#(instead of making them uncomfortable for a laugh)

[imastoryteller]

Writing Angry Scenes: Tips to Avoid Melodrama and Make It Real

Anger can be one of the most intense, relatable emotions to read—and one of the trickiest to write. When handled well, an angry scene can pull readers deep into the emotional world of a character, building tension and driving the story forward. But when handled poorly, anger can easily slip into melodrama, making the character’s feelings seem overblown, forced, or even cringe-worthy.

So how can you avoid these pitfalls and write anger that feels real and compelling? Here are some tips to make angry scenes powerful without overdoing it.

1. Understand What Fuels Your Character’s Anger

To write anger authentically, you need to understand its roots. People get angry for complex reasons—fear, frustration, betrayal, grief, and even love. Ask yourself what’s truly driving your character’s anger. Are they afraid of losing control? Do they feel abandoned or misunderstood? Are they hurt by someone they trusted? Anger rarely exists in isolation, so dig into the deeper emotions fueling it.

When you understand the core reasons behind a character’s anger, you can weave those nuances into the scene, making the anger more relatable and layered. Readers will feel the depth of the character's rage, not just the surface heat of it.

2. Show, Don’t Tell—But Don’t Overdo It

“Show, don’t tell” is classic writing advice, but it’s especially crucial in angry scenes. Don’t rely on generic phrases like “She was furious” or “He clenched his fists in anger.” Instead, look for unique ways to convey how this specific character experiences anger. Maybe their voice drops to a deadly calm, or their eyes narrow in a way that makes everyone around them uncomfortable.

That said, showing too much can backfire, especially with exaggerated descriptions. Over-the-top body language, excessive shouting, or too many “flaring nostrils” can tip the scene into melodrama. Use body language and physical cues sparingly and mix them with subtler reactions for a more realistic portrayal.

3. Use Dialogue to Reveal Hidden Layers

People rarely say exactly what they feel, especially when they’re angry. Angry dialogue isn’t just about yelling or throwing out insults; it’s an opportunity to show the character’s deeper thoughts and vulnerabilities.

Consider using controlled, icy responses or unexpected silences. Maybe your character says something hurtful in a low voice rather than screaming. They might express sarcasm, avoidance, or even laugh at the wrong moment. Anger often carries hidden layers, and using these nuances can help your character’s dialogue feel genuine, even haunting, without falling into dramatic clichés.

4. Control the Pacing of the Scene

The pacing of an angry scene can be the difference between a powerful moment and a melodramatic one. In real life, anger doesn’t always erupt instantly; it can simmer, spike, or deflate depending on the situation and the character’s personality. Experiment with different pacing techniques to create tension.

You might build the anger slowly, with small signs that something’s brewing. Or maybe the character explodes suddenly, only to calm down just as quickly, leaving a chill in the air. Controlling the pace helps you control the reader’s emotional engagement, drawing them in without overwhelming them.

5. Avoid Clichéd Expressions and Overused Reactions

When writing anger, avoid falling back on clichés like “seeing red,” “boiling with rage,” or “blood boiling.” These phrases have been overused to the point that they lose their impact. Instead, get creative and think about how your character’s anger might feel specifically to them.

Maybe their skin feels prickly, or their jaw aches from clenching it. Think about details that are unique to the character and to the moment. By focusing on small, unique sensory details, you’ll help readers feel the anger rather than just reading about it.

6. Let the Setting Reflect the Emotion

The setting can be an effective tool to amplify a character’s anger without overstating it. Small details in the environment—such as the hum of a refrigerator, the slow ticking of a clock, or the distant sounds of laughter—can create a sense of contrast or isolation that heightens the character’s rage.

For example, imagine a character seething in a peaceful park or a quiet library. The calm of the surroundings can make their anger feel more potent. Or maybe they’re in a crowded, noisy room where they feel unseen and unheard, which fuels their frustration further. This use of setting can add depth to the scene without the need for dramatic gestures.

7. Let Consequences Speak for Themselves

An effective way to avoid melodrama is to let the consequences of the anger show its intensity. Characters don’t always have to yell or physically react; sometimes, a single choice can convey more than any outburst.

Perhaps your character cuts off a close friend or says something they can’t take back. Maybe they throw away a meaningful object or walk out in silence. By focusing on the consequences of their anger, you can reveal the impact without over-explaining it.

8. Let the Emotion Simmer After the Scene Ends

Anger is rarely resolved in a single moment, and its effects often linger. When writing an angry scene, think about how it will affect your character moving forward. Are they holding onto grudges? Do they feel guilty or exhausted afterward? Does their anger transform into something else, like sadness or regret?

Allowing the anger to simmer in your character’s mind even after the scene ends creates a more authentic and layered portrayal. It shows that anger is complex and doesn’t just disappear the moment the scene is over, adding emotional weight to both the character and the story.

[leupagus]

On Taash

I think one reason people keep pretending that Taash's character is badly-written is because they remind them of what they were like as a young adult: blunt, convinced that they were always right (and everyone else was stupid), and flailing around for an identity that didn't hurt. That often makes for an unpleasant person to be around, and someone who at times is even unlikable. But we never see the beam in our own eye while discussing the splinter in someone else's, so I think there's a certain degree of "well I certainly wouldn't yell at my mom like that!" (You would, honey. You would.)

IMO, Taash is one of the best-written companions in Veilguard precisely because they are thoughtless and callous and blow up at people for no reason at times. They're trying to figure their shit out! They got voluntold to work with the Veilguard without any warning, under a leader who's a complete stranger and alongside people she's never met and often has fundamental conflicts with. They've got an extraordinarily complicated relationship with their mom, who gave up her entire life and culture and place in the world out of love for them, but who withholds approval in a way that so many of us can relate to. They're confronting the wrongness of their old gender expression (woman), then embracing a new one (nonbinary) almost as soon as they learn about it—which is how a LOT of identity works, remember? Remember learning the term "trans" or "bisexual" or "genderfluid" and thinking oh shit that's me? It's relatable, but it's still uncomfortable as hell. Considering all that Taash has on their plate, including hiding a fundamental aspect of who they are (their dragonbreath), it's a wonder they're as stable as they are.

As for the conversations about their identity that people are claiming are "cringe" or "unrealistic"—my babies, I have listened to more people talk through their gender and sexuality journeys than you've had hot dinners, and let me tell you they often sound a LOT like Taash. That's not a bad thing! But it's like learning a new language—or heck, joining a new fandom—where you use the unfamiliar terms in clumsy ways and want to talk about it all the time, even to people who aren't fluent. (Taash talks about other shit too; yes, a lot of their quests touch on their gender, but a lot of them don't and frankly expecting someone who's only just figured themselves out to not talk about it is...kind of cruel. Of course Taash isn't a real person, but man I hope you people complaining about how often you have to "deal with" Taash's gender conversations don't have any friends who have trusted you with those conversations.)

Taash is extraordinary in so many ways—the way they talk to Spite directly like a kid who needs firm boundaries; the possible romance they have with [spoiler]; the nuanced and emotional way they talk about dragons; the way they care for birds and refugees and anyone else in their orbit, if they're allowed to. They are one of my favorite companions (although right now it's kind of a seven-way race between all of them), and I have snort-laughed at more of their lines than any other companion by a country mile.

It's just a shame that so many people saw a reflection of the more grating parts of their own personality and so decided that Taash is badly-written, instead of considering the possibility that they are simply badly-heard.

[midnight-bay-if]

i kinda took this ask from another if, but..

How would the ROs react to knowing there is one bed in the room their in and MC is like “You should take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor/couch” even if they know MC haven’t been getting the best sleep in a while

(I’ll have to assume this is at the crushing stage. Gotta love the ‘only one bed’ scenario.)

S: “I’m afraid not,” S states decisively, already situating themselves on the couch, their feet propped up on one arm, “manners dictate that I be the one to offer up the bed, MC. I know you have not been sleeping well recently.” They smile softly, their eyes perceiving you in a way that should make you feel uncomfortable but instead offer only comfort. “Get some rest. We need you at your best.”

Rain: “Well, couldn’t we just share the bed?” Rain asks, shrugging, before realising how the suggestion might sound. “But not in a creepy way! I sleep with Taj all the time. Wait, not like that! Ugh.” Their voice comes out in layers of frustration, but they quickly shake it off, take a deep breath, and try again. “We both could use a decent night’s rest, and the bed if big enough for two. We could top and tail?”

Taj: “Fine by me,” they agree readily, making a point of bouncing on the bed, propping a hand behind their bed in an exaggerated show of comfort. It was supposed to be a joke, a slight dig under your skin to coax out your more argumentative side. Except, you lay down on the couch without complaint, bending your knees and curling up into yourself without a word. Taj tuts, rolls their eyes, and turns over. Well, whatever, right? Why should it be them that lose sleep? The argument that they would have had with you plays out in their head, and even without your participation, they still lose. “I can’t do this,” they grumble, dragging themselves over to the couch. “Move, Koel,” they order impatiently, “I can sleep anywhere, it’s a gift. Take the bed.”

N: “Are you certain, my dear?” They grin, their eyes turning salacious. “We could always share.” They saunter closer to you, leaning forward so their breath tickles your ears as they run a finger down your cheek. “I could ensure your sleep is peaceful, or perhaps you would prefer a dreamscape of passion?” They can’t stop themselves from laughing when you pointedly turn on your heel to get yourself comfortable on the couch. “Suit yourself,” they offer with a shrug, “I can’t promise my own dreams won’t bleed over, however.”

Umbra: “I don’t even need to sleep, MC,” they point out, shaking their head and gently taking your arm and guiding you towards the bed. “Take care of yourself first, always, and I will take care of the rest.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

What about sleep token x reader where they know reader has feelings for them, but reader doesn't know that they know it! How would they treat you or teasingly hint that they are aware of your feelings before they confess their own? x

(sorry if this is silly. love love your work)

Uuuuuuuuuuuuu I love this!!!!!

Vessel

Look, I think you both would be helpless. If there would be a blueprint for - clueless and blissfully unaware- it would be you and Vessel. So at first, he’s honestly missing all the signs himself. Convincing himself that there was no way that you could like him. But then it’s the rest of the boys that start hitting him with the “So when are you bringing your girlfriend over?”, “off to see your misses?”, and he’s red like a tomato, denying all the comments.

But they make him start looking. Pay attention. And he realizes that you look at him the same way he looks at you so surely you have to have feelings for him. But he’s so afraid to make a fool out of himself so instead he starts humming parts of the songs that hint at his personal feelings. From “My arms belong around you”, to “and you make it more than I could ever feel before”. Watching you bite your lip as you watch him.

“I like this line”, you would whisper, making Vessel hum, “Do you? Why?” You’d shrug, trying to keep your cheeks from turning pink, “Just reminds me of the love I want”. And it’s so loud the implication within your words. The reality Vessel had painted within his mind, slowly unfolding. “It’s the love I want to”, he would breathe out, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

iii

It’s iii… I mean he would be a tease. But just because he’s a sucker for making you smile. It’s like someone is getting him high every time he hears your laugh. More specifically you laugh at something he said.

“Okay one more, one more”, he’s pulling you by the hand. It’s a post-show green room celebration. Everyone is slightly tipsy. He’s been by your side all night. “iii, i will piss my pants”, you grunt but end up giggling as he pulls you back onto his lap.

“I sold my vacuum yesterday”, he nodded all seriously. “Did you”, you bite your lip, “All it was doing was collecting dust”, iii shrugged, but here you were snorting once more at the lamest joke he could muster. “You are diabolical”, you pushed at his chest. “But you love it”, iii wiggled his eyebrows, “Correction - you love me”, he jabbed your chest leaning in. “Oh, shush you… silly goose”, you quickly turned his face to the side. “Don’t wound me. At least kiss my cheek”, he whined, “Payment for all my hard work”. You would roll your eyes leaning in only to meet his lips instead. Quickly pulling away as you clasped a hand over your mouth. Eyes growing big. “That’s more like it”, he smirked, “Don’t be shy, I know you wanted to do that”.

ii

Hmm… ii… ii… ii… see I didn’t know… I don’t think that he’s one for games and teasing. Or maybe…He is guarded and if he loves he loves. It’s straightforward. So when he caught feelings for you, i think he would try to keep it just between you two but it would be the boys that would get the job done. Going out of their way to tease you.

“Yn, drooling again, love”, iii would call out, “ii put a shirt on a girl can’t work”, your cheeks going pink as you instantly rushed to deny that you had been looking at him. “It’s okay, ii likes it don’t you man”, Ivy would smirk. “Get your heads out of a gutter”, ii would grunt. Watching as you quietly busied yourself around the room, cheeks still crimson.

“Hey, sorry about them”, he would stop after the rehearsal, “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable”. You would quickly shake your head, “I should be saying this. I don’t want you thinking that I’m gawking at you”. ii would nod slowly, “are you, though?” He watches as your face falls, draining off color before bursting into flames. A slight smile spreading across his face, “It’s an honor to be gawked by you”, pushing his thumb beneath your chin, lifting your head up, “Let’s just say you have my permission to do so”.

Ivy

He’s a shameless flirt. You never really took any of his gestures seriously. It was ivy. Ivy thrived on attention. So it killed him honestly. Seeing you brushing it off. That made him scale down on his gestures when it came to other girls. No more playful banter. A joke here and there but that was his personality.

Quite frankly he had lost hope to win you over. You had denied his offers for a date for weeks. But he never backed away. Sending you flowers. Little treats. He was doing anything he could to win you over and it’s a pissed off look at him that gave you away. He had simply walked up to the bar to refill his and the boy's beers when a bartender reached out for his hand. Slipping a note with a phone number into his palm.

Ivy had walked back to find you looking as if someone had shat in your morning coffee. “Missed me so much that your night went sour”, he nudged your shoulder. “Well, your night sure seems to be going great”, you nodded toward his palm. A smirk spread over his face, “You’re jealous, darling?”, he mused making you roll your eyes. “I don’t care what and who you mess around with”, you tried to brush it off but he could tell that you had been upset over it.

“Well, I do”, Ivy stated, showing you both of his palms. Both empty palms. You frowned slightly, looking up to meet his eyes. “I threw it away the moment I turned around”, he pointed out, “Already got my eyes set on the target”, he winked at you. “Asshole”, you huffed, “I could be your asshole”, he chirped leaning in to take your hand.

[danielmolloystits]

break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored (2/2)

Summary:

“Armand?” Lestat looks at him very seriously, then. “He has neglected you?” Daniel laughs, though there isn’t much humor in it. “That’s one fuckin’ word for it, sure.” “Oh, mon ami.” Lestat’s eyes are round and wet like an animal’s. “A prize such as yourself does not deserve this terrible treatment.” He shrugs. “You get used to it.” “No.” Lestat grabs one of Daniel’s hands in both of his own, making such intense eye contact with the journalist that it starts to grow uncomfortable. “You deserve better. You must understand this.” “Okay,” Daniel agrees, shifting a little in his seat. Anything to move past this point in the interaction. “I deserve better.” “Good,” Lestat says, nodding resolutely to himself. “This is why you should let me fuck you.”

Pairing: M/M (Daniel/Lestat, Armand/Daniel) Rating: E WC: ~3,200

Daniel’s first thought after his climax is that Armand is going to kill him, for real this time, and his cock is still going to be twitching from the aftershocks when he does.

He thinks it’s probably indicative of something deeply, deeply wrong with him that it makes a spark of renewed arousal alight in his gut.

Quietly, he scrambles to pull his boxers and t-shirt back on. The other two vampires don’t appear to notice.

“Lestat,” Armand says, voice devoid of any emotion whatsoever. And, wow, Daniel really gets what Louis meant when he’d described this expression as ‘half-blank, half-apocalyptic.’ “It would be a good idea for you to leave now.”

The blond just raises an eyebrow at him, still holding Daniel in his hand, still absolutely covered in the mess Daniel made. “Can you not see that I am a little bit busy here?”

Armand’s jaw is clenched so tight that Daniel can hear the creak of bone on bone. “Now.”

“My apologies, mon frère, but someone has to ravage your fledgling, and if you’re not going to do it—”

In an instant, Lestat is flung off of the bed and into the wall at speed, the plaster buckling from the force of the impact. Daniel is grateful, suddenly, that their team sprung for a nice hotel; if this were a Motel 6, Lestat would be clean into the next room, easy.

“Guess we’re not getting our deposit back,” He says, because he can’t help himself. Because he’s never had even an ounce of self-preservation. Armand’s eyes cut to him briefly, his irises vibrating like a dragonfly’s wings, and Daniel’s stomach bottoms out. Mostly from fear.

Lestat, meanwhile, huffs a pained laugh and stands. “Well, I can see when I’m not wanted,” he says, his hands spreading in a gesture of appeasement. “Monsieur Molloy, do you mind if I borrow your room for the evening?”

Wordlessly, Daniel tosses him the key card.

“Merci, darling.” Lestat bows, then begins to take his leave. He pauses, however, as he passes by Armand, swiping two fingers through the stickiness that decorates his cheek and presenting them to the other vampire. “Parting gift?”

A muscle above Armand’s lip spasms in an aborted snarl.

“Fine then,” Lestat says with a shrug, popping the digits into his mouth instead and grinning once they’ve been sucked clean. “More for me.”

Then, he exits, closing the door soundly behind him, and Daniel and Armand are alone together for the first time since...well, since.

“So,” Daniel says, drawing out the vowel sound sarcastically as he sits up against the headboard. “The last time my dad walked in on me with a boy was a pretty long while ago—I forget, are you supposed to ground me now, or do we just pretend it didn’t happen and never bring it up again?”

Armand opens his mouth to speak, but Daniel doesn’t let him.

“Or is this more of an infidelity situation? Because I’m gonna be honest with you, Armand: I didn’t realize we were together. On account of how you fucked off immediately after turning me.”

“You’re angry with me,” Armand says, and it’s insane how quickly he melts from predator back into prey, all slumped shoulders and big, wobbly doe eyes.

“You think?”

The other vampire isn’t meeting his gaze, his own fixed somewhere on Daniel’s cheek like he can’t bear to look straight at him. “I didn’t want you to hate me. For what I did to you.”

“And you thought abandoning me to figure this shit out by myself was a good way to prevent that?” He asks, incredulous. “News flash, Amadeo: it wasn’t.”

“I’m here now,” Armand points out—hopeful, fragile, as though he’s afraid the words will shatter in his mouth if he isn’t careful.

“Yeah, and why is that?” Daniel asks, lacing it with all the righteous indignation he can muster. But despite his best efforts, he finds himself losing steam in the face of Armand’s complete and utter supplication. “Don’t tell me it’s because you’re into me.”

The other vampire finally looks at him head-on, his eyes piercing straight through to the core of Daniel. To the knot of uncomfortable, complicated feelings that sits just beneath his breast. “Is it really so difficult to believe?”

“Kind of,” He says, reflexively shifting under the weight of Armand’s stare. It’s ridiculous, he thinks, how easily the man sets him off-kilter. How easily he comes in and turns Daniel’s life upside down, as though it’s nothing to him.

Armand stalks towards him slowly, then, managing to appear at once like the nervous rabbit and the cat hunting it from the bushes. Like both the thing to be eaten and the one doing the eating, like both the consumer and the consumed. He approaches the bed until he arrives at the edge of the mattress, sitting down delicately atop it and never once looking away from Daniel as he does. His expression is painfully open; achingly earnest.

“You have no idea the things I’d like to do you,” he says, and Daniel understands why he was so cautious earlier, because the words come out cracked and fractured, the edges of them sharp enough to cut.

(Belatedly, Daniel wonders when exactly his life turned into a trashy harem romance novel. He thinks that maybe he ought to be more upset about it.)

“Hard to know when you don’t tell me,” he replies, his voice a lot rougher than it was mere moments ago. It’s humiliating, he thinks, the obviousness of his desire. The fact that he even still wants the fucker after all the shit he’s put Daniel through.

Armand slides the rest of the way onto the bed, crawling forward on his knees until his body cages Daniel’s from above. His gaze falls to Daniel’s lips. “I could tell you now, if you wanted.”

And he is simply too weak to say no to that, so instead he murmurs, “Yeah,” his hand reaching up to tangle in Armand’s hair. “That might be good.”

Armand ducks his head down to lay a kiss beneath the sensitive skin of his ear. “I want to claim you,” he whispers, before dragging his tongue over the spot his lips just brushed, “I want to make you mine.”

Daniel gasps, his fingers tightening in the silky black curls. “What else?”

“I want to taste you.” As he speaks, he grazes the tips of his fangs down until they rest at his pulse point. “I want your blood to fill my mouth; I want to stain my teeth red with the very life of you. I want to memorize how it flows over my tongue.”

“Is that all?” He means it to sound cool, nonchalant, but the attempt is belied by how each exhale grows quicker and quicker with every teasing touch.

“No.” He can feel Armand’s smile pressing into his neck. “I also want to fuck you,” he starts, his hand snaking down to palm at Daniel’s hardening cock through his underwear, “until you forget the name of every other person who has ever touched you.”

Daniel moans, hips canting into the contact; Armand rewards him by firming his grip. “Okay,” he says airily, as Armand licks a filthy line back up his throat. “I can agree to those terms.”

“Say it, then,” Armand orders, stroking his thumb over where the head of Daniel’s cock tents his boxers. “Say you’ll belong to me.”

If Daniel were any less turned on right now, if the scent of Armand wasn’t filling his nose all earthy and sweet like honeyed cloves, then maybe he could respond with something snarky. Maybe he would be able to say no. As it is, he rasps, “I’m yours, Armand,” as fervent and breathless as a desperate prayer. “I’m yours.”

Armand kisses him then, hot and raging like a wildfire. It sucks the air from his lungs and replaces it with burning smoke, lights every nerve ending in his body aflame. It consumes him, destroys him, unmakes him and reduces him to smoldering ash in the shape of the man he used to be.

What happens after that is a blur, soft and surreal like a hazy memory: Armand strips Daniel and takes him into his mouth, painting over the places Lestat kissed with his tongue until his spit is all that remains. He writes his name into Daniel’s skin like a promise, like a brand, like he plans on doing it to every inch of Daniel until he’s covered in reminders of Armand’s existence.

Then, once Armand has him reduced to a wanting, whimpering mess, he pulls Daniel into the cradle of his arms, spine to sternum, and fucks into him as though he’s trying to make a home for himself in his lover’s body. As though it isn’t enough for Armand to claim his lips or his throat or his skin; he needs to mark Daniel’s insides, too, his guts and his organs and the viscera that holds him together.

When Daniel comes, Armand’s fist wrapped around him and Armand’s cock buried deep in his ass, it is a revelation. It is an epiphany. Armand follows him shortly after, clutching him close and tight and perfect.

Daniel doesn’t think he ever intends to let go again.

After Daniel’s had enough time to recover and he can be sarcastic again, he jokes, “If I had realized that fucking Lestat would bring you back, I’d have done it a lot sooner.”

Armand looks at him with an exaggerated pout. “Hm. That’s no good.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Then, the other vampire is climbing back on top of him. In between kisses, he murmurs, “You still remember his name. We’ll have to remedy that.”

And, well. Daniel’s not about to argue with him.

[thforgottcn]

✧ daithi doesn't want awkwardness between them just because viveka is around . he didn't want the other to brush off the fact that in the moment , he still cared for him and wanted to be around him . of course , if it was better for elio to not have pda around viveka , he's oblige , but for now , he rather show him it was okay . having a significant other that didn't mind the affection showed to another partner helped , viveka was , however , going to get the same treatment unless elio spoke up about being uncomfortable - if he decided he preferred him to not around him , he'd be limited in displays of affection towards her around him . ' i don't know , ' he teases softly now . ' lot of walking and public transportation across the water . ' daithi's tone soft while he jokes in return .

♡︎ the stammering was sweet , causing viveka's nose to crinkle up just a little as she glances over him . daithi wasn't lying that he was a looker and for him to be incredibly sweet , too ? she thinks he's won the lottery in the aspect - she had the same thought when she'd settled into a relationship with daithi himself . ' so i guess , we're lucky , ' she laughs out quietly . ' you're just really nice , you know ? someone dating a person can say their significant other is nice .. but they actually aren't . it's nice seeing him happy with someone else , too . sorry if this is blunt , or a lot .. ' she's in pain , distraction was more important for her in the moment , even though it doesn't take long to make it to the hospital . she thinks it's adorable that he went for parking to follow daithi instead of the emergency room entrance but she doesn't speak up on it since her door swings open .

✧ daithi pulls into the parking lot and finds a spot for the bike , thankful it doesn't seem slammed with people . since elio followed him over he pops the door open for the back , smiling at viveka in hopes to keep her lighthearted at least . ' i'm going to run and grab a wheelchair , can you help her out so she can sit once i'm back ? he asks elio as he slides the helmet down into the passanger seat for now . he doesn't hesitate going to the front to get a wheel chair , returning shortly after with one and popping the locks on the wheels .

"No problem," Elio can't help but be stunned for a few seconds after he feels the soft peck on his cheek. He hadn't expected him to do so in front of Viveka. But since he requested a moment alone with her he quickly shook it off and walked over to the other side of the car lingering a bit before opening the door. This all seemed to come easily to Daithi and she didn't seem to mind or if she did she didn't show it. There was a little spark of hope that grew a little inside of him but he didn't yet dare to think of it. They had only just met and an emergency was not ideal to get to know someone new. Despite his hope, it still felt weird to accidentally catch Daithi looking with concern at Viveka and kissing her on her forehead. It made him feel odd and a tad jealous. Even if Daithi was now heading his way again to show him work his car and giving him a look that was just as full of care.

"Yeah I'll be okay don't worry. I have driven a car before you know. Just not one as big as this." He reassures him with a smile and he feels himself melt into the gentle kiss, despite knowing that she looking. Was that weird? Or was he just making it weird by thinking about it too much? Probably the latter since she didn't seem to mind. "Don't mention it. I'm not the type of person to ignore someone in need."

He briefly watches Daithi with the motorcycle which seems like second nature to him. It looked hot. There was no time to think about that now though he had to file it away for later. Just when he's about to start the car Viveka speaks and he feels his cheeks turn red. "I… Thank you." He stammers, "You're lucky too." After all, she had been lucky enough to meet him first and she undoubtedly knew him better than anyone else.

He starts the engine and after a bit of fiddling he manages to turn the car and starts following Daithi into the traffic. It requires more effort to pay attention to the road with a vehicle this big. He isn't used to taking up this much space while driving, so he just leaves more room behind Daithi and any other cars he comes across just in case. They arrived at their destination and after some manoeuvring, he managed to park the car.

[viiinz]

everyday I think about him (Ippolit Terentyev)

[found--family]

am i the only one who sensed some jilted lover vibes from jensen? 

[hella1975]

yes im trying not to be so mean yes im working on my temper but under no section of my Healing Contract does it mention that these things must apply to my sister. in fact if you read the fine print it says im actively allowed to make her miserable. for my mental health

[shedidntevenswear]

not to pit women against each other or anything but it is ASTONISHING that we put up with Ellen so long when Drew Barrymore and Kelly Clarkson have been existing

[foldingfittedsheets]

Every sales job I’ve worked has that one item. The white whale. The biggest ticket you can sell. The sale you brag about when you’re chatting with other industry people.

When I sold mattresses it was a split king adjustable base. That’s two twin extra long mattresses next to each other to make a king, but each side can move independently. They’re insanely expensive and honestly kind’ve impractical but it was the biggest ticket thing to sell.

When I sold sex toys though our white whale was the 20lb ass. It was a female pelvis, a cut out from the waist to the tops of the thighs. It was hyper realistic material and cost about $500. I definitely had bigger tickets but not in one item typically.

In my time at the sex shop, I sold three. Each time was completely different in terms of how the guy acted about buying it. The first man was a little embarrassed and shy about it. I was professional and supportive as I rang it up. Once I handed him the receipt he looked at the box. Then he looked at me.

If you’ve ever wondered how big a box has to be to fit a 20lb ass let me just tell you: it’s pretty damn big. It’s an uncomfortably large armful of box and every side has a picture of the sex toy inside on it. It’s not subtle.

“Could I get a bag….?”

There was no bag that existed that could possibly contain all that ass. “Hang on,” I told him.

I got scissors and tape and covered the box in cut up black bags. Looking relieved he picked up his purchase and left.

The next man to buy one carried it proudly to the counter; self assured and not embarrassed in the least. When I said I didn’t have a bag, but I could wrap it for him he gave a hearty shrug and hefted it into his arms, marching out the door with the butt on full display.

The last man to get one was just kind’ve an odd guy. Not creepy, but eccentric. We got along great, and as I rang him up I said, “Well one guy wanted his taped over, and one guy carried it out. What would you prefer?”

“There’s no bags?”

“No store bags. I think our jumbo trash bags in the back might fit it….?” It seemed rude to suggest putting a $500 item into a trash bag, but he wasn’t bothered.

He considered this then said, “Bring me the trash bag.”

When I delivered it to him he still managed to surprise me. Instead of shoving the huge box into it he opened the box. He took out his new $500 sex toy, and all the little things it came with, tipping them unceremoniously into the trash bag.

“There! Now I don’t have to deal with the box later!”

I was slightly stunned but agreed that I could easily deal with the trash. Then in a move I still think about with delight he flung the trash bag over his shoulder like a Santa with a sack full of ass and sauntered out the door.

If this or my other escapades made you laugh you could pop a tip into my Ko-fi! For more like this check my tag "ffs foibles".

[rmayuscula]

age gap autumn girl fuck you

[mrsbarnesblog]

just us

masterlist

summary: a situation between pogues and kooks at the beach made Rafe rethink his priorities

word count: 1.8k.

warnings: season 4 spoilers, established relationship, mention of the dead turtle, that hoe Ruthie, protective Rafe

a/n: i'm obsessed with season 4, y'all. absolutely in love with everything that's going on and especially with Rafe being in a better place with a girl that he actually likes 🥹 this scene at the beach with turtles just made me sob, so I really need someone to drag that bitch by her hair. sorry not sorry.

Your heart was beating with adrenaline from the scene that just happened at the beach, with Topper’s girlfriend almost running over the pogues and being the usual insane bitch that she was. Rafe stood beside you, silent but shaking his buzzed head in disapproval.

Kie was standing on her knees on the sand, in shock, with juice still dripping down her face and hair. She brushed off the help of her friends, instead standing and picking something up from the ground, without hesitation, going towards the group of people around you. They seemed absolutely delighted by the whole situation, laughing, fist bumping each other, and making you want to punch every single one of them in the face. 

You didn’t even want to be here in the first place, not with a bunch of people with whom you shared mutual hatred towards each other. Rafe was your only connection with them, and it seemed like even for him it was a bit too much. A fun day at a beach with a little surfing competition, where even Topper and JJ seemed to have some fun together, took the wrong turn way too quickly.

“Look what you did! Is this okay?” Kie stopped in front of Ruthie, reaching out her hand to show something that you weren’t able to see, but by the look on her face it was obviously serious to her. “There was a turtle hatch, you idiots! You drove right over it!” Your stomach twisted at the realization, and you took a step closer to see it yourself. 

“Oh my God.” You whispered, catching a glimpse of a tiny dead turtle with a crushed shell laying in the palm of her hand. So little and harmless that the picture of it brought tears to your eyes. 

“Don’t look, baby.” Rafe’s deep voice mumbled near your ear, with a warm hand sprawled across your back to try to distract you, but you shook your head, unable to take your eyes off it. 

“All right, but it was only one.” Ruthie said with her usual attitude, nonchalantly pointing to the rest of the turtles that, luckily, were perfectly fine. Your mouth opened in disbelief, and you looked at Rafe to see him uncomfortably rubbing the back of his head. 

“I’m so sorry, Kie…” You whispered to her, stepping further away from the kooks, eyes drifting again to the dead animal in her hand. No matter how hard you tried to fit in with Rafe and his friends, you could never be one of them if it meant to be a bunch of pompous and cruel rich kids. You thought that, maybe it was time for you to finally admit that. 

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” She briefly looked at you, because despite not being friends, there never were any arguments between you and the rest of the pogues, always keeping cool and friendly with each other. “There’s something wrong with you, people.” Kiara looked back at the kooks with disgust written all over her face. 

“I’m leaving, Rafe.” Barely holding back your tears, you looked back at your boyfriend, before picking up your beach bag from the sand and turning around. “I’m sorry again for them, Kie.”

“No, wait, Y/N.” He pushed through the crowd, wide-eyed, quickly approaching you and grasping your wrist. “This is not—“

“I don’t want to be here. I didn’t sign up to hang out with your friends when I started dating you, okay?” You groaned in frustration, attempting to move, but Rafe stopped you. “I don’t even know why we’re here, why you are here, when you clearly don’t enjoy it anymore.” 

“Listen, this is not so easy, okay?” He rolled his eyes, but you knew it was not fully directed at you; Rafe was already struggling with trusting those around him, and the fact that you slowly but steadily made him reconsider his current surroundings did not help. 

“You are not like them, they are not your friends, don’t you understand it?” The pure desperation was speaking in you, searching for the answers in his eyes. You overheard some people laughing at you, as they were too confident that Rafe would never listen to someone like you, someone from the cut, not even realizing the war that was currently going on in his head. 

He was silent, thinking, making his already overwhelmed mind go hundred miles per hour to figure something out, because you were right. The more time had passed, the more the two of you were together, the less Rafe found himself enjoying the presence of his old friends, the less he wanted to do that childish bullshit. 

“This dumb fucking bitch almost ran over people and killed an innocent animal because her big ego got hurt, do you understand?! So I’m leaving. Alone or with you.” You almost whispered the last part to him, too scared that he'd not choose you. At the end of the day, you were a pogue, and no matter how much you tried, you would never be good enough for Rafe. 

“What did you just call me?” Ruthie arched a brow, now shooting daggers at you. 

“I called you a dumb fucking bitch, didn’t you hear me?” You spat, finally having a good enough reason to tell the truth right in her face. “Or are you too stupid to get that through your thick scull?” 

“That’s rich, coming for a pogue. It’s just a cycle of life. And if you, losers, are so offended by that, it’s not my problem.” 

“A cycle of life? Getting flattened by a truck is not a cycle of life.” Kiara pushed Ruthie with her hand, and it nearly turned into a fight, with JJ standing by his girlfriend's side. You turned away from them, too frustrated and drained to bother listening to the rest of the conversation, your gaze shifting to Rafe, who still held your hand.

“I want to leave. Stay here if you want to, I don’t care. I’m done with them, Rafe.” Your teary eyes met his blue ones, and he shook his head, pulling you closer with your forearms. The mere thought of you leaving him, angry and upset, triggered a whirlwind of panic within him.

“Hey, no, I’m not staying, okay?” Rafe's hands, now much gentler and delicate, touched your cheeks, wiping away a few tears that you could not keep back. Rafe had never been too comfortable with the display of emotions, and he was pretty sure that it was the first time he had actually seen you cry. And he knew how much you had always carried for animals, how you petted every stray cat or a dog on the street, and how you hated any form of violence against them. 

The pulsating and aching feeling in his chest at the sight of your tears made him want to drop everything, or rather, eliminate everyone who had upset you, and just hold you in his arms. 

“Aw, look at you.” You heard that annoying voice behind you back again, pulling you out of the bubble in which you fell, and turning around, you saw that Kie and JJ were no longer there. Your eyes instantly rolled back as Ruthie looked at you with her usual fake sympathy, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go back to your side of the island, you’re not one of us. Don’t even know why Rafe bothers to bring you here when you’re just another dirty toy to—“

Rafe left your side before she could finish her sentence, looming over her with the most furious expression you had ever seen on his face. Everyone and everything seemed to fall silent for a moment, and you held your breath, unsure what he would do. “Wanna say some bullshit about her? Try to do it right in my face and see what happens.”

“You’re not seriously protecting the pogue. She’s not on our side.” Her smile faded, her eyes now nervously looking between Rafe and Topper, who was standing behind her back. 

“C’mon, Rafe…” He started, but quickly shut his mouth as soon as Rafe turned his head towards him with a silent threat. You felt your heartbeat quickening as the atmosphere started to get even more intense. Everyone around you also started arguing and saying God knows what, but Rafe was awfully calm, and it frightened you even more. 

You moved closer to them as you made your way through the warm sand, until you were able to place a comforting hand on your boyfriend's back. He was so tense under your touch that it amazed you how the hell he was not shaking because of it. The only times you had ever seen him behaving that way was when people whispered something about his father behind his back.

“It’s okay, Ray.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder and sliding your hand down his back to take a hold of his bicep. 

“You’re lucky that I don’t hit women. But if I hear a single word about my girlfriend again, you will regret it, I promise you." Your stomach flattered from the way he protected you, from the way his friends opened their mouths in shock at his words. Even Topper and Kelce were too stunned to speak, sending each other weird glances. “Control, your crazy bitch, Top.” 

As if nothing had happened, Rafe stepped back, throwing a protective hand over your shoulders and guiding you away from the group. He was silent for a whole walk towards his truck, only stopping near the passenger door and turning you to face him. 

His worried blue eyes were almost shining under the bright and hot sun and you saw words forming in his head and sitting at the tip of his tongue. You waited another minute, while Rafe was focused on your necklace, thinking. His hands found a place on your waist, rubbing circles into your skin, until he finally took a deep breath and looked up. 

“You’re right.” He said simply. “I’m not this person anymore. That shit with racing with pogues was fun and all, but I didn’t like what happened today.” You half smiled, nodding and encouraging him to talk. “If—if I want to be like my dad, I need to have my priorities straight. No more of this bullshit, no more fake ass people, yeah? You’re the only one who's been here for me for a long fucking time. You’re the only one who I can trust, baby.”

His hand cupped your cheek, eyes focused solemnly on you, before he lowered himself closer to you to place a kiss on your lips. 

“This is the right decision. You’ve overgrown them, you’re a better man now. And i’ll be here for you whenever you need me, I promise. I guess it’s just us now." Your body sagged against his, too wrapped in the comfort of his presence to even care about anything else. Your lips brushed against his, making Rafe groan.

“Just us, baby.”

[nochepsicodelica]

Even more bear boyfriend Toji thoughts, because when is he not on the mind?

Naps, naps, naps, and more naps. He drags you into naps with him all the time. If he's going to nap, you best believe you're taking a nap too. He uses very little of his strength when it comes to holding you because he doesn't want to crush you or make you uncomfortable, but sometimes you try and fight your way out of his arms because you don't want to take a nap. You're not tired, but he is, and it's truly not his fault he grew accustomed to holding you whenever he's sleeping. It's become a habit now and he can't sleep at all without you around. Moments when you don't want to nap are when he does have to hold onto you a little tighter so that you tire yourself out as you try to free yourself from his arms. Eventually, you surrender and stop wasting your efforts on something impossible, and Toji lets out a satisfied sigh, before burying his face into the crook of your neck. You fall asleep at three in the afternoon and don't wake up until eight at night sometimes because when you start to stir awake, he hums and coos at you in his sleepy voice. It's always 'Not yet, mama. Still tired...' and 'Stop moving, pretty...' or 'aw, looks like you still need sleep, baby. I'll sleep with you, don't worry...' Supposed naps turn into hours of sleep with him :(

Will pull on your clothes for many reasons. You're on the phone, leaning against the kitchen counter and he's tugging on the back of your shirt to get you to turn around and look at him. You nod at him in question and he just grins before latching onto you from behind, burying his face into your back. If you're adventuring together, walking around and you start to wander off without him, he tugs on the hood of your sweater and brings you back to where he is, making you walk those same steps all over again, this time with him. Sometimes he'll pull down the neckline of your shirt to look at your boobs just because he's a total perv like that.

Size kink who? Size kink Toji. Loves knowing he's bigger and physically stronger than you. He loves when you shove him during a fit of anger, because he's grounded—he doesn't move at all and it pisses you off even more. When you refuse to talk to him after an argument that's gone on for too long (an hour </3) he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You can kick and yell for him to put you down all you want, but he won't put you down until the argument is resolved. He can't have you trying to run off every time you're in a room together. He cages you in with his arms sometimes, when he wants to be all you can see, hear, smell and feel. You should be just as obsessed with him as he is with you. He uses this proximity to steal as many kisses from you as he wants, really taking the opportunity to showcase how small you are compared to him when you can't move from the position he has you in.

He's a total bear even when it comes to his bouts of jealousy. Someone stares at you for more than three seconds and he's quick to block their view of you. He stands beside you, covering you so that the stranger gets a view of his back, instead. If you're standing in line at a restaurant or coffee shop, waiting to order something and someone keeps chatting you up after you've continuously let the conversation die, he steps in. Especially, if he notices that their eyes wander away from yours, to your lips or your chest, wherever. He's not loud about it verbally, but the way he'll just pull you back a few steps into him so he can wrap himself around you screams possession. You laugh off the gesture and finish off your response to the stranger. They don't try to talk to you anymore afterwards because the way Toji stared daggers at them was scary.

Toji constantly reminds you that you're more than enough for him. When you cook for him, when you spoil him in return with things you think he may like. He always loves them because you bought them for him. There are moments when he turns from this ferocious, obsessive, enormous bear, to the smallest, most adorable cub. He's a little more quiet, but his eyes are just as expressive. He stays in one spot for a while even if you're not there. He doesn't go looking for you, he can hear you whistling as you wash dishes, but it's not like he doesn't want you around. He just thinks sometimes. Thinks about how good things are with you—thinks about what he has and he feels like he could be crushed by it all. These are the moments where you step in and make him feel extra loved. You tell him that he's good to you and that he makes you feel safe. You tell him that you love him more than you've ever loved anyone. Up until one of those moments, there was always the dilemma of whether he was a sunrise or a sunset. You finally made your decision. "You're my sunset, baby." You always know just what to say to bring him back. Toji laughed because it made absolutely no sense, but you loved on him after saying it, like it was something real— like it's normal to categorize someone as a sunrise or sunset. Regardless of how dumb it sounds out loud, if he's your sunset, you're his sunrise.

(NSFW Below)

His hands are enormous. His fingers are long and thick and he loves being able to hold you down with just one of his hands while he works his fingers in and out of you. While you squirm and whimper in his lap, embarrassed at the mess you're making on his pants, he simply coos at you, finding the whole thing endearing. You can't control the mess you're making on him. He can, and he doesn't want it to stop. Sometimes, during moments like this where you're all teary eyed in his arms, your body trembling and trying to shrink against him as he pulls orgasm after orgasm from you, he wants to hold you so tightly in his arms that you genuinely struggle to breathe or maybe crack a rib. The kisses he presses into the side of your face actually sting at some point because of the way he's so harsh and he's nipping at your skin. He wants to bite your shoulder so hard that he draws blood, he wants to pinch your tummy until his fingers leave marks on it. His bouts of cuteness aggression are no joke.

Loves when you try to take control, always so confident that you can do it, that you can ride him until you both cum. He's not gonna say anything, but he knows how you are, so he just lets it happen. His hands are on your hips, your hands on his chest as you bounce on his dick for as long as you can. You can feel yourself growing tired. Your chest is heaving and your thighs burn from the exertion. Your moans are released into the air through heavy breaths, your eyes twinkling as you realize you're right there. "C-Can't, I can't... so tired..." and Toji just looks up at you with the most lovestruck expression, a tint of pink dusted on his cheeks. You're adorable. "That's okay, mama. Let me." And he lays you onto your back, before finishing you off and finishing himself off. He cradles you afterward like you're something temporary that he doesn't want to let go of and you both end up falling asleep.

Sighhh Toji is a total bear boyfriend </3

[inkskinned]

it's been said before and i'm sure said better than i can phrase it. but really, really - if you like making "i'm going to kill myself" jokes, please try switching to being ironically conceited instead.

anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."

just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.

i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.

when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.

but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.

i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?

most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.

now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.

and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.

go love yourself ironically. the worst thing that happens is that you end up tricking your reflection into actually loving you.

[tojisun]

EXPAND ON THIS

https://www.tumblr.com/tojisun/758472884430716928/no-matter-how-hard-you-try-you-just-cant-make

AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

aww im glad that u (all) liked that blurb!! didnt expect the vitriol in ur guys’ reactions but ykw? samesies <3 oki uhh so heres something quick and simple

cw: fivesome (but they go in order, also simon doesnt properly get a turn im sorry 😞); f!reader; subspace; builds up into consensual noncon; unrealistic sex; rambly as hell and its set up messily; wc is 3.6k :’3

(you tell them it’s a wrong send, and that it’s meant for johnny so they all said, “oh damn. welp,” and leaves you and johnny to go at it all night long teehee <33) (jk) (unless) (no ok im jk)

johnny fucks you first. the guys didn’t complain, and trickled into your room, ready to fall to whatever place they could sit down to watch. johnny laughs, and tugs you towards him, gently slapping your hand away when you try to cover yourself up with your shirt, and tells them, “watch me.”

not us, but me. like you’re a nameless hole whose only worth is to be fucked, and somehow that… doesn’t deter you at all.

instead, you ignore the warmth flooding in your cheeks and the stares that drag on your body, and focused on johnny’s smirk and his crooning words and his wide palms roving over whatever sliver of your skin he can touch. he positions himself in between your legs, his fatigues an uncomfortable sensation against your oversensitive skin.

he doesn’t care. he drags down his zipper and frees his cock from his briefs, before swiping his palm on the inside of your thigh, gathering the excess lube glistening there to use it as oil for his prick. your nose scrunches when he brings his hand to give himself a quick tug, foreskin peeling from the head to show off how flushed it is.

he crawls until he’s on top of you, and throws out, “let me show ye how to fuck ‘er, yes?”

you don’t even realize the words are for the rest of the squad because he’s already slipping his cock in your cunt, slow and careful, and you keen because yessss—

this is the delicious burn you’ve wanted. oh god oh god—

it didn’t even take johnny long before you’re cumming, your throat spasming at the scream that rips itself out from within you. your hips rise from the bed, your body jolting, unable to ground itself at the breaking euphoria that forced shockwaves to raze your synapses.

you fall on the bed limply, satiation filling you up in lapping waves. johnny pulls out and fucks his fist and sprays his cum all over your stomach. he musses it up, rubbing his palm against it like it’s a damn lotion, and lathers whatever inch of your belly he can cover.

it’s gross and weird, especially as the recollection that you’ve had an audience hits you, but then johnny’s stepping back and moving away. you try to shut your legs close, but someone’s already shuffling in, taking up the space that johnny had carved out.

you stare up at your captain, shock filling you up. he doesn’t ask with words but he quirks his brow up, waiting, and you don’t know what it is, but you give him a nod before ducking your head to the side.

which was a mistake, you learn, because you make eye contact with kyle; kyle who is—was—slowly rubbing himself through his pants, his palm gliding over his chub. his eyes are blown wide and he looks ravenous as he meets your gaze.

you hiccup, feeling cornered and delighted at the same time, but then john’s rubbing his cock along your messy folds, using the mess you and johnny made to lube himself up, and you mewl, tearing your eyes away from kyle to meet john’s stare head on.

he looks… calm. not teasing nor hungry, but poised with forced grace like this is another mission, and he has willed his full body to sync together so that not even a stray strand of hair will falter and miss a beat.

you don’t know how to position that with yourself, not like you needed to dwell on it any further because john’s already thrusting in. like johnny, he is careful, but he is more cautious, pushing inch by inch without even a ragged breath like he’s scoping out your reaction before he could let out his.

god, why’s everything so difficult with him—even now, speared with his cock, you still don’t know how to react. it’s like you’re a recruit all over again, dawdling underneath your CO’s scrutiny. it’s jarring, terrifying, really, but then john’s drooping onto you, his head tipping down to nuzzle close to your jaw, and this level of intimacy is what rips a moan out of you. it is drawn out and high-pitched, and so, so utterly debauched.

you hear more than see john’s pleased laugh, his breaths coming out in puffs that brush against your neck in a ticklish manner. the moment drags on—nuzzles and quiet huffs, and slow rocks of his hips almost like he’s taking his time to savour you; to allow you to get used to his size because he’s so different from johnny.

johnny is thick, but john is long. he is reaching deeper than you have ever known, and it’s so overwhelming that you begin to cling to him, in need of any way to ground yourself down from the slow-racing pleasure.

you don’t know how long he’s got you like that, but then he’s pulling back and away, and, “nonono, please. please, sir—”

“shh, i’ve got you,” he rumbles, still so utterly quiet that it forces out the tears faster, and you know something’s changed because john is looking at you with a proud smile, all tactile as he manhandles you to your side, before disappearing behind you. you feel your head being lifted then dropped onto something harder than your pillow, and it is only the smell of ozone that lets you know that john had pillowed your head with his arm, while the other snakes around your waist to pull you closer to him.

you stare at the expanse of your room but everything looks like they’re appearing underneath a hazy filter, so you blink your eyes to clear them from that mist but it remains unchanged. you feel heavy, all of sudden, like you’re submerged in water, wading through the ripples. floating.

you try to look at the others but all you see are blurs of colours, and you know this should terrify you, you know something’s happening in your mind, but you feel so good. so happy. so you fold into yourself, accepting the haze with a keen because john’s fucking back into you.

it is still so utterly gentle, like love-making, and this makes you sob because the euphoria is dizzying and overwhelming. it is something you haven’t felt before—johnny fucks you like a man starved; john fucks you like he’s trying to meld himself into you. or you into him.

it is so drastically different, and you were made to navigate the changing tides. but you can’t, not when john—

“fuck!” you scream, thrashing in his hold, but john ignores your voice as his heavy hand falls on your cunt with consistent smacks.

you feel lightheaded, untethered, and this is what pushes you to the edge. your orgasm is cataclysmic. it’s like having the fabrics of your reality collide until you are a supernova, bright and burning and so, so, so ecstatic.

you don’t even know how you came down from that high, but when you wake up, john’s already pulled out and your thighs feel extra sticky. you sniffle, turning to accept the quick kiss he leaves on your cheek. he pulls away and you watch him sink back to the lone chair in your room, and only then do you realize he’s still in his uniform. still in the fatigues.

it makes you extra vulnerable somehow and you twist, trying to find anything to cover yourself with, but your shirt’s been thrown to the floor, far from your reach, and your blankets were kicked off the bed.

you grumble, shyness encroaching again now that there’s no one to monopolize your attention, but a movement from the corner of your eyes makes you jolt. you turn, forcing your eyes to focus, and you blink in surprise because you are sure that kyle wasn’t there before—close to your shelving that is stuffed with little knickknacks and souvenirs brought to you by the boys when they take on separate missions that don’t require your involvement.

the same shelving where you’ve plopped your charging vibrator on. the very same one that is being held up by kyle.

“kyle?” you ask, unable to say any more with how wrecked your voice has become. but the call echoes like a gunshot in the suddenly stifling room, and they all look at you as one. like it didn’t matter if kyle was the one holding the wand because they all knew what they want, and it is to see you be fucked with it.

excitement fills you up despite the throbbing exhaustion settling in your bones, and you wonder if they could scent it with the way the pressure in the room grows heavy, almost bladed—ice shards against still waters.

kyle moves towards you and your eyes track the wand, almost hypnotized by it, and watch as he drops it on the mattress to shuck off his clothes. it is only then do you turn to him, hungry in the way you devour how he moves, how he breathes, how he unbuckles his belt.

his trousers come first, then his shirt. kyle is a catastrophic wonder—seeing him naked like this makes your core throb, aching need stretching in the yawning of your stomach, because he is so beautiful, terrifyingly so.

he reaches for your waist and drags you so you’re laying on your back again, your legs sprawled out on either side of his hips. he looks down at you, his eyes crinkled in his smile. he looks so charming, boyish and youthful, and he makes you thrum with quiet desire because you feel safe even when you’re bare before him.

you feel particularly cherished, like you are the apple of his eye.

“you’ve been so good to us, love,” he murmurs, but in the silence of everyone, his voice bounces off the walls, seeping into where the others are, watching raptly once again.

you nod, not knowing what else to say. kyle chuckles, the sound trickling like quiet chimes, and you wonder if he’s doing this for you—talking to you in whispers to give your body time to come down from the tremors, or filling you up with something other than a cock because johnny had come in scathing, and john had pierced you with something consuming, and kyle—

kyle is trying to distract you.

you’ve forgotten about the toy, sitting there so innocently. it’s out of your reach, tucked preciously close to kyle’s left leg the way he treats all his smaller guns—never straying beyond his person, and hovering close. you’ve once asked him if it wasn’t more comforting to have it on him where he can feel its weight and kyle had looked at you with that soft smile like you’ve uttered something so delightful, before telling you, “there’s a certain pleasure in having it displayed.”

like a promise and an assurance—he will always be faster; the one who is more in control.

and today, kyle is treating the wand with the same vehemence.

you didn’t even know you were already shaking your head until kyle had cupped your cheek, quiet sounds of comfort rumbling from his chest.

“don’t worry,” he says, eyes blazing with a terrifying promise. “all good girls have to be rewarded.”

kyle doesn’t fuck you with his cock right away; instead, he’d bent over and took a nipple into his mouth. it makes you gasp, back arching at every wet suck. there is pleasure to derive, but it is so muted that you begin to settle back into your mattress, waiting, almost in bated breath because kyle has yet to reach for the wand.

you jolt when he finally uses his hands, stomach tensing in anticipation. but still, kyle doesn’t reach for it, and instead he swipes a finger to your slit. your pussy’s still so sensitive so it makes you buck, a sharp animalistic sound tearing from your throat, and kyle takes advantage of the sudden change in the pace.

he slips in two fingers in your cunt, curling to poke at your walls, before fucking them out—he lifts up and sucks your other nipple—and punching them back in. it’s a wet slide, each thwaps ring in your head, and you moan, clawing at kyle’s back because how could he make you feel good just like this?

it’s almost a laughable parallel—just an hour ago, you had been in the same position, with your legs parted open and two fingers fucking in, while your other hand flicks at your nipples because you had so desperately wanted any form of orgasm. god, it didn’t even need to feel ecstatic, just something that’d rip your aching need into quiet tides. and now here you are, spread open with kyle mirroring every flick of his fingers and every pinching sensation on your nipples, and he is making you feel good.

how dare he. how dare he give you unadulterated pleasure with just his fingers? how could you ever go back to masturbating now that he’s even triumphed over your previous failures, showing your body that there are ways to make your toes curl without a cock nor a toy?

how dare he—

“no!” you whine, circling your hand around his wrist when he pulls out. you were so close; its tendrils spreading all over your body in the wake of your encroaching orgasm. you thought you were going to be rewarded? kyle promised. he said so!

“oh, love,” kyle coos, breaking through the swirling turmoil in your head. “i’m not done yet, i promise.”

you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the sob that is lodged in your throat as you watch kyle give his cock a pump before lining it up with your cunt. unlike johnny and john—and the reminder that they’re there, with simon, makes you jolt for a quick second—kyle doesn’t press in slow nor gentle.

no.

kyle punches everything in. you scream, the sound guttural as you are filled so quickly and so deeply, leaving you to feel the sudden crescendo of your pleasure. your body spasmed—because there was nothing else that could explain the sensation of having all your synapses sing with a ripping pleasure—before you black out for a second.

you come to the feeling of kyle’s hand mapping your belly, digging just enough that his fingers dimple your skin. you are still stretched and stuffed, and the remnants of your pleasure fire up again.

he flicks his eyes up to you with a smile. “came so soon f’r me, love.”

your only response is a gurgle. it makes kyle laugh.

“that must mean y’r ready for something else, yeah?”

a confused whimper bubbles from your throat. kyle just snaps his hips in reply, rendering your mind shut again. you hear him shuffling against the sheets, his free hand reaching for something you cannot see, and you feel your mind pressing at its edges, trying to retrieve the memory of what it is he is looking for because you know what it is, you’re sure.

buzzing noises fill your ears, the sound ricocheting around the space, and your body locks, recollection slamming into you. you tear your gaze away from the far wall to look at kyle.

you wonder what your face must’ve looked like because kyle begins to croon.

“i’ve seen this from a homemade porn video.” he shrugs at the incredulous expression on your face. “and i’ve always wanted to try it because sweetheart, they didn’t press it on her clit.”

what—

kyle moves, his body rippling with ease. you don’t notice but the boys crowd in, interest bright in their eyes. only ghost continues to be rooted in his spot, and it is only his head tipping to the side that lets the others know he’s just as interested.

kyle presses the toy on your belly. your nose scrunches in displeasure because it just feels like you’re being massaged incorrectly, but he keeps shifting, hunting, and it’s weird because kyle’s still in you so what—

you gasp, eyes widening at the odd sensation. kyle freezes, his body curling into something predatory, and digs your wand there on your—

“no way,” johnny laughs, and you want to snarl at him to go away but you can’t because he’s right.

no way.

kyle had pressed the vibrating bulb of your toy just below your belly and slightly before your upper pelvic area—kyle had pressed the toy on your womb.

the pleasure is new, uncharted, and it is petrifying because you’ve never felt this way before. you didn’t even know it was possible to stimulate yourself there, but kyle’s already resuming the pace he’d set, fucking his cock in deeply almost like he wants to feel the buzz from within.

you begin to sob but the tears feel different this time. they’re still out of pleasure, but the swirling surprise melts the euphoria into something frightening. you don’t even realize you’ve begun to babble.

“no more!” you hiccup, weak fists thumping against kyle’s chest only to be restrained by john and johnny, each man pushing them down with their own hands.

everything feels too scary, all of a sudden. this pleasure of yours is bigger than you have ever expected and it’s building up too fast and too soon, and still, kyle remains unfazed.

“i’m scared! i’m scared, kyle please!”

your words turn into unintelligible warbles, and kyle just says how you are so adorable like this.

“y’r pussy’s going stir crazy, baby,” he croons amidst your tears and you want to scream at him, to be mad and say something mean, but you feel so utterly lost in the bubbling bliss.

it is something you’ve never felt before; it’s almost like you are relearning your body at this very moment—like kyle is unmaking you, and remodelling you, and you feel this cathartic bloating of your orgasm.

kyle sees the moment you succumbed to the enveloping terror of your euphoria, and it’s like he’s been waiting for this moment because he begins to fuck you faster. deeper. his pelvis meets the plush of your ass with every thrust, while he digs the toy further down your flesh.

how could the vibrations ripple past the fat, you don’t know, but your orgasm is building, peaking—

it breaks with another scream tearing from your lungs. this one is much stronger than the previous ones, and enveloping because it feels like your whole body has shut down in the wake of your release.

your mind splinters, your body falling limp like your strings have been cut loose, and kyle turns forgiving again because he shuts the toy down and throws it away. he pulls out and only then do you feel the trickle of his cum sliding out of you.

he leans in, brushing his nose over your cheek. then, “just one more, little bird.”

kyle slides off the bed, but so do john and johnny, and you hiccup, still sobbing, still floating from the world-shattering climax, when simon greets you.

he is quiet for a while, watching as you catch your breath. you couldn’t even stop yourself from sniffling, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes to stain your already blotchy cheeks. he grunts, hand falling to brush unimaginably soft touches across your body, observing.

waiting.

“was’it?” you finally bite out because you know simon—you know ghost—and there is something that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue that he so desperately wants to spit out.

simon grumbles, rolling his eyes.

you groan, growing impatient. “tell m’.”

but he still doesn’t talk, choosing instead to manhandle your body until it is close to him. you want to tell him to give you a minute; that you’re still so sore and tired, and kyle just fucked you mindless that you need a goddamn break, so, “s’mon, no…”

he grunts, palming along your waist, then your hips, before it stops on the fat of your ass. he grabs a handful.

“won’t you let me fuck this hole instead,” simon finally replies.

your heart lurches to your throat, and you’re not the only one surprised because johnny’s bounding in close, excited, chatting simon’s ear how he wants to go next, “please, LT?”

you want to tell him to ask you, not simon, but simon’s already giving his assent with a huff, chirping how johnny’s so impatient—a master and his dog—before they turn to you again.

it is only then do you realize that simon hadn’t been asking for proper permission; it was all formalities because he was not going to settle for anything that isn’t yes.

anal sex hasn’t been something you are really interested in; no amount of porn and online anecdotes can change your mind, but simon’s gaze is heavy. it’s final.

before you can even reply, john’s already throwing something to simon. he catches it with ease, and only when simon flicks his hand do you recognize it to be the lube you’ve chucked away in your anger when this whole night started. kyle returns with the wand.

you lay there, on simon’s lap, seeing them flanking you for this… corrupting.

“okay,” you muster, trying to stake even a semblance of control.

thankfully, they ignore the shaking of your fists or the way your chest begins to heave in your morbid anticipation. simon laughs, and swoops down to nip your cheek.

“good girl.”

whew whyd it become a long ramble of smut??? it was supposed to be a john n johnny centric fucking bc of the prelude but alas, i needed to write a semblance of dark!kyle so here we are <3

temp taglist bc yall are animals (affectionate)!!!: @getosuguswhore @slut-lmao @mxtokko @imjusthereforkonig @bratzdolly4 @mabelwinters @stars4sar @sergeant-jasper @spiceywawa @j0r-d1e