#so much more but those are what hurt most

[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.

[ssentimentals]

Hii can i request mingyu + hurt prompt #34? Thankssss

hi sweets! thank you for requesting, hopefully you will like it! 💜

hurt prompts: 'the things you said yesterday... did you mean them?'

someone is caressing your hand. it's a nice feeling to wake up, especially when you know who is responsible for said action. mingyu's face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes and you smile a little. mingyu doesn't smile back and memories of last night rush in, reminding you why you're waking beside him and not in his arms. before panic rises, you remind yourself that mingyu is caressing your hand gently now, so everything can't be that mad.

'morning,' you whisper, afraid to talk in a normal voice for some reason.

'morning.' mingyu repeats and clears his throat. 'slept well?'

you don't really remember how you fell asleep; probably knocked out from crying and fighting. arguments with mingyu were rare but whenever they did happen, they sucked all the energy out of you, leaving you drained and exhausted. truth to be told, you don't even remember coming to the bedroom, so mingyu probably carried you here once you fell asleep in the living room.

'not really,' you reply, not feeling rested at all. 'you?'

he shakes his head. when you first started dating, you both promised each other to never go to bed angry, so what happened last night is an exception of sorts. 'the things you said yesterday... did you mean them?' mingyu asks quietly, voice muffled by the pillow.

your mouth opens but nothing comes out. to your horror, you don't even remember about which things mingyu is talking exactly - a lot of stuff was said yesterday and not all of it was said due to anger or frustration. but mingyu is sensitive, always has been in a much more delicate headspace than you, so you tiptoe around the question, looking for the right answer while also staying honest: 'any of the mean and angry words - no. i love you, gyu, i'd never actually mean any of those. but what i said about the whole thing, like in the beginning, what made me upset in the first place.. yeah, i meant that. i stand by it even now.'

mingyu doesn't say anything at first. he just stares at your hands, chewing on his bottom lip, thinking about your answer. you both treasure honesty the most, so he knows you're being sincere. 'okay.' he settles for in the end, taking a deep breath. 'i also didn't mean everything i said after we moved from the kitchen to the living room.'

you smile and hesitantly interlace your fingers together. 'i know, gyu.'

he nods again and squeezes and when he does that, you feel like you can breathe again. if mingyu is not declining physical contact, if he's still here then you two can work it out. 'we don't have to do it now,' you say, not wanting to get up. 'we can just lay here for a while.'

sigh that mingyu lets out on this is full of relief. 'yes. yes- yeah. please.'

you both move in sync, slotting your bodies together until it's impossible to tell where one ends and another one begins. 'sleep a bit more for now,' mingyu whispers, holding you tight. 'i'll be here when you wake up.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[notquitecanon]

Dense // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: A pretty little thing like you isn't flirting with Ghost? Are you?

Based off a prompt that's been a worm in my brain since 8th grade (I'm 25 now) and I'm probably going to write the same exact thing from the other POV.

TW: none, just a little fluffy hopefully funny insight into Simon's thought process.

God, Lieutenant Riley was dense.

That's what most people thought after watching him interact with you for longer than three minutes at a time. You'd been working in communications for two years now, mostly dealing with Captain Price but Ghost was always lurking around somewhere nearby. You'd been warned to avoid him.

He's mean, He's surly, he'll bite your head right off. He's dangerous blah blah blah...

What they didn't consider was that he was a tree of a man- tall, dark, and mysterious with pretty eyes. And you had little to no survival instincts when it came to a man who knew how to shut the fuck up.

It was obvious to anyone who watched you interact with him for any amount of time. How you stood closer to him than need be, how you watched him through your lashes when he spoke his few words to you, the way your voice changed when you spoke to him. Then it was the little touches and little gifts, sitting with him at empty tables when others would turn and walk the other way. You were so sweet on him, maybe even smitten with him.

Ghost never seemed to notice, and if he did he didn't pay it much mind. Just assumed you were just one of those chatty and nice people he seemed to attract every now and then- like Price or Soap. It didn't hurt either that you were sweet & pretty & and smelled good... no, didn't hurt at all and certainly didn't mean anything.

He brushed off Johnny and Gaz's teasings, met Price's knowing looks with icy glares. You definitely weren't flirting with him. There was no way someone like you was pursuing someone like him romantically. That was... ridiculous. Right?

Still. Something about that idea scratched his brain just right. Planted a seed that you unknowingly watered with sweet smiles and bright eyes. So, he started paying more attention.

You never got Price's attention by lingering a small, warm hand on the Captain's bicep- but you did with Ghost. You were chatty with Gaz, but never so much so that you made yourself late to other engagements- Ghost was losing track of the times you'd been chatting at with him only to look at your watch and scurry off with hot cheeks. And Soap could make you laugh, but he never got your cheeks to turn that pretty pink color- Ghost rarely saw you without rosy cheeks. Hmmm... Interesting.

So, he watched and observed (pined and yearned, more accurately). Until one day when he noticed how you flipped your hair over your shoulder as you spoke to him, direct eye contact through fluttering lashes, the dilation of your eyes.

"You have such pretty eyes-" You barely finished your statement before he interjected. He cut you off before you could even giggle, voice stern and hard and quick as those pretty dangerous eyes narrowed in a way that would have chased anyone else off. Not you though.

"Are you flirting with me?"

He asked, taking a looming step closer to you where you were standing by the breakroom coffee machine. He expected you to stutter out an excuse or apologize, or even frantically excuse yourself. He did not expect you to sigh, almost in relief(?) with that bright smile of yours.

"I have been for the last two years." You breathe in admittance, "But thanks for noticing now."

Bloody hell, you were trying to kill him.

----

I wrote this instead of paying attention in lecture

[elumish]

On Radicalization

I'm seeing a lot of people now talking about radicalization (for obvious reasons) and I want to put my two cents into it.

I'm not a radicalization expert by any means, but I have my MA in terrorism studies, and I'm currently pursuing a PhD in security studies, so radicalization is a thing that I have talked/thought about a fair amount.

I think one of the most important things to understand when you think about radicalization is that "radical" and "extremist" are both relative. Generally, when we're talking about radicalization, we're talking about a sharp political shift to a position outside of what we would consider the norm. What's radical in a liberal city in the United States in 2024 is vastly different from both what would have been radical in that city 150 years earlier and what is radical in some other countries right now.

For much of the last 2+ decades (or at least ~2001-2019), most of what was talked about with radicalization was in the context of islamist terrorism/violent extremism. People around the world were trying to figure out why people (especially in Western countries) were joining al Qaeda or ISIS or why people in Afghanistan were joining the Taliban, etc. What was it that drove one person to do that and another person not to--and, what was it that drove one person with those ideological beliefs to commit violence and one person not to.

Right now, in the US, what a lot of people are talking about is why people (namely young white men) are shifting dramatically to the right, particularly socially, and ending up in the political far right. In particular, why are they now advocating for (or at least voting for people who advocate for) taking away rights that are ~50 years old, as well as being more openly white/Christian supremacist than was socially acceptable 25 years ago, and why are some of them committing far right violence?

I think some of the reality that we have to face is that people have been advocating against abortion (and to a lesser degree birth control) access for those entire 50 years, and people have been white/Christian supremacists this entire time, and we just had a brief period of time when it was a little less okay to say out loud. But anyone old enough to remember the Obama campaigns remembers that the opposition to them was virulently racist and Christian supremacist.

But radicalization is happening, so let's talk about some of the ways that it happens in general. None of these are universally true, and what might radicalize one person might not radicalize another.

Social isolation. Social isolation is an extremely common factor in radicalization. Communities generally do two things: they act as a moderating force, and they give people ties that discourage violence. When studying islamist radicalization, from what I remember, conversion was a factor in likelihood of radicalization--not because there is something inherently radicalizing in the act of converting to a religion, but because converts often found resources online or with communities that specifically targeted new people, ones that were less ideologically moderate.

People who convert are also I think in some cases the people who are more likely to be ideologically driven anyway, because it is more work to convert and so you would only do so if you have a stronger ideological belief in it. You see this with some Catholic converts (e.g., Vance)--they are often more conservative and don't necessarily reflect mainstream Catholic teachings because they didn't grow up in a Catholic community as much as intentionally looking for the things that would make them The Most CatholicTM (ironically and hilariously one of those seems to be disagreeing with the Pope, which is approximately the least Catholic thing you can do).

if you have a community, you're generally also less likely to try to hurt people in that community because they're people you care about. Not a universal truth, obviously, but in aggregate. Being in a community also means that there are people who can tell you that what you're saying is extreme and walk you back from it. If you're isolated, nobody will tell you that.

But overall being isolated makes you more likely to feel like nobody likes or cares about you, which can make you angry and disaffected and looking for someone to blame, and it also makes you far more vulnerable to people who are looking to recruit. If you think everyone hates you and then someone tells you that everyone does hate you except for them, you're probably going to listen to them.

Relative depravation. Relative depravation is the idea that the radicalizing factor isn't having nothing, it's having something and seeing people who have more so you feel like you have nothing. I remember this came up when people were studying who in Afghanistan joined the Taliban, and it was often people who were more middle class rather than people living in poverty. The people living in poverty didn't have time to be radicalized because they needed to put food on the table, but the middle class people could see how good other people had it and how bad they had it and it made them mad. (I am vastly oversimplifying a study I remember from 10 years ago--it's a lot more complicated than this.)

But in the US, we're seeing this with men (who have, on an objective basis, lost political power in the US), and with white people (who have, on that same objective basis, lost political power in the US), and with people from geographic regions that used to have much stronger economies and better opportunities but don't anymore (e.g., coal areas, manufacturing areas). They can look at other people (e.g., women, POC) and say "I lost power and you gained power because I lost power, that's not fair and it's hurting me" or "it used to be better but now it's bad, that's not fair and it's hurting me" and then they get mad about it. And some subset of people who get mad about it decide to hurt people over it, or at the very least they vote to try to get it to not be like that anymore. They want to go back, because to them, back was better.

Radicalized education. One of the reasons why white women are so valuable to the white supremacist movement is not just that they can have white children, but that they can teach those white children. Some of this starts at home, or in the schools, or in the churches. And it's not necessarily radicalization if it starts that way (because people aren't moving politically so much as just being), but there are tens of thousands if not millions of children right now who are learning misogynist, queerphobic, and white supremacist ideas in all forms of their education. Those children who learn the benevolent slaveholder narrative or the states rights idea or that Jews killed Jesus or whatever grow up to be adults, and some of them vote, and some of them vote Republican because the ideas Republicans are spouting are the ideas that they were taught.

Suffering under real or perceived oppression. One of the goals of terrorism, in some cases, is to spark an overblown government reaction, which will then radicalize the populace into rising up against them. This is because, sometimes, for some people, that works--some people suffering under oppression or what they perceive is oppression will become increasingly anti-government (or anti-whoever is oppressing them) and that will sometimes turn violent.

The thing to remember here is that oppression is also in the eye of the beholder, to some degree. By the standards of some right-wing Evangelicals, for example, they are oppressed by the secular federal government, which keeps them from practicing their religion in the way that they see fit.

Justice by any means. This isn't exactly a way that people are radicalized, but one thing I see in people I would consider radicalized on basically all ideological fronts is this idea that justice (or winning) should come by any means. You see this in people who burn abortion clinics or kill abortion providers to "save babies" and people who kill cops as a solution to police brutality and people who stone gay people to death. The idea that your ends justify your means is, to me, a core to true radicalism.

The reality is this: if there was one way to stop radicalization, countries would have done it decades ago. Sometimes it's about drawing people into a community, and sometimes it's about getting them out of the community that is radicalizing them. Sometimes it's about being kind or compassionate to a single human being, and sometimes it's about showing them that they are operating against their own self-interest.

And sometimes it's just about damage control and about keeping someone who is already radicalized and looking to do violence from doing violence.

[melonglossz]

“stop moving, toshi.”

“sorry, love.”

it has been a long week for both them and ushijima. him with his vigorous volleyball practices and them with all of their schoolwork and classes that felt never-ending. so, when the both of them had no plans this weekend, they decided it was the perfect time to do some self-care, watch crappy reality tv, and eat whatever they wanted (well, they would eat whatever they wanted, ushijima would stick to his diet).

it wasn’t often that they got to go all out with their skincare or ushijima’s, so that meant pulling out all the stops: face masks, expensive face creams, lip scrubs, and under-eye masks.

sighing, they couldn’t help but smile as the hands on their waist tightened. “alright, i think we are done.” they patted their boyfriend's cheek as they removed the eye mask from under his eye. they knew by the furrow of his brows and the fidgeting that they wouldn’t get the second one on (honestly, they was surprised they even got the first one on since ushijima has a thing with things being put in or around his eyes).

“hm,” ushijima’s eyes fluttered open as he stared at them with a pout on his lips, “if you’re sure.”

“what,” they giggled, “you want to keep going?”

“i don’t mind, as long as you don’t put those things under my eyes again.”

their smile widened. “well, i guess some chapstick wouldn’t hurt.” they tried to move towards the bathroom counter but was stopped by ushijima wrapping his arms around their waist and pulling them closer to where he sat on the toilet lid. before they could ask him what he was doing he pulled them in for a kiss. immediately their hands go to the nape of his neck and their fingers play with the hair there. the kiss in of itself wasn’t anything crazy, they didn’t feel butterflies in their stomach or exploding fireworks instead, they felt warm and safe and happy. the two of them kiss like they have all the time in the world, like nothing else mattered except the two of them in this bathroom. they eventually break from the kiss and rest their forehead against his. they gave him a couple more pecks before moving back so they could look at his face.

“not that i didn’t enjoy it, but what was that for?”

“chapstick,” he said with a cute smile and shrug.

they let out a surprised laugh as they smacked his shoulder “oh my god, wakatoshi!” sometimes they couldn’t believe that they got to be with this man. they placed their hands on his cheeks and just stared at him. god, they wished they could take a picture of ushijima like this, with his hair pushed up off his face with a my melody headband (they had a matching kuromi one), face clean and bright, a cute smile on his face, and most importantly eyes that were filled with so much love it hurt them sometimes. they were forever grateful that they were the only person in the world who got to see him like this.

“come on lover boy,” they reached for both his and theirs headbands and took them off, throwing them on the counter, “we have a show to get back to.”

[ashkabbom]

Storm - Mouthwashing

A/n: It's 1am, but nothing will stop me muahahahah! Give my writing a chance and correct me if anything, English is not my first language and I had a LOT of help from the translator 🫶🏽

•Pre-Crash!Captain Curly x Reader

synopsis/summary: You and Captain Curly talk a little during the night

Notes: I didn't specify the gender and I didn't talk about the relationship, it's up to you to see how you interpret it.

Drops of rain hit your window hard, thunder and lightning tormented you and took away your peace.

It was night and you were in the ship's kitchen, you couldn't sleep for some reason, but the silence and the moonlight projected on the huge screen were comforting.

Thinking of anything to occupy your mind, from how long a squirrel lives to worries about your current job, although you tried to push some of those worries out of your mind.

Somehow you got a job, only you didn't expect it to be here and like this, but it's good that you don't do much, it's good that no one got hurt and you need to take care of.

Due to sheer pressure, you ended up entering some area of medicine, although it wasn't exactly what your parents wanted, it's still something, but you would be anywhere else if you could choose for yourself.

You didn't want your parents to look at you like you had failed and disappointed them, it was horrible to feel like you were a failure, something they weren't proud of.

Do you sometimes wonder if a hospital would even accept you, would you want that? Maybe you would even do well? It's not what you want but-

"Awake at this hour?" A voice echoes lightly and a tired-looking captain is leaning against the door. You didn't even hear the door slam, you were so immersed in thought.

Captain Curly was one of the most easygoing guys you'll ever meet working at the Pony Express, and that's not to be rude, but there are very few people at that company who are easygoing with other people.

"Night snack break." You say with a shy smile, not expecting anyone to be awake at this hour either. "But someone emptied all the coffee."

He chuckles lightly before sighing, "I can't imagine who would be responsible behind such a crime." Curly rolls his eyes with a smirk on his face, then looks at you. "But something tells me that late night snack isn't what got you so focused that you didn't hear the door."

"Hmmm a captain really knows his crew apparently" You laugh a little and nod. "I was just thinking a little bit about... Everything, you know? There's a few more months to go, I think about 7 months or something and it's just as weird as it was in the beginning"

Curly listened carefully to what you said, as a captain he understood exactly what you meant.

Being in the middle of space for so long, with a group of people you're not used to, is quite something, especially for someone unfamiliar with being so far away from where they used to be.

Even he wasn't sure if this was what he wanted for himself, if this was the pinnacle of his life or if he should try something more and go beyond his comfort zone.

"So you feel like the things around you are devouring you little by little, you sink so deep into it that it's hard for you to get out. It's not bad, but you feel like it's not good." He tries to complete what was on your mind.

"You gave yourself away that you are or have been in the same boat captain" You look at him with a cheeky smile and start walking towards the couch. "or on different boats, but with the same destination"

Curly follows you right behind and also sits on the couch. You both stay in silence for a while, just looking at the moon.

"It's not the same as looking at the sky at night, but it's better than nothing I guess." You say without thinking much. It would be a lie if you said you don't miss being on earth, in your home and in the comfort of your room in your house.

"I think this when I look at the stars, it's even different when I remember that I'm in space with them, being able to see several everywhere.. Without light pollution" He says and another silence falls.

It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, quite the opposite, it was the most peaceful silence you'd had in nights. Just you, the captain and the stars, enjoying the company that each one could offer.

You look at the captain, wondering if there was anything he regretted doing in his life that brought him here.

It was no surprise that he knew what was bothering you in your thoughts, after all he is a grown man with experience in life, everyone goes through this questioning one day.

Uncertainty is what moves us sometimes.

You wonder if Jimmy is like that too, if there is anything he would do differently to be somewhere else or if he wouldn't change anything even though he might regret something...

He didn't seem much for talking about that sort of thing. Jimmy was always a mystery in his mind.

Him and Swansea. You knew very little about the two of them, but it's not like you knew much about the others anyway.

You knew that Jimmy and the captain were friends so he must not be as bitter as he seems, after all he wouldn't be where he is if he wasn't someone he could trust.

"So this is what they mean by staring into your soul" He laughs as he says this and you come out of your trance. You hadn't noticed that you weren't just looking at him out of the corner of your eye, but that you had turned your face to look at him.

You laugh at his comment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on the entrance to a man's soul." Sighing lightly you smile "Daisuke showed me a drawing of him yesterday, the boy is talented and expresses well how he sees places and people"

"Is that what you two were doing in the infirmary during lunch?" He asks curiously. "But I didn't realize you liked rock and metal, but the metalhead you drew looks nice."

"It's not a metalhead, it's Anya." You look at him like it's the most obvious thing and he's so dumb.

"Was that supposed to be Anya?!" Curly asked in disbelief.

You and he talked for a few more minutes, even though it was so late at night, maybe it would be morning in a few hours, but clearing your head at least a little was the best thing.

You yawned and realized that you were actually sleepy now. Curly yawns soon after and you both laugh lightly, agreeing that you would go to sleep now, wishing each other goodnight.

So the raindrops hit the window weaker, until they stopped completely, without thunder or lightning.

The next day you wake up dead tired, woken up by Daisuke questioning if you were still alive.

Soon you go to the kitchen together, talking a little about what you had dreamed about during the night. Anya was already there and so you and Daisuke join her, soon Jimmy and captain, arrives and-

"Whose metalhead drawing is this? It was lying on the floor" Swansea asks with the paper in his hand

"Not a metalhead!" You hear Daisuke chuckle and you swear you heard a chuckle coming from Curly.

A/n: I had another creative peak this morning and here it is, straight from the oven. I wish I had written something with Curly before writing something with Daisuke.🫶🏽🎀

[mistresscitrusslice]

Thank you so much for going through the effort to even get screenshots! It’s seriously appreciated.

You make a good point, not least of which because this circle looks like a blast zone that came from within. It even pushed other bodies away. I’ve never seen Kindred gameplay, idk what their protective powers look like, but generally spells that are cast on you by someone else use the caster as the center of the spell, not the target. (Basically, the blast circle wouldn’t have been centered on Ambessa, but on the Wolf.)

The protected area around Mel and Jayce when they wake up doesn’t look like a blast zone the way it did with Ambessa (other than, you know, the Actual Bomb), so I’m not sure what to make of that.

I did not know that Ambessa had a bio already, let alone that included stuff from her music video! I thought she just had her blurb. It’s great that they clarified who she was pregnant with eventually. Uh, where’s Kino while she’s out at war then??? I imagine that Kino’s father was probably also a soldier and in the army too. Hopefully Kino was with relatives or family friends.

Also, Rokrund! It’s nice to get a name for the specific region Ambessa is from other than just the wider nation of Noxus. Is this a new name we’re hearing or has it appeared in any other League lore/media before?

“Visions that she would speak of to few others.” I wonder who those few are. Given how she treats her children, I cannot trust that even her kids are among these few. Their dad, maybe? I hesitate to say “Ambessa’s husband” because she definitely does not act like she has a husband, or maybe he’s deceased.

I plead the fifth on the Solari stuff because I know jack shit about the Solari, and if it turns out that Mel does have Solari magic, I do want to be surprised by their lore.

It still puzzles me why, if she does have magic, she wouldn’t use it to defend herself. You mentioned it being linked to situations with certain death. I’m iffy on this because it feels convoluted and kind of like a cop-out if that really is the reason can’t use it at will. If it is the case, though, then maybe Viktor wasn’t hurt because his magic clashed with hers, but because his death wasn’t guaranteed. I rewatched the opening scene, and he was still moving a little when Jayce performed Hexcore magic on him. If his death wasn’t certain, then the magic had no need to save him.

More likely, Mel’s magic has a cooldown and a long period where she needs to build enough magic back up to be able to use, but most likely, Mel doesn’t even know she has magic. There’s no sense in concealing her magic now, especially not after it saved herself and Jayce. Sure, it’d be a bad idea to come out about it to the world even after Piltover accepted Hextech since it would’ve been a secret for so long. However, I do believe she would’ve told Jayce. If not before, then definitely after it saved the two of them and Viktor still almost died.

Jayce needs as much information as he can get to figure out what’s going on with Viktor. Mel cares a lot about Jayce and seems to also care for Viktor even if she disagreed with him last season. She also has the same innate curiosity that Jayce and Viktor do. She’d want him to be able to solve this puzzle with all the information at his disposal and has been able to open up to him in the past with the trust that he would not share her secrets. She’d tell him so that they could figure out why her magic didn’t work as it was supposed to.

Unless there’s a reason we haven’t been told for why she needs to keep this hidden? If you squint your ears real hard, her line of “There’s no sense to these things, Jayce” in response to “How does the explosion do that to him and I just walk out without a scratch” sounds a bit like she’s trying to get him to drop the subject. After all, there is sense to these things for a scientist. There’s physics and calculations that go into why every single piece of debris falls in the way that it does. Which direction it flies in, how much heat is dispersed, the shock absorption in everything and every person in the blast radius, how far each person gets pushed across the room. To Jayce, “there’s no sense” might not be a comforting thing to hear. So was Mel just trying and failing to comfort him or was she attempting to change the subject? Or am I just reading too much into it?

Lmao imagine tho if Jayce found out she has magic, whether she already knew or not. He’d want to study her! And honestly she’d probably be down for it to find out even more ways to use her powers, maybe a way to replicate it with Hextech so more people can have a way to stay safe! That would actually be a good way to use Hextech to help people. And maybe Mel just has a scientist kink, who knows

Mel's protection should have saved Viktor too, and she's trying to figure out why it didn't

S2 ep1 shows a circle of protected stone where Mel and Jayce were during the explosion. My theory is that Mel's magic armor activated and saved them both. It seems like it casts a sphere of protection around wherever Mel is.

The center of this circle is not Mel's seat - it's Jayce's. She ran to Jayce to save him.

No other Councilors were in range of Mel's protection, so they all got hurt or killed.

But Viktor was, Jayce's words, "right next to" him. He was easily within Mel's circle of protection.

1) Viktor tried to run and mistakenly left the circle of protection. But are we meant to believe that Viktor, close to dying already and using a crutch, would have outrun Mel?

2) Viktor's augmented body clashes with Mel's

Why does Mel try to touch Viktor in episode 1? It seems like a throwaway moment, but not even Jayce touches him in this scene. So why Mel?

She's curious. And possibly, feeling responsible. She's wondering why her protection didn't work.

Is this Hexcore brand of the Arcane trying to reach out to Mel? Or trying to defend itself from her?

Mel was trying to protect both Jayce and Viktor, which is reflected in how she holds Jayce as well as Viktor's cane when she promises to protect Hextech:

But if, for example, Mel's magic is Solari in origin, and Viktor's is from the Void - or the Arcane equivalent of similar opposing forces - then it's possible that their magic rejects or hurts one another. So Mel's circle of protection either rejected Viktor, or was what hurt Viktor, and not the explosion.

[kiame-sama]

What gets someone put in Jamil's Coil-Jail? Would he put the Human in Coil-Jail for trying to make a wish with Kalim? Would he put the Human in Coil-Jail for his own pleasure?

- Jamil would put others in Coil-Jail (winding his snake tail around someone to keep them in place or hold them still) for many things. Usually Kalim is the one in Coil-Jail for screwing around too much during classes or just trying to skip out of homework. General misbehavior or risky behavior gets someone put in Coil-Jail and it is entirely up to Jamil on if he is going to release someone from Coil-Jail or not. Naga are constrictors and venomous (most snakes are one or the other) so his tail is pure muscle that is nigh impossible for someone weaker than Leona to break free from. If his 'prisoner' is too rowdy, he can always envenomate them to calm them or make them go limp.

- The Human is mostly exempt from Coil-Jail as the act of winding his tail around them is much more intimate to Jamil than it would be to 'imprison' anyone else in his coils. Naga often wind their tails around those they are intending to mate, so Jamil takes the act as much more intimate. Luckily, with the wrap that holds his shirts down and in place on his snake body, it is near impossible to tell that he is excited or enjoying it far too much. The only indication that Jamil is holding the Human for his own gain is the way his tail lightly squeezes and rubs the smooth scales against the Human's soft body.

- The only time the Human goes in actual Coil-Jail and not just Jamil holding them for his own desires is if the Human is in danger, hurts themselves somehow, or tries to make a wish with Kalim. Kalim is the WORST Genie to walk Twisted Wonderland and he is terrible at granting wishes that don't end horribly. Trying to ask Kalim for a wish is immediate Coil-Jail for the both of you and it means an extended lecture from Jamil about the dangers of trying to make wishes with less-than-competent Genies. Kalim takes zero offence to Jamil flat saying that he is the worst of the worst of Genies in his family, because it is true. Unless the wish is for an Oasis or some of his personal wealth, Kalim can't help in any capacity.

- Jamil is a servant in a long line of Naga servants that protect the Al-Asim family with their lives. Where an Al-Asim chooses to rest, so too shall there be a Viper lying in wait. The Viper family of Nagas usually are the keepers of the Genie lamps the Al-Asim's inhabit, often holding the lamps in their coils whenever the Al-Asim retires to their lamps to rest. Jamil was born a servant, grew up as a servant, and- unless he weds the Human and breaks free of his familial shackles- will die a servant. Jamil knows this fact all too well and he knows his only hope to escape Kalim is through the Human of Night Raven College. The Human is his ticket to freedom from the air-head Genie.

[ghostlymakercat]

It hurt, everything hurt.

The ground underneath him was ice cold and send shivers down his spine, Sirius couldn't feel the tip of his fingers and the tremors were getting stronger. His head was throbbing with pain and his shirt was getting more and more soaked with something warm and sticky. He desperately tried to keep himself conscious, even when his vision was blacking out, if he dropped it was over- the door was charmed nobody could enter only leave, if he passed out nobody could help him. But just thinking of the effort it would take to get up made him heave. There was something he was forgetting, his eyes shot wide-

Reggie, he was there alone to Walburgas mercy, the sentence really didn't make sense and if his head wasn't clouded with fear he would've have laughed. His baby brother was alone he could be hurt or- No he wouldn't let her, he will protect Regulus, he will be there for him. His head was spinning, and his whole body was screaming painfully in exhaustion, his limbs heavy but he got himself to stand up, only to topple over catching himself on the wall before crashing to the ground. Every step was terrible and his urge to give up was getting stronger, but Regulus might be the only person that loved him, would love him no matter what, would still love him even if he snapped because they were brothers and they promised- brothers first.

The door was so close he could reach it with an outstretched arm, but relief hardly cut it because he still had no idea what was happening outside those walls. They were soundproof, and there was nothing more terrifying than silence in this house, silences held a promise of something deeper - unspoken.

Sirius hated silence and made sure to fill every moment with sounds, music, talks, laughter and even at night he made sure that there was something making sound when he woke up, he couldn't stand it.

Regulus was different, he lived in silence, preferred it over all the sounds - he couldn't 'read between the lines' of what people said so what difference was the silence really? it was just as untelling and much more peaceful. But even Regulus who treasured his peace over anything, hated that silent room, hated waiting because there was really nothing more he could do just Wait.

Waiting was torturous, waiting for any sigh that Sirius was alright that his brother was alive, breathing.

The doors handle was hard to turn and his fingers were slippery on the metal, his eyes turning into his head with the effort, when the door budged the wood opened with a groan, and his legs finally gave out on him, he was swept in a wave of nausea and finally he let himself let go all of it. His thin frame was shaking with sobs as he nearly choked on vomit. He wanted so badly to go on, to save Regulus but he couldn't force himself to.

He really was useless, couldn't even take care of the one person he cared the most about. He couldn't see anything anymore and the only reason he hasn't tapped out already was because of the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, but he knew that will pass. And then... Well wasn't his life just hilarious, failure of a son, hair, brother, friend... quite the list- maybe his death wouldn't be a tragedy at all-

"-rius, Sirius!, Sirius! Hey wake up! Look at me c'mon LOOK AT ME." Regulus's heart was racing his mind a loop of no's. His big brother was bleeding out, shaking and choking on his tears. He paid half mind to vanish the vomit, and the blood as he looked frantically over his wounds. This time it was bad, it hurt to look at it wounds deep angry and red everywhere. Worse than anything was the lack of response he got from Sirius.

Panic took over as he shook Sirius by his shoulders, he screamed and screamed the first thing to came to his mind. He knew, he knew, somewhere deep down that if he kept making this much noise mother would come for him, for them. He didn't know what to do, he felt insane nothing was quiet anymore, but he had to make Sirius respond to him, to let Regulus know his brother is alive.

Than something happened, something that made Regulus stop everything - Sirius opened his eyes, just for a moment but Regulus was sure of the movement, his heart finally calmed, but he couldn't be so foolish to let himself hope he spoke again, as calmly as he could having to clear his voice from all the shouting " Sirius can you hear me" he got a slow blink "good that's good, I know you're tired- b-but I need you to focus on not falling asleep again alright?" He tried for his voice to come out as held together as possible but his voice was shaking and the sentence was interrupted by his sobbing.

He didn't even realized that he was crying, but at the moment nothing really seemed more important than his brother. He tried to fight the fog that was filling his thoughts and find something useful to do. Potter.

Righ-right he just needed to get himself closer to the fireplace, rather quickly, judging by the state Sirius was in. " I'm so sorry Siri" that was the only warning The older one got before Regulus hoisted him up on his back, Sirius couldn't even bring himself to voice his pain, that was just spreading further with the sudden movement. Regulus was crying, his shoulders shaking - that was weird - he couldn't remember ever seeing Reggie cry outside of the privacy of their room. He didn't like the sight of it, his brother didn't smile much but when he did, his honest smile, not the one forced around family, it was the prettiest thing of all. Sirius frowned, Reggie used to smile all the time when they were kids... Why did he stop?

He felt the space shift from the dark to candle light, and the atmosphere was so...different and familiar...

That was the last thing Sirius remembered before the dark came over him. Regulus panted under his weight( which really want that much Sirius seemed to piss of Walburga by merely breathing it seemed this summer, leading to denial of most lunches and breakfast, dinners were sacred and there was no questioning the attendance of such thing.) Breathing deeply before shouting for help and shout he did. His ears were buzzing with the loud sounds but there was no way he was stopping now.

He felt two hands wrap around his torso, gently pushing him off of Sirius, but he didn't want to let go he caught his hand. He recognised Voices talking all around him but he kept his eyes firmly on his brother. He was crying again and when he lifted his gaze he was met with his reflection staring back at him "help him... Please" his voice broke and he felt somebody hoist him up- Potter and them sitting outside of the guest room that Effie turned into a nursery, and Potter holding his shaking hands making little controlled circles despite his panicked eyes that were glued to the door.

Regulus hated waiting. And he was so tried but he could never just fall asleep when Sirius may- no he must think positively. He didn't really want to think at all every second passing mocking him and his inability to have everything under control. But despite all his fighting against the dark he couldn't keep his eyes opened, he won't sleep of course there was no way he'd allow himself that but he couldn't control his heavy eyelids anymore.

He pressed himself into Potters side trying to make himself as small as possible.

Part1

The old house

[kkayyerr]

Mean! Rafe with pogue! Reader when she regresses like how is he? Is he gentle? Does he tease? Those kinds of things, thank you xx

I got you!

I loooove writing headcanons.🫶🏻

Warnings: Age regression, Dark!Rafe, controlling behavior, manipulation, slight abuse.

– He would probably first met you when you would visit his sister. He knew that you were one of the Pogues, but it wasn’t what he found interesting about you.

– Your behavior wasn’t usual for a Pogue. You were quiet, shy and somewhat childish. Somehow he didn’t found you as annoying as the rest of them, he enjoyed observing you quietly, analyzing your behavior.

– Rafe won’t admit his interest in you to anyone, especially not to his sister, always making snarky comments about you when talking to her.

– „What is she, a five year old?”

– He wouldn’t mind saying things like that to your face, laughing when you will give him a pouty face, that he would secretly find adorable.

– „What was that, little girl? Too sensitive to handle a small tease?"

– But when he would first saw you in the fight that his friends started with Pogues, he would push you to the side, holding you in his hands, so you won’t get hurt. He would find a lot of excuses about that later, when his friends would confront him about being soft to the Pogue.

– Rafe would probably give you a little smirks every time he would see you at his house or somewhere else.

– When he would find out that you are regressed, he would wait for the perfect opportunity to ask Sarah to babysit you for her, and when that opportunity will come, he would make sure that there’s only you and him in the house. He would also make sure that this would be the last time you were talking to Sarah.

– „You know, I’m not like your friends, kid. I actually care about your well-being.”

– He would play with your mind, making you actually believe everything he said.

– „Baby, you’re too precious to think about that Pogue’s shit. Just let me take care of you, alright?"

– Soon enough, the brave Pogue girl will become daddy’s little doll.

– „No one will take care of you better than I do, baby.”

– He would make sure that you are way too eager for his attention and affection to actually leave, or even think about going back to the Pogues.

– Rafe would teach you manners, watching as you slowly turn into the true Kook, because he would be damned if he would let his baby’s brain being stuffed with that Pogue’s bullshit.

– He would dress you himself, adoring your little pink outfits and small ribbons in your hair, that he would braid himself.

– Everytime you would ask to see your friends he would just change his manner to the cold one, and watching as you slowly forgetting about wanting to see them, now crying because of lack of affection.

– „I told you baby, I don’t want you around your friends no more, they are bad influence. Let’s just go to the Topper’s house, yeah?”

– You won’t say „no”, because you know that there will be consequences for you.

– He won’t be using physical punishments. He would just left you alone when you will need him the most, waiting for you to come begging for forgiveness, hoping for at least crumps of his love.

– His favorite words are „yes, Daddy”.

– Rafe wouldn’t hesitate beating the shit out of the Pogues right in front of your eyes, if they would try and talk to you.

– When you will start crying because of the shock he would just hold you close, being much gentler than he usually was.

– „Daddy just wanted to protect you, baby”.

– You would never question his actions, because „Daddy always knows better”.

– Always.

[twilightkitkat]

What does Logan think of his claws? Does he like them? Does he hate them? Or are they just a part of him like the tail of a dog? Do they remind him of the violence he had lived through? Of how he used them to kill? Does he ever think of them in a positive way? How he uses them to defend the ones he loves? To climb trees and cut through high grass when he's in the woods? How they are a part of his skeleton? Or how they set him apart from the others? Do they make him more human or more animal?

Logan would have very ambivalent feelings toward his claws.

At first, he was scared of them. Scared of himself. Scared of the consequences of being a mutant. Scared of what he could do with them, to kill a man so easily.

(Scared of the implications. Was he human or not? Was he still a person? Did he still have a chance at a future?)

Eventually, he'd get used to using them in fights. As Logan and Victor fought together in tge wars, he started to view them more pragmatically. They were weapons, just like the guns other soldiers held. Nothing more, nothing less. He was just another soldier who had an extra card up his sleeve.

Logan didn't let himself see the claws as a part of himself at first, not like Victor. His first impression was killing his own father with those claws and watching him bleed out. He hid them away most of the time, opted for military weapons, and was forced to use them only in dire situations.

They were an escape plan. A last resort. Something he tried to hide to pass off as "normal." He felt disconnected from them, almost like they were separate from him.

And then he joined the Weapon X program. Which was full of mutants just like him. Where he was expected to actively use his claws inside of hide them.

And he adapted. He leaned into the instincts he'd long suppressed and passed off as adrenaline. He became familiar with the feeling of slashing and climbing and opening cans and using his claws for more than just a quick kill. He became acclimated with them, comfortable.

He never really liked his claws, not really. But he got used to them. He stopped fearing them as much and started to view them as an actual part of himself. (Even if that part of himself was directly tied to being used as a weapon. To being a human tool.)

And then came the X-men. And so he had to confront his internal conflict between being The Wolverine, an animal, and Logan, the human. It was easy to ignore when he was treated solely like a weapon. But now people expected him to care, to empathize, to be human when all people have wanted from him before was to use his animal side.

It was then that he really started thinking about his feelings on his claws. How they distinctly marked him as an animal, how they represented why he couldn't assimilate into society. How they hurt every time he unsheathed him, contorting in a way that human bones could never handle. They were a reminder, visible proof that he'd never fit in with society. That even when all he wanted was to be human and assimilate into their family, there was still a barrier. He'd lived for so long as The Wolverine that he forgot how to be Logan. (Let alone James.)

And then they were gone.

And in came Wade. And Wade didn't pressure him to be human and relearn all of his "animalistic" habits, nor did he demand he use his tendencies as a weapon. He just let him be.

And that's the thing. Logan's claws were never really Logan's. They were Victor's ally, Weapon X's tool, the X men's protector, but never his. They may be a part of him, but they weren't really his. Not in the ways that mattered.

And now... he gets to choose. Whether he uses his claws for violence. Who he uses them on, where, and why. Whether he wants to use them to open a bottle of beer or screw a nail into the wall.

It's freeing. Liberating.

It's the first time he felt his claws were really his. Like he had the final choice in his life. It's the first time he really appreciated them, now that he finally got to reap the benefits.

[gabessquishytum]

It’s been like. Five whole minutes since I’ve turned fun sex things into hurt/comfort. So. :)

human au, when Dream and Hob get together Hob thinks Dream has a run-of-the-mill oral fixation. He always seems to want to suck Hob’s cock, warm his cock In his mouth for ages, when they have sex he insists he wears some kind of gag.

The truth is though… it’s not that Dream doesn’t like those things, but that’s not why he does it. He’s just very insecure about any noise that could come out of his mouth.

People always tell him how awkward he is and that he can barely hold a normal conversation (he has no idea how he landed people-person, charismatic Hob) so he’s certain he’d fail at dirty talk. And his laugh is so ugly, surely any moans or noises he makes during sex would be equally awful. And of course, his worst nightmare is getting caught up in the moment and letting an “I love you” slip FAR too early in the relationship than is acceptable. There is simply no way anything good could come from his mouth (ever, but especially during sex) so he deals with it by keeping his mouth occupied.

I can’t decide how Hob figures it out- if he puts all the pieces together during sex or foreplay, or if it somehow comes out during a more domestic moment. Either way, he insists on ravishing Dream with his mouth free and uncovered so he can hear every lovely sound he makes (and prove that he loves his silly boyfriend no matter what).

-🦇

We love the hurt/comfort smut here!!!! Hell yeah!!!!

I have a certain idea about how Hob finds out about Dream’s whole complicated relationship with his own vocality. It all comes out when Dream, quite suddenly loses his voice altogether. He gets a little bout of laryngitis during flu season, and while he's not super sick, he also can't speak. He's reduced to texting and writing little notes while Hob fusses over him and makes him plenty of nice cups of tea.

During his illness, Dream is visited by his sibling Desire. Hob has never met them before, but honestly he's more focused on Dream than anything else. He has a vague notion that the two siblings don't exactly get on, however, and this becomes apparent when Desire makes a series of quips about what a relief it is to have Dream silenced. If only he would be quiet all the time! He's so much more bearable when he's not making any noise.

Hob clocks Dream’s face during this series of bad jokes and all he sees is... resignation. He realises that Dream believes Desire's cruel words. Everything starts to make sense.

After the laryngitis passes and bedroom activities are back on the menu, Hob cautiously broaches the fact that he really doesn't want Dream to be gagged this time. He doesn't want him to muffle his face in the pillow, either. He'd quite like to have some very boring and tender missionary sex, and he'd like to hear Dream’s voice and his noises the whole time.

Unfortunately for Dream he's in love, and he can't deny Hob anything, let alone something so sweet and pure. He's sure that Hob will be disgusted by his noises, but he agrees anyway. Maybe Hob will forgive him for being so loud, if he behaves himself well in other ways...

In reality Hob is the one making the most noise because he absolutely sobs his way through the sex. Hearing his sweet Dream's pleasure for the first time is so overwhelming and almost spiritual, he can't help but cry. There's a long way to go, but Hob is determined: he's going to make sure that Dream is never silenced again. Hob wants to hear everything that comes from his beloved's mouth - especially if its an "I love you!"

[iamthemain-character]

Are Your Ears Burning? 18+ only - Minors DNI

astarion x fem!reader

CW: smut, masturbation, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), astarion being a brat

A/N: If you know me irl, no you don't (lovingly)- otherwise, welcome to my first smut fic (i need to be put down like a dog). Also shout out to S.H. for being an editor and proofreader, cause my asexual ass don't know shit <3 can't wait to live in the asylum with you when our delusions take over our brains

bg3 masterlist

You couldn’t fucking take it anymore. 

Life out on the open road was exhausting, and often far dirtier than you’d like, and most days you just wanted to collapse into your bedroll once the night sky blanketed the camp. Although, when the travel was not so long and the days were a little bit calmer, your mind would finally be able to think of other things than sheer survival. But that was where the real battle lay, and you had no defenses against your opponent. 

The most beautiful bastard to ever walk the earth, otherwise known as Astarion.

It was truly horrible. The elf vampire’s mere existence was enough to send your body fluttering. The way he would lounge by the fire, feet reaching for the warm, head tilted to face the heavens. Or when he would put on his armor, dexterous fingers flexing as he tightened leather straps. It didn’t help that Astarion was an outrageous flirt, who knew exactly how to lower his eyes just so, or how to change his voice to a vocal caress. Sometimes you wondered if he could possibly read your mind, if he was amused by how utterly pathetic you became the moment he said your name. 

Perhaps it would have been easier if he could, because then you wouldn’t be caught in the dilemma you found yourself in. You know of Astarion’s background, knew that he was trying to undo two centuries worth of pain and hurt. And for that reason you didn’t dare speak your desires to him, not willing to chance the fact that you might ruin what little healing he had found. 

At the end of the day, however, you still were just a woman. And it was in the twilight of a long day that you retired to your tent, hot and flustered from so much more than the campfire. Your core ached, desperate to find some sort of release for the sheer amount of arousal it was constantly put through. But of course, when you thought of pleasure, it was the face of Astarion that came to mind. But that was not a path you were willing to go down. 

Tentatively, you moved to lay on your bedroll; even though you were completely alone, and well within your own right, you felt embarrassed as you took off your shoes, your pants soon cast aside as well. You lay back, taking a deep breath as you attempted to clear your mind, to relax and enjoy yourself. You began as you always did, fingers trailing over your opening, touching the spots that you knew would make you feel good. 

Except when the first wave of pleasure hit, all your mind could think of was Astarion. His pale face, with those alluring ruby eyes filled your mind, and you found your lips longing to utter his name. It shocked you for a moment, but you couldn’t help but note the way the thought of him had made the experience more enjoyable. 

You struggled within yourself, questioning the morality of thinking of Astarion for your own pleasure. You had no right to him, and aside from his flirtatious nature, you weren’t even sure he wanted you in that way. So you resolved to push any thoughts of your white-haired companion away, resorting to sheer pleasure to satisfy yourself. 

You went for where the aching was in your core, fingers pushing through your own soft folds, gathering the slickness that had already collected in just the few moments. You carefully pushed into yourself, breath catching as you maneuvered through the first ring of muscle. Slowly, you pumped your fingers in and out, taking care to brush against your sensitive inner wall. To your dismay, however, the feeling of your fingers within yourself didn’t bring you nearly as much pleasure as you had hoped. Your mind betrayed you, focused on how it was woefully your own hand and not a certain vampire spawn companion’s. 

You slipped in another finger in an attempt to help fill you up, and your mind drifted to Astarion. What would it feel like if it had been his cock inside of you instead, pushing up against your center. Would he be thick, stretching you out around him? Or would he be long, needing to encourage you to keep taking him in. Your fingers picked up their pace, desperation starting to take root as your longing for the real thing increased. 

With a jolt, you caught your ruminating thoughts, heat burning through your face rather than your core as shame coiled in your stomach. Frustrated, you removed your own hand, a little miffed at how difficult your hopeless crush on the elf had made your life. You took a deep breath, moving onto a different tactic; if you couldn’t control your thoughts, you wouldn’t think at all. Your clit had already swelled a little from the arousal, and as you brushed your fingers over the bump, it produced a satisfying thrill up through your body. 

You began working the bud with your fingers, a soft sound escaping you as you felt your pleasure increase in your body, responding to the stimulation. You allowed your mind to grow hazy with the sensations, little prickles of pleasure running through your hips and legs, giving your body the experience it had been craving. 

You pressed on your clit more firmly, touching yourself with more intensity as your body grew hotter and hotter. Little noises escaped with your uneven breathing, the pleasure unable to be constrained to your body and escaping into the air. You had to be careful, your tent was in a circle of your companions’ after all, but your need overruled any real sense of propriety. You continued to vocalize your pleasure, whispered “pleases” mixing in with the quiet noises that escaped you the more you felt pleasured. You could almost hear Astarion’s voice in your ear, murmuring words of encouragement, of praise, enticing you closer and closer to your climax. 

“Astarion…” You groaned, unable to resist the way it so easily came to your lips. 

Little did you know that just outside your tent, crouched beside the very wall of tarp that you were next to, the man himself sat, pointed ears listening intently to your sounds. Astarion had no intentions of listening into your private moment as he had walked past your tent, but the moment he had heard his own name moaned out, your voice so sinfully needy, he had rooted himself to the spot. It didn’t take him long to deduce what was happening, the scent of your arousal, damp and slick on your hot skin, told him all he needed to know. So he sat there, listening intently, his own hunger growing, tightening the leather of his trousers. 

Your breath came out in little pants as you felt the coil burn hot in your lower abdomen, ready to spring at any given moment. How you longed for Astarion’s actual touch, for him to help you along; instead, however, you contented yourself with a final swirl of your forefinger, and the coil snapped. Warmth swelled in the center of your body, and your body sank into the thin bedroll, satisfaction easing the tension that had plagued you for so long. You pulled your hand away from your body, letting it fall beside your trembling thighs. As soon as the initial high was over, however, guilt poisoning the ecstasy, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. No matter how hard you had tried, you couldn’t get the beautiful elven man out of your head, the stupid bastard. 

“You did so well, darling. So good, coming for me just like that.” You could almost imagine his voice purring to you. 

Except you didn’t imagine it. 

Your eyes fly open, and standing at the end of your bed was Astarion himself, a beautifully wicked smirk curled across his lips. His ruby eyes gleamed with gratification, looking as pleased as can be as his gaze drank in the sight of your dripping folds. 

With a start, you broke from your blissful haze, scrambling to cover yourself; Astarion, however, had other plans, pouncing on you immediately, grasping your wrists and pinning them to your sides. “No no, darling, don’t get shy now.” He clicked his tongue, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “You don’t get to act coy, not when you called out my name. This is mine to enjoy, and you’re not taking it from me.” 

Astarion punctuated his words by bringing your messy fingers to his lips, taking them into his mouth, tongue swirling around them as he tasted you. He groaned, eyes closing for a moment as he savored your flavor. “So sweet, darling…I simply must have more.” 

Your mind was still caught in shock, lost for words as he shifted down your body, hands caressing from your wrists, following the path of your arms as he trailed further and further downward. He knelt into his position of worship, finding the altar between your thighs, more than ready to taste the wine of your body. Despite how needy he felt, he wanted to savor this moment, the way he finally had your truest feelings laid bare before him. 

“Were you truly so desperate for me, love?” He purred, rubbing his nose against your soft inner thigh. “Our perfect little hero of the realm, fucking herself on her fingers, crying out my name. How perfectly filthy.”

“I...I just needed-”You feel beyond embarrassed, being caught in such a personal moment, but even more so being caught by the very man you were using to get off. 

Astarion, however, was the furthest thing from displeased, chuckling as he pushed on your legs, sighing happily as his face was smooshed between your plush thighs. “I know what you needed, pet. You could have just asked, you know; I would have been more than happy to oblige.” 

You inhale a sharp breath, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, a flicker of concern tightening around your heart. “I don’t ever want to put you in that position again…”

Astarion faltered, his heart melting a little as he realized what you were insinuating. He moved back up to hover above you, the cool leather of his pants stretched over his knees as they pushed up against your thighs, effectively keeping your legs wide open for him. He gently stroked your waist–better than the way you had imagined–his slightly dry fingertips soft as he mapped out the curve of your form. 

“You could never.” He says, his creamy voice quiet as he spoke, the most earnest you had ever seen him. His eyes matched the color you felt in your heart, heated and passionate. “You are nothing like him, or any of them. You…” He leaned in, and he pressed his lips to yours. His whole body leaned into you, craving the warmth he could feel radiating off. “You have proven time and time again that you see me as more than a body.” Astarion whispered against your lips, his own still brushing them. “You have given me a place to call home, to not constantly have to protect myself. And now that I’m not just trying to survive…” He moved his lips to your neck, biting gently. “I find myself wanting.”

His meaning was clear in his words, sending tingles up your body from how much more it excited you. “You have to know now just how much I feel about you..how I adore you.” You reach up a slightly shaky hand, cupping his sharp jawline into your palm. He leans into it, hands tightening into a possessive grip on your waist, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving. 

“It cannot possibly match just how much I adore you.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss into your palm. His eyes flit open again, glancing at yours. “And I would like to show you, if you’ll let me.” 

Your breath catches as your heart skips, heat curling in your stomach again. Unable to trust your voice you give him a silent nod, the need evident in your gaze. 

Astarion presses one last kiss to your lips before he returns to his irreverent worshiping, his slender hands wrapping around your thighs, nails pressing into your skin as if to mark you as his. He brings his face the slit between your folds, and he inhales deeply, a satisfactory sigh leaving him. You clench around nothing, his warm breath scattering across your damp skin making your body tingle with arousal. 

“Look at her, already so beautiful and ready for me.” He murmurs, pressing his pointed nose into the little crevice above your clit. He darts his tongue out, flicking the swollen bud, smiling as he feels the twitch of your body in reply. “But look at her, poor thing…she deserves tact, and true pleasure, not just a brutish push to an orgasm. Never fear, my love..” He pauses, pressing a kiss to your pelvis, “I am here to take care of you as you deserve.” 

Astarion rolls out his tongue, pressing it flat against the opening between your softness, and he drags it upwards. He hums with delight, just the hint of your essence making him greedy for more. He pushes through the soft flesh, dragging his tongue expertly up and down, lapping up the mixture of arousal and release that remains. 

You can’t help the soft noises that escape you, no words being able to describe how you’re feeling, the sensations too strong to remain within you, finding their release through your vocal cords. This only spurs Astarion forward, however, who continues swiping his tongue through your vulva, unabashedly hungry in his consumption of you. The only breaks you receive are when he occasionally pauses to tell you how perfect you are, or how good you taste, or how much he adores you. The moment the elf finishes vocalizing his sentiments, however, he returns to your body, working his tongue over and over again. 

You find yourself wishing you could have had this first, Astarion’s actions surprisingly better than your own, as if he was simply meant to know your body in this way. Had you not been so entirely consumed with the sensations his mouth were bringing you, you might have had the notion to be irritated, but instead you only found yourself delighted by his uncanny ability to find the places that pleasured you the most. 

While Astarion could have happily just kept dragging his tongue over you like a man dying of thirst, he wanted to continue focusing on your pleasure. It delighted him, being able to give pleasure because of his affections he felt, with no ulterior motives, and he was determined to enjoy it to the fullest. His shifts a little, easing his tongue into your opening, his body jolting as he feels you gasp and tighten on the muscle. Teasingly, he moves his tongue, easing you open again, sliding it as far as he can get. He presses his face as far into you as he can, taking full advantage of vampires’ lack of needing air. He presses his nose against your sensitive clit, rubbing it slowly, building up a rhythm with his tongue as he moves it  in tandem with his teasing nose. 

He feels a surge of satisfaction as you moan, grinding your body against his face, letting him delve deeper into your soaking cunt as he gets more and more drunk on your taste. He can feel you getting close from all the stimulation, the way his hands have to keep you from closing your thighs around his head–not that he’d mind going that way, but he has other plans for you. 

“You’re doing so well for me, my love….taste so sweet, being so filthy on my tongue.” He murmurs, rubbing his nose against your throbbing clit, and you nearly lose it from hope the vibrations rumble through your flesh. “You’ll be a good girl for me and come, won’t you? Let me taste my saccharine reward.” 

“Astarion, I…” You’re not really sure what you’re trying to say, thoughts increasingly difficult to form with every flick of his tongue against your tense inner muscles.

“I’m here, my darling…my beautiful woman…” He presses a kiss with his lips to your labias, a sweet gesture compared to his demanding tongue and insistent nose. “Let yourself go. Baptize me in your glory, please.” 

He’s begging you. Tongue pushed deep into your core, pointed nose steadily pressing into your bud, Asatrion is begging you to come on his face, and you don’t have the strength– nor the desire– to deny him. 

“Astarion!” You moan out, hips bucking against his face as the tension snaps, your body going slack against him as warmth courses through your muscles. 

Astarion feels a surge of delight and satisfaction as he feels his face dampen, and he forgets any rhythm with his tongue as it greedily laps at you, as if he needs every last drop of your release to survive. You can barely make out his murmurs, only catching your name and words of praise here and there. You whimper as he licks at you, the sensation bordering on overstimulation for your pleasured body, but you can’t deny the ache feels good. 

Finally, Astarion’s face pulls away from your warmth, and he presses one last soft kiss to your swollen clit, inhaling deeply to take in your scent once more. He sits up, reaching a hand out to brush back the hair sticking to your forehead. 

“You alright darling?” He asls warmly, smiling down at your flushed and dazed face. 

You nod, taking a deep breath as you try to collect yourself. “I’m…I”m wonderful…perfect actually..” You glance over him, and feel your stomach flip as you see the obvious bulge in his pants. “Astarion, you-” 

He waves you off, pressing a kiss to your stomach. “Do not push yourself, dearest. I wouldn’t want to break your pretty little body on our first night together.” 

“I want you to break me.” You blurt out, heat rushing to your ears as you drop your gaze. As if you weren’t already a trembling and aching mess from the most thorough and pleasurable eating out you’d ever received. Yet somehow, with Astarion, it was never enough. “Please.” 

For a moment, Astarion just gazed down at you, his wine-colored eyes deep in thought as he seemed to consider you. Finally, he smiled, and he reached down, untucking his shirt. “You are so perfect, darling, you know that?” 

Even after all that you’ve experienced, your body burns with arousal again as you watch him remove his shirt, tossing it aside without a care. For a moment, you feel you might faint when he tells you you can touch him, but you manage to stay conscious. Your trembling hands caress over his smooth chest, feeling the cool, pale skin, and the lean muscles that it encases. Astarion shivers at your touch, adoring how he simultaneously feels both adored and wanted. 

He unlaces his trousers, disposing of those and his underwear, watching your expression carefully.

The heat in your center doubles, and you already ache for friction, for him as you gaze at his body. His cock is long, erected upwards as he takes in the mess he’s already made. Veins curve around the shaft, dark against his taut, pale skin. You shudder as a thrill runs up your spine as you imagine how that will feel, and you wonder if you can die from anticipation. 

“Is this what you imagined, darling? Or have your wicked fantasies bested me?” Astarion teases, his voice low as he returns to his position, howevering over you. He dips his head down, nibbling at your ear before moving down to press a trail of kisses across your neck. 

“You are far better than anything I could have imagined, though...I’m not sure this isn’t fantasy.” You breathe out, feeling dizzy from his proximity. 

“This is very much so reality, darling.” Astarion murmurs into your skin. “And I have every intention of proving it.” 

He leans up a little, just enough so that he can grasp your hips, lifting them to meet his body. As you watch him bring his member to your opening, you wonder if you will ever remember how to breathe. But suddenly, you feel him push in, and suddenly all you can focus on is just how right it feels.

 He takes his time, though it's easy for him to slip in, your body plenty wet from your arousal. He groans your name softly as he feels you clench down, as if your body is demanding to have more without delay. He happily obliges, pushing forward a little more intently, watching to ensure you are comfortable. 

You have no qualms, however; every inch you receive sends little waves of pleasure radiating through your body. You wonder how you ever lived without this, the desperate ache inside of your core easing away as he fills you up. As he gets closer to his base, it becomes a bit of a stretch, your body not quite used to the length, but your moan is full of appreciation rather than pain. 

Astarion bottoms out, a deep breath escaping him as he does. “My darling…” He murmurs, caressing his hands up and down your hips. His eyes are hazy, his body thrumming with heat, with the sheer ecstasy of being so deeply intertwined with you. 

Your own body is pulsing, and you grow a little greedy, your hands grasping at his pale strands of hair. “Astarion...m-more…please…”

Astarion moans again, amazed by how he could have someone so incredible possibly want him. “Do not fear, my love. I have every intention of giving you everything.”

Astarion pulls back his hips, pushing them back in a little quickly, his stomach lurching as he hears the gasp that escapes you. He repeats the motion, building up a steady pace as he thrusts in and out of your warmth. It's like your bodies need one another, crave the most carnal and yet loving intimacy that can be had. Astarion's hands firmly grasp your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can thrust deeper, a little harder as he does so. Both of you moan, the pleasure intensified through the new angle. Astarion stops being careful, pumping in and out of your soft body at a reckless pace, needing to chase the pleasure that continues to rise higher and hotter between the two of you. 

The two of you are lost to your ecstasy until you reach the height of it. You come hard and fast, your insides burning up from the tightly wound coil. You forget everything, calling out Astarion’s name without caring if others will hear it, clinging to him as your pleasure takes you. Astarion follows almost immediately after, hips stuttering before he just presses into you, allowing his hot release to fill up your body. Your thighs soon become slick as it spills out of your body, but you hardly notice, more focused on the sensation of Astarion’s body laying on top of yours. 

For a few moments, you both just lay there together, panting heavily, minds spinning from the sheer amount of bliss the two of you have created. Your hands stroke through his hair, his own hands still cupping your waist as if you are the only thing grounding him to the earth. 

“You are so perfect, my love..” Astarion whispers, his voice husky and low, barely a murmur in your ear. “Just positively divine.” 

You smile, a little flutter of satisfaction warming your own heart. “As are you. I feel absolutely incredible, thanks to you.” 

The white-haired elf chuckles, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Do not ever thank me, my darling. I’m almost ashamed to admit how much of this was for my own pleasure. You will have to force me to only think of you, next time.” 

“Next time?” You echo, quirking a brow at him, hope fluttering in your chest.  Astarion’s smile curls across his flushed face, and he tucks your hair behind your ear. “Of course darling. I can’t have my beloved resorting to her own hands the next time she needs to feel good. Especially if I can be the one hearing you moan my name.”

[disaster-j]

What really pisses me off is people insisting the break-up doesn't make sense as its own thing when it's so clearly in-character for both of them

Buck has been in a serious relationship with a man for six months but hasn't said the word bisexual. We only know that's His Label bc Oliver Stark calls him bisexual outside of the show. Buck has had what seemed to be a perfect fairytale relationship with Tommy bc Tommy made him feel so safe and comfortable and taken care of that he just let everything else about his coming out journey kinda simmer on the back burner.

And, hey, there's nothing wrong with taking your time with that. But considering the scene at dispatch where he still couldn't talk about his sexuality in concrete terms, clearly he hasn't processed it much, if at all. Buck is the guy who dives deep into research at the slightest opportunity, him knowing so little about queerness and queer culture six months into a serious same-sex relationship isn't just out of character but a clear sign that he simply hasn't done any work to explore his sexuality for himself outside of his relationship with Tommy. Whether the writers intended for it read like that or not doesn't matter very much, bc that's exactly what I'm seeing here.

And, again, that alone as a reason to break up with someone is extremely shitty but that's also not what happened.

Tommy clearly has a history of isolating. He's been hurt a lot in the past, we don't need to know the details to know he's a deeply wounded man who spent most of his life guarding his own heart from the world. He told Buck and the audience over and over again, "I look confident. I look sure. I am comfortable. But it took hard work. I wasn't like this before. This is new. This is good but this is scary. I'm working on it I'm working on it I'm working."

He can see that Buck views him as something more, something better, than he thinks he is. Buck loves Tommy, Buck was infatuated with Tommy. Tommy was this perfect guy in Buck's eyes. And that scared Tommy. It intimidated him. But he kept going bc it wasn't a big deal and he could always remind Buck that hey he's just a guy, a guy who had done things wrong for a long time. But Buck never fully grasped it either. Likely bc of how good Tommy made him feel, he struggled to fully grasp that things with Tommy couldn't always be so perfect and good and safe.

They don't talk about that but they keep going bc they like each other bc they're falling in love bc until that six month mark they were both still fairly distracted by how good it felt to be together to really, seriously consider the ramifications of ignoring those not-so-little things they didn't want to face right then.

And then suddenly it's been six months and they're clearly both in love and they're both clearly not ready to be acknowledging that at all. It's been six months and they're just trying to match each other's pace but have never talked about what that pace actually is and then suddenly they're talking about how Tommy used to be engaged to the woman who taught Buck what a real relationship meant and they still aren't even ready to acknowledge they're in love but Buck is already asking to move in together and talking about marriage and they haven't even said i love yous and Buck can't even utter the word bisexual out loud but he wants to jump into living together and fusing their lives together.

But he's not ready for that. As far as Tommy can see he's not ready for that. And if he's asking for something so big when he can't even say the word love then maybe, in Tommy's mind, he'll never truly be able to say it. Maybe they'll keep going like this. Living together and being together but Buck can't face his sexuality as its own thing and Tommy can't face how his trauma affects their relationship and eventually it'll be too much and maybe Buck still wouldn't want to say it and Tommy would push him away like he pushes everyone away and then they'll be right back to that moment, weeks or months or years later, with Buck wanting more but not able to say those words and with Tommy wishing he'd left before it hurt so much.

And sure it hurts to leave now but at least now he's early. Now, Buck hasn't wrapped himself around every piece of his life. Just his heart. At least now he'll hurt but he won't have to move just to get rid of the scent of Evan Buckley perpetually lingering in every corner of his home.

Buck loves Tommy so much he can't imagine a future without him. Tommy loves him so much he can't imagine a future where he gets to keep him.

The break-up makes all the sense in the world. It just doesn't make sense that the break-up wouldn't force them to work on their respective issues and bring them back together stronger in the future.

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic Gojo with a fellow Jujutsu sorcerer darling who gets hurt on a mission, making Gojo even more protective of them and now definitely convinced that he has to take them away? In a short story form please! At least, I HOPE this is enough of a plot for the short story.

We love a good overprotective Gojo short.

Near Death Experience

Yandere! Satoru Gojo Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Isolation, Kidnapping, Fear of loss, Overprotective behavior, Consensual turned forced relationship.

Everything he does for you is always for your own good.

Satoru Gojo, the world's strongest sorcerer, has quite a lot of responsibility. Not only is he meant to keep the Jujutsu Society together... but he is also supposed to be attentive to those he cares for. Or at least, that's how he feels about you.

Satoru knows you, his beloved partner, will never be on his level. Even though you yourself are a sorcerer... Satoru knows something will always overpower you. It's often a fear that nags at him.

Which is why your boyfriend never seems to leave your side.

Satoru made a promise to himself to always protect you. Any mission you go on, any training session you attend, your boyfriend is always there. To him... This is how he can properly care for you.

He's scared to leave you on your own.

Satoru always somehow knew something would happen to you someday. It was inevitable. No Jujutsu Sorcerer comes out unscathed during missions, not even him.

All it took was one mission that was too out of your league. All it took was one slip up, one he couldn't get there in time to correct.... Really, all it takes is one miscalculation...

To lose you.

Satoru hasn't felt dread in a long time. But the moment he saw you, laying on the ground, bleeding? The moment he saw that Curse standing over you?

Adrenaline kicked in and everything was a blur.

Satoru still can remember your screams and whimpers. You were in so much pain and Satoru couldn't help but feel it was all his fault. He looked away... No, took you on this mission in the first place...

He could only save you at the very last second.

The wait with Shoko was agonizing to Satoru. He visited your room in the medical bay every day. The only time he'd leave is for missions, even then, they were always quick with him.

Satoru vowed to never leave your side for long after that. Hell, even after you healed, Satoru knew you couldn't just go into missions again. Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer isn't everyone... It's a taxing responsibility...

You're clearly not cut out for it...

Satoru can't bear the thought of nearly losing you again.

Satoru knows, as your boyfriend, he should support you. He should never lie to you. He should allow you to keep your freedoms.

But protecting you feels more important in his eyes.

When you wake up in the medical bed, Satoru is all worried smiles. He gives you kisses and holds your hand. He tells you how worried he is, how he never left your side.

He tells you he's sorry... for everything.

Shoko tells him to lay off, to let you rest. You broke a few things and lost quite a bit of blood. Even now, days in the medical bay, you're still quite weak.

Yet your boyfriend never faltered in his affections. Even while you were in this state, he felt he needed to make things up to you. He needs to do better.

Which is why he told Shoko he'll be taking care of you once you're out.

"Just until you get better." Is what Satoru had told you when you were discharged. He was taking you off missions until you got better. Even better for him... He insisted on keeping you in a shared apartment instead of your dorm on campus.

Satoru was sure to be an attentive and caring boyfriend when you were healing. He kept you in bed most of the time and insisted you stop training so much. As your boyfriend... He should take care of everything.

He means everything.

At first, you find his actions caring. He buys you food, takes care of you, and always checks in. Your boyfriend is all smiles the entire time.

He loves you... you love him... things are good. You thank him for saving you. You even apologize for being so reckless.

Satoru merely brushes it off. He says it won't ever happen again under his watch. At the time, when he said this, you thought nothing of it. He's your caring, loving boyfriend who would protect you with his life.

It was cute until you found out your boyfriend's true intentions.

'Just until you get better' soon became much longer than you anticipated. Each time you tried to tell Satoru you were feeling better, he denied it. No matter what you say... It wasn't enough.

You originally were understanding. After all, your near death experience scared you both. It's only been a month and a half now... You'll be back to training in no time.

Yet more time passed... Months passed... and Satoru only ever kept you at home. Even when you were able to walk and train again, Satoru always had an excuse. You kept wanting to argue, but Satoru never budged.

"It's better this way." He'd tell you, smiling at you with a condescending tone.

"You won't be hurt if you just stay with me." Was his reasoning, as much as it pissed you off.

You understand, you were injured, but you got out okay, right? You can't leave this job now.... Yet according to Satoru...

You weren't a Jujutsu Sorcerer anymore.

He never kept those glowing blue eyes off you. He rarely even let you on campus. You didn't live at your dorm anymore... It was just you and Satoru in a shared apartment.

Nothing you said ever made him see reason. You felt as though you were being treated like a fragile child. Satoru wasn't your boyfriend anymore... He's your captor.

You two often got into fights once you realized Satoru was stripping you of your freedoms. Satoru merely wrote off your complaints as some sort of odd tantrum. You were livid with him.

Eventually, with tensions running high, you said something troublesome.

"We're breaking up."

You thought if you cut things off now, Satoru would stop and let you out of the apartment. Instead you got...

"You can't live without me. You aren't leaving me. Let's talk this out, alright? You need to understand I'm protecting you, baby...."

Satoru then continues to keep you in the apartment. Keeping you there makes him feel at ease. After all, there you're safe and away from the strong Curses he deals with...

Satoru doesn't regret taking you away. Before you even caught on, Satoru knew you'd have nowhere to go once he brought you into the apartment. You'd be stuck with him... under his protection.

You may hate him, neglect him of your love, but you'll get over it. Satoru knows you'll realize what he's doing is for the best. If you don't... you'll learn.

After all, where will you go without him now?

You have nowhere to go... which makes you forever his... no matter what... you're his to love and care for now.

[solaiced]

CASE 29: NANAMI KENTO'S PUNISHMENTS ARE SO HARSH!

!content!: continuation of day 14, spanking, implied multiple rounds, and not beta’d (it’s getting repetitive.)

wc: 560

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Never had you thought that your boss was such a crude while fucking. But you also never thought he'd sleep with you, so that's something done.

Here you were, pinned down on a cool wood desk by the Nanami Kento, ass pressed to his drool-worthy abs. His hot breath on your nape as his cock drilled into you mercilessly from behind and his rough hand came down on your already red asscheeks, so much pain and pleasure at the same time...

"N-Nanami!" You whimper at the latest branding, legs shaking because you couldn't hold yourself up anymore, too weak.

The sound of flesh slapping flesh reverberated through the room, so loud, it filled your ears.

“What is it? What more do you need, you filthy slut? I gave you what you wanted, and you still want more, you whore?" Nanami's hand slides into your hair, grabbing a chunk and pulling roughly, making you arch your back.

You try to shake your head, tears lining your eyelids. “No, no, please, 's sho good!" You mewl, tightening around his spearing cock inside of you.

He hums, I acknowledging your begging, “think you should-hah! you should apologize, sweetheart.” Nanami whimpers in your ear after saying that in the most honeyed tone one could muster up.

You shiver, delighted at the proximity. "M ... I'm s-so... I'm sorry- Mr Nana- ah!" You yelp at another harsh slap on your ass.

"It's 'Kento’, to you." He huffs in your ear while slowing down.

“I’m so sorry, Kento!” you sob, another, albeit softer, slap landing on your reddened ass.

"Sorry for what?" Nanami snarls, it's almost as if he had something against you and what you are.

His lovely assistant, the one he wants to put a ring on.

"W-what? A r-ring?" Comes your breathless question, and he realizes he said it aloud.

“Fuck yeah.” The man grinds his hips into your behind, teeth gritted. "You should be ashamed... Of your beauty!" He groans as he reaches his orgasm unexpectedly, pulling out to cum on your half-bared back.

Nanami paints your shirt and lower back with his semen, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Your name is half-groaned, half-gasped, his swollen lips forming an 'o', cumming so hard his head hurt and he almost passed out.

You laid there, catching your breath while Nanami's body crushed you with his weight.

"Mr. Nanami?" You cautiously whisper, unable to see if he was even conscious in this position, although you felt his breath on your back, and his chest moving, so at least he was alive.

"Hold on,” you hear him say. “Give me a moment, you 'll cum." Those words felt like a threat, and your body reacted accordingly, trying to move away from him.

“Where're you going?” The man straightens himself up and grabs the hand you were using to prop yourself up and escape.

“I said we weren't done yet."

You've created a monster.

Or maybe, you've uncovered a monster. Because the Nanami you knew has never even showed an ounce of sexual or romantic attraction towards you, so why did he fuck so aggressively? And why was it so hot that you wanted more?

Nanami's large hand spanks your ass and he hums your name deeply, “don’t keep ‘daddy’ waiting, hm? Sweetie.”

Holy shit. Were you gonna die of horniness? It sure felt like it.