you promised—you wouldn't leave me alone out here. You just disappeared."

"I'm sorry," you repeat, the words woefully inadequate against the tide of her anger.

"Sorry doesn't bring back the weeks I spent thinking you were dead," Shauna says, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "It doesn't erase the nightmares. It doesn't change the fact that when I needed you most, you weren't there."

The accusation hangs between you, heavy with unstated losses. You think of her pregnant belly, now flat again, the question you've been afraid to ask.

"What happened to the baby?" you finally manage, your voice barely audible.

Shauna steps back as if struck, her expression shuttering completely. "You don't get to ask me that. Not now. Not after—" She shakes her head, arms wrapping around her middle in a protective gesture that makes your heart ache. "Stay away from me. And for god's sake, be careful with Lottie."

She turns and walks away before you can respond, her posture rigid with anger or pain or both. You watch her go, the distance between you widening with each step, a chasm of your own creation.

You remain by the fallen log long after Shauna has disappeared back into the cabin, trying to process the confrontation, the revelations it contained. The admission that what existed between you wasn't just grief or convenience or the desperate need for human contact in the face of tragedy—it was something deeper, something neither of you had been brave enough to name.

And now it's broken, possibly beyond repair.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulls you from your thoughts. You look up, expecting—hoping, perhaps—to see Shauna returning. Instead, Lottie emerges from between the trees, her expression serene as always.

"I saw her come back alone," she says by way of explanation. "Thought you might want company."

"I don't," you reply, harsher than intended.

If Lottie is offended by your tone, she doesn't show it. Instead, she sits beside you on the log, closer than Shauna had, her thigh pressing against yours despite the ample space available.

"She's angry," Lottie observes, her voice light. "But anger isn't the opposite of love. It's just another form of it."

"Don't," you warn, echoing your earlier response to her mentions of Jackie. "I'm not in the mood for cryptic bullshit right now."

"Not cryptic," Lottie corrects gently. "Just true. Shauna loves you. Has since before. Will after."

"Before what? After what?" You turn to face her, frustration building. "Can you, for once, just say what you mean instead of playing mystic?"

Lottie studies you for a moment, head tilted slightly. "Before the crash. After you leave this place." She gestures to the wilderness around you. "Time isn't linear here. I've seen it—how threads connect, overlap, double back. Your threads and Shauna's are... entangled. Always have been."

"You don't know what you're talking about," you mutter, but there's less conviction in your voice now.

"I do," Lottie insists, her hand finding yours on the log between you. "Just as I know about the hunger. The emptiness inside you that nothing seems to fill."

Your head snaps up at that, meeting her gaze with shock. Those were your exact thoughts during your self-imposed exile, words you've never spoken aloud to anyone.

"You—"

"I told you," she says simply. "I dream about you."

Something cold slithers down your spine—fear or anticipation, you're not sure which. "What exactly do you dream about, Lottie?"

Her smile deepens, something predatory entering her expression. "This," she says, and before you can react, her free hand is at the back of your neck, pulling you toward her, her lips meeting yours with surprising force.

For a split second, you're too shocked to respond. Then instinct takes over—anger, confusion, and weeks of isolation converging into a surge of adrenaline that has you shoving her away violently. Lottie tumbles backwards off the log, landing in the snow with a soft thud.

"What the fuck?" you demand, standing, fists clenched at your sides.

Lottie makes no move to get up, simply looks up at you from where she's fallen, that same knowing smile playing at her lips. "You're not angry because I kissed you," she says calmly. "You're angry because you wanted me to."

"That's bullshit," you snap, but even as you say it, you're aware of a treacherous heat in your blood, a response your body had no right to have.

"Is it?" Lottie sits up slowly, making no attempt to stand. "You've been starving for weeks. I can see it in the way you watch her, the way you flinch when anyone comes near you. It's eating you alive."

You take a step toward her, fury building at her presumption, her ability to see through defenses you thought impenetrable. "Shut up."

"Make me," she challenges, still seated in the snow, looking up at you with an expression that borders on anticipation.

Something snaps inside you—control, reason, restraint, whatever thin veneer of civilization has survived the months in this wilderness. You move without conscious thought, dropping to your knees in front of her, one hand coming to her throat, pushing her back until she's pinned against the ground.

"Is this what you wanted?" you growl, your face inches from hers, fingers pressing just firmly enough against her windpipe to be felt, not enough to truly restrict her breathing. "Is this what you dreamed about?"

You expect fear, resistance, perhaps even tears. What you don't expect is the slow smile that spreads across Lottie's face, the deliberate way she arches her neck against your grip.

"Yes," she breathes, the word barely audible.                                                                                                           

The admission should repulse you, should make you recoil and retreat. Instead, it ignites something dark and hungry within you, a need that's been growing since Jackie's death, since your isolation, since Shauna's rejection.

Before you can reconsider, your mouth crashes down on hers, the kiss nothing like the gentle exchanges you shared with Jackie, nothing like the hesitant, tender moments with Shauna. This is raw, almost violent, teeth and tongue and desperation.

Lottie responds with equal ferocity, her hands tangling in your hair, pulling you closer. You're dimly aware of the cold seeping through your clothes from the snow beneath you, but it's distant, irrelevant against the heat building between your bodies.

When you finally break apart, gasping for breath, Lottie looks up at you with pupils blown wide, lips swollen from your assault. "Take me," she whispers, the command clear despite the breathlessness of her voice.

You should stop. Should pull away, apologize, retreat to the safety of distance and denial. Should remember Shauna's warning about Lottie being different, dangerous perhaps.

Instead, you surrender to the hunger that's been consuming you for weeks—for touch, for connection, for oblivion however briefly it might be found. Your hands move to the fastening of her coat, pushing it open to access the warmth beneath, and Lottie's triumphant smile is the last thing you register before giving yourself over completely to the primal need that's been building inside you since the moment the plane crashed, stranding you all in this wilderness where normal rules and restraints have long since ceased to apply.

In the back of your mind, a voice whispers warning—that this is a mistake, that Lottie is not what she seems, that there will be consequences you can't foresee. But the hunger drowns it out, silences caution and reason alike as you lose yourself in the temporary escape of skin against skin, of pleasure sharp enough to eclipse grief, of connection however fleeting or false it might prove to be.

[dayntee]

10 Things Solavellans Agree On

Since I've been rolling around in Solavellan Hell for the last six months like a chinchilla in a dirt bath, I've been collecting little headcanons across the community.

I thought I'd share some of them. If you don't see yours that you absolutely swear by, you are honor bound to reblog or reply to this post so I can know about. These are either things I've had hours long conversations about or just notice a particular trend across several fanfictions/art.

He is an ass man. There's no way he isn't. He just can't keep his hands to himself.

He'll take any excuse to punish himself for his mistakes. Because everything is his fault forever. (Pretty sure this is just a fact tbh)

He has a horrendous sweet tooth. It's not just frilly cakes, he just enjoys sweet things in general.

He's a generous/caring lover. He gets his fulfillment out of his partner's fulfillment, not necessarily his own.

He's 8 inches and uncut. Boy is packing in front as well as in the trunk. (I can't take credit for this, the NSFW portion of the Fen'Harem is to blame and there was... uhhh a lot of consensus.)

He has a breeding kink. Thanks for this one, Trick; we know it was a joke, we just also all agree with you.

The travel to and from Crestwood makes no goddamn sense. Did he drag Lavellan out a week's travel by horseback just to panic and dump her? Was the ride home awkward as fuck? Did she bitterly leave him to walk his ass home? The world may never know.

Lavellan cried to dehydration and/or got irresponsibly drunk after Crestwood, and some poor member of the Inquisiton had to deal with it. Jury's out on who, I've seen Dorian or Varric most frequently, but my personal headcanon is Cassandra (who was 3 steps away from beating Solas' ass at any given moment afterward).

Solas, on the other hand, had a sad wank. Possibly several. Man has probably sad wanked a lot from Crestwood forward to be honest.

Whatever happens after Veilguard with these two, it involves a lot of fucking. It doesn't matter what your headcanon was for whether or not they had banged up until this point; once they retire to the Fade, everything is sexy times.

Bonus: 5 Personal Headcanons

These ones are less widely accepted, but my personal thoughts. Enjoy.

He's a mischievous partner. He knows where Lavellan is ticklish, taps her on the opposite shoulder when he approaches, and does other little pranky things (that are harmless, but teasing).

He's a switch. This is probably the most contested thing about any character, but I feel like Solas is too ephemeral and malleable a character to forever be a dom or sub exclusively.

Hates restrictive clothing. Veilguard was literally a form of torture; his loose hobo robes are his actual comfort zone.

After Veilguard, legitimately wants to learn everything he can about Dalish history. He didn't give it any mind before, but now it's clear how much it matters and the reason why is now by his side for the rest of forever.

I'm kind of a non-mage Lavellan truther, but I like the separation it gives them; they already have so much overlap in common as a mirror it's nice that there's one thing that really sets them apart. Mine was a rogue, but I have a special place in my heart for warrior Lavellans who have definitely fireman carried that man to bed more than once.

[phoenixcatch7]

Lmao I'd love to see a fic where batman like. Doesn't talk at all. He just 'hn' and 'hrm's his way through the story like a Minecraft villager. All the bat kids understand him perfectly.

I actually know people irl who can do this, and I've done it myself during bad migraines, it's practically a second language, so I know it's totally possible to have full conversations between two speakers XD!

It'd be another degree of separation between Brucie Wayne, the ditzy, breathy playboy and batman, who used up all his vocal spoons for the day and now communicates solely through unintelligible grunts and sharp hand gestures when he doesn't need to talk to strangers.

Unfortunately, the best way to learn grunt speak is the same way most languages are learned, and there's no written word (outside of emoji, of course): immersion. And the justice league are no longer considered strangers.

This leads to:

Hal: which way do we go, spooky? Where's the tracker pointing?

B: *grunt*

Hal: what?

B: *insistent grunt*

Hal:..... Can we point?

B: *dour look* *slowly raises arm to point left down the street* *sharp, insistent grunt*

Hal, dryly: don't strain yourself.

-

Damian: greyson. I am calling because father has had an injury and is bed bound for tonight, however Alfred is downstairs and the rest are still on patrol. I am still in the early stages of learning father's intonations. Please translate.

Nightwing, eldest, regularly called for exactly this reason by just about everyone Bruce has ever spoken with since he was a kid, ranging from arkham guards to jl members: *heavy sigh* put him on.

Bruce: hrng...

Nightwing: He's telling you to close the curtains and keep the noise down, he's got a headache.

Damian, over the sound of footsteps and fabric rustling: it truly is just like another language.

N: nah, it's a lot of probability. I've known b for years, I can guess pretty well. There's a lot we can say. For example, that grunt actually carried a lot more meaning, I just trimmed it down.

Damian: truly?

N: yup! If I had to be pedantic, it actually meant 'I am in quite a lot of discomfort, the cause of which is my head, and I am struggling to manage it on my own. Please aid in my cause, my darling sons whom I love dearly -'

Damian: *muffled noise through the phone*

N: that'll be him telling us to shut up. But you can see why I asked you to close the curtains.

Damian: fascinating. I shall take this under advisement.

-

B, exhausted after a long day of board meetings as Brucie: *moody silence*

Gordon: Batman, how's it going?

B: *glower* *drawn out grunt*

Gordon: that bad, huh?

-

Supes, during a briefing: I believe it would be best if we attacked from the north, we've enough flying members to crest the mountains and ambush then that way - Batman?

B: *quiet grumble, with pointer fingers moving in semicircles*

Supes: ah, I see. You're right, we'd be too visible if the sun rose behind them*turns to see the other members standing behind him* what?

Flash, bowing at the waist, palms together over his head: teach me your ways, oh mighty bat-speaker.

[aspenmissing]

request: cute fluffy silco and wife lying in bed and talking about random stuff while cuddling with the sun peeking through the curtains (metaphorically) etc etc etc

ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ

ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 1103 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴀ ꜱᴜᴄᴋᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟʟʏ ɢʀᴇʏ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ (ᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀʀᴍ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ). ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴏɴ!

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ

The soft glow of the candlelight flickered gently on the walls of Silco’s office-turned-bedroom. The familiar scent of the evening's rain lingered in the air, a quiet tranquillity that wrapped itself around the room. Outside, the sounds of Zaun's industrial hum could be faintly heard, but in here, it was just the peaceful silence between Silco and Y/N.

She lay curled up beside him, her head resting on his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing lulling her into a sense of calm. Her hair, long and dark, cascaded across the pillow, intertwining with Silco’s as his hand absentmindedly traced the lines of her spine. The room was warm, the kind of warmth that made everything feel safe, secure, and just right.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Silco asked softly, breaking the silence. His voice was low, almost playful, as if testing the waters for the conversation to come.

Y/N smiled against his chest, raising her head slightly to meet his eyes. "Of course, I do," she replied, her fingers brushing lightly over the scars that lined his jaw. "I remember you were standing at the bar, looking all brooding and mysterious. Thought you were going to bite someone's head off."

He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest like distant thunder. "That was before I realised I needed to be on my best behaviour around you." His hand found hers, fingers weaving together in the comfortable silence that followed.

"And yet, you still find ways to be terrifying," Y/N teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I swear, I’ve seen you send grown men trembling with just a glance."

"Fear can be an effective motivator," Silco said with a grin, his tone light but carrying the weight of the world behind it. "Though, I must admit, I've learned that there are far more rewarding ways to use my energy... especially with you."

Y/N couldn’t suppress the warmth that bloomed in her chest at his words. She shifted slightly so she could prop herself up on her elbow, gazing down at him with affection. "You know," she said, her voice soft and serious now, "sometimes I forget just how powerful you are. Not in the way you like to remind people, but in the way you care. You're so much more than what you show the world."

Silco’s gaze softened at her words, and for a moment, he seemed to lose his usual sharp edge, his face illuminated by the quiet peace that had taken over the room. He reached up to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured, a rare vulnerability slipping through.

"Don’t start," she warned with a playful smile, shaking her head. "I can’t believe you’re still on about that. You’ve always been more than enough for me, Silco. Don’t you ever forget that."

Silco let out a breath, his hand gently tracing the curve of her jaw before pulling her back into the warmth of his embrace. He wasn’t used to such tenderness, yet he found himself craving it whenever she was near. "I just… I think about how far I’ve come," he admitted quietly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. "How far I’ve had to go to build this, and sometimes, I wonder if it’s all worth it."

Y/N pressed a soft kiss to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her lips. "It’s worth it," she whispered. "Because you’ve built this with me by your side. I’m not going anywhere, Silco. Not now, not ever."

The sincerity in her words made his heart swell, and he tightened his arms around her. "I don’t deserve this kind of love," he murmured again, though this time it was more of a thought than an assertion.

"Silco," she chided softly, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "Stop saying that. I love you. That’s all that matters."

He met her eyes, the edges of his lips curling into a faint smile as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I never thought I would feel like this," he said, the softness of his tone betraying the hardness of the life he’d led. "I always thought I would be alone in this world, but then I found you."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. "I found you, too," she said with a soft laugh, her fingers tracing the outline of his lips. "I think we were both lost until we found each other."

Silco’s eyes softened, the cold exterior he often showed the world melting away in the warmth of their shared silence. For a moment, it was just the two of them, wrapped up in the softness of their connection, the world beyond their bedroom fading into the background.

"I love the way your hair smells after it rains," Y/N murmured after a few moments, pulling back slightly to run her fingers through his damp hair. "Like earth and warmth. It’s... comforting."

Silco raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "And here I thought you liked the way my hair looked when it was perfectly styled."

She laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I like the wild look too. It suits you. And besides, you look good no matter what."

Silco chuckled lowly, clearly pleased by her words. "I’ll take that as a compliment, but I don’t know how you manage to see anything good in me, with my... charming personality."

Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately. "You’re lucky I find your charm irresistible."

"I’ll never understand how you do," he murmured, his hand slipping beneath the covers to pull her even closer. His face softened as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "But I’m glad you do."

For a while, they just lay there in the quiet of the room, each lost in the simple joy of being in each other’s arms. The weight of the world outside felt distant, like it didn’t matter in this small, private moment. Silco’s arms were a safe haven for Y/N, and her warmth was his anchor, the thing that kept him grounded when the chaos of his life threatened to take over.

"You know," Y/N said after a while, her voice almost a whisper, "I think I could stay like this forever."

Silco’s response was a soft hum, a sound that reverberated through his chest and soothed her more than words ever could. "Forever sounds perfect."

And for a moment, in the quiet of their shared space, it truly felt like forever.

[3uthym1c]

𓆩⚝𓆪 ☒ 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐀 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝! 𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘍𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘳

𓏲 ๋࣭     ࣪ ˖    ⋆ ࣪.     ˖ ࣪⭑  ˖ ࣪ ٬     ุ๋ ⸱    ִֶָ . ָ࣪   ˑ ֗⭑  ˖ ࣪ ٬     ุ๋ ⸱    ִֶָ . ָ࣪   ˑ ֗ ˖    ⋆ ࣪.     ˖ ࣪⭑      ࣪ ˖    ⋆ ࣪. ⸱    ִֶָ . ָ࣪  

Ꮺ Read before getting into your group please! THERE IS A MESSAGE FOR EVERYONE AT THE END!!!

Hey y'all, it's me and I'm back. I told y'all I don't have a PAC uploading schedule 😭. I honestly just do it whenever I feel that I have the energy and then recharge. Perhaps when I'm in my "tarot reading hibernation" I'll take free requests so stay tuned (I'll have to figure out rules for requests first 😭).

Remember that you can pick more than one and to choose what resonates and STAY HYDRATED!!! I've never done a love reading before so feedback would be very appreciated.

⋆｡° ✮ ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ

For physical features I see that they have brown hair (light or dark brown). For some, your partner might have dreads, locs, or very intricate braids. Their skin may be brown or tanned (or tan easily). They have such an infectious and bright smile, it's like their whole face lights up and it's so beautiful to everyone seeing it. They're muscular, but in skinny way? I don't know how to explain it. Kind of like runners? As for their clothes or clothing style, they might wear either all black or white with a few pops of color. Like an example would be a dark t-shirt with a bright red collar thing and a necklace with a big yellow crystal.

They carry so so so much enthusiasm. Right off the bat they just bring a light very few can bring. They bring so much to people just by existing. inspiration, hope, enlightenment even? They don't even have to be extroverted they just have and give so much energy. They have so many silly little thoughts they share every now and then that seem to come out of nowhere. Their biggest character strength is gratitude. They feel so thankful for everything and everyone and they'll let you know. Oh my god pile 1 you're so lucky this person is so in love with life and will make you in love with life even more than you currently do. They will make you love being human the and feeling and tasting and dancing and experiencing that come with it. It'll have you seeing beauty in the everyday things.

Right now they're going through some really intense spiritual transformation. They need to learn to ask for help when they need it. They'll do well though. They'll find a lot of things could've been solved by just asking for help. Both you and them are at the beginning of your journeys (that doesn't mean your journey is long though), so if you guys think things are already good then I'm thinking of the phrase "universe, show me how good it can get". They're such a good cook & baker by the way. They have a lot of earth and fire placements. Extremely romantic in both the loveydovey type and the artsy sense.

When you come into their life it's very much random and unexpected. My sister just unexpectedly found an item that cleans her flute so I'll take it as a sign that you guys meet at a music / dance event or concert. Perhaps in the same class taking music lessons. Also random message: this meeting is just unavoidable, no matter what you do they'll find their way to you so don't worry. Even if you guys meet, have a conversation, and leave, you guys will keep bumping into each other. Months into your relationship, both of you will look back at this meeting as something purely magical. If they don't believe in fate or magic or some higher power, this will change their mind.

I'm also hearing, "It's so beautiful how deeply you feel." You may have been looked down on for being "overly sensitive" and "caring too much" but they very much appreciate it. Also hearing "Whatever you say, beautiful." like if you told them to do something crazy they wouldn't even question it. Literally remembered this image:

🍈 ☒ Key Words / Items / Etc: The Chariot (representing them), Ruby, the word "baroque", Soprano, Clownfish, Horses, Bells, Lemons, roses, letter S.

⋆｡° ✮ ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ

Straight dark brown or black hair, they like wearing more simple outfits most of the time with neutral colors but there will be days where they're like "screw it I'm going to dress all fancy just to go to the library". Often carries a backpack or suitcase or purse everywhere. Worst case of RBF (resting bitch face) ever, but their face is so gentle and pretty too. Maybe wears black glasses (maybe prescription maybe not). A little random but you might find that they look so hot when they're focused? Really nice hands, they might like to wear rings or gloves. Would probably let you paint their nails.

But when you get to know them they're actually goofy and sometimes they don't even know it. "Apartment complex? I find it quite simple actually." vibes. I think a lot of people don't like how confident they look and say stuff like "They think they're better than us." when they never even act like that. Warning they have so many haters and it isn't because they even did or said anything, people see them and their confident energy and assume so so SO much about them. They don't know that though, because to them it seems like they hate your S/O for no reason and they're so confused. In reality they're so soft and kind hearted.

Random thing - they might really like penguins? They have ungodly amounts of patience for everything and everyone it's mind boggling. They're either interested or uninterested in things, so if they're interested they will put their heart and soul into whatever it is. You can see it so well in their work and career, whatever it may be. Embodiment of the word "Meraki". Btw your S/O doesn't want me to "spoil any surprises" take it as you wish.

EDIT: Holy shit there was whole entire paragraph about what I'd guess is the "surprise" that somehow didn't end up in the reading when I copy / pasted it from Notion to tumblr?????

Going to add more to this, it seems that your partner is super shy and a little awkward if that makes sense? Like, if you ever have done readings about specific people, while you may not HEAR their voice, you can kind of feel the vibes of them talking? They kind of remind me of the smell after the rain (which if you're curious, no it was not raining at the time of me doing this reading).

🍈 ☒ Key Words / Items / Etc: Meraki (obviously), Cats, purple & blue, the letter R, birds visiting your backyard often, 777,

⋆｡° ✮ ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

Instead of starting with physical appearance I think I want to start off with what they're like. Right off the bat their energy is very easy to tap into (in a good way). In fact, after I was done with pile two, I kept on getting intuitive messages for two whole days on what they're like. This whole entire pile I didn't even have to draw a single card. at all. They're extremely talkative, and I wouldn't be surprised if you constantly recieved messages and signs from them. I'd imagine it would be like recieving a loud notification on your phone because honestly whatever chance they get, their higher self constantly is there checking in on you.

They have an incredible sense of humor first of all. They will never fail to make you laugh. I hope this makes sense, but they're almost like a walking four leaf clover or lucky charm. Wherever they go they just bring good luck to themselves and people around them. Perhaps their very existence is a miracle. Their birthday may be in May. This is going to sound weird and no shade to your S/O but they're the type of person you wouldn't expect to be so smart. Usually people think of smart people as like, these serious nerdy looking people, but this person is genuinely so so smart and good at talking to others.

I bet how you guys will meet is that you'll be struggling with something and they'll walk into your life and help you. They have the sort of magic of a teacher that can explain the hardest topics so easily. One of their weaknesses is that they're a little too afraid to ask help for themselves. This person isn't JUST good boy/girl/joyfriend material, but also a great spouse.

Wouldn't be surprised if they have light hair or are ginger. If they have dark hair it's probably dyed. Their hair is so fluffy and if it's long it's very nice to just run your hand in. A very comfortable style, I could imagine that they sometimes wear soft pastel colors (Blue, green, orange mostly) or neon. Hoodlies, loose clothing, handmade clothes.

🍈 ☒ Key Words / Items / Etc: Four leaf clovers, 444, cats with different colored eyes (kinda specific), spiders, random light colored yarm / wool.

⋆｡° ✮ ᴘɪʟᴇ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

Your partner is probably much taller than you. They probably have silver jewelry and long hair. They put in a LOT of effort into how they look, they always look so fashionable. They also take great care of their body too. I don't think it's to the point where they're vain though, they just take care of themselves and like dressing cool. They may have blue, green, or grey eyes.

First of all, this may come to a shock to you but your partner is very spiritual. When you meet them they'll probably have already spent years learning about and practicing their spirituality. Everyone that meets them thinks that they're mentally just wise beyond their years, and I don't mean when it comes to academics (though that might be the case). There's just something about them that makes them feel like they've been on this earth for a long long time and have witnessed many things and met many people.

They may actually be a historian, anthropologist, archivist, librarian, psychologist, or sociologist. Okay I've just been having this stuck in my head while doing this reading but I'm imagining like, a rock or statue with moss growing on it. Also I'm feeling strangely calm and warm right now. I don't know if "calm" would even describe it, it's like complete serenity.

When you meet them it might be in somewhere incredibly crowded, but it'll feel like it's just the two of you. You could maybe meet them through a friend and have a nice long night drive talking to each other. They genuinely love you. I mean obviously this is a future partner reading so of course they would, but this love runs so deep. There's not any way that I can get you to fully understand the depths of this love, so you'll just have to wait and see!

They're the type of person that makes people comfortable enough to be themselves without worrying about judgement, mostly because to be honest this person is seen as "weird" themselves. You make them love humanity, is another message I'm getting.

Also a note that I didn't even pull cards for this, it was all intuitive so usually I take it as a sign this person's energy / presence is strong and you probably receive messages and signs from their higher self a lot. Or maybe their 3d human self consciously sends positive energy your way, a sign of this is randomly feeling warm and cozy and calm for no reason. P.S. they probably think about you as much as you think about them.

ALSO!!!! PILE 4 don't stop reading it yet there's a message I got for you guys but I feel called to put it at the end separately for all of the piles!

🍈 ☒ Key Words / Items / Etc: 888, blueberry, lights that flicker for no reason, or maybe dreams where you see some sort of light floating around, rainbows, bees, Magician card, the word "arbiter"

𝕄𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝔼𝕍𝔼ℝ𝕐 ℙ𝕀𝕃𝔼!!!

I know someone (not all of you) is thinking "Nahh this sounds too good to be true", well 1. that's the magic of soul connections and love & 2. Please stop lowering your standards because it's "unrealistic" because I swear you're not asking for much from a person. You deserve something "too good to be true" bestie (And also, remember, YOU are a dream come true for them too 😭).

"Why me what's so special about me 🫤 " on god you're the type of person who asks for signs from your spirit guides and then ignores them like they're tiiiireeedddd. Real talk though, you don't know how beautiful you are to a strangers eyes because you grow accustomed to your face. You don't know how smart and amazing you are (and yes knowing a lot about a random show or book or random subject counts as being smart shhh).

You are so perfectly human you just DON'T KNOWWW. I

f you think like this (or even if you don't because we should all do this), I'm giving you homework. Make a list of everything you are grateful for yourself for doing / being, what topics and interests you have, your favorite fashion style, achievements, color, animal, your favorite song, things you have around the house that you like and why, etc.

YOU ARE AN INTERESTING PERSON!!!! If you have a good relationship with your parents / guardians or grandparents or aunts or siblings, ask them what they love about you. Get to know yourself!!! A lot of things are cool and special about you!!!!!!!!!

-Eiki

[overtaken-stream]

Do you have any writing plans involving Katakuri or the Big mom pirates?

Monster's Voice Is Sweet To Hear

Charlotte Katakuri x F!Wife!Reader

! !NSFW! !

This is from ao3, last year, sorry for any grammar mistakes, as well as my different writing, this is also the first time I wrote filth, aside from the love-making in the Ace fic from Ao3. I want to write something for him but the ideas are just not coming to me. I also didn't specify readers race. Just that it's a female and tall/stronger then a human since we all know Big Mom won't just toss away Katakuri and make him marry a boring human with no specialties. this could work on all shapes and sizes of reader, chubby and skinny.

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: Rarely in the dead of night, a monster such as Katakuri needs love. It's something you can't say no to. After all, how can you deny that unnerving voice of his.

Warnings: Size difference, POST-WANO SPOILERS, multiple rounds.

In the quiet night, where only the humming of your voice is heard.

Light from the cake-inspired lamp bounces off the pink walls the shadow that's in a silhouette of a woman falls onto the giant bed in the center of the room.

On a quiet night, a married girl takes her jewelry off and places it in one of the drawers the magenta bureau contains.

You stand up from the chair, getting closer to the bed. Getting out of your clothes and putting on a modified (F/C) nightgown, you straighten the hot pink details running over your tall figure as you lie down on the heavenly bed.

Only at the sound of a door opening did you quickly get under the blanket. The sound of metal and leather rubbing against itself notifies you of the person who walked in before they can even say anything.

``(Y/N).``

``Katakuri.`` You shyly show your face from the covers to see the sight of your husband of 3 years now, even after all this time you can feel the blush creeping up your face, no matter how long you will never get used to seeing a man that's able to look down at you. That stoic and firey gaze always unleashed the butterflies deep inside your belly.

``I apologize for startling you, I've seemed to... Be distracted lately.`` This was his way of saying I forgot to knock on the door. With much time you start to learn the ways of Katakuri's speech patterns. Start to recognize what words his pride was holding back even from you. Apologetic wasn't one of them. It isn't like he's trying to hide something after all you've seen his biggest weakness in action multiple times, gobbling all kinds of sweets. But never have you thought forgetting was something Katakuri was capable of. It wasn't until after the incident at Pudding's wedding involving the Strawhats that Katakuri's mask, which he had been carrying since marrying you (probably much, much longer than that) truly shattered. Thanks to his younger sister Flampe not keeping her mouth shut about how horrid her big brother is physically and then about his treatment towards her, after what she did. The brat even tried to approach you to run her tongue about Katakuri. Your husband.

Honor is off the table when faced with a person with that kind of mindset. Never mind the respect when facing a worthy opponent.

``Mind if I join you?``

``No, not at all.`` You smile as you watch him carefully get out of his uniform. Never did you imagine you would smile at Katakuri, compared to the sad bride and groom the two of you were. The new life treated you both kindly, it wasn't fast but it wasn't slow-paced either.

The stiff and awkward interactions turned into small conversations about interests and they blossomed into what can only be fondness. The road came with its fare-share of bumps, and both of you dived head first in this with only your families in mind, ready to throw away what little freedom both of you had for your parent's satisfaction.

At the wedding ceremony, walls were built. Walls that cracked the more time you spent with each other.

``Y'know, Luffy was announced as an Emperor today.`` You fill in the silence. Knowing Katakuri's favorite topic you slide in the information.

Katakuri stops mid-changing and raises his head at that. He had told you about Luffy a couple of weeks ago, finally emptying his head to you about the topic he was trying to tell you the moment he returned to your room injured. You didn't push him back then.

The time will come when he'll bring it up. You would tell yourself. It's his calculations of reactions that hold him, little insecurities eating him up and even if the conversation was late, you are happy that he was finally opening up. To you at least.

``Is that so?``

``Yeah, it was in today's newspaper. It said he defeated Kaidou, impressive huh?``

You watch as he nods his head. You debate for a second if you should tell him the next sentence, but he is her son, after all, today he dedicated himself to the library (A time he cherishes since it happens so rarely. A battle with the Straw Hat sure tired him out. You wonder if it's a blessing in disguise sometimes. If it is you wouldn't be surprised.) and judging from his lack of knowledge about the feat Luffy accomplished, you might as well tell him now...

``Surgeon of Death and The Eustass kid from the Worst Generation were involved... They defeated Big Mom.`` At that, you can feel how the temperature drops in the room, his movements to put the clothes back in their place slowed down until they came to a stop. It almost felt like time had stopped.

``I've heard about that. All the commotion in the palace this morning was from Perospero's call. They needed a backup to retrieve them.`` He says as the heavyweight is lifted off the room, letting go of the fabric he was holding onto, the time begins to roll once again.

You don't bat an eye at Katakuri's actions and his casualness. You doubt he would mourn his mother.

You quiver as the blanket is thrown off of you, the chill biting your arms and chest before he joins you on the bed. You fix your body position as the natural warmth his body carries sends shivers down your spine. Your back facing his chest as his giant hand creeps up to cradle your waist.

You shy away or try to. But the moment his fingers softly graze your pelvis, a tight knot starts developing, his shy yet soothing and careful touches sending the blood up to your face.

He's mindful of his heaviness, even if you are taller than a human should be, more tolerant and powerful, he treats you the same as he would to his child siblings, with feather-light touches. It's instinct at this point. It makes you nervous. Makes you red and sad, as well as happy that he also wasn't the only one with bad habits.

Habits that differentiate you two are rare. Since most of them are dependent on higher-than-an-average-human height.

``Is this okay?`` his open eyes travel over your face devoid of any skin color except red. You nod.

``...May I?`` The awkwardness in his voice is precious. Sweet as a mochi should be. Not how a monster's should be.

It makes your heart skip a beat and your core to pulse.

The impatience takes over when he's leaving lingering touches closer and closer to where you would like the itchiness to go away. The temptation to grab his hand and drag it to your genitalia is strong. Biting the bottom lip you feel his hand cup your crotch, and it's a feeling you'll never get tired of.

He shoves the gown's bottom piece up to your belly button, getting the cue you grab the (F/C) silky cloth. It's tacky but it was one of the more subtle ones that Brûlée has picked for you.

You shift your left thigh to the side when the tips of his finger flex on top of your clitoris, a thin layer of fabric stopping him from intruding, yet he is still making you pulse and drowning you in the electric shock of pleasure. The fingers slowly run over it, again and again putting no pressure behind the movement.

When his right-hand digs behind your back, your flushed face barely turns around to ask him what he is doing.

``Changing position...`` Katakuri says as he carefully scoops your neck between his forearm and upper arm, his left hand grabs onto your right hip.

His show of strength as he gets you on top of him in a second, leaves your knees shaking. At first, you lay on his chest with your back pressed against him.

Even with your superior height he somehow manages to make you feel as if you were a human, it makes you doubt your reality for a millisecond, his right hand balancing you and the other one going down your body a bit too fast, your suspicions are confirmed by the impatience with which he tosses the blanket off of your bodies. The room temperature now no longer poses a threat to your skin.

This time he isn't as slow with his actions, leaving the undergarments on, he rubs up and down your slit, feeling its warmth escape onto his sweaty hands.

The quiet room was momentarily full of little gasps and beating hearts of both parties. A squeak leaves your mouth as you rise from your position on his chest, leaning on your elbows that are still... On his chest. The coldness that sudden separation brings on your back is forgotten as you look down to where Katakuri is making laps around you. The moisture grows in seconds when he presses his thumb on your clit, slowly rocking it sideways and tightening the knot deep within you.

You try to bite the bottom of your mouth to not let the noises escape but as Katakuri flattens his hand so his index and middle finger are sliding and tickling your entrance, the task to stay quiet becomes very difficult. You feel the way he snakes his second hand up your breasts while the other separates the undergarment from your folds. Little moans sneak past your lips as you look straight down, the bulge that shows from underneath your thighs just makes your heart beat out of your ribcage.

Katakuri lays his forehead on your shoulder as he feels the wetness coating the surroundings of your entrance, he knew the smaller hands were coming before feeling them pull down the owner's panties, momentarily stopping for her to take it off before he continued infiltrating it. His right hand fondling with your breasts squishing them but not rough enough to hurt you.

For a split second, you felt the pain of the stretch, arching your back and tossing your head over his shoulder as Katakuri's other hand played with the silk-covered nipple, he pushed his forehead down on your cleavage, it wasn't in his intentions but the size difference was really making your mind mushy.

You could feel him shaking from below you as you rest on top of him, closed eyes and clean mind absorbing your movements.

For a couple of seconds, you lay like that, panting breathes and already sweat covered. He won't move. He won't hurt you. He'll give you time to adjust.

Your hand lands on his crimson hair, fingers run through the short pink layers devoid of grey. It startles him, eyes snapping open he looks to his left shoulder where you are resting your head and meets his beloved's smiling face staring back at him.

Pink dusted his cheeks and as his heart jumped, his mouth opened and closed, this nervous feeling is shameful to him. The big brother Katakuri was still getting used to his new-not-so-new feelings towards new-not-so-new his wife, and expressing them to her face turned out to be the most complicated and difficult part. (Aside from Brûlée, she has seen him at his worst. It's a new feeling, a new type of embarrassment he hasn't experienced with anyone, not even Brûlée. The thought of this ever getting out almost frightens him. It frightens him.)

At last, he chooses to look away as you chuckle.

``C-can you move now?`` He nearly forgot.

``Are you... Sure?``

``Yeah, now c'mon... I was so close...``

He continues his motions with soft pink shades over his face, and slowly the two fingers slide deeper into your gummy walls. The clenching makes him wish it was some other part of his inside of you instead of his fingers. He listens as hisses leave your lips from the painfully nice stretch, the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes being wiped away by Katakuri's other hand that took a break from playing with your breasts, he feels his boxer get tighter when your legs shake around his massive thighs, for a second he feels glad that you aren't super tiny, it makes this feel like the first time both of you did it. It holds a special place in his heart, the lovely touches have never been that satisfying. And every time you take your time to show affection to him during it- he falls further and further in love with you. Even if he doesn't show it, or return them, he appreciates the gestures.

He knows it's time to start the actions of love and that you would certainly never reject it. It's the childish fear keeping his head and eyes locked away during them. Is he shy? Maybe. Does he wan't to return the gesture? Some would think that he doesn't.

The whimpering noises fill his head as he finally went in knuckle deep, he lifts his head from your cleavage and brings your face closer for a kiss, eating the deep moan that leaves your mouth when he pulls out his finger and pushes it back into the warmth. Watching with open eyes how your eyebrows point up in pleasure twisting into a lustful picture he'll love for the rest of his life. The fact that he is the only one who's allowed to see it makes his head dizzy with what other expressions he could steal from you.

He slowly fastens his pace, making and leaving your walls a mess before he gets back in and fixes it with his fingers, finding that spongey spot was easy, having it memorized Katakuri curves his fingers upwards and pistons into it, barely taking his fingers out.

One after another lustful noises (now louder than ever) escape before you can bite your tongue. At some point, drool started coming out of your mouth. Eyes closed you can feel how Katakuri milked your sweet spot brutally, making your cunt weep and sting oh so impossibly delightfully.

His hand and your thights are all wet now.

``Just aah little m-more...!``

You were so close. So incredibly close.

The moment Katakuri forced his hand to dig deeper in your cunt, to get past the line of his knuckles, and pushed upwards into your belly, forcing you to arch for him harder was the moment you were seeing stars.

Your closed eyes were going into your head and your wide mouth was slack as he held your hip with one hand and rubbed your clit faster than ever with the other one. Throwing you off the edge and finally loosening the knot that was tied at the start, slick now not-so-unclear dribs down your slit, he doesn't let you have a break, hand still accompanying you even after your orgasm.

You don't complain.

He slowly pushes your pelvis down with his forearm to meet his hips, not slowing his fast-paced rubbing. Your moans are now as free as they can be, but you limit yourself, wanting to hear little grunts and deep slow moans from Katakuri. You honestly think you could cum from his voice alone.

He's beautiful you think.

His eyes are closed, the furrowing thin eyebrows holding onto the sweat drops that are covering his face in a thin layer of gloss. His eyes are closed yet he seems so concentrated to make you cum again. The vein in his forehead is on full display for you. His naturally long eyelashes adorned his hooded eyes.

``You're Beau...tiful... Kata...``

The way he hides his mouth in your cleavage and not in your shoulder because of his big size, the way he is avoiding eye contact the moment you whispered those two words. The way your heart shattered, is like no other pain you've felt. Because this boy is so... So incredibly sad. You want to kiss the pain away, the worries to be crushed under your tall figure. You want to shield him because he deserved so much more than this family.

``Sooo pretty... C-can you look...at me?`` Exhausted, you reach out.

You don't pay attention to the second orgasm, too busy complimenting him about his beauty. You miss how he is rutting his clothed hips right on your naked ass. You don't miss how he turns his face to the opposite side from you, you don't miss the red-colored ears as you hug his neck. Biting his ears as you are getting closer yet again. You notice how he's gone quiet the moment you praised him. How he is listening to your moans right in his ear.

Suddenly he crashes his hips into you, stinging sensations of him losing grip on his strength lays mockingly on the prints he has branded on both sides of your hips. Even if you were drowning in an indescribable pleasure you didn't miss the way he threw his head back, he almost roars a held-back-moan as wetness spreads on your ass. You don't have to look down to know that both of you guys's cum is wetting the sheets below.

Did he cum by pleasuring you?

Shit... That's so... Hot.

You've known there were ten million ways to love somebody and this. This was one of them.

Katakuri relaxes on the pillow behind him, coming down from the high he tossed both of you in, your arms still around his neck. He opens his eyes looking down at your face, It's a mess really, with sweat and hair sticking on your forehead, swollen lips from the previous kiss (he spends extra seconds looking and feeling the breasts resting against his own skin) but it doesn't matter to him, all he sees are the fruits of his labor. He finally removes his hands from your hips, his gaze falling on a now-covered-by-your-nightgown spot.

Did he leave a mark?

A giggle escapes from your lips before you can stop it, earning a playful glare from his direction. What's so funny?

``Aha-I'm sorry, it's just. You're so red!`` He looks through you, unfocusing his eyes before turning his (now red from embarrassment) face away from you.

You rub your cheek against him, feeling the stitch scars that lead to his mouth hole.

``Awh! C'mon don't hide from me!``

``...You're getting brave (Y/N)...``

``I don't have to be brave to call my husband beautiful and handsome! Plus you're so cute right now!``

``I'm not cute...``

``Sure you're not.`` You're pushing it. You are sure as hell not sure where this confidence came from but you aren't complaining.

Putting your hand under his chin and turning his face toward you.

His eyes settle on your lips before you pull yourself up to make your (S/C) lips land on his monstrous mouth. Like a beast, he doesn't close his eyes, unlike you.

Yet again choosing to make up for the time he closed his eyes during the sex. Staring into your wet eyelashes.

His left arm drags you so impossibly closer to his chest, in a hug while his other hand puts a strand of (H/C) hair back over your ear. When you try to pull away he follows your lips down. Cherishing the strawberry residue that the lipstick left.

A couple of moments last of you two in a romantic kiss before it turns into playful pecks across each other faces. Katakuri was careful with his fangs, still getting used to having someone get as close as he was to the white knives. He calls them and judging from the sharpness you can't exactly call him wrong.

It lasts like that for more than necessary. The sweet touches turned harsh from him is a normal feeling for you, pain tolerance is one of your specialties. It's in your blood. There is nothing he could do from the outside that could hurt you. From the inside, it's a different story.

It's the reason why Charlotte Linlin chose you to be the bride for her second son.

``He's a monster in humans skin,`` She said.

``Better have that scarf around you at all times Katakuri, don't frighten the soon-to-be bride.``  She said at one of the tea parties she had invited your family over.

It was humiliating for him to hear those words, let alone in front of a different kingdom's royal family. Those words were enough for you to have an opinion set on Big Mom.

And Katakuri too. It was respect, you respected him for putting up with people like his mother daily. Another thing to add in the similarities chart besides the height.

``Don't you think your genetic powers would make lovely children for my boy here darling? Wouldn't that be wonderful?``

You pity the children you have to give birth to. Because you know it will happen.

Her piercing gaze and a change in tone was the only reason you nodded your head. It was how the entire party went actually, with you acting like one of Big Mom's homies. Bobbing your head to every compliment she would say about you and your powers.

Maybe that's what left a sour taste in Katakuri's mouth. Why he avoided you for a couple of months after the wedding, he probably saw you as a fragile bimbo who was swayed by fear.

You would hate to say it but the truth is always hard to swallow.

It was what you were before the wedding and after. No doubt about that. The fear of upsetting a bomb that was Big Mom terrified you to your core. You could take Katakuri ignoring and avoiding you but you could never say no to them, the strings she had on your family were too tightly tied around their necks to risk it. Not to mention the thousands of people's lives each of your family member represented.

``The more you fuck around the more you're gonna find out`` As your diplomat father would say in all kinds of situations. It's just that in this instance it wasn't comedic.

It was a psychological thriller. And fucking around you couldn't.

It was a sad start to your relationship with him, an unwanted marriage both of you were against at first, maybe in another lifetime one of you would have had a voice to protest it. But for now, you enjoy the soft embrace of his arms around your shoulders. A loud banging of his heart against your ear.

The chill of the aftermath leaving your body and replacing it with a sticky feeling between your crotch and the smell of sex that wasn't visible at the time.

``Well then, don't you want to clean yourself up?``

``No, I don't.``

``W-why not?`` Usually, Katakuri loves his cleanliness, organization, and tidiness. He showers after coming home, often he's the one running to the bathroom with towels in his hands before you can even process that you've arrived home.

``...I just don't want this to end.``

``... You...`` And you thought Katakuri had run out of his surprise factor. It makes you want to toss your feet in the air with tiny kicks, giggles and everything, it makes you blush.

Seriously? Why are you acting like a schoolgirl with a crush on her upperclassmen?! Have you lost all your marbles in you, woman?! Where is the royal blood?!

You can practically feel the inner, secondary or tiny voice in your head yelling at you.

``Y... You do...?`` Unbelievable.

A nod from him is all you need.

``Y'know, we don't... Have to end it...``

``What?`` God his obliviousness makes you want to strangle him.

``We can... Continue it instead...I-i mean... If you... Want..?`` You run your index finger over his chest, tracing the tattoo with half-lidded eyes and lips in a kissing position. If this isn't lustfull, you don't know what is.

``...``

``...``

``... We can?`` His shocked eyes leave you once again, speechless.

``Of... Of course, we can! If you have any energy left that is... What made you think that we couldn't..?``

Sex is something that rarely happens between you and him since both of you most of the time are sent out for missions separately, however, If your memories aren't lying to you there are a total of four times (not counting this one) that you guys have slept together. How many times did he want to cuddle after sex? 2 times? 3 times?

Such a bad wife you've been to him.

WHAT DON'T THINK LIKE THAT!

Your questions go unanswered. Instead, he gently turns you onto your back, his hands balancing himself like a pole, they shut off your field of vision 'till you can't look anywhere instead up.

And up you look.

You think it's a sight any fair lady would go feral over. So what if you've seen this many times before, it never fails to make you nervous, the confidence dripping off of him, even if shaky eyesight proves just how unconfident he is.

Swoon over him you do.

The feeling you got at the start of the night coming back ten times stronger and filling up your heart until it's back to the pace it was before, this time maybe even shaking sideways for dramatic or. romantic effect.

Your breathing quickens as his head follows his body that was leaning on his thighs which were usually heavy with accessories of any kind, mostly following his gothic style with minor changes. Now he stands on top of your legs with his free-of-any-weight ones, caging yours with his knees. He has a charm in the way he travels his hand down on your skin, giant fingers ghosting over the most sensitive of places. The size difference isn't much but staring at your squished thighs and comparing it to the thickness of his knees makes your breath hitch, gulping you look up towards his face.

Katakuri's sharp crimson eyes glimmer down at you.

He had never once failed to make you feel so unbelievably small under his gaze, you find this exact moment perfect to take off your sticky nightgown that's wet with substances from both of your bodies. It turns out to be a good hiding device for your face, too bad it only lasts a couple of seconds before Katakuri gets suspicious.

Once over your head, you toss the (F/C) fabric somewhere on the floor. Presenting your fully naked body to him.

You don't know when or how he got the boxer off, but he now stands in all of his glory. One would think he was flexing his muscles, and he was. With how heavily Katakuri was breathing, you would have run your fingers up his tattoo if he didn't grab your legs first, taking them out of his leg jail, it was an awkward struggle to pull them over his thighs but he managed to not stretch it out for too long.

It felt so right, you against him fitting like puzzle pieces, your warm legs clinging onto his hips that are the perfect fit for your long legs.

It's your fantasy coming to life and so is his.

Katakuri pulls your hips near his pelvis to get you in a comfortable position. His fingers play with your now relaxed entrance. His other hand strokes his sex in front of you.

Shyness is thrown out of the window.

``I'll... Be slow.`` He always says that. But he can not help the roughness come into play the moment you get used to having him inside you.

You shiver as his head presses against your folds, hiss as it's slowly getting past the cold surface and into the warmth your insides bring. You hear him let out a grunt of his own. The shakiness of his hands on your hips calms the arch your back has been put into.

Katakuri pushes in with slow motions.

He tries to distract you will little strokes up and down your arched back.

You try to not tense up, you really do, but his fingers weren't enough for you to have been ready for his cock. It has that extra length and thickness his fingers weren't capable of having.

The sting leaves you panting and watery-eyed.

Katakuri looks down at you, completely stopping his actions when the walls around his girth close his pathway to bliss.

He lets you relax and adjust to his length. Looking at your face when you wipe your not-yet-spilled tears. Feeling the walls grip and loosen around him makes him close his eyes, ignoring the sparks of pleasure that are signaling him to just rut into you. He turns his face back to you, opening his eyes.

Katakuri doesn't ask you to relax, he knows you're already doing that and he knows you'll signal him to move onward, there is no need to remind you of what's obvious. So he stays quiet, humming and touching you elsewhere across your body, a gentleness he didn't know was capable of, coming forward and dripping honey over your pain, sugarcoating it with his lips that are kissing up your neck.

You put your hands over his shoulders, feeling the pain go away only for it to be replaced by numbness. calming down you nod your head against his scarred cheek.

``You can go on... Now.`` And he does. Slowly and surely with the help of the previous round. He bottoms out.

Your walls surround him, while his grunts surround your head. Both of you stay still for a moment, him going back to kissing your shoulder while you hug his neck, lost in ecstasy.

The world is summed down to only him and you, even if you are running your eyes on the walls of the room, you're still breathing in his leftover cotton cologne, lingering on his skin for just a bit longer.

He starts moving, god he starts moving.

Rocking into you slower than ever, stickiness in your crotch area goes unnoticed. The feeling of him moving and dragging the pleasure away only for him to slide back in, adding the rubbing against your clit with his shortened pubes is soul-shattering in a pleasing way, making your brain mush and your mouth full of unholy sounds.

Sweat dribbles down the side of his face still buried in your shoulder. He is not a man who leaves hickeys. Even though It's impossible since he can't exactly hurt you, although he enjoys leaving marks with anything else, they don't last long, only a couple of minutes before it's back to the way your skin was. But he likes having your signatures on his back especially since that's the only place covered by his jacket in the public.

Even now you leave tiny trails with your nails on his back, not strong enough to break the skin but just enough for them to look like a part of his tattoo gone wild. it just sums up more blood on the southern side of his body, getting him harder than he was before.

It's too much for you when he starts setting a fast pace, his hips meeting yours midway through your grinding, it's too much you tell yourself.

The way he is holding his wide torso with his elbows right beside your shoulders since you didn't let go of his neck since you grabbed it. You feel silly, sticking yourself onto him this way but he doesn't have any complaints. Even if it's too much how you cum yet again with shaky legs and slick dripping down your crack and onto your arched back. Too much of him rocking into you. The mattress below you squicking and rocking with his thrusts. Not only the mattress, but his thrusts also drag your entire body with him, meeting him halfway through his pulling. Too much moaning coming from your side, it's too good.

Too good to tell him to stop.

You can't tell when you came again, the shakiness is blending in with his hips crashing into yours, and you can't tell what is your natural body's doing and what is Katakuri making your body do.

Him finding the sweet spot was the last thing you wanted him to do. You wanted him to find it.

But judging from the electricity hitting you full force again and again and again, making you cry out in all kinds of movements to push him away, you can't be sure.

Katakuri takes advantage of your vulnerability and pulls you away from him so you could relax on the light pink pillow almost swallowing you whole. Allowing him to thrust at a slightly different angle, an angle that also relieves tension from your back.

He straightens himself, now standing on his knees as he looks down at where your bodies are connected, he lands his hands on your hips setting an almost inhuman pace you aren't able to keep up with.

Not with your body and not with your mind.

He pays no attention to your face, you've had enough of that before. Instead, he watches as his hands slam your hips to him, and your poor clit swollen and sad, lies helplessly. Taking him with no problems.

``A-ah little more..`` he moans out. You want to cry at how much he wants to drag this out.

You can tell by the way his hips stutter before calming down completely, going back to the slow pace he did at the beginning.

It's too much.

``Katah-kuri, please!-`` Your voice cuts off by a scream that left your mouth when he slammed his hips back into you unexpectedly.

You can hear him chuckle lightly at your trembling figure lying under him.

It's like he is teasing you and himself.

Tears drip down your face as he repeats it a few times more, before grinding his pelvis when fully entering you cleanly. Your abused cunt beats against the few pubes it has stuck in the wetness surrounding it.

He doesn't let your wobbly legs slide down his thighs, holding them harshly and not letting your bottom parts get away from him.

You can feel it before it comes. The way a vein in his dick starts pulsing and throbbing. Filling your insides to the brim.

You don't look down, instead, you pay attention to Katakuri's Addams apple bobbing up and down in his thick throat accompanied by sweat drops, the way his heavy jaw comes up and down, and the way his eyes are closed and tensed as are his eyebrows. How the other shoulder free of any tattoo (one which you were previously gnawing on) is red colored. It's shiny with spit, tears, and sweat.

It's as far as you get before your heart finally calms down, forcing your eyes to close and your body to pass out, exhaustion finally catching up to you. The last thing you see is a blurry figure of Katakuri looking down at you.

His worried voice calls out to you.

And here you thought you could endure a monster's sweet voice.

[mrsbsmooth]

Smut writing 101: What I wish someone had told me when I first started.

So a conversation with @queen-of-boops and @longbobmckenzie sparked this post. Sarah already wrote a list of tips for writing a villa fic which was really helpful and people expanded on it a lot, so we thought it might be helpful to share a few tips for writing smut from some of the writers that do it a lot.

This is a long-ass post, because I've learned a lot over the years. So right at the end, there's a mini how-to guide for how to turn your smut from IKEA instruction manual into an explosion of sexual tension.

In addition, I would love for others to add on to this. This fandom is horrifically talented especially in writing brain-melting smut, and this is just what I could come up with in a few hours. But I'd love to hear from other people and have them add on extra bits!

A few resources before we begin:

The Smut Writer's Dictionary

The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut Fic [HIGHLY recommend sections ii (Reaction words), iv (sexy alternatives to 'said'), xii (generally acceptable slang terms) and xvi (Some do's and don'ts of smut writing).]

OneLook Thesaurus is much better than other thesauruses at suggesting words for smut (I've found).

Now, on to the advice!

Tip #1 - It's normal to find it difficult and cringe to write. Own it.

Smut can be intimidating. It can feel really cringe and awkward and you might feel like people are judging you for it, and you know what? Sometimes they are. Smut isn't for everyone, and not everyone wants to read it, and that's why ratings and tags exist on Archive of Our Own. But you shouldn't be ashamed of writing it. Smut is fun and awesome and people who do like reading smut often love reading it, and will absolutely eat up whatever you give them. So go nuts. Write what you want to see, write what you want to read. That's advice for everything, but it's especially relevant for writing smut. Because if you feel awkward, it can sometimes show through. Lean into it. Let it happen. If you make yourself blush, you’re doing a fucking awesome job.

Tip #2 - Writer’s block.

I've written hundreds of thousands of words of pure, unadulterated filth, and I still struggle to push into it sometimes. The leadup comes so naturally, the tension builds, they're kissing, they're starting to touch each other, and then-- writer's block. I stare at the page and tap my fingers and go... huh. Same with writing really effectual kisses, or writing orgasms. There's all this pressure to make it the best written orgasm that's ever existed in the English language and it really doesn't need to be. Just put something down. 

If your doc looks like this:She clawed at the wall, knowing she was coming apart at the seams, the pressure building inside her. He didn’t let up. [orgasm bla bla bla]. She took a deep breath. She drew herself off him. She turned around. And she fell to her knees. [blowjob and he's loving it].

Then your doc looks just like mine.

Tip #3 - Pick the right words for everyone’s bits. 

See the resource above for suggestions! People have very different preferences when it comes to what to call a cock or whether or not to use the word ‘cunt’. Adjectives, adverbs– there are so many different opinions. Like personally, I have to physically restrain myself from throwing a fic across the room if it uses the word hole but that is my personal preference, and I am massively in the minority there. But my advice is threefold:

Read widely to find out what you like,

Write what you like,

Know your characters. 

Language will vary by fandom, by character, and by setting, and it’s an opportunity to really solidify their characterisation by carrying this into smut. An arrogant fuckwit who’s bedding his mortal enemy in a fit of hate-sex might use ‘into her slick cunt’, whereas a sweet, wholesome guy who’s desperately in love might say ‘pushed inside her’. But the more you read, and the more you write, the more you’ll find certain words or phrases you’re more comfortable with. 

The more smut you read, the better understanding you’ll have of what you like. The better understanding you have of what you like, the easier it will be to write. 

Tip #4 - POV can help you

Picking the right POV can make your life easier. For example, I once wrote a M/M/M threesome. That fic ended up being my very first ever 'first person POV' fic. Why? Because it turned one set of ‘his hand’ into ‘my hand’. Made it easier to understand the logistics of ‘his hand on his waist’, etc. Maybe it's lazy, maybe it's genius. I thought it was a bit of both. 

Consider whose POV is going to be the most impactful. If you’re not sure, try writing a paragraph from each. You’ll figure it out quite quickly. 

Tip #5 - Dialogue

You don’t have to include dialogue in your smut, but it can really help with pacing things and showing when the ‘end’ is approaching. Anyone who’s ever read any of my smut ever knows I’m a huge fan of cutting people off mid sentence in smut dialogue. 

They start out with “Oh yeah? You think you can make me X?” And the other person goes “Sweetheart, I’m going to make you X so hard you don’t Y for a Z.” 

But then by the end it’s “You feel–” and everyone’s gasping “Oh, fuck–” and sobbing out “I’m so– I’m gonna–” 

To me, this helps to build pacing and tension and show without telling that the end is approaching. But honestly, that’s just me– I enjoy reading people being very vocal in smut, so that’s how I write them. If that’s not your thing, then don’t do it. Simple as that. 

Tip #6 - Don’t skimp on the finale

Orgasms are hard to write. We all know that. There’s all this pressure to write the best most explosive monumental earth-shattering orgasm that’s ever existed in fiction, and honestly, it probably won’t be. But you still need to give it the time it deserves. 

As an avid consumer of smut, there is nothing more frustrating than five pages of buildup, incredible smut, tension rising, rising, rising– and then the orgasm happens in two lines and they’re immediately having a conversation afterwards. This is, no pun intended, the climax of your scene. Give it a paragraph. Hell, give it two paragraphs. Give it four. The climax is something you can write in excruciating detail and it will almost always be better for it. You can decide whether they come at the same time, or whether one comes immediately after the other (personal fav so we get to read two orgasms. Yay! Two cakes!) You can hyper-focus on every single sense. Here are some examples for writing orgasms:

Feel/Touch

The feeling travelling through the character’s body/ zones: up their spine, through their thighs, ‘deep inside them’

Their partner continuing to thrust/move

Their partner’s grip on their body, or maybe a kiss

Fingernails digging into shoulder or raking down a back

Legs squeezing

Smell

Personally I think this works better for the leadup and afterwards, but if you want this in here you absolutely can. Pheremones, cologne, aftershave, perfume, sweat, hair gel– whatever makes them smell like them. 

Sight

Their partner’s face and get detailed! Lips parting, brow scrunched, eyes closed, face in beautiful agony, wax poetic as fuck about their partner's face! What is hotter than making someone come and watching their face while you do it!??!!?

Darkness (blindfolded 👀)

‘White light behind their eyes’ is a cliche for a reason (fucking love this one)

Seeing stars/heaven see above lol

Taste

Harder to put into an orgasm but salty skin, lipgloss/lipstick? Whatever you want really

Sound

Big one. Their partner’s breath or moan as they watch/feel character’s peak

Their own breath/moans (or lack thereof can be just as effective, a ‘sudden silence’ as their breath catches in their throat can work WONDERS)

Bodies slapping together (doesn’t always work but when it does it does)

External sounds, especially rhythmic ones. A train clacking or a club baseline could simulate a heartbeat/shockwaves that you could lean into.

Pick multiple senses and focus on them. This will fill up a good bit of your climax writing. 

But you should also let them come down from it! DON’T SKIMP AFTERCARE (or after-hate??)

Tip #7 - Aftercare!

I missed this so often when I was new to writing smut and I didn’t realise how effective it could be! I always just faded to black immediately afterwards because I didn’t want to deal with the ‘cleanup’. And you don’t have to go into detail, but at the very least, give them a few minutes– a paragraph or so after the sex. The immediate aftermath of the act itself when you can really focus on the relationship. 

If they’re mortal enemies who’ve just fucked and are now horrified? Have them panting into each others’ skin. Their breaths suddenly become sharper and more reserved. They pull back from each other. Someone glares or someone says something snarky or awful. Someone showing aftercare or affection here (or being particularly cruel) reveals a lot about their character.

If they’re deeply in love and it’s comfortable for them to do so, maybe let them just lay there for a second, enjoying the feeling of each others’ bodies and letting breaths fall warmly and smiles tug at cheeks. Soft kisses, laying in silence, affection, etc. 

If they’re best mates who just fucked by accident, have the silence be awkward and have no one breathe at all. It’s tense and awkward and one has to ask the other to go get a towel or something and the other is like ‘oh, yeah, um, right’. 

Don’t skip this! It can be so impactful!

Overall Tip - Beware the ‘IKEA Instruction manual’!

The #1 most common mistake, in my opinion, in writing smut is ‘Insert Tab A into Slot B’. It’s things like, 

He moved his leg A, she touched B. He lifted her arm to C, holding her D’s, before slipping down to cup E. She ran her hands up F, touching his G, feeling his Hs caressing her I as she lifted her J and draped it over his K.

When I read this, I’m not focusing on the smut. I’m doing mental gymnastics trying to keep track of what position they’re in in my head because I’m assuming that it’s important. If you feel yourself doing this, stop. Refocus. Remember whose POV you’re in. This isn’t to say you should never tell the reader what’s happening. Just make sure to break it up a little!

Balance actions with senses. 

Let’s say you start with a basic action. (The example is buildup to smut, not actual smut, but the idea is the same)

“His hand moved from her knee to her thigh.”

-> Instead of writing what they’re doing, write what they can sense.

“His hand moved from her knee to her thigh” becomes “She felt his warm hand slide from her knee to her thigh.”

-> Now, make the phrase active. Instead of ‘she felt’, make it a description.

‘She felt his warm hand slide from her knee to her thigh’ becomes ‘Warmth erupted on her skin as his hand slid from her knee to her thigh’.

-> Give it details, and draw focus to them.

His fingertips skimmed her inner thigh as his hand slipped from her knee and moved higher. The silk of her skirt gave way to the warmth of a coarse, rough palm. Her skin seared beneath it. But every other inch of her shivered with anticipation.

In three steps, you’ve gone from IKEA tab A to slot B to a pretty good section for building tension. 

Examples of writing senses:

What can they feel? - ‘She’d never been so pent up, so wired, so on edge, and every flit of his practiced fingers on her waist had goosebumps shooting up her spine’.

What can they taste? - ‘She could taste the sweat on his skin, the coconut suncream on his shoulders, the salt of the ocean on the hints of stubble at his jawline.’

What can they smell? - ‘Her forehead pressed to his, that smokey, heady cologne engulfing her; curling her closer in time with his arms around her.’

What can they hear? - ‘He watched her every move, breathing quickly, so she looked him directly in the eyes as she undid his belt. Belt. Button. Zip purring as she tugged it down towards her.’

What can they see? - “Then, they opened, and he was treated to the sight of her looking up at him from her knees. Her eyes said fuck me. Her mouth said fuck me. Everything about her. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

I hope this was helpful in some way. I really would love to hear any other tips and tricks that writers would like to add to this. Obviously Mo and Sarah are already tagged, but this is a full and open free-for-all.

Add your thoughts! Add what you've learned! Add what you wish you knew!

I'd love to hear it <3

[windvexer]

dealing with a nonthreatening entity in your home, if you can't easily communicate with spirits

just how I'd do it, the flowchart I'd personally work with, UPG ahead, etc; take what you like and leave the rest behind.

Nonthreatening: An entity which hasn't harmed you or tried to harm you, or isn't an active threat to you or your household, even if they may have acted in unpleasant or disruptive ways.

Dealing with: Sorting out the situation so that you feel comfortable with what's going on.

This post is about resolving a spirit situation in your home that you're uncomfortable with. It's not a general guide on spirit work, and it's not a recommendation for how to treat all spirits in all situations.

Banishing should probably not be a first step when dealing with an unwanted/surprise/unexpected spirit, or learning that a spirit exists where you didn't expect to be one.

Ideally, for the diplomatic spirit worker who wants to be regarded well by the otherworlds, several other steps come first.

Decide what you'd ideally like to do

Ideally, do you want the spirit to leave completely?

Never interact with you or make its presence known?

Hang around as long as it doesn't bother room mates or pets?

Integrate into the household and be a spirit room mate?

Become a part of your spirit family?

Etc!

Not saying you'll get your wish but it's a good idea to sit down and figure yourself out before you go and start moderating the life of an entity.

Like if your actual feeling is, "I do not want this guy here and I won't be comfortable in my home unless he leaves," then don't set out on purpose to make the guy a spirit home and give him house rules. Skip to the endgame step of asking him to leave.

Check on wards and protections before you take action

Not trying to be an alarmist but every now and then a random guy ends up being a big jerk, and in that situation the preferable option is to have just checked up on what tools you have on hand.

If you can communicate with spirits

Talk it out 👍 you may have to make compromises, especially if you're working with Big Guys who have a say in things, but by and large I find that if you can make the spirit a nice little house in a place they like and some solid house rules, a lot of situations are going to be resolved real fast.

If things go tits up, banishing.

If you can't easily perceive/2-way communicate with spirits

When perception isn't easy/possible, take reasonable steps and wait to see what happens.

If the stuff that was bothering you is resolved, count that as a win 👍

If you're still encountering problems, take the next step; do this until you've exhausted all options, and then move to banishing.

When you take actions, clearly affirm your intentions and expectations. Do not invite open-ended conversations that you can't participate in.

🛑 "If this spirit house isn't suitable for you, please try to let me know. I'll see what I can do to change it."

✅ "I've made this spirit house for you. Please make use of it according to your desires, but move on to another property if it isn't to your liking."

Set or review house rules

This isn't a comprehensive guide, but all you've really got to do is write down a list of rules, ritually read it off, and then stick the list somewhere you won't lose it.

A lot of spirit problems can be resolved by establishing solid house rules

A lot of panic about powerful spirits and faulty wards can be resolved by fixing accidental loopholes

Get your rules lawyer friend to help troubleshoot

E.g., "uninvited spirits aren't welcome here." Is a spirit still uninvited if you carry it in while it's inside of an object? It can get a bit tedious but it's a miracle spirits can understand human language at all, much less the miles between what you actually desire to occur versus what gets codified.

If a new spirit arrives or behavior occurs that you think is against your house rules, review your rules to see if there could be a loophole. Then, 'set' them again by re-reading them in a ritual setting. During that time, specifically ask the spirit to stop its bothersome behavior.

Divination or consulting with other practitioner friends can really help troubleshoot house rules.

Popular house rules include things like:

Don't mess with my dreams or sleep

Don't scare or make yourself known to house members or pets

Never go into my bedroom

Don't interfere with my spells or ritual workings, even if you're trying to help or protect me

Wait for a little while and see if that resolves things.

Make the guy his own little house

A spirit bothering someone isn't always them just being mischievous. Active spirits who roam around the house bored as hell can accidentally make themselves known. And ordering a bored guy to never do anything fun isn't necessarily a recipe for a happy household.

Make the guy a nice little area with some things to enjoy, especially little fidget toys and shiny stuff, and invite him to dwell in that area and make use of the enjoyable things.

This doesn't need to be in the shape of an actual miniature house.

Crochet basket, thermos with the lid popped open, desk organizer, pile of little cloths, small box with or without a lid, old jar, plastic tub, books stacked to make a nice private corner, etc.

Include a soft bed, which can take the form of comfortable cloths or a nice little pillow you crochet, etc.

Include things the spirit might like or use, such as coins, a fidget spinner, a mini rubix cube, a sun catcher, etc.

Spice it up by decorating it all nicely and including pretty things, like a nice printed silk scarf, a paint job or facade on the container, or lovely objects placed nearby.

Focus on privacy - give the guy somewhere to go so he can relax and unwind, and not constantly be bothered by people.

Most vitally, ensure that the spirit house won't be disrupted. Don't place or design it so that children or unwitting partners might "tidy it up" or take it down and play with it.

You don't have to do a big ritual cleansing or consecration or whatever.

Invite the guy to dwell there. Enter magical headspace or initiate ritual communication in whatever method you prefer.

"My guy, I see you are a part of the household. I've made you this house to use if you want to. Either way, bothering my partner has got to stop. If I need to talk to you for anything, I'll come back to this location. Anything I leave right next to the house is for you."

If the guy is stuck to an object, take that object somewhere nice

Learning how to bind a spirit to an object is a valuable skill for a witch. Sometimes nature does the job for you and the spirit is bound to an object on arrival.

Move that bad boy to a nice location, possibly to a spirit house you build, or maybe outside, even at a faraway location (I've left a few spirit vessels up the mountain, myself).

Make sure to positively affirm that you are taking this action to help the spirit, and your goal is to put it in a nice location.

Sit down with the dude and tell him to knock that shit off regardless of house rules

Presumably we're at this point because the spirit is still around, you don't want to actually tell him to get out, but something is happening that isn't working for you.

Despite the sarcastic section header, it's actually probably wise for you to own up to your own role in the situation.

Most spirits aren't jerks or stupid. They may be trying their best to interpret your words and behaviors.

You may be being unintentionally confusing or contradictory.

You may be laying down rapidfire changes that's making the spirit nervous or confused.

Your own magic may be creating barriers or impossibilities in the spirit world that prevent them from doing what you're asking.

They may be reacting to unseen situations you're completely unaware of.

A little humility goes a long way in soothing the waters.

Go to the guy's spirit house, if he has one, or otherwise go to where he's known to dwell; or, go to your usual working area. Enter magical headspace or initiate ritual communication.

Say something like,

"Hey, I need these very specific things to change. I don't mind you staying here, but it's my responsibility to care for this household, and I can't have this happening. If you are unable to stop doing this, I must politely request that you leave this household and find a new place to dwell."

(Note: If you're trying to cultivate psychism and want to be a spirit worker and so on, this is a great juncture to actually invite communication in whatever form might come - even if that communication comes slowly over days or weeks. But if that's not your jam for the present situation, you don't have to.)

(Maybe a controversial take, but you have a responsibility to do your best to do right by the spirits. We all have our limits and you also have a duty to your household, but if the reality is "I can't perceive or get input from spirits," you're limited in what you can do. Acting fairly and taking reasonable, diplomatic steps can sometimes be the best you can do.)

Ask the guy to leave

Enter magical headspace or initiate ritual communication.

"I'm sorry, but this isn't working out. I hold no ill-will towards you, but you must now depart and find a new dwelling outside of this property and this home.

It might be a good idea to invite him into a little vessel and then take that somewhere nice, but far away.

You can cleanse and bless a river rock and invite the guy to move in there, and then go take that somewhere you think is nice, or even just near a new apartment complex where he could find other residences, etc. I often find the vibes when transporting a spirit vessel to be very strong and they can be very opinionated about where they want to be left.

If you transport a spirit vessel to a new location, consider bringing a small offering (like a pinch of tobacco, or some bottled water) and pouring them out near the vessel in dedication to the spirit.

Announce that you're parting ways in good faith, and if you should ever meet again, that it will be in peace.

If all that fails, banishing is next

[hanasnx]

oh pornstar ani how i’ve missed you

what do u think he’d be like with a virgin? do u think he’d like it or would he rather be with someone more experienced?

-🎀

MINORS DNI 18+

ADULTFILM!ANAKIN SKYWALKER prefers someone more experienced. There’s a frailty to a virgin that's difficult to get around, and since he’s impatient and far from a teacher, he doesn’t want to have to drag someone through the process. There's a lot of messiness that can come with being someone's first. Someone with experience can bring a lot of unspoken trust, professionalism, and conversation to the table which helps blend the pair together. Especially because Anakin has a nasty habit of taking things too far, he needs someone with the ability to say no in the moment before he gets carried away. It’s not that he hates virgins, dislikes them, or thinks they’re useless, he just prefers experienced co-stars.

However, there’s been an exception: you, a virgin porn-star. You’ve been laughed at in this industry, endlessly and you’ve learned to take the joke. A virgin porn-star sounds like an oxymoron if you've ever heard one. You do at-home stuff from the safety of your own camera and PC, stuff with anal beads and dildos you order off Bad Dragon. A live show occurs every so often. Of course you’re not an expert, but that’s the point. Your whole schtick online is that you’re clueless to angles, and performances.

Your comment section is a slew of dudes asking invasive questions. Do you have a boyfriend, are you waiting for your wedding day, does he know you do this depraved shit late at night for strangers to thirst over? Do you know that you're a minority here, that you'll never get farther than a glorified over-rated amateur? When will you lose your virginity and just get over with? But they're the same guys that jack off to your virtuous pussy on full display to the camera you bought with the money you made off this demographic.

No, you've never had a boyfriend, but that doesn't mean you can't explore yourself... Besides, you think it's fun that guys clamber to beg to be your first. One comment in particular had you thinking real hard. "You should film me fucking that pretty pussy for the first time... that'll get you a lot of views." When you'd started this account, you were sure you would've lost your virginity in the traditional way. Meet a great guy, go out, he sweeps you off your feet, and you go home with him, happily ever after. But you're getting along, and now getting it over with doesn't sound too bad, especially at the prospect of commercializing an asset you didn't realize you were sitting on.

So you campaigned it. You'd mention it any chance you got. On your profile, in your social media bios, in your videos, you let people know you were looking to break into the professional side of the industry. You didn't wanna be a virgin making home videos anymore, you want a job and you want your audience to pick who plucks that sacred coveted flower.

Until one day: "I've got a guy for you." You stare at that message a long time.

Anakin's not one to shy away from a job outside his comfort zone, especially when his director calls in a favor. So he helps you get situated as a courtesy, "This isn't like making your videos in your bedroom, don't be fooled by the pressure." His large hand takes yours and places it on his forearm, you try to ignore how thick and corded it feels under your palm as he pats it with your hand. "Give me a double tap like that if you need to stop. Anywhere you can reach." You nod, and give an uneasy look around the room that had a lot more people in it than you're used to, this is a set after all. You start to regret how famous your initial posts went.

"Hey." Firmly, he grips you chin, redirecting your gaze onto him. "Don't look at them, look at me. I'm the one that's gonna be inside you, alright?" His tone is perfectly casual, as if he's explained this a thousand times. You nod again. Why are you actually excited for this stranger to take your virginity?

[penkura]

only if you want to queen but i can’t stop thinking about how this conversation went😭😭

Queen?? I do not deserve that title omg.

BUT anyway, I've been thinking about this, and I've finally figured how I think it would happen and how Zoro and Reader would have their twin boys. 💚

Added a little extra for their older two being excited for their new little siblings and getting to meet them. :)

Having kids wasn’t originally in Zoro’s life plans, but when Keitaro and Kuina come along one after the other in about three years, how much joy and happiness they’ve brought, he's not sure he could imagine your lives without them now. They were more than anything he could’ve ever asked for, and watching them grow up, watching you be a mother to them, he thinks this is the only way things could’ve turned out.

There’s been nothing better lately than watching the two learn more about their world, seeing how you comfort them when they get upset or need help understanding something. When Keitaro comes to him begging to start practicing with swords or Kuina holds onto him tightly after a nightmare, the moments where your family of four is able to relax and enjoy your evenings have become his favorite part of the day. It’s more than Zoro ever expected after you’d first told him you were pregnant with Keitaro, and then Kuina, but none of it has been unwelcome.

Sometimes Zoro thinks about you two having just one more child, it feels like something, someone is missing if he starts to dwell on it too long. It’s weird, he knows that when he starts to think about it, but he can’t help it when he sees you playing with or holding someone else’s baby. With Sanji’s newest child you’ve been welcoming his older three over every day to play with Keitaro and Kuina so they have some time with their friends, not having to worry about or hear the newest baby crying. While five kids at once was a lot to take care of, you did so well at it. You wore them out with games and playing outside, Sanji was thankful for that when he’d come to collect his children and they all wanted to go home and sleep, your two kids already asleep on the floor beside each other. Even just watching or helping you tuck them in at night made Zoro think more about another child, he doesn’t understand why honestly.

It takes him some time before he can even admit to himself that he wants another child,  before he even dares to bring it up eventually. Zoro spends some time watching you with other babies and how easily you’re able to calm to them down if they cry, trying to gage if you might want another one yourself. Since you’re the one who would once again be carrying the baby, he wants to make sure you’re okay with it. Make sure you want just one more to make your family complete.

When he finally brings it up, you’re surprised by it.

“You…want another baby?”

Zoro nods, causing you to sit up beside him in bed, while he barely looks at you. Honestly you believed he’d never want to have another child. You’d had Keitaro and Kuina so close together, that any thoughts of another one were out of your mind until recently, you figured there was no way Zoro would go for it if you suggested having another one. But it looks like you were wrong.

“I don’t know, it just,” he shrugs a but, sighing as he tries to get his thoughts in order, “I’ve just watched you lately with Sanji’s kids, and seeing how big Keitaro and Kuina have gotten. Weirdly enough I kind of miss when they were little, you know?”

“I do actually,” Laughing, you lean against Zoro’s arm and take his hand in yours, “I miss when they would just want to be held all the time, even with the crying and diapers…and it’s fun to watch them grow up…”

“Keitaro’s going to start sword training soon, and I know Kuina will want to join in…but it feels like they’re growing up too fast.”

“It really does…”

“…and like something is missing.”

“You’ve felt it too?”

Zoro nods again, before leaning back with you still holding onto him. You’re both quiet for a few minutes, lost in thought, before you finally smile with a nod of your own.

“All right then, it’s settled.”

“…what is?”

“Let’s have another baby!”

+!+

You said a baby, not twins, but that’s what you have about a year later. Two little boys that come into the world crying their lungs out, before they’re passed to you and Zoro, your newest additions slowly calming down to small cries and whines. You’re quick to tell Zoro no more since you ended up with twins this time, and he has no problems with that.

You’ve given him far more than he ever could have asked for, he’s not going to ask you to go through this again, he swears.

Keitaro and Kuina don’t meet their new brothers until the next day, giving you and the twins some time to rest. You’re still sleeping when they finally get to come home from staying at Sanji’s the day before, but Zoro takes care of introducing the four to each other, your older two in awe at the fact they have twin brothers now.

“Mama said it was one baby.” Keitaro can’t believe he has two brothers now, on top of a sister, but he’s not exactly mad about it.

“We didn’t know until yesterday, buddy.”

“I wanted a sister…” Kuina pouts a bit, but it slowly fades into a smile when the younger of your twins grabs onto her finger when she pokes at his hand.

“Sorry, princess,” Zoro smiles too, watching as she starts to accept having two little brothers a little bit at a time, “Mama said no more babies, so looks like you’re our only girl.”

“Mmm…that’s okay then,” She nods, Keitaro doing the same as they both take everything in, “I’ll help Mama take care of them!”

“I will too! …when I’m not practicing…”

“Good, I’m sure Mama will like that.”

You don’t make it known that you’re awake ans listening to your family, but it does make you smile to yourself. Everything feels perfect now, there’s no longer any feelings that someone is missing from your lives, not with your twin boys. One more than you expected, but it works all the same.

Now you just need to figure out names for them.

[coraniaid]

Buffy Summers is my favorite character on Buffy and (with a couple of exceptions that I prefer to put down to bad writing) I will always find her sympathetic, but. The only reading of the second half of Season 7 that makes any sense to me at all is that we are supposed to think Buffy is doing a pretty bad job of taking care of the Potentials, and that this is why they all end up choosing to gamble on Faith's leadership instead of hers. Like, yes, obviously Empty Places is a badly written episode and the central conflict isn't motivated very well and Dawn kicking Buffy out of her own house is absurd.

But I mean ... look, let's just pick a few of Buffy's inspiring speeches at random, shall we?

From Showtime, in which Buffy 'inspires' the Potentials by ... uh, fighting a powerful vampire while reminding them all how much stronger than them she is:

"Looks good [for the Turok-Han Buffy's about to fight], doesn't it? [The Potentials] are trapped in here. Terrified [...] and there's nothing they can do but wait. That's all they've been doing for days. Waiting to be picked off. Having nightmares about monsters that can't be killed. But I don't believe in that. I always find a way. I'm the thing that monsters have nightmares about. And right now, you and me are gonna show 'em why."

Or from Potential, the very next episode, when Buffy follows that up by telling the Potentials over and over again how likely they are to die:

"You’re all going to die. But you knew that already because that’s the cool reward for being human. […] Don’t kid yourselves, you guys. This whole thing is all about death. You think you’re different because you might be the next Slayer? Death is what a Slayer breathes, what a Slayer dreams about when she sleeps. Death is what a Slayer lives. […] The odds are against us. Time is against us. And some of us will die in this battle."

And from Get It Done, speaking after they just found out that a young Potential called Chloe killed herself:

"Anyone want to say a few words about Chloe? Let me. Chloe was an idiot. Chloe was stupid. She was weak. And anyone in a rush to be the next dead body I bury, it's easy. Just…think of Chloe, and do what she did. […] I'm the slayer. The one with the power. […] I've been carrying you - all of you - too far, too long. Ride's over."

See also, Buffy's speech in Selfless ("there's just me ... I am the law".) See also her admission in Conversations With Dead People that she thinks she's better than all the guys she's ever dated.

To me, it feels obvious that the intended arc of this season, however imperfectly executed, is that Buffy has a sense of herself as uniquely and especially "the one with the power'", but that she's never had any real leadership or mentorship role before and she doesn't know how to use that power to look after all of the Potentials. That she's afraid she won't be able to protect them all and so doesn't want to make emotional connections with them and tells herself (and them) over and over that some of them are going to die no matter what and they just have to accept that. That she tries to keep them at arm's length and hide how badly their deaths actually do affect her, and that she adopts a protective tough-love approach which backfires spectacularly. And that eventually she realizes this approach isn't working and that she should be trying to share her power with them instead of using it to tell them what to do.

And yet so many people on here seem to think that when the Potentials get (understandably) upset about this -- upset about being called weak and stupid by a woman who barely seems to know their names and can't seem to stop reminding them that she has power and that they don't -- that we're meant to think "oh, they are all so ungrateful and unpleasant and Buffy is a saint for taking such good care of them anyway". That her "arc" this season is that she is perfect and doesn't need to learn anything and doesn't have to change in any way, all while people keep giving her shit for literally no reason.

And I just don't see how that makes sense! I just don't find it an interesting narrative and I don't really see how the show itself supports it. The Buffy Summers who gives the speeches I quoted above wouldn't think of sharing her power with others. That's an idea she only comes to when she realizes that being "the thing that monsters have nightmares about" is no substitute for being a good leader and making real connections with other people.