#tried not to overdo the metaphors

[randomfoggytiger]

"I Wonder If You Think It's Safe Enough to Indulge Yourself"

(Fictober, Day 7)

*****

Phoebe Green. Fire.

The irony of two such oppositional elements combined in one destructive person-- nurture feeding nature, green-eyed monsters indulged with red hot passions-- had not been lost on Mulder. Perhaps he wasn't red-green colorblind in the strictest sense-- nojo on the rojo, that was a good one-- but his senses had failed him just enough to miss the glaring red flags, the forest for the Green. All that blazed was not a glow. All that grew did not produce.

But in the right hands, all that burned could be rebuilt. All that poisoned could be cured.

It required a discerning eye to find the right partner; and, though decades late with burn scars and thorn marks, Mulder knew now how to differentiate his colors.

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

[dogwithrabies]

【★】 Wanderer SFW and NSFW headcanons

【☆】 Bullet list format with some scenarios included. Written with a gender neutral reader in mind but has a AFAB anatomy section at the end, word count: 2.7k

honestly, i could go on forever, there's so much i love about him i could never fit it in one post.

This is not proof read!

Starting off with the fact that it would probably take him SO long to realize he’s caught feelings and even longer to accept them. It’s a ridiculous predicament he’s found himself in. The Wanderer is a yearner at heart, but he also carries a huge amount of baggage.

Realistically?

It’d take him years.

And even after he’s sort of accepted it, it won’t be smooth sailing. It’s still complicated for him, yes, he likes you, now what? You make him feel all sorts of things and it’s so frustrating. 

He always finds himself making excuses to linger around you, and even then he acts like willingly spending time with you is some sort of atrocious torture. Always complaining and huffing. You don’t take it to heart as it’s very evident this is just a self-imposed hostage situation, he could leave anytime he wants; he simply chooses not to.

So you decide to spare him and not call him out on it (for now).

Despite yearning and wanting, he has no intention of making the first move. It gets to the point that it’s painfully obvious to anyone around him that he’s got a soft spot for you. But he won’t budge, even if the traveler or Buer tease him relentlessly.

It’s sort of his last resort, if you don’t reciprocate his feelings then he can rationalize it as another instance of the human nature disappointing him. Just another reminder to not trust again.

Alas, it all flies out the window the moment you (metaphorically or literally) corner him. It’s kind of funny how little resistance he puts up, despite his aversion to touch he never pushes you away (another example of his favoritism).

Pretend to fix his hair out of his face, play with the ornaments of his clothes, accidentally sit too close to him, it all leads up to the moment where everything escalates. 

Grab him by the waist and drag him close to you, tease him with what you know he craves just to let go. It’s an utterly unnecessary dance around the obvious but his reactions are just too cute, the way his face turns an absurd red color while he fights his hands from reaching and holding onto you.

Frustrating.

(note: overdoing it will make him think you’re just toying with him, he already feels like some sort of pathetic damsel in distress in this predicament, so please spare him).

He tries to psych himself up to reciprocate your touches (or do the unspeakable, initiate them), he always chickens out at the last second, but this time, his hands move faster than his brain can think and he finds himself pulling you back in.

It’s instant regret that fills him as he cringes at his own behavior but you quickly shut it down by kissing him.

It’s messy and unpracticed on his end, and it even took him a second to process it and reciprocate.

The label of your relationship is never stated outloud, you’ve been chasing each other for so long that it goes unspoken.

He starts inviting himself in your spaces now, the kiss left him with a whole new level of yearning. He never outright tells you what he wants, instead, he leaves a trail of undecipherable hints.

The sound of scribbling of pens and shuffling of papers fills the air as you work away at some unimportant receipts. He sits behind, you boring holes in your back by the amount of glaring he’s been doing. He’s here, he’s available, and you’re completely ignoring him in favor of wasting his time on some frivolous documents.

When he scoffs for the nth time you finally grace him of your attention.

“What?”

He’s almost caught off guard when you acknowledge him, quickly regaining his composure to shoot a glare at you.

Okay, so it’s another challenge of his.

One that he hopes you’ll pick up, because why be upfront with his desires when he can just throw at you a puzzle and watch you struggle to solve it? (one that he himself wants you to solve, and fast, don’t make him wait).

You calculate your options, ignore him until he gets so frustrated he confronts you (or leaves), or up him at his own game.

So you make a show of getting up from your spot and plopping down next to him, so close you’re squishing yourself in his side. He looks at you with a puzzled look as you embrace him with one arm, pulling him close and ensuring he doesn’t try to make a run for it.

“What’s wrong, my dear Wanderer?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He responds bitterly, refusing eye contact, the slight red on his face betrays him. Cute.

“Awh”, you move your arm down to his waist, “I’m sorry I neglected you, how can I make up for it?” Your tone almost hints at something more suggestive, he wants to shoot back with a snarky remark but he’s so out of his depth that he just stares at you.

He wants, he craves, but…

You let out a breathy laugh, “If you want something from me, you should just tell me.” You finish the sentence with a kiss on his cheek and start retreating to get up, but he stops you.

“Stay.” He looks conflicted, like he’s fighting himself to speak up.

“Okay,” you sit back down and face him. “What else?”

“...Kiss me again.”

And you oblige.

The progress is slow, but it’s there. His selfishness will always win.

It can be insanely difficult to navigate sometimes, you’re the first human he willingly subjected himself to romantically and just the thought of sharing you with other people is gut wrenching. The way people look at you when you’re out and about, the friendly touches and hugs, it all just drives him a little bit insane.

He hates feeling like this. It’s those times he disappears for hours, just mellowing in his own feelings.

It takes a LOT of reassurance, he wouldn’t outright tell you but it’s sort of obvious. Lots of (involuntary) tears. He wants to trust you, but his emotional walls are incredibly thick.

With time, he improves a lot. He has taken his whole redemption seriously, he wants to be better and be better for you.

You showed him he can rely on you, and trust you. It’s a very scary trust fall for him, but you’re there to catch him.

He goes from reminding you of a tiny feral cat, constantly hissing and hiding to the cutest little kitten. Get domesticated, idiot.

Additional stuff:

He doesn’t do PDA, but won’t stop you from holding his arm or hand.

His love language is definitely acts of service, he loves doing things for you. He cooks, he cleans, he’s a house wife in denial.

For him, words of affirmation and physical touch. He loves it when you hold him, tell him how much you love him and whisper corny sweet nothings to him.

Skin to skin contact is very soothing to him. It doesn’t have to be sexual. he just wants to feel you.

He’s a little spoon, again, loves being held.

His favorite spots to kiss you are on the corner of your lips and forehead.

NSFW starts here:

He is, what one could call, a virgin. lol.

In his pursuit of divinity, he had no time or intention of getting distracted in engaging that way with humans. He knows what that activity entails, he just never had an interest in it. Until now, when he met you.

It’s that sort of unique situation that only a four hundred year old puppet could find itself in, four centuries of self imposed abstinence thrown out the window the moment you pop up. It starts innocuous enough that he can rationalize it as simple curiosity, but before he can realize it, it all spirals out of control.

He’s spent long sleepless nights trying to ignore the very obvious tent in his shorts. He never had the inclination to masturbate before, he tried to ignore it the first times, waiting it out staring at the ceiling until he had enough peace of mind to rest a bit.

And then you appear in his dreams. He is beyond frustrated now, how dare you infest his mind even when he’s unconscious? And so he finds himself reaching down to free his aching erection out of his shorts. He doesn’t want to, but maybe if he gives his body what it wants he can finally move on. He grabs himself with very inexperienced hands and tries to get it over with as fast as possible.

Images of you pop in his mind, he wants to be ashamed of where his thoughts are going but he finds it incredibly hard to when every picture of you makes him twitch and leak in his fist. He wishes it were your hands instead of his stroking him to completion, but perhaps it would be too much for him, and just the mere thought of that makes him spill on himself, making a mess of his hands and shorts.

Utterly shameful.

With you in the picture, he just doesn’t have the will to deny himself any longer.

He wants your hands on him, bite him, or scratch him he doesn’t care as long as they’re on him. He doesn't want you to know how desperate he is, but it’s kind of impossible to hide how hard he gets every time you hold him and kiss him.

You make the first move, dragging him onto your lap and sneaking your hands on his thighs. He wants to complain about your man-handling, but your hands are teasingly close to his bulge. A tiny voice in his head is screaming at him to leave, save whatever little dignity he had left and not engage in “filth”. But he’s also thinking with his other head, and he blames you for it, so why don’t you do your due diligence and take care of it?

He’s already squirmy and you haven’t even started. He’s used to pain, to harsh hits and blows, but you cradle him so delicately and he doesn’t know how to act.

He’s imagined this scene several times, your hands on him, stroking him to completion, but he’s woefully unprepared for the actual thing. Your hands are impossibly soft, spreading his pre-cum on his whole length to facilitate the movement.

He wants it to last forever but he finishes embarrassingly fast, making a mess of your hands and clothing. 

You figure this is the end of your first sexual encounter with him, but he never softens in your hand. Yeah, puppet stamina be like that.

Additional stuff:

He’s a whimperer.

He wasn’t even aware he had the ability to ejaculate. He still thinks of it as an utterly useless feature. But he’s also somewhat glad he can, he likes seeing you covered in his spend. 

Also, since it’s artificial he’s shooting blanks. There’s no need for protection.

He doesn’t have refractory periods. He does get sensitive after a climax but he’s immediately ready to go again.

He’s a switch, more leaning on the submissive side. He does have a dominant streak in him, it’s mostly when he’s feeling more possessive, he starts acting on it once he’s more confident.

Kissing gets heated quickly with him. He’s very eager to stick his tongue in your mouth.

He’s very good with his hands and mouth, you had to guide him through it the first times. He’s inexperienced but very dedicated and a fast learner.

Being inside you is his favorite thing. Alongside cumming inside you.

Exploring the sexual side of a relationship can be tricky, and his constitution does make it harder. It’s a long process of trial and error. He also, in the span of 400 years, never bothered to figure out his turn-ons/offs, just to add an additional layer of difficulty to the whole ordeal.

You do know of his past position of power, so it’s no wonder he likes being serviced. Ride him, suck him off, it’s all good to him. He loves how sweet you are to him, taking him so gently.

Despite his doll joints being no longer visible, he still presents seams on his torso. The whole area is very sensitive, kind of an unconventional erogenous zone, but you work with it. He also has very sensitive nipples. He’s a bit sheepish about that.

Speaking of unconventional, he has a thing for choking. He doesn’t need to breathe, so it’s not the lack of air that gets him so ecstatic, it’s more of the act per se.

Marking, he loves hickeys, and his bodysuit covers his neck area so others seeing them is not an issue. Loves being bitten. Not the soft munches, he wants to feel your teeth breaking the skin. He’s been hurt before, to unimaginable extents, to the point where he almost started craving that pain. To have you bite and scratch him in such a carnal and vulnerable context immediately drives him over the edge.

Despite his masochistic tendencies, he’s not willing to do the same to you. He’s sturdy, you couldn’t injure him no matter how hard you tried. But you’re human. He knows from first hand experience how fragile your kind is.

Risk play is off the table, and so is any sort of public/exhibitionism. Alone and secluded in the woods? Sure. But nothing of the sort where people can see. This won’t save him from having embarrassing hard ons in public, sometimes just your presence is enough to get him bricked up. He just won’t act on it.

He has a mean streak, he loves teasing you, edging you, and pushing you to your limits. However, he cannot take even a bit of teasing. he immediately breaks and starts begging you to let him cum.

He’s a crier in bed, it’s cathartic for him.

Has an oral fixation. It works out great for you, he loves using his mouth on you.

His favorite part of you is your thighs. If you let him, he’d spend hours shoving his cock between them. Don’t get him wrong, nothing compares to being inside you, but something about being able to feel you twitch as he fucks himself through the softness of your thighs just does it for him.

Lastly, hear me out pleaseplease

Peg him.

He’ll be a bit put off by it initially.

He’s just never heard of it before. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

You decide to put away the strap-on for the time being, starting with the basics as to not overwhelm him. Just fingers. You find out he has a completely functional prostate, and it’s your new way of tormenting him.

Don’t let him touch himself, instead, work him ever so slowly to his orgasm by spreading him on your fingers. He wants to be annoyed, to tell you that it’s useless and it’s just faster to let him do the fucking, but he’s hard, and leaking, twitching every time your fingers intentionally brush against that spot, and before long he’s shooting ropes all over his chest.

He’s still a bit fussy about it when you show him the toy you bought just for him. Because there’s no way that thing is going inside him, except it is, and he’s ashamed of liking every second of it.

AFAB anatomy section:

He’s a bit embarrassed of it at first, but he really likes your chest. He likes lying on them, he’ll fall asleep like that if you let him. His hands are always on them, kneading them around or just to feel you.

When you proposed to let him fuck your tits, he had no idea it was a thing. He likes the idea, in theory, when it comes to practice you get to find out just how much he really likes it.

He’s leaking so much it makes him practically slide around in them.

It’s not long before he finds himself covering your chest in cum.

It quickly becomes one of his favorite spots to cum on.

[youcouldmakealife]

Stuff That Helps Me Write: Pacing (no, not that kind), and burnout avoidance

So this was supposed to be about something entirely different., but every time I started making a point, I got distracted by a second, bonus idea (ways to trick your brain when it's not cooperating with you! things I've tried (I will try everything) and what worked and didn't! what to do with writer's block!) and then start writing about that, and I've got half a dozen unrelated paragraphs going in my drafts, so I think I'm just going to make this a mini-series of 'stuff that helps me write and may also help you (or maybe they won't, I don't know, this shit's all subjective)'.

If there's anything in particular you'd like to hear about, or something about my process you're curious about, absolutely feel free to reply or shoot me an ask and I'll do my best to address them as I go.

But yeah, pacing. And more specifically, not burning out. I figured it was important I hit this one first, because I think it's the most important one, or at least, the one that makes the biggest difference.

With the caveat that I am someone who has repeatedly driven myself into burnout, I'm also someone who now knows why that is, and have been teaching myself how to, you know, not do that.

So. Here's how I, you know, don't do that.

Will preface this by again mentioning that most writing advice (and advice in general) never seemed to work for me, and I mostly thought I was just Bad at Doing Things, until I learned my brain's literally wired differently, and that I'd been trying to apply processes that didn't actually work for said wiring.

So instead, I figured out what worked for me. And what works for me isn't necessarily what will work for you, or even what will work for me a month or five years down the line, but it's going okay right now.

I'll straight up say that, contrary to all the Writing Advice, I don't write every day, and I don't think it's necessary, or even necessarily a good idea -- I have at times, but I no longer do, because if I write for more than six days straight I find the proverbial well dries up and I write less than I do had I just taken a break when I needed it.

Cognitive energy and the sort of ephemeral ~inspiration (work that's been done on a subconscious level) are fundamentally no different than physical energy: if you don't replenish it, you will run out. If you overdo it, you will run out. If you consistently overdo it without replenishing it, you will burn out.

Taking a page from hockey players here: if you did an intense workout right before a game they'd ask what the fuck was the matter with you. You need a nap and a meal and to get some stretching and light work in. Running at 100% all the time will burn you out in every single field, including this one.

That's not me saying not to run at 100% at all. I generally try to pace myself now, but if I'm really in it, and the words are coming easily, I don't stop until they stop -- I wrote just shy of 4k of later scenes for SAIT last week (my 2024 record!), all in one sititng, by hand, when I was supposed to be sleeping, because that's when the inspiration came. I didn't fall asleep until past 6am that night, and my hand is still mad at me.

But you know how much writing I got done the follow day? (None, I was busy transcribing 4k of handwriting). The rest of this week? (Not much more than that). Those bursts of energy are awesome, and honestly can make you feel like a writing god, but the well's the well, and I've learned my personal well is about 5000 words a week deep.

Before my most recent scrape with autistic burnout, which I'm still sort of climbing my way out of, that well was closer to 7500 words. But honestly, it probably wasn't; I was likely just siphoning words from future wells and then it all caught up with me when I was looking at a horizon of dry-ass wells ahead of me. (I'll admit this isn't a perfect metaphor.)

But seriously, my advice for basically everything, not just writing (and something I wish I'd learned before I hit my 30s), is 'figure out what pace you can work at sustainably'.

Please note that 'sustainably' is not 'without literally dying'. Because my literal ass thought when people said 'give it 100%' they meant, you know, 'give it 100%' (I know! absurd of me), rather than 'give the best effort you can give in this moment considering your current resources'. So I gave it my all (also interpreted that one wrong I guess?). And then I wondered why I kept hitting a wall all the time. And why, eventually, I stopped being able to climb that wall entirely.

I don't think I'm ever going to reach that 7500 word threshold again. There will be weeks I'm so inspired I write that much, but the next week I probably won't manage more than 2500. Or maybe I'll have two 7500 weeks in a row, but I'll need to take a whole week off after that, or spend several weeks working at a lower tempo while I let the well replenish itself.

I've been tracking some metrics quite closely as I sort of tweak my life into its new shape (said shape being 'do the best you can given your resources') , and during my most productive month of this year I wrote 3x as much as the worst (writing wise, I was finalising publication at the time), my current weekly average is about 4800 words. Sometimes it's a bit higher or lower, sometimes much higher or lower, but that's what I can sustainably do right now.

Frankly, I'm a little cranky about this: I know I can do more, because I did do more. But my priority now is not to send myself straight back into burnout again, so when I sprint, it's just that, rather than my previous 'trying to run a marathon at the pace of a sprinter'. I'm writing less than I used to, but it's honestly not that much less: because the pace is sustainable rather than boom and bust, I don't run myself ragged enough to desperately need a break.

I'm aware this advice only works if you have control over your own time, and a schedule that doesn't force you to focus on writing say, one day a week, or around other obligations, but the only real workaround for burnout is consistency, and that consistency cannot be your maximum.

Or, it can, but I guarantee you that will bite you in the ass at some point, and the pain of not getting enough done is nothing compared to the pain of not being able to get anything done because your nervous system threw up its hands and decided if you weren't going to listen to their clues (feelings, symptoms) or their warnings (Feelings, Symptoms) that you were overdoing it, they were going to shut your ass down until you listened.

0/10 do not recommend.

Next week: how to trick your brain into doing shit that it doesn't feel like doing, even though it's onto all your tricks by now. Or at least, how I trick mine.

[jellojelli]

May I plz request welt bf headcannons ? Both sfw and nsfw plz

Welt Yang Boyfriend Headcanons

*a/n: 𝓜𝓻. 𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓰😍 my very first honkai love*

As always, 🛑Minors DNI🛑

Sfw

Being in a relationship with Welt is as easy as breathing. You make him feel young again and he wants to spend as long as he can going on adventures and creating everlasting memories with you. He is literally the most accommodating, easy going, and kind man in the entire universe. Just wants to travel the universe with you and hold you tight

Welt also is quite the romantic and easily sweeps you off your feet, literally and metaphorically. This man had PomPom clear the main cabin of the express to give you the most perfect confession of your life. Candle lit dinner, dimmed lights, beautiful starry view of space, even showed up with small bouquet of roses to give to you when you came to the main cabin. The only thing he missed was actually telling you to come meet him and the only reason you ended up coming in is thanks to Himeko giving you a little hint

Please remember though that Welt is a bit of a traditionalist in the sense of respecting personal boundaries both in public and private. It’s not that he won’t wrap his arm around you or hold your hand, but he won’t ever do it without asking first and he certainly won’t be overly affectionate in front of anyone. So if you’re looking for a smoochy while Dan Heng and March are there, you’re out of luck because the man will dodge you or go for a forehead kiss

With Welt being a bit of traditionalist I also think he’s a bit overprotective of you no matter your gender and sees himself as sort of the stereotypical ‘man of the house’ in the relationship. Not to say he’ll emasculate you or be misogynistic, he would literally apologize his entire life if he ever did that, he just takes it upon himself to be your protector and takes on those types of responsibilities. However, this will never make Welt stop you from going on adventures with others or alone. He wants you safe, yes, but he never wants to keep you in cage just to make himself feel more at ease

Dates with Welt are always well thought out and planned with you in mind. Welt is a pretty simple guy, he just likes seeing the sights and going to cool places, so it’s incredibly easy for him to find joy in any place or activity. Shopping? He could spend hours in a tech or mechanic shop looking at gadgets or just looking at you try on clothes or fawn over something you like. Sports? He may be up in age, but that doesn’t mean he’s decrepit and he will dunk on you with only a shred of mercy. And you know he’s always happy to go adventuring or exploring in even some mundane place like an abandoned mall or hospital.

Welt loves, loves, loves just existing with you. He loves being domestic and mundane with you by just doing your own things in the same room or doing something sweet together like cooking or doing the household chores together. He especially loves learning to cook something new that neither of you have ever tried before

Cuddle with this man and he will practically be putty in your hand. He’s literally so tense and getting a moment to just melt into your arms makes him feel 10 years younger. Also, ask him to tell you about something while cuddling and you’ll have his heart beating. He loves to subtly show off to you all the cool things he knows and can do. So please praise him and maybe lightly fangirl when he does cool things, it really brings his confidence up. He also thinks it’s really nice that you listen to him and ask him about more interesting things since most people only ask him to explain something educational and not actually retell any cool adventures he’s had

Welt is definitely the type of man to make you tea when you sound under the weather or you feel too hot/cold. He also might have a bad habit of letting you off the hook when it comes to work or the more boring bits of running and being on the express. He just doesn’t want you to overdo it like he does sometimes. You might also be the only person Welt 100% listens to regarding his well-being. Himeko and PomPom cannot thank you enough for getting this man to finally lay down and rest instead of staying up all night.

Fighting with Welt is incredibly rare and it never ever gets explosive or is done in public. The only thing he ever gets irritated with you over is if you have a lack of self preservation. He absolutely cannot stand seeing you battered and bruised, or worse on the brink of death because of an enemy. He’s great at communicating, even if it sometimes feels awkward, and he will sit you down and tell you exactly how he feels about your lack or care for yourself. Welt loves you, and not just loves you, he is in love with. You own his heart, you are his entire being, and he will be a dead man before he lets something take you from him prematurely. If you also happen to bring up how he sometimes acts and how he likes to play martyr himself, he will work on it with you so you both can stay safer while out in the field

I feel like Welt likes to give massages and he’s pretty decent at it too. He’s definitely better at massaging your back than say your legs or feet, but he will absolutely give you a full body massage if you ask. He won’t even make you pay him back, he just wants you to be comfy and relaxed

Kissing Welt will always make him flustered, doesn’t matter if it’s the first time you guys kiss or the 1 millionth time, his cheeks always get a bit pinker after. This man lives for the domestic type of kisses. He loves when you welcome him back to the express or even just back to the room with a kiss and a sweet smile. Same with the welcome kisses he loves goodbye kisses and will not leave the room or the express until he gets at least one kiss. Do not, and I mean do not, play with his kisses. Welt can be surprisingly childish when you try to play any sort of joke on him like pretending you didn’t hear him say goodbye or dodging his kisses. I mean he will legit do it back to you for as long as you did it to him all while he gives you this teasing smile. He will purposely not say goodbye to you anymore and even just straight up put his hand in your face when you try to kiss him and then chuckle at you when you give him a surprised pikachu face

This has nothing to do with Welt being your bf, but I really can’t help but think of Welt when I hear Constellations by the Oh Hellos and I can’t help but imagine him quietly singing this to himself when he thinks no one is around

Nsfw

This man right here is anything you want him to be. While he does have a slight preference for being the one in control or at the least bottoming from the top, he has no issue letting you take control whenever you want

Welt is a bit hesitant to try anything that’s not standard in what he considers ‘normal’ sex. Things like toys, bondage, or more intense kinks like choking or spanking have never really crossed his mind before. He’s willing to try them out for you though, but he won’t ever be too rough with you when it comes to spanking or choking since he’d rather be sweet and cherish you

Omg Welt is a certified pussy/ass eater and he gives earth shattering blowjobs. He can go all night just giving oral to you. Literally let him go to town on you and you’ll have to shove his head away or actually yank his hair to get him away from you because trying to actually move away is impossible when he’s got an iron grip on your thighs

He doesn’t mind if you laugh or crack a few jokes during sex. Sex is weird and makes weird noises and he’s held back some laugher himself from time to time. So don’t feel bad if you giggle at something silly that happened because chances are he’s laughing about it too. Just as long as you aren’t laughing to be mean he’ll join you in your laughing fit. I like to think at least once Welt’s glasses came off his face and just bonked you in yours in the middle of sex, definitely brought the sexy mood down for a moment when you both couldn’t stop laughing for a solid minute

Once you introduce Welt to some different kinks, I think he really takes to shibari and tying you up in general. It’s just really intimate to have him wrap different colored rope over your body and have him practically worship you while he does it

Speaking of, he loves giving body worship. Literally treats you like a king/queen and calls you as such

Loves when you praise him, again with wanting to impress you, he loves when you moan out how good he’s making you feel and loves it even more if he gets you to a point where you can barely even form a single word

Has definitely a time or two turned one of his massages into sexy time by being handsy with you of course only after he heavily hinted at what he was gonna do in case you wanted to refuse

Welt also really loves having early morning/sleepy sex with you. He especially loves it when you both get to be on a planet since on the express there really isn’t any soft, aesthetic morning light streaming in

He plays music when you guys have sex, like records filled with sappy love songs or soft songs with no lyrics will be quietly playing in the background making it feel like some scene in a movie

[darkpoisonouslove]

How would you describe your writing style and who is your writing influence(s)?

I don't even know what my writing style is anymore and if I stopped to think about it, I'd have an existential crisis so I just write.

I think that if you're looking to improve, you shouldn't think in terms of what your writing style is but in terms of what you need in order to accomplish your goals for the story. Every scene if not every paragraph requires different things in order to function optimally. What I do is think about what I'm trying to accomplish and then decide from there what kinds of tools I need which basically means that your style can (and often should) change with every scene. An action scene would need snappier, shorter sentences and more focus on actions rather than thoughts and emotions in comparison to a quiet, heartfelt moment between the characters. So in that sense a writing style should be versatile enough to accommodate your story's needs rather than hinder you if you're focusing too much on it. It's also completely possible and okay to experiment with different styles for different stories.

That being said, some thoughts on my own style just came to me. It's definitely become less flowery than it used to be and I am relieved because I was using the turns of prose and metaphors to fill in the blanks left by the lacking substance. Now I just focus on saying what I have to say as clearly as possible. If I can insert a clever play on words in it or some cool imagery, that's great but it's not my priority. My thoughts tend to be abstract so I focus more on grounding them in easily perceived images because otherwise they're completely incomprehensible. Metaphors come in great use for that purpose but I'm using them way more sparingly than I used to, only when I really want to emphasize some idea or emotion. Otherwise, I just focus on the physical aspects of a scene and the senses, sometimes character thoughts though I try not to overdo it on that front. I noticed a while ago that I tend to get stuck in a character's head and go on and on about their inner world, which is a problem when the story is supposed to be about the interaction between two (or more) characters or between the character and their surroundings. I've put conscious effort into fixing that and I'd say it's working, at least partially. I'm pretty happy with the changes I've implemented in my writing style and process as a whole but there's always further things to iron out as you evolve as a writer.

I feel confident in saying that I do not have writing influences when it comes to a writing style. I've never tried to copy the way someone's prose looks and feels. I could stop to admire someone's style if it's caught my eye but I wouldn't try to emulate it. For example, I admire Douglas Adams' way of describing things but I could never do that myself and I wouldn't force myself to because it's just not the way in which my brain functions.

When I read a story, I'm mostly looking to borrow a technique from it rather than a style. That is to say, I am looking at the way the plot is structured or how the author builds suspense, which is way more a matter of observing the bigger puzzle pieces, the plot beats if you will, rather than the writing style itself. To be perfectly honest in the last 5+ years I've leaned way more into watching movies and TV shows rather than reading to lead to that result as you can learn about story construction from visual media but not about a writing style. It works for me because that's what I want to focus on.

When it comes to writing style, my philosophy is that I will figure it out myself. I am dreadfully independent when it comes to my creativity and refuse to accept any guidance. If I read any writing tips or examine a story with the idea of learning from it, I fully trust my own judgment and process. I follow the principle of trial and error - I test out everything that I think might work for me and if it doesn't, I immediately discard it. And that's about it!

[tmwcs]

i believe my bf heelel is into some kinks. i wonder- like curious to know what kinks and positions he has tried so far on the reader,u dont have to describe them if u dont want to,u can even list it out idm!

Oh it’s fine. Lol this blog knows no shame.

So since Se7en is about or over a year old now (maybe more, can’t remember off the top of my head) let’s just say….a shorter list is what hasn’t he done…bc by now, you both covered every single position known to man and have done a lot…ALOT. Heelel has no limits or boundaries, since he is so very obsessed with reader, he has done everything (even against her own wishes) that’s the type of guy he is. It’s not necessarily just bc he’s the devil. It’s bc he is insanely in love with you that he has to (metaphorically speaking) devour every inch of you. I’m talking fucking your tits, anal, and oral (both you and him receiving. I picture him being very fond of the 69 position.)

Like heethan, he is also a masochist. But he kind of overdoes it bc…he’s the devil. He wants to see broken skin, blood, toes curling, and screams. Ofc it’s all in the line of pleasure, like he’s never going to just go and do physical harm to you that would cause great pain and injury for no reason. To everyone else, yes. Do you? No. But pain with pleasure, hell yeah.

I’ve also had a random thought of just how far he would go in his pace and momentum, and the man is relentless. I randomly thought of him fucking reader so hard, that she ended up vomiting due to exhaustion and just being railed so hard. (It was seriously a random thought bc sometimes I think about heelel and heethan from time to time.) but that gives you an idea.

I also had a thought where he stole Asmodeus’s ancient and original scripture of the Kama Sutra, and kept it so he could replicate all the positions with you, and even alternate some of them to better fit his desire. He loves making you feel good, but there are some times…the man is selfish and wants to feel good, even if you’re hurting.

My random thought about the anal piece was when I was answering some asks. I didn’t draft it but it came to my head out of nowhere and the way I saw it go down is, reader being hesitant bc she’s never done it before and wasn’t feeling too comfortable about it, but heelel forced the issue and pretty much restrained her with his own hands and just went for it. He was rough all up until he lined the tip to her rear, he actually got a bit gentle bc he knew it was her first time doing it, so he kind of verbally guides her. “Take a deep breath baby, this is going to sting a little.” Heelel spent lifetimes playing (and murdering) the succubus’s and stray angels, so he’s very experienced. I pictured him clicking his tongue and tapping the tip of his d*ck on your rear cheeks and calmly telling you to take a deep breath, and exhale as he enters. He still had readers wrists pinned behind her lower back with one hand while he used the other to slide in and as he goes in inch by inch, he would say things like “breath, hold. Now exhale.” And once he was all the way in, he’d thrust in and out at a very slow pace, giving you time to stop sobbing and start enjoying. Once he hears your moans coming in, he’ll pick up the pace and go harder and harder. He’ll watch reader go from sobbing victim of non-con to a filthy minx that wants more of him. And he loves to witness that transition. The second time around you guys do it, he ditches the slow and understanding pace and just goes for it, making that first noise coming out of your mouth a sharp yelp.

He’s very dominate, so any position that would render him vulnerable is out the window. He’s always going to be in control. Sven if you’re on top, those hands of his are going to be squeezing your waist and you’re basically being lifted repeatedly and slammed down by his rhythm.

On oral sex….bro…I picture this dude to be extremely brutal! Like making you choke on it, taking it out every once in a while to slap your face with it, sticking it back in your mouth and forcing you to gag on it until your throat bleeds. He’s a raging beast and that’s the whole reason why he made you go through all his brothers to turn you immortal, bc mortal version do you won’t survive.

He has a few favorite positions: reverse cowgirl, standing missionary, you straddled on his lap while he’s on his throne, and doggy.

And yes…he still likes to give it to you in his demon form or partially demon form. A lot of ppl did not like this or felt uncomfortable, but that’s what heelel likes. He’s twisted and very sadistic (the devil y’all) and he likes to make reader uncomfortable sometimes bc he loves seeing you scared and begging, but loves it even more when he sees you transition from being scared to wanting him more. I usually picture him doing you with his horns/antlers protruding out of his head. Since he doesn’t have regular devil horns like the devil is traditional portrayed with, he has a pair of beautiful and magnificent antlers, like an elk. When he’s in his full demon form, he almost looks like a wendigo, and he can adjust his size and be either colossal (like in the battle towards the end of the series) or he can be 7 feet tall (which is usually how big he’ll become when fucking you…get ready to take in 12 inches)

When he is fucking you in his demon form, it is very sinful and demonic, and you’ll feel very ashamed and dirty after it’s all done, but he won’t care. All he can think about is how much you were screaming and begging for him to keep going. Again, it always starts off with you fighting and begging him to not do it, but once he starts hurting your spot and making you leak everytime the tip of his dick punches it, you kind of go dumb (literally fucks uou dumb) and you’re a slob wrong mess.

[girl4music]

“It’s OOC for Willow to be doing this.”

3x18

*Interrogation with Jonathan takes place*

WILLOW: "Fantasy's are fun, aren't they Jonathan?"

JONATHAN: "Uh... I guess."

WILLOW: "We all have fantasies that we’re powerful, more respected. Where people pay attention to us.”

JONATHAN: "Uh... maybe."

WILLOW: "But sometimes the fantasy isn't enough, is it Jonathan? Sometimes we have to make it so people don't ignore us. Make them pay attention. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

JONATHAN: "Erm, you... Want me to pay attention?"

They may be overdoing it a bit with the magic addiction metaphor but it’s not OOC because it’s not about the magic. People need to understand this. It’s never been about the magic. The only reason why it’s magic is because that’s the channel to which to have power and control. It’s what Willow is best at so of course it’s magic that would be the substance to abuse. But the whole point is to have that power and control to make people pay attention to her. To not regard her as worthless. We, of course, know that that isn’t the truth of who she is. People do not view Willow that way anymore. But she still believes that they do deep down. Her mindset is still that of somebody who is just faking their confident persona and people will see right through it to the nerd within. Even as powerful as she is here, she still feels like she’s a fraud, an imposter, and if she doesn’t keep up with this overcompensated dangerous identity she’s taken on, they’ll get tired of her. They’ll leave her behind because she’s nothing more than a wannabe and not a true hero to the cause of the greater good. Not a true witch. Not a true lesbian. Not a true anything except a hapless, loveless, useless loser. That’s why she does all this chaotic, violating, destructive shit with her magic. She believes that if she doesn’t show her immense power as often as she can and to as much extent as possible, she will be exposed for being fake.

It’s got nothing to do with magic. It’s a severe insecurity issue brought on by unchecked emotional complex trauma of bullying and abuse from both her school and home life. Why the writers depict all of this as if it’s only to do with magic addiction is maybe something they shouldn’t have done. I will agree with that. But it’s not out of character. It can’t be because Willow has been power hungry for a long fucking time in the show. We just didn’t want to see it. We didn’t want to think of Willow as going down a destructive path with her magic usage. We didn’t view it as corruption that she was quickly accumulating power. We viewed it as ‘Uber Witch’ heroism. But now in this season it’s revealed to us for what it really is. Villainy. This is something Willow herself doesn’t realize and it’s part of what makes it so real and relatable.

So what if it’s through magic? That’s not the point. And it has never been the point. That’s just an effective tool through which to use and explore the themes of power corruption and addiction with. And maybe I’m giving the writers too much credit here but I feel like it’s purposeful for it to seem mixed signal-y because the majority of people watching this arc are looking at it through the perspective of all the other characters. Not through Willow. But this is what is going on in Willow’s head. This is her paranoia hitting her full force. Maybe she does feel out of character. Maybe she’s doing the most to not feel that way. Maybe it all still is just a fantasy for her and she will never truly achieve what she wants. She will never achieve true love. She will never be a hero equal to Buffy. She’ll always be a loser no matter how hard she tries not to be.

Again, we as the audience see that that is not the truth. But it’s true to her. It’s her reality. Because that’s just how mentally ill she is. And they do not tell you this until it’s way too late. Willow does not confess this until she has to. We never really see just how bad it is for her until now so it does seem like it comes out of left-field and just made up for the sake of the story this season. But mental illness is like that. People on the outside-looking in do not see it because the one going through it keeps it well hidden until something awful happens. Dawn could have died and so Willow is like “Okay. Enough is enough. Time to come clean.” And it’s the most heroic thing she does in the whole show as far as I’m concerned. This is what makes her a hero amidst an arc where she is the villain. That she fesses up and then tries really hard to get back on track again and what happens next is not her fault.

[snorkling-in-sodasea]

Moments of Stupidity 8

Now that I did this post, I wanna put here that I don't think I have a lot of stupid things of this episode because a good chunk of what I thought was dumb was the writers' doing than the characters' doing. What I mean by that is, for example, I find it dumb that Vortex and Bee get to be openly dating when the episode right before it - not in uploading order or whatever - has it be a bad thing for Stolas and Blitzo to do it so openly. Yet that stupidity is more on the writing than anything, it feels like, and I'm just here to call out the characters for doing stupid things that directly affect the plot or at least would have some bearing on it. And of course, Bee and Vortex not even trying to hide the fact that they're a couple doesn't matter in both the episode that revealed it but also the overall show by far. If it ever does matter, then I'll be sure to include it in a post that's about an episode where it actually matters

(And sorry if I offended anyone by saying that anything dumb was of the writers' doing. I just can't agree with the writing or think of it as clever, especially if you were to look at Helluva Boss's overall narrative)

(Oh, and another thing about the writing that doesn't make sense to me, since I'm on this, is that the sin of Gluttony wants Blitzo to be reigned in because he's overdoing shit. TVtropes may have said that Blitzo was more indulging in pride to forget than gluttony but it's probably ridiculous if I really have to go to TVtropes to make more sense of things. Plus, TVtropes probably still doesn't make sense, on what it said about Blitzo indulging in pride. If anything wants to tell me more on that or talk to me about it, then please do)

Queen Bee -

We start off with Loona trying to make small talk with one of the girls there being someone she should recognize is a metaphorical bitch. The other two girls didn't talk so there's no telling with them but at least the poodle is definitely someone who has had encounters with Loona before. Seriously, the 'lunatic Loona' nickname and the picture of Loona puking in her phone? And if I remember right, Loona even asks why she still has that, meaning that Loona is aware that the poodle took that picture before. So why couldn't have Loona tried making small talk with literally anyone else?

Next is Loona again, when she decides to start shit with a fucking sin and doesn't back down. Fuck seriously, she's supposed to be in her early twenties yet she's acting like a reckless teen. Actually, I'd like to think that, even if Loona was an actual teenager, she would still be smart enough to be aware that she's got no chance against a powerful figure like an embodiment of sin and so she shouldn't be treating someone like that like she does with anyone else. And regardless of her actual age, Loona grew up in the fucking pound in Hell where people would do shit to her and she should have always been in a position where she had to survive however she can, at least throughout her childhood. Doesn't that kind of survival situation lasting for as long as it did supposed to teach you to pick your goddamn battles? Unless there's something to that lifestyle that I don't know about, I just don't get why Loona would act like this. To think, Loona only backs down because it made Vortex upset, too

[anxiouslyrunningaway]

About starting lightly

Okay okay, You are thinking oh fuck you, starting lightly, and well yeah, feel free to do so. But also, I've tried. This is not the first time \ I am trying to do something. The thing is, I tend to be very over-motivated and tend to believe I should start with perfect ----everything. Okay, if I do not have the right gear what is even the point? Ad if and when I start I must be stellar okay? No threading lightly, I expect exceptional performance from day one. And yes, I fail. I tend to start abruptly get that dopnaie kick, overdo things, and get so tired and sore all over my body then I just cease completely.

But, this time I ASKED FOR HELP,

I asked my sister if she could give me advice about how to start running and whether I could join her and her partner on their next jog (both runners and quite fit), just to….have the motivation to leave the house. I joined them for a few hundred meters and then I heard her shouting instructions from time to time too fast! slow down! turn around and run back, that was quite a distance for today! They were both very supportive of my curiosity and gave me some more advice about how long, fast, and often to run to be able to sustain the routine and feel good after the run. Yes, you are supposed to feel good after the run (who would have thought? Not me!). Sure I felt a bit exhausted, my legs were tired but not to the point I needed to lay down and die. I did my research this time and concluded that brisk walking for 5 minutes is a good warm up then I would help myself with the scheme of Couch to 5 K - 1 minute of running and 1 minute of walking (here I admit I cheated a bit and I was drawn to overdo it, trying to figure out if I can run for 2 minutes or 3 minutes). This phase-training is ideal to start with it helps your heart and body to get used to performing and to calm down in short intervals and helps to build your stamina. A very important step that is doable and sustainable. Not only doable but is a crucial phase to help oneself build self-confidence in the abilities of one's body. Of course, I would not be able to run 30 minutes consistently. But with 10 minutes of heat up and 10 minutes of wind down plus 10 minutes of interval training divided into walking and running

One thing I always struggle with is perfectionism, I need to prove to myself I can do more than average what is expected of me. Ultimately, very often I ended up overdoing it and not only I did not end up finishing the thing, but I was left with horrible feelings of failure and inability to commit. Starting lightly really does heighten your chance to actually come back for the same amount the next day and the next day. I felt so good after my run! And it is all thanks to the fact that I was not trying to prove to myself I could run this fast and this distance without stopping, I wanted to start. Not to run but to build the base. I kept on reminding myself that walking is not something I should be ashamed of (you will meet people cheering you on when you suddenly switch from running to walking thinking it is the right thing to do - which can be quite frankly very frustrating experience. Even from the fellow runners - please don't. I do know you mean well but do not impose the performance myth onto other runners especially the forever beginners who are just trying to start, to find ways to feel comfortable running and even more importantly, to feel comfortable walking when it feels like we cannot run anymore.) One of the things that was keeping me from running was the idea of the other - all the people who could see me running - the potential witnesses to my failure - having to stop and catch my breath. Just let go of your ideations of the ideal image of a runner. In the metaphorical but also very physical way, however shallow it sounds, no matter how little I seemed to care about those aspects my insecurities started to appear the minute I was considering running - clothing, pace, tempo, sweat all that. I kept repeating to myself that I was trying, just giving myself a break for once and disregarding my inner critic. And it was not easy.

If I am absolutely honest, starting with running in a new/different city was a big help. It was not really about the inability to start back home, but rather feeling a bit more at ease, and definitely a bit better than I did in Prague. I came to Brussels for an internship for two months and coming from a hilly-ish cityscape to the outskirts of the city where the closest bike lane/running lane is 5 minutes of walking distance was a big help. It was not the factor that miraculously helped me transform into somebody with strong willpower, but if I am honest, it was a nice change, a bit of help. So yes, I am not sure how long would it take (and if ever) to start back in the city of my previous residence. But rather about looking for the reasons whether it is possible right now I want to focus on how to start right now. Or maybe later. For me personally, it took a few months of ruminations to finally get up and start. So whatever the final impulse I was acting on this time was a result of thinking about it. The idea of wanting to start grew in me slowly but steadily. I think in the end I really wanted things to work out this time. Especially after all the failures I was dealing with at that time (break up after quite an exhausting long-distance relationship after 1,5 years, career failures, academic failures, and the list could go on, but hey, we are here), I was desperate for a feeling that I can control at least some aspects of my life. I can build up something myself, that would be relatively independent of the circumstances of the outside world. That I possess the willpower to change the course of my life, I can train for a marathon and even if it takes months or years, I can commit to it. I can observe the process, be in the process, and focus on the progress, not being the best but just making it to the finishing line.

So I guess we will see about that?

[crimsonxe]

For the sake of not doing a ton of replies just going to reblog:

1- It doesn't need to be specified to be a thing, especially since none of the crew of the train are shown period. What is known however is that the SDC uses faunus labor and Adam doesn't give a shit either way. So no there's no "heavy lifting", just using logic and story details. Including his not caring being clearly shown later on and reinforced fully by the canon DC comics.

2- I'm not sure why there's "?" cause its what is done.

3- You do realize that Adam is neither a main character or a main villain, right? Like he's essentially at best a henchman for a henchmen, instead of being involved directly with Salem. Regardless his mental degradation was shown. From his angry rant in v5 about the Belladonna (really Blake) in his message to the Albains to killing Sienna to him trying to kill everyone at Haven via setting off bombs to killing his own extremists cause they mocked him. His CS shows the start of him going into his psychopathy and building up, while the show itself shows his degradation and derangement.

4- Looking up records is an entire other thing from if she tried to change company policy or started actively railing against it. Hell she basically got disowned w/ a slap for just speaking up against Jac-ass and embarrassing his sorry ass. Regardless that isn't a main plot point and there's bigger things to cover than showing I presume a picket line of people or Weiss trying to look into whatever; especially after the Fall of Beacon.

5- Once again you're trying to make a sub-plot that has nothing to do with the bigger story into a main plotline that also involves extending the amount of time that a main character is displaying not likeable aspects. I've seen shows that overdo this and end up killing all like for the character, because they're forever stained. On top of that once again it not being relevant to the bigger story. I'll take Weiss getting out of that territory in a quick time over being forever stained as a racist. Yang's case didn't involve having displaying unlikable traits that potentially turn people away from a character. There's no danger of Yang being in the same camp as Cardin, unlike Weiss where if they overdid it that's exactly the danger.

6- Um no, it doesn't matter if Weiss had grown or not. Adam is still a damn psychopath that'd sooner go for the kill than try to listen to anything that Weiss has to say. Sienna living and getting to talk to Weiss or even Ilia = the letdown not Adam. Some of the problem is that you're forgetting that RWBY isn't that genre of show and again has bigger things happening. They do put in small moments here and there like the v7 scene between Weiss and Blake w/ Weiss seeing the SDC sign. On top of that there's a reason that Adam was kept to Blake and Yang, namely that Yang is everything Adam failed to be. Then on top of that is that no matter what they do they get people going after them, so they just set the entire thing to a metaphorical back-burner with some small bits here and there towards it.

What you want seems to be Life is Strange but RWBY. And that's not insulting LiS cause I absolutely LOVE that series and the topics it goes into, but I also acknowledge that there's a definite difference in type where one fits with the things you're wanting vs. the other that doesn't.

I wouldn't consider the crazy stalker ex angle a bad one for Adam (some people may disagree with me on this), but what I do wish had happened was building up to it more. And it sorta happened in this volume, where his oversight and cowardice at Haven resulted in him losing power. I just wish we had seen more of that fall yknow? How his desire for adoration and "justice" was fueled by his own ego. And the more power he lost the more the manipulative stalker ex boyfriend thing became prevalent. I also wish that his SDC brand went literally anywhere story wise. The fact that it's never brought up again (especially to WEISS) just sorta puts a big question mark on the end of his character. The fact that we don't even have a canon explanation for how he got it is even worse!! I have a lot of issues with how faunus are are used as a massive bludgeon with the word "RACISM" printed on it despite the writers' seeming unwillingness to actually discuss that topic. It takes Weiss all of two episodes to unlearn her prejudice but then she never uses any of her seemingly substantial power to actually DO anything about her father's business practices or for even make a switch to buying dust from local shops instead of straight from SDC itself. Imagine how much deeper Flint's jab at her would have been if we saw her actually trying to put in effort to undo the harm her family does to small businesses!!

I dunno I feel like they should have picked an angle for Adam and stuck with it. (Also i'm someone who likes Ironwood's fall and thinks it was well built up, so sue me)

[thisismysecondrodeo]

“Operation Seduce Ted” - Ted Lasso x AFAB!Reader EXPLICIT Fanfic

Rating: Explicit

Description: You've been dating Ted for a while and things seem like they're going well…so why haven't you slept together?

Enter Operation Seduce Ted.

Tags: AFAB!reader, One-Shot, Smut, Rough Oral Sex, Porn with barely any plot, Ted Lasso's Canonically Huge Dick, Mostly fluff and smut, General sexy things

Read on Tumblr below or on ao3:

AN: Honestly I just wanted to practice my smut and I thought Ted Lasso x AFAB!Reader would be an excellent arena for practice. Did I say practice? Because I mean practice. Always looking to improve! Fic masterlist

//

You knew there was something special about Ted Lasso from the moment you met him. And maybe a little bit before you met him too.

When the two of you first crossed paths, you were at the Crown & Anchor on a terrible date. Your friends had been trying to get you to put yourself out there for quite a while, all of them smitten with partners of their own, so you finally agreed to download a dating app and go out with Chris. Chris, who had seemed rather inquisitive and kind while chatting but showed up in a stained T-shirt and flip-flops and positioned himself in the pub so he could watch the end of the football match on the telly above your head. 

After many mind-numbing, painful minutes of trying to draw and keep his attention you sighed and cast your gaze around the pub, locking eyes with a mustachioed man you recognized from social media. Your eyebrows raised in recognition and he gave you a small smile, but then Chris cheered loudly and abruptly and your expression turned dour as you turned back to your date. Trying to be polite, you asked him what had happened and you were summarily ignored, his silence in response embarrassing you. You rolled your eyes and went to the bar to get yourself another drink. You knew you could just leave, but having to report back to your friends what a failure tonight had been kept you from bailing early. As Mae handed you a full pint, you felt someone lean against the bar next to you. You caught a whiff of cologne, not obtrusive but spicy and clean. You used to work in a makeup store that sold cologne and you tried to identify it but as you turned to see who was wearing it you figured maybe it was only American.

"Not much of a football fan?"

"Not in the traditional sense of the word, 'fanatic.’ I like it okay. Follow it enough to recognize you, Coach Lasso."

"Shoot, so my reputation precedes me… I hate when that happens. There's nothing I like more than a good first impression. But I'll guess I'll give it a shot anyway, I'm Ted." He stuck his hand out and you were struck by how warm he was, literally and metaphorically. He squeezed gently and you were pleased to note that he didn’t overdo it and crush your hand just to prove he could like so many other men might. 

"Y/N."

Mae placed a pint in front of Ted and he took his hand back to bring it to his lips, which gave you a chance to really look at him. He was older than you, but aging gracefully it seemed; the gray hair popping up at his temples and mustache only accentuated his good looks. He was well groomed, though his hair was losing a bit of its hold, one loose tendril just barely scraping his eyebrow. You weren't lying when you said you recognized him—it just wasn't really from football. It was from a very vocal subsection of Richmond fans who found him incredibly attractive. You didn't participate in the lusting online but you'd certainly seen the fan cams and photo edits.

Ted looked at you over the edge of his pint as he sat it on the bartop and you smiled at him. It was automatic, something about being this close to him made you a little giddy, which was not something you often felt. In fact, you were more likely to be annoyed by a random conversation struck up in public than charmed. But everything in you wanted Ted to keep talking to you, to keep his hazel eyes locked on yours.

"Sorry I didn't mean to keep you from your company, just seemed like you might not have been having the best time."

You looked back over at Chris and realized he still didn't know you were gone; apparently some player had just gotten a yellow card. "Well, shit company," you shrugged quickly, downing your drink and catching the way Ted's eyebrows rose as you did, an impressed smirk putting his dimples on full display. "Are you offering me a better time, Ted?"

You watched as a blush crept up Ted's cheeks at the innuendo and you waited to see what he'd say. You didn't think you were reading him incorrectly but it would certainly suck to get rejected twice in one night. At least a shag with the AFC Richmond manager would be a better end to this failed date story when you repeated it to your friends.

Ted cleared his throat and then mirrored your earlier actions, quickly downing the rest of his pint. He caught Mae's eye, waved an index finger over your empty pint and his, and then made an okay gesture, signaling that the drinks were on his tab. You grinned at the gesture. He smiled brightly at you, much less embarrassed now than he had looked when you had not so subtly propositioned him, and tilted his head towards your date who was once again bellowing at the tv screen.

"That shouldn't be hard to manage."

Except the two of you didn't shag. Instead, he led you on a meandering walk of the Richmond green after buying you ice cream and you got to know each other. It felt like a real date, with both of you taking a genuine interest in what the other had studied in school (English and sports medicine), your favorite foods (barbecue), and what you did for fun (reading, both of you). The lampposts were lit by the time you made it back to his place, where he offered you a glass of wine and you shook your head no before leaning over and kissing him briefly. When you pulled away he chased your lips and you smiled into another kiss, moaned when his mouth opened to yours and you realized he tasted like chocolate ice cream. The two of you made out like teenagers in his kitchen, his hips pinning yours to the counter, his arousal evident. When he released you, taking a step back and a deep breath, you whined, surprising yourself with how turned on you were.

"I've, uh, really enjoyed spending time with you, Y/N." Ted was looking down as he spoke, suddenly sheepish.

"Oh God," you groaned. "Are you about to try to let me down easy?"

"No no not at all! I mean you’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you're whip-smart. I am very into you, Y/N."

You looked pointedly at his pants. "I can see that." Ted blanched but made no move to adjust himself, obviously taking it for the compliment you intended it to be.

"I just … I know the one-night stand thing isn't for me. I'd like to really get to know you. Take you out on a date that I asked you on instead a’ just savin’ you from one you didn't want to be on. It’s late though, you're welcome to stay and I'll take the couch"

You sighed, taking both of his hands in yours and tugging him back a little closer. "I get it. And I appreciate it. Unfortunately," you paused and kissed him on the lips, "I am also just very turned on by you right now." You kissed quickly across his jawline, leaning closer to place an open-mouthed kiss behind his ear, pleased when he shuddered and screwed his eyes closed tightly. "So if this isn't happening tonight I should go home. To respect your silly, silly wishes." 

Ted smiled, opening his eyes again. "So I can take you out again soon?“

You walked towards his front door, picking up your coat and bag before giving him one more parting kiss.

"The sooner the better."

//

It had been 2 months since that night at the Crown & Anchor. You saw Ted at least twice a week, more if you could help it, he'd met your friends and you'd met his. For all intents and purposes, you were in a relationship with Ted Lasso.

Which is why you were especially on edge when you rounded up Rebecca and Keeley for a Thursday night happy hour to discuss why the two of you still weren't having sex. 

You sipped a glass of white wine and sighed. “I know blue balls aren't what everyone says, but God I feel like I have them.”

“Oh, babe,” Keeley stretched across the table and gently patted your hand. She was wearing a form fitting baby blue dress, having long ago dropped her work blazer somewhere behind Rebecca’s plush white couch. “It’s not the end of the world! What have you two done together?”

Rebecca was in loungewear, a rare sight for both of you to catch her looking so relaxed, but it suited her. She playfully covered her ears at Keeley’s question. “I don’t know if I want to hear this, I got enough of an earful from Sassy.”

You laughed, respecting Rebecca’s discomfort. “Well to put it simply all the bases are loaded, I'm just looking for a home run.” 

The two blonde women stared at you blankly and you looked at them in confusion, taking another sip of your drink. 

“God, you two really are spending a lot of time together; was that an American sports reference,” Rebecca questioned, rather astonished. 

“See,” you exclaimed, “that just proves my point! I mean we go on the best dates, we laugh, we connect, and then we go back to one of our places, snog like mad, and then either he goes home or he sleeps on the couch.” 

Rebecca sighed, moving from the armchair she had been reclining in to sit next to Keeley who still had a light hold on your hand. “Y/N, I’ve known Ted for years now, and I’ve never seen him so smitten. I think he’s just afraid to be too much too soon. He wants you to set the pace because he’s been burned before.”

This wasn’t a surprise to you, you and Ted had talked about the end of his marriage, his relationship with Henry, the death of his dad. You’d had a number of deep, serious conversations, especially considering it was still early days. 

“He needs to know that you're really in this and that you want him as much as he wants you,” Rebecca finished her thought before finishing her glass of wine, gesturing to ask Keeley if she wanted another, but she declined. 

“God I think I want him more,” you complained, letting your head flop to the back of the couch.

“So it’s settled. Operation Seduce Ted is starting now!”

You never agreed to call it Operation Seduce Ted, but you didn’t put up much of a fit on Friday when Keeley took you shopping for lingerie. It had never really been your thing, but you couldn’t deny the thrill of seeing yourself dolled up in ribbon and lace. Despite the fact that you currently hadn’t had sex, you knew Ted well enough to know that he wouldn't actually care what you were wearing, but he would certainly appreciate the effort. You had forgotten how fun it could be to put a partner first; the arousal that came with wondering what Ted would see and think when you revealed the black lace corset you had picked out, tight and sheer, with the matching garter and thong. If the way Keeley’s jaw dropped when she saw you was any indication, Ted hopefully wouldn’t be able to form thoughts. 

You texted Ted on the way back from the boutique, asking him if he wanted to come over in a few hours. The two of you didn’t have standing plans, but it was nearly a given that you’d see him on Friday nights unless there was a match. You looked up some American recipes, wanting to cater to him, but also keep it simple, not wanting the food to make or break the date. You ended up with store-bought fried chicken (a grease fire would undoubtedly ruin your night), homemade mashed potatoes and gravy, and a side salad. And most importantly, you booked two tickets to Kansas for the end of the season in a few months. You were putting yourself out there, and it felt a bit risky, but he'd made references to things he'd want to show you in Kansas with Henry. The dates of the flights could be moved, you’d paid extra to make sure of it, but it was about the gesture. You hoped it showed him how much you truly cared. 

Just as you were putting the finishing touches on the gravy, you heard Ted’s key in the door. You were thankful you had already changed, putting a simple olive green, knee-length dress on over your lingerie. You listened as he followed a familiar coming home routine; it pleased you that the routine existed and that you could name all of its steps: shoes toed off at the door, backpack on the floor next to them, jacket on the hook on the inside of the closet, keys in the bowl you keep on a table in the walkway. And then he was behind you, his broad shoulders caging you into a warm embrace and…normally a kiss, but you were surprised when there was no bristle of his mustache against your neck in greeting. You set your spoon down and turned in his arms, curious, but instead of meeting your gaze he released you and stepped back. 

You immediately saw on his face that Ted thought something was up with you. He was nervous, his eyes shifting over you just as yours shifted over him, both of you struggling to read each other. You opened your mouth to try to reassure him, but he beat you to the punch. 

“Are you breaking up with me,” he blurted, and you can tell he had been trying not to say exactly that. “I know we haven’t really put a label on things or, uh, crossed the finish line, so to speak. I appreciate you being patient with me. I just think we’ve really got something here and I don’t want to ruin it by…overdoing anything.” 

Ted let out a deep breath when he finished, and you snapped your mouth closed quickly when you realized you were gaping at him. Instead of answering, you took the suddenly dejected man by the hand and led him into the living room, encouraging him to sit before you walked to your desk and picked up an envelope.

“I was saving this for after dinner, but I think you should open it now.” 

He looked at you confused, but didn’t question it, just unsealed the small manila envelope and pulled out the two tickets to Kansas. You watched his eyes get a little misty as he realized what you’d done. 

“I’m in this, Ted. With you. I am on this ride for as long as it will go. I want to see and know every part of you.”

Ted’s expression cleared and settled into a mischievous smirk as he sat the envelope on the coffee table and placed his hands on your waist, tugging you into his lap so you straddled him on the couch. 

“Every part, huh?”

“Well I have to admit tonight I'm a little more interested in one specific part of you.” You punctuated your confession by grinding your hips down over his and he groaned before pressing his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand scratching through the hair at the nape of his neck. He tugged gently at your bottom lip and you gasped, arousal coursing through you. Ted released you from the kiss, but didn’t move far, nudging his nose against yours. 

“We should put the brakes on, you went through all the trouble of making dinner.”

“Oh fuck dinner,” you griped and Ted chuckled at you, a low husky sound that went straight to your core. “I want you so badly, Ted, you have no idea.”

Ted held your gaze with his as he reached between your bodies, slipping a hand under your dress, and stroking his long fingers over the now obvious wet spot in your underwear.

“Fuck darlin’,” Ted’s voice was so low the bass of it made your heart skip. His head fell back against the couch as if overcome with the knowledge of how much you desired him. But his fingers never stopped moving against you, gently, just barely enough to take some of the edge off.

He used the hand that had been holding your hip to push your dress up further, his large, warm palm sliding up your thigh, stopping briefly to toy with your garter and swear under his breath, until finally both hands were under your dress and he was looking at you again, watching your reactions to his every move. You dropped your forehead to his collarbone with a shaky, “fuck,” before dragging your tongue over his pulse point, sucking lightly, and then moving up to press your lips to his ear and ask, “bed?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Ted stood so abruptly he nearly threw you from his lap and you giggled, not surprised that sex with Ted could be just as fun and silly as it was sexy. He helped you get your legs under you before he tugged you to the bedroom and playfully tossed you against the pillows, wasting no time in stripping off his top layers. You got barely a second to take in his broad frame, the dark hair curling against his chest, before he was climbing over you and placing kisses every inch of the way from your ankles up. 

You had anticipated that based on the amount of reassurance Ted needed to have sex with you, he might be a bit timid in the bedroom and that was okay. You had mentally prepared yourself to take charge, which was a role you didn’t mind. But apparently, you had opened the floodgates, and now nothing was holding Ted back from showing you his devotion. His hands and mouth were everywhere, gripping your waist, mouthing at your hip, licking at the crease of your thigh, tickling against your collarbone. 

“Jesus Christ, Ted, please never stop touching me,” you begged, not even a little embarrassed when you realized he’d barely started touching you. Ted leaned up and grinned, one hand toying with the hem of your dress, before slowly pushing it up and off of you, as if just now realizing he could. Ted sat back on his heels and just stared at you laid out underneath him, the grin sliding off his face into pure awe. He traced his fingers along the lines of your corset, the waist of your thong, and playfully snapped your garter belt. 

“Gorgeous.” 

You blushed under Ted’s praise and he raised an eyebrow. He could tell that it had done something to you, and you knew he would be filing it away for later. He lowered himself, slower now that he could see all of you and hone in, and his mouth found your nipple through the corset. His warm, wet tongue laving over the slight scratch of the lace had you convinced you might come from that alone. He moved his attention to your other side, and your hand came up to grip lightly at his hair and he froze, your nipple between his lips as he released a guttural moan, his hips jerking against nothing. Now it was your turn to catalog something for later. You pulled him up to your mouth, sliding your tongue against his as you shifted your body, feeling his erection pressed against your hip. You reached for his tented pants, not breaking the kiss, quickly flicking open the button on his khakis and carefully rolling down the zipper so you could reach inside his boxers, and… fuck he was big. You had some idea, but having never seen or felt it firsthand it made your mouth water with anticipation and Ted could tell, considering his tongue was still in it. You broke the kiss, your hand still wrapped around him.

“Fuck me, take it off.”

“Yours or mine,” Ted gestured to your outfit and his undone pants. 

“Everything. All of it. I don’t fucking know, just…” 

Ted laughed a little at your frustration, placing a small kiss on your nose before he stood and removed his pants and boxers while you undid your corset. He leaned over the bed to help you with the thong and garter belt, and while he sat them carefully at the end of the bed, bless him, you surprised him by slipping off the bed onto your knees and taking him into your mouth. There wasn’t much space between your bed and bedroom wall and the surprise of your lips on him knocked him back into the wall hard. You didn’t stop your ministrations, but you did pull back slightly, running your tongue slowly up the underside of him as he swore. You looked up at him from your knees, making sure he hadn’t seriously hurt himself against the wall, but the look he returned your way was pure adoration. 

Ted deserved everything, he was everything and you wanted to tell him that but you also never wanted to lose the weight and warmth of him against your tongue. You tried to communicate it by lifting his hand to place against the back of your head, encouraging him to take control, telling him without words that he had all your trust. He didn’t move at first, so you swirled your tongue against the tip of him and his hips jerked involuntarily. You moaned loudly against him, a desperate, wanton noise as he brushed the back of your throat. That was what finally released him to fuck into your mouth, knowing that you wanted him to—that his pleasure was yours and vice versa. The more his pace increased the more you could feel the wetness spread against the inside of your thighs. The only thing you wanted more than sliding your hand between your legs to push yourself over the edge, was for Ted to slide his hand between your legs and make you cum himself. The thought of it forced you to restrain yourself, and you closed your eyes, focusing instead on hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat, giving yourself over to the sensations, to the heavy breathing and whispered praise of Ted above you. 

You opened your eyes again and saw Ted was looking at you, pupils blown. You could imagine what you looked like from his perspective, heavy-lidded and lustful. His grip tightened suddenly and he pulled you off him. You knew your face was a mess, but you grinned at how overcome with desire Ted was as he gazed at you, his chest heaving as he tried to keep himself together. He ran his thumb over your swollen bottom lip, and you opened your mouth for him again, licking against the pad of his thumb. 

“Jesus fucking christ, baby. You’re so good for me. Is that what I’ve been missing out on all this time?”

You chuckled and he helped you up and back onto the bed, kissing as much of your skin as he could reach. You waited until he joined you to pull him into a deep kiss, trying to get as much of your bare skin against his and enjoying the way he caressed your side, traced the lines of you like you were something incredibly precious. He pulled back from your lips and pressed kisses down your jaw. 

“Are you going to show me what I’ve been missing, Coach?”

Ted grinned, a glint in his eyes that told you the title definitely had an effect on him. He didn’t answer verbally, just took the suggestion for what it was and crawled down your body, nipping and licking as he went but wasting no time putting his tongue right where you wanted it. He started slow, clearly not assuming anything about what you liked but learning quickly. After the way your body had reacted to blowing him, it didn’t take much to have you arching against his face and crying out his name. He pressed a flat tongue against you, encouraging you to roll your hips and it was enough for the tension that had built inside you to snap and you bit back a scream. Ted gentled his tongue against you, slowly letting you down from your high but as soon as your panting slowed, he slid two fingers smoothly into you as he crawled back up your bed to lay beside you, propped up on his elbow. 

“Fuck, Ted,” you murmured as he stroked his fingers over the spot inside you that made you see stars. He was quickly building you back up, helped along by the praise he cooed directly into your ear. Your eyes closed but you could feel him watching the heat rise in you as he spoke.

“That’s it, love. Let me make you feel good. You’ve been so good to me. You’re so gorgeous, Y/N. You’re all I think about. I want to feel the way you clench down on my fingers as you cum.” You pulsed against him as if on command and you could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed your neck. “Go on, baby, cum for me. Please, baby.” He moved his thumb up to rub against your clit and this time your orgasm was less of a snap and more of a rolling warmth from your core up until your vision whited out and you lost yourself for a moment. 

Ted coaxed you back gently, smoothing his hands over you and placing gentle kisses over your face until you were seeing him clearly again. You could tell from his expression that he would have gladly left it there, that if you were overstimulated he could go take care of himself and just wrap you in his arms to go to sleep. But you certainly didn’t want that. 

“Fuck me, please,” you stated plainly, your voice a little hoarse from how loud you’d been.

“We don’t have to—”

You reached between the two of you, stroking your hand down his length. 

“I am begging you, baby. Please,” your voice was low and sultry and Ted wasted no time complying with the request, but to your surprise he didn’t hover over you. Instead, he pulled you into him by the waist so that he was spooning you from behind and lifted your leg over his hip. You couldn’t physically get any closer and you were more than pleased. He held you tightly to him with one hand on your hip as he slid easily into you, the other hand massaging your breast and toying with your nipple. 

“Yes, love,” you whimpered as he picked up his pace, encouraging him. Ted groaned, his hand tight on your hip as his every thrust sparked something deep within you. He never stopped murmuring in your ear but it was hard for you to focus on the words when he kept hitting the perfect spot inside you. He pulled out quickly and you were about to complain, but you tuned back in long enough to hear him say, “come here, sweetheart.” He had settled on his back and was tugging gently on your hip to get you to follow him. After two orgasms you weren’t sure you had the energy to ride him, but you wanted to try. You swung your leg over him and before you could warn him that you weren’t sure how much you had in you, he had lifted his knees, pressing his feet flat on the bed and driving back into you. 

“Shit,” you exclaimed, and Ted froze, concerned it wasn’t the good kind of expletive, but you smiled down at him. “Fuck, do that again.”

He followed instructions, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in and you dug your nails into his chest as you cried out, leaving little crescent marks in his skin. Ted reached up and placed a hand on your neck to tug you closer, kissing you sweetly before setting a quick pace that forced you to wrap your arms around him and hold on tight. You couldn’t believe you could already feel heat pooling in your belly again, so quickly after your last orgasm, but you let the pleasure build as you could tell Ted was just as close. You sat up slightly again, changing the angle so Ted was hitting even deeper inside you. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, “look at you. You’re so beautiful, baby. You feel so perfect.” You didn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but whimper and nod, as you rocked your hips in time with his thrusts. 

You moved one of Ted’s hands from your hip to your throat, not choking, just adding pressure. His eyes widened and he gave you a devilish smirk, somehow picking up his pace yet again. “That’s my good girl. You ready to cum for me again, Y/N?’

“Yes! Fuck, yes please, Ted.” His hand on your hip slid down to your core and he rubbed gentle circles over your clit that had you begging incomprehensibly. You didn't even know what you were begging for just more until the moment your muscles tightened and spasmed against him and you cried out, "shit, shIT, FUCK, TED."  He cursed loudly, following you into release. You slumped to his chest and the two of you stayed tucked into each other as your breathing synced, the sweat cooling on your bodies. “If that’s what waiting two months gets me, maybe I should be even more patient next time,” you sighed, your body completely sated. 

“Sorry sweetheart, unfortunately, you’re like a can of Pringles.’ 

“What,” you chuckled, questioning the comparison and knowing his answer would be incredibly silly. 

“Once you pop, the fun don’t stop.” You could feel Ted grin as soon as it left his mouth. You wanted to say you couldn’t believe someone so ridiculous had just fucked the shit out of you, but you knew what Ted said about belief. You laughed as you slid out of bed to get cleaned up, pulling on fresh underwear and one of Ted’s abandoned shirts. 

You could hear Ted moving about in the room, but you didn’t expect to walk out to a makeshift picnic. Ted had laid a towel over the bed and brought you each a plate of the dinner you had made. You grinned and joined him against the headboard and he handed a plate over, before taking his first bite.

“I couldn’t let your hard work go to waste, especially when you did this damn good of a job.” 

“Anything for you, my love,” you responded easily and Ted grinned instantly at the affection, sitting his plate down briefly to kiss you.

“Thank you. For showing me that you care.” 

"Always." 

Taglist (if you sent me a word for the WIP game I thought you might appreciate being tagged!): @lassoposting @ccbb2222 @femmel90

[eldragon-x-moved]

do you accept questions about your ocs 👀?

if so, then what's alexander like :D?

Of course!

Alexander was on Belos' side sometime before his reign. He already didn't think highly of her from creation since she held less resemblance to Caleb than most Grimwalkers did but he just rolled with it, not wanting to make another set of Grimwalker ingredients go to waste for nothing.

He claimed to be her father, telling her that her mother and some of their other family members were killed by wild witches after the Titan reached out to Belos, telling him the truth about wild magic and to spread it to his fellow witches. After the death of his wife and barely surviving himself, Belos made sure to keep Alexander safe and dedicated his life to establishing the Coven System in order to prevent more disaster.

Of course the fabricated backstory was a part of Alexander's motivation in her actions, but she also took note of how admired Belos was by others and how he could get away with some shady things, including harming people. This led her to lash out or also be actively cruel towards witches who either questioned Belos' claims about wild magic, wronged her personally, or even just people she didn't like, not rarely to the point of physically harming them. When she was confronted about it, she would then metaphorically hide behind Belos' back, knowing he'd pull out some explanation or excuse, sometimes in relation to her trauma about "loosing her family to wild witches". If the incident was within public attention, Belos would also twist the story to slander the victim as much as he could, claiming they were siding with wild witches and threatening Alexander. He encouraged this behaviour from her, but made sure to tell her not to overdo it and keep certain people out of it as to not raise suspicion and loose supporters to their cause.

As for her relationship with Belos... again, he didn't have hopes for her early on. In her early years, he wasn't holding back on physical abuse when she angered or dissapointed him. But he also kept apologizing afterwards, going on about how he himself is just so upset about what happened to their family ect. Alexander grew up just taking the punishments, always reminding herself that after all, he also has trauma from their family dying, he still really loves her and is all he has left, it's not that different from when she lashes out on other people and so on. As she grew older, Belos also toned down on how quick he was to harm her, noting that she had a lot of potential despite her flaws and trying to further rely on the "good" aspects of their relationship where she believes they both share a trauma from the same event.

Alexander eventually made friends with a demon - might become a character in the future - and Belos was kinda iffy on it but let it slide for the time being, especially since said demon was also one to be ruthless towards opposers of the Coven System he proposed. But as the friends grew closer, the demon learned more about Alexander's relation with Belos and kept noticing bruises and kept bringing up the subject of abuse and so on. Of course Alexander was in deep denial, but she took her friend's words to heart and tried to bring up the subject to Belos a few times, wanting to discuss his treatment of her with him, but he kept brushing it off and shutting it down.

On a bad day, Alexander ranted to the demon about it who offered her a place to stay if she needed to be away from Belos at least for a night. She declined however, saying she'll figure something out. That same evening she tried to confront Belos again, pushing him more than ever, until he eventually budged. He apologized, admitting that he did wrong and that there was something about her mother's death he kept from her, asking Alexander if she wanted to know the full truth since they were going to have this conversation. She agreed and followed him to the head of the titan, where he pushed her down into the pit with the remains of the other Grimwalkers, as her friendship with the demon finally turned her against him. He took care of the demon that same night.

[longbobmckenzie]

This is all great advice, some of which is stuff I haven't even thought of before so even experienced smut writers can learn new things!

Use Repetition Wisely

Be careful of repetition. His hand does this, his hand goes there, then his other hand, then her hand... This is something that can be really difficult sometimes because let's face it, there are only so many words you can use for so many body parts, and many of the alternatives (like digit for finger) just aren't sexy. If you find yourself using the same word(s) over and over again, don't try to get creative (we've all seen some bizarre phrasing used for certain body parts...), rephrase. Either figure out a different way to describe the action, or ask yourself if you need to describe it at all.

That said, not all repetition is bad. For example, sometimes it's better to consistently use the same language throughout the fic than to constantly be coming up with new ways to say the same thing. Like the word 'cock'. You don't want to use the word 'cock' every single time you refer to it (just using 'him' often gets the point across, for example), but if you need to mention it multiple times and can't rephrase, don't be afraid to consistently use the same word throughout the fic rather than using a different word every time.

Another form of repetition that gets a thumbs-up is following a theme. I'm personally really bad at this because I'm not great at metaphors and themes, but coming back to the same metaphors (fire and water are extremely common ones, but I've seen music, religion, etc - anything that fits the characters is top tier but it doesn't always have to) is a great way to make the fic cohesive.

What's the Point?

Not all smut needs to have a point. Full stop. If you want to write a one night stand between two people who will never see each other again, do it. If you want to write a chaptered fic with lots of smut because the two characters are just horny for each other, go for it.

But don't feel like you need to add smut into a fic just because. For one thing, it's not expected of you - not every fic has to have smut, just like there are amazing romance novels out there without smut. Or if your couple is fairly established and they're having lots of sexy times, don't feel you need to write every scene.

Sex scenes can be an extremely powerful way of driving a story, though! Before you write a sex scene, consider why you're writing it and if it's necessary. Even if it's not necessary, you can still write it - but maybe don't dedicate 5k words to it (unless you want to and/or it's a oneshot). If it is necessary, make sure that plot point gets developed and it's not just the mechanics of two people having sex.

Clichés

Clichés are clichés for a reason. Fireworks when characters kiss? Flashes of white behind their eyes? Fire as a metaphor? We use them because they work.

I'd say don't overuse them, but don't be afraid of using them either just because they've been done so many times before. Find your own slant if you can, use new metaphors, but these are tried and true classics that you shouldn't feel you can't use.

Plagiarize Yourself

Similarly, just because you've written something before doesn't mean you can't do it again. I've definitely seen published authors rely on some of the same phrasing/metaphors in multiple books, so if they can do it, so can you. Again, just don't overdo it - if you use the same line in every scene/story, people might notice. That's not necessarily a bad thing! It just depends what it is (I once read a book where the author used certain phrasing so many times that it got distracting, mostly because I knew there were so many other possible ways to describe that particular action). If you want to use the same metaphor for an orgasm in a oneshot that you used in a chapter you wrote last week, go for it - chances are nobody will notice. Even if they do, they won't care.

Read, Read, Read

I really do think that reading a lot of smut is helpful to a writer. You can learn new phrasing, positions you may not have tried yourself, metaphors, etc. Most of all, you can get inspiration and get into the smut-writing mood (hopefully).

When I first starting writing smut, I picked out a few of the authors in the fandom whose smut I really liked, and I pored over a few of their fics, picking out different phrases I liked and compiling them into a reference for myself. I had categories for different actions, sensations, reactions, body parts, etc. When I wrote my own scenes, that list gave me a good starting point for some of the ways I could describe what my characters were doing. Some of the phrases were common enough that I could use them without fear that I was plagiarizing that author, other phrases required me to put them into my own words or think if there was another action that worked better for my purposes. But it really helped me to get a sense of the language that worked for smut, the actions, the gestures, the senses, etc.

I no longer use that reference, but still when I'm reading something and see a phrase I particularly like, I'll take a screenshot or jot it down. I may never end up using it, but you never know when having those resources will spark something when you're stuck!

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

[vaguely-concerned]

Do you think TF ever gets headaches (not talking about Graves) from teleporting around? In Burning tides is described as building pressure, so maybe if he does it too much or too quickly it backfires and gives him a migraine?

ooh good question! it is kind of interesting that Burning Tides also tells us you can actually feel the building pressure around him in enough of a radius that Graves has often found himself inside it.

I will say that from the way I conceptualize the way his magic works in my head, I think he's mostly immune to the physical drains/effects himself; what it starts to eat away at and change is more something that happens deeper down on, like... a soul sort of level lol. this is really hard to explain because I've never written it out consciously before, but for me it's kind of thematically important to underline that he ~*has all the cards*~ in the situations where he uses them, and that other people may be affected by the consequences of his actions with them but he's kind of the untouchable point in the middle of the seesaw -- none of it truly touches him. which essentially is a metaphorical extension of his trauma responses, right? he wants to be out of reach and unaffected by the world, predicting it ahead of time and able to be Out Of There with a single thought at any point, and that's exactly what the cards give him.

...but then there's a cost to pay for holding that sort of control over the world and yourself. he invests a small part of himself in it every time. so if he tried to overdo it in a short span of time, each time he'd need to dig somewhere deeper inside himself to find that place to build the wave/pressure of the magic from again, until he starts to feel himself wear... thin somewhere in there, and the people around him might suffer more actively for it. (well I did say metaphorical extension for his whole deal right lol.) like it does 'fill back up' if he lets it rest for a while, but it can also gouge in something like a wound if he keeps digging and doesn't back down and it'd take longer to heal.

TL;DR: I think if he started really overdoing it Graves might start to get migraines, and TF would just feel himself fade and drift away from himself and the world in a very scary and scarily imperceptible, gradual way, and most of the time he avoids it on a very instinctual, survival brain sort of level because just a little magic often goes a long way without starting to risk that. (and the times when he doesn't shy away from it are basically when he's doing some bad coping mechanisms, especially when he's on his own)

(Graves probably does provide him with plenty of normal run-of-the-mill headaches too tho you are very right fsdhklhfal)

[mysterious-crimson-lotus]

Note #Lost-Count

Just a thing from my fanfiction A Trail of Notes. Well, it’s related. Consider it my fanfiction for my fanfiction. The next chapters to my fics are gonna come out soon, just have had stuff going on that I needed to deal with. But hey, take this, and while you’re at it, have a look at this other mini writing that I did recently. 

This is a small thing. Just had some spare time and decided to abuse metaphors. 

A hypothetical note from adult Naruto, if adult Naruto enjoyed overdoing literary devices. And had a vocabulary that included words aside from “dattebayo,” “ramen,” “Hokage,” and “Sasuke.”

Dear Guardian Angel, 

People desperately kissing the Earth after leaving a ship is a common thought. I see it in the stories I read to the children, in the play Boruto said he didn’t want to act in, and saw it in the missions that I used to take back when I was on the field. It usually happens when one has been at sea, unsure of their survival, or else when they hate the water. The act is symbolic of our desire for stability, for peace and calm. The sea is dangerous; the constant motion of the waves pulling and pushing, the winds and the uncertain weather all amount to instability, chaos and uncertainty. The ground is firm, unmoving. It is stable, and, in its reliability, comforting. The steadiness births security, and spawns the potential to build foundations to greater and brighter things. It is not only in the dangers of the waters that spawns adventure and excitement; a strong foundation can give endless possibilities. The turbulent seas may be more enticing, more alluring, but in the end, a plant with no roots is destined to wilt and fade. When connected to the Earth, the plant can flourish. Reach new heights. Grow. A strong foundation gives the strength and confidence to begin one's journey, to explore and grow, for adventure without direction and a strong base is nothing but self destruction.

So of course we would embrace the earth when we see it. We love it.

Do you know that? Do you know that's what you mean? How steadying your comfort is? How you root me to the spot with your gaze? How the sight of you in the distance in the midst of a destructive and voracious storm gives me hope? How, in my moments of weakness, you have been the lighthouse shining a beacon of light through the vein of darkness and uncertainty?

Do you know that you are the shore, firm, unyielding, strong? You can be shaken, be struck by disaster after disaster, face constant adversity, but you remain resolute? Uncompromising?

So do you understand that when I see you, I, like a sailor lost at sea, see you as my salvation? As the one constant that is always there?

The way you always scrunch your face when I tap your nose. The way you lace your fingers through mine when I sneakily place them on the back of your hand. The way you pout up at me when you want me to kiss you more, or tickle me when I least expect it. When you sigh when I kiss your neck. They're features more beautiful than the most magnificent lakes or forests.

I've always been obsessed with material possessions. Friends and people were never really something I could count on. The only constant was always me, and ramen. So I tried to tether myself. My foundation was shaky, so I've attempted to anchor myself with them. If only I had more people, I would say. Now, I realise that you cannot, should not rely on others to anchor you in place. I need to be my own person. Find stability in myself. Yet you have been so wonderful at helping me build my anchor. You have shown me comfort and love that has shaken my flimsy concepts of stability. We may all have to find our foundations ourselves, but you have always let me lean on you when my base was shaky.

So, I want to kiss you. Hug you. Hold you. Have you hold me. I want to brush your hair away from your face and trace your beauty with my fingertips. I want to feel your breath and body heat on me as we embrace. Want to walk with you, talk with you, until I physically can't, then keep going. Run my thumb down your face and see the way you smile when you're happy.

If I could preserve that smile and that happiness, that would be enough. More than enough. That smile, that look that shines through the shadows like the sparkling of the Northern Star, guiding the lost.

Or, perhaps, I can lose myself in it's light. Lost, wrapped in your security and comfort. Lost in your smile.

Lost at sea. 

But it’s okay now. I know what land is now. 

I have my anchor. 

With love, 

Naruto

PS: Where is all my cup ramen? Boruto keeps saying that Hima ate it all while “training to beat your Queen of Gluttony record.” That can’t be true, right?

[angstyaches]

Please Please Please could you maybe do the next part of that Felix "drinking blood and getting a tummy ache" fic??? I'm just craving tears and fluff and tummy rubs and just 🥺🥺🥺and you are also so talented omg

Aagghh, I promised this so long ago, anon, I’m so sorry! I was reluctant because I thought I had to write emeto into it and Felix would be so ashamed and guilty and I couldn’t bring myself to do it (Fee’s already got quite an angsty storyline coming up), but your request was perfect.

CW: accidental stuffing/overdoing, drinking blood, mention of a dead animal, guilt and worry (but it turns out okay), nausea, stomach ache, mention of emeto (no actual emeto)

Continued from this fic.

__

“Fee? How are you doing, boo?”

The haze of something between sleepiness and drunkenness was thick as Felix looked up at his talking pillow, Elliott, from the taller boy’s lap. He took a moment to let his hammering heart calm down from the fear of whatever he’d been dreaming about, and admired the wide curves of Elliott’s jawline from below, and the soft smile it was offering.

Remembering the events of the afternoon made something like an anchor sink in Felix’s gut, a metaphor that here was quite appropriate. He wasn’t exactly sure how much a typical anchor weighed, but the weight in his belly must have been at least somewhat comparable.

Then, in a flurry of panic, Felix realised that they were both in the back of Ryan’s car without seatbelts.

He pulled himself forward, feeling Elliott’s hand rest on his back to help ease him up, but the movement was still way too strenuous for his full, aching stomach. Felix whimpered, feeling as though something with giant feet had just tried to use his belly as a trampoline.

“Fee.” Elliott rested his hands on Felix’s shoulders. “Boo, take it easy.”

“Seatbelts.” Felix’s voice was thick and heavy. “We have to put on – put on seatbelts.”

“We’re sitting in the driveway,” Elliott half-laughed. “We’ve been home for about an hour, but I didn’t want to wake you in case you felt sick.”

Felix felt a flash of gratitude amidst the pain radiating from his gut, and turned his body slowly in the seat so that he could face his boyfriend.

“Thank you, darling.”

Elliott gave a tight smile and nodded, as though agreeing that he should be thanked. “My legs are very numb.”

“Sorry. Ugh…” Felix mumbled, easing his back into the seat and running his hands carefully over the swell his belly had made beneath his green, loose-knit jumper. He heard Elliott getting out of the other side of the car, but closed his eyes quickly after.

His senses were tingling with acute awareness, probably heightened by whatever chemicals were produced in a vampire’s body during a hunt. He wasn’t used to feeling like this, to noticing the rhythm of his own heartbeat, the whistling rush of air in his throat and lungs, the volume of liquid in his stomach rocking back and forth like it had its own tidal pull.

He also remembered it all way too vividly, with too much colour and saturation; he remembered getting caught up in thirst and lust and the need to try to impress Elliott by being on the same level as him. He remembered feeling the creature’s meat between his teeth as he sucked the blood from its veins, though it was still pulsing so quickly that it probably would have filled his mouth quickly even if he hadn’t sucked. It had been so fresh, so freshly-delivered from the condition of being alive.

Felix winced as tears sprung to his eyes, partially from the ache in his belly and partially from the memory. It was like all of the nausea and regret of waking up with a hangover.

He opened his eyes again as Elliott slowly opened the car door.

“Come on, Fee,” Elliott coaxed as he offered Felix his arms. His voice was soft, like he was trying to soothe a frightened dog.

Felix took the help with a little pout, leaning his weight against Elliott’s chest when he could. He whimpered when he felt strong arms close around his back, careful not to pin him to tightly.

“Oh, my gosh,” Felix groaned. “Elli, I drank too much. I drank so much –”

“Sssshhh, no, no, no, you’re fine,” Elliott whispered.

“No, I’m not, I – I’m weak, Elli.” The sob that shook Felix’s frame was dry and gentle, like all of his muscles were conscious of the swell of pain in his gut, and knew that sudden, harsh movements would make everything so much worse. “I can’t do a single thing I set my mind to.”

“What are you going on about, boo?”

“I’m just so weak...”

“Come on, crazy, we’re getting you inside.” Elliott’s sigh made his chest rise and fall in front of Felix’s face. “You can take another nap if you want, and I’m sure Ryan has something you can take if it hurts too much. How does that sound?”

Felix ran a hand over his sore belly, shuddering at the oppressive warmth radiating out from it. His stomach was churning in an optimistic attempt to be productive; it hadn’t accepted the fact that it was futile just yet, even if Felix had.

A wet belch rumbled up, tying a knot in his oesophagus somewhere along the way. Felix promptly pressed his fingers a little harder against his stomach to coax up one more burst of air, this one sounding hollow as it made its way up.

“There you go,” Elliott chuckled, rubbing a hand across Felix’s back before attempting to direct him towards the front door. “Does that feel better?”

“No? I hate this so much,” Felix whimpered, lips trembling miserably as he allowed himself to be led. He still held onto his belly, as though afraid of what it would do if it was left to its own devices.

“I know you do,” Elliott assured him. “You’re doing really well, though. Let’s just get you inside.”

He held Felix up as best he could until they made it inside the front door. Felix sensed his boyfriend hesitating in the hallway by the foot of the stairs, as though considering whether their bed would be a better option.

Felix peered up at Elliott from behind drooping eyelids.

“The front room is fine, darling,” he groaned. “I can’t walk upstairs right now. No chance.”

Elliott scanned Felix’s eyes very carefully while holding him in place. “How about a bathroom?”

The trembling in Felix’s lips still hadn’t subsided, and was even creeping into his jaw and making his teeth rattle a bit. There was no doubt that he would probably empty his stomach of every last drop if he was given a toilet to lean over, and his tummy even gave a pleading whine at the thought.

“N-no, I – I don’t want to be sick.”

Elliott’s eyes stopped searching Felix’s, and began to cross over his pale face instead. “You mightn’t have much of a say in that, Fee.”

“I’ll be fine, darling, I promise.” Felix gulped, his throat bobbing ominously. “I just want to lie down. It hurts so much.”

The sofa in the front room was a dark shade of beige. Everything in this room was styled to look a little earthier than the rest of the house. The absence of pure white walls was an instinct relief, but it was nothing compared to sinking down into the cushions and curling up.

“Oh – ow,” Felix whined, unfurling his legs to stop the pinching cramp that gripped his belly. He rolled halfway onto his back so that his stomach wasn’t being pressed into the sofa either.

“That’s it; I’m going to get Ryan,” Elliott decided.

“N-no, darling, don’t.” Felix took hold of Elliott’s hand, drawing it to his chest before holding it gently against his belly. “Please, I just need you to be here with me.”

“What if something’s wrong –?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Felix let out a shaky laugh between gasps of discomfort. He could feel how pale he face must have been, along with a ripple of cold sweat that broke out across his forehead and shoulders. “You know me, Elli. I just like to complain.”

Looking unconvinced, Elliott turned his hand over so that his palm rested against Felix’s stomach, just as the unsettled thing let out a growl. Felix felt the grumble begin in the swollen point beneath his ribs before it bubbled down and tapered out somewhere just above his belly button.

“Look like you’re not the only one complaining,” Elliott pointed out, smoothing his hand over Felix’s belly with the slightest amount of pressure.

Felix hummed under his breath, all too aware of the sensation of digestion once again trying to take place inside his stomach walls. He could feel a shift in his throat, a quickening of his heartbeat. A shaky hand went to his mouth, hovering uneasily, but there wasn’t even any air trying to escape.

He shivered without warning.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmm – yeah,” Felix mumbled thickly. His throat bobbed with another nauseous gulp. “I’m getting there.”

Elliott’s frown deepened as he kneaded his hand softly over Felix’s abdomen. He paused to redirect his hand whenever a gurgle was emitted from an unexpected area, doing his best to seek out the most uncomfortable points without pushing too hard on anything.

“I know you’re hung up on this,” he said after hearing a growl that travelled halfway up Felix’s chest, “but there’s really nothing to be ashamed about, if you feel sick –”

“’M okay.”

“Okay.” Elliott’s lips were pulled into a thin, resigned smile. “How the hell can you say you’re weak, hmm? You drank almost as much as I did, and you’ve got a much smaller – you know.” He patted Felix’s belly very gently. “Capacity.”

A shaky sigh left Felix’s lips. “My capacity is still very achy.”

“I’m not doubting that at all. Just try to relax. I’ve got you. Okay?”

“Mmhmm. Okay.”

He didn’t know if it was the relief of finally being home, or the gentle press of Elliott’s hand, but the gurgling in Felix’s tummy eventually didn’t feel (or sound) quite so angry anymore. In its calmed state, it swirled and bubbled with the motion of Elliott’s hand, continuing to do so even when Felix’s drifted into a light, if somewhat twitchy, sleep. He smiled semi-consciously at the sensation of Elliott’s lips pressing gently against his cheek.