#my personal favorite frame is the '...the what.'

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

⋆⁺₊❅. “Give you...whatever you need!"⋆⁺₊❅.

synopsis: being the captains assistant ;)

tags: lots of possessiveness, manipulation (?), power dynamics, dom capitano, vulgar, explicit, fingering, facefucking, begging, degradation, penetration, creampie, you get the gist

wrd cnt: 2.5k

a/n: doja cat pls release generous ( lyrics from the song as title) and my life is YOURS… also partly inspired by the azeru audio….

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Droplets of a custom blend of his favorite drink, warm and slightly sweet hit the bottom of a porcelain cup.

It was just something you did, something you knew The Captain liked and as his assistant, routinely did.

This particular evening it was as if everyone in the nation needed you. A task, an errand, or just had to stop you in your tracks to his quarters for some idle chat.

It must have been several minutes longer than when he was expecting you, which was far too long to keep the Captain waiting; occupied against your will.

His tea was cold by now.

Finally, you ran over to his door. The runway-like carpet ending and small tiles lining the entryway to his office, guarded and sealed.

But you were a regular.

The guard knocked on the door, “Sir, your assistant has returned” he announced, waiting for an answer.

It took a few seconds, but you could hear a faint “Let her in”.

You sigh deeply and watch the giant doors open and shut behind you as you walk into the dimly lit room, only candles and small lamps lit across the table and crackling fireplace that remained behind The Captain’s seated body.

“Over and Over. I must have called you a thousand times? More or less.” He spoke, his voice clear even through the steel mask that adorned his face.

“I’m so sorry-“ You quickly respond, placing the cup on the edge of his desk and folding your hands together. “I got caught up with some others- a few harbingers as well needed my assistance.”

He straightened his legs, now standing in front of you, making you back up just slightly due to his large frame.

“It’s as if you’ve forgotten who you serve.” He said, the point of his gauntlet nail scratching the edge of your jaw and trailing down to your chin.

“Who kept you so long?” He asked, quickly adding “Never mind. Don’t tell me, I’d rather not know.”

You have trouble knowing where to look. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for yourself.

“Now that you’re here…maybe we should get started. You’ll probably need to stay overnight.” He mentioned.

You nod, agreeably to not seem like you’re eager to leave.

You sorted out all the intel Capitano had been collecting. There were piles of data, equipment, maps, and so much more. You were the only person he’d let touch them. It was common for you to stay late, as work never seems to dry out. It was also common for you to be whatever he wanted you to be. Errand runner, liaison…or his toy to let out his frustrations.

Everyone sees The Captain for what he puts on. Respectable and professional.

Most of the fatui honestly confess to enjoying working for him, as he has been much kinder than the others.

He can be, but he has his limits.

How can he be so kind to you when you’re late? You dared to keep him waiting.

“This is unlike you.” He says, noticing you yawn as you flip through the pages.

You blink your eyes a second too long, “Oh- I’m sorry I haven’t gotten much sleep, but I can keep working! Please don’t worry”. You assure.

“ I’m not worried, not for myself anyway.” He adds, kicking his feet up on the edge of the desk.

“Come here.” He urges you, forcing you to get off your small little table in the corner to his desk.

He flicks just one finger and you follow, taunting you to his lap.

“Yes- Captain?” You feel your throat get dry as you sit on his thigh, big enough to count as a seat.

“Is there anything…you need from me?” You ask, insinuating a more personal form of assistance.

He hikes his foot up higher on the table, creating a steep slope of his legs that drags you down and forces you into the crook of your lap, hands instinctively hitting his chest for balance.

“This isn’t for me. I think we need to wake you up.”

You felt a small shiver run up your spine when his hands landed on your hips, “How else will you finish all your work?” He adds.

You let out a small sigh as you felt his steel-clad fingers wrapping around your sides as if your ribs were now armored.

He slowly dragged them down your stomach, small points sliding down the sides of your thighs making you arch your back and grind onto his lap, earning a chuckle from him.

With swift motion, he grabs your throat; dropping his mask on the floor and letting it roll off somewhere.

Your body tenses, and you can see the most faint glimpses of his face; still hidden under the darkness of the room.

Deep and rich, he speaks to you, “Take off your clothes.”

Almost as if he’d conditioned your mind, you do so with no complaints.

He even helps, tugging up your shirt with the finger tip of his gauntlets as you pull it off. As your shirt falls to the floor, you stand before him in just your bra and skirt, your heart pounding in your chest. He doesn't waste any time, his hands moving to your back, deftly unhooking your bra with practiced ease. The straps slide down your arms, and your breasts spill free, bouncing lightly as they are finally released. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, exposed and vulnerable.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. "Now the rest."

You slip your skirt down, letting it pool at your feet, and step out of it.

You stand there, naked and vulnerable, your breath hitching as Capitano's fingers trace the curve of your hips. His touch is firm yet deliberate, each movement sending shivers down your spine. Shadows play across his muscular frame, making him appear even more imposing as he pulls you back onto his lap, each leg now dangling off his sides.

"Spread your legs," he commands, his voice low and gravelly. The steel in his tone leaves no room for disobedience.

You hesitate for a brief moment, but the intensity in his dark blue eyes compels you to comply. You part your thighs, positioning yourself in his lap. The heat between your legs is almost unbearable, a stark contrast to the cool air brushing against your exposed skin. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your folds, another hand squeezing your breasts between his thumb and forefinger. You gasp, arching into his touch, your body betraying how much you crave his attention.

"Please..." you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears you.

He leans forward, his mouth closing around your nipple, suckling hard enough to make you cry out.

His teeth graze the tender flesh, sending waves of pleasure and pain coursing through you.

You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into the tough material of his armor, as he moves to your other breast, repeating the process. Each pull of his lips, each scrape of his teeth, makes you shudder, your body responding eagerly to his rough ministrations.

"Captain..." you moan, your voice breaking as he continues his assault on your senses and his gentle strokes around your inner thigh, purposefully ignoring your sensitive pearl.

He pulls back, leaving you panting and desperate for more. His eyes glint with satisfaction as he watches you struggle to catch your breath. "Turn around," he orders, his voice firm and commanding.

You obey, swinging your leg over and turning your back to him…well, it’s more of him picking up your entire weight and shifting you into position.

As you automatically reach for the edge of the desk to steady yourself, he lifts himself off his seat, stepping close to your body, his presence looming behind you, his heat radiating against your bare skin. You feel his hands on your ass, squeezing the globes roughly, spreading them apart to expose your most intimate parts. Your breath hitches as you anticipate what's coming next.

"Look at you," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for me." He adds, flicking his arm down to release his hand from the gauntlet, thudding on the floor just as his last piece of equipment.

“Is this what you were thinking about in that little corner of yours?” He teases.

His fingers trail down, skin grazing the crease where your thighs meet your ass, dipping lower until they brush against your wet folds. You gasp, your knees buckling slightly as he slips one finger inside you, probing deeply. You clench around him, your muscles instinctively tightening, drawing him deeper.

"You're so, so wet," he murmurs, his finger sliding in and out of you, slowly building up speed. "Such a good girl."

Your head falls forward, your forehead resting on the cool surface of the desk as you ride out the sensations he's unleashing on your body. His cold finger flicks against your clit, making you jerk and whimper, your hips swaying involuntarily as you try to get more friction. "Beg for it," he demands, removing his finger and resting it on your hips.

"Please... Captain, please," you beg, your voice shaking with need. "I want more... I need you..."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "Not yet," he says, "But soon."

You whine in protest, your body aching for release, but he grabs your hips.

"On your knees," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You drop to your knees, your hands trembling as you reach for his belt, unbuckling it quickly. You undo his pants, pushing them down to reveal his hardened length, already glistening with pre-cum.

You lick your lips, your mouth watering at the sight of him.

"Take me in your mouth," he orders, his hands gripping your hair tightly. "Show me how much you want it."

You obey, wrapping your lips around his throbbing cock, sucking gently as you take him deep into your throat. He groans, his hands tightening in your hair as you bob your head up and down, your tongue swirling around him with each pass. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, his hips thrusting gently to meet your movements.

"Fuck... yes," he mutters, his voice strained with effort. "Suck it like you mean it."

You redouble your efforts, taking him deeper, your throat convulsing around him as you gag slightly.

He tastes amazing, salt and iron, the essence of his power and dominance filling your senses. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard as you stroke the base of his shaft with your hand, listening to the sounds of his grunts and moans above you.

"That's it," he praises, his fingers digging into your scalp. "Just like that... almost there...you’re working so hard"

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breathing heavy and labored. You know he's close, can feel the tension building in him, and you work harder, your jaw aching from the effort.

Suddenly, he lets out a low growl, his fingers yanking your head back as he comes, his hot seed flooding your mouth.

You swallow dutifully, licking him clean as he pulls out of your mouth, his chest heaving with exertion.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust, and smirks. "Up," he commands, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm.

You do as told, standing up and facing him, your legs shaky from being on your knees for so long. He grabs your wrist, yanking you towards the desk, and pushes you onto it, your chest pressing against the cool wood. You gasp, your nipples rubbing against the rough surface, sending jolts of sensation through your body.

He kneels behind you, his hands roaming over your ass, squeezing and caressing the flesh before diving between your legs once more. His fingers find your drenched entrance, slipping inside with ease, pumping in and out with increasing speed.

You moan, your head falling back as his other hand circles your clit, rubbing it furiously.

"That’s it…keep making those sounds," he whispers, "So fucking wet for me. You need more, don’t you?”

You nod, unable to form words, your body consumed by the pleasure he's giving you. His rough hands continue to pleasure you, painting your ass red with just a single slap.

“Answer me.” He says, waiting for your begging voice before pressing his hard length into your ass.

“Yes- please….please Capitano.” You whimper.

You can almost feel the smirk that’s plastered on his face behind you. He lines himself up, his tip teasing your entrance, dipping just enough to coat himself in your slick arousal. You shiver at the contact, your body tensing in anticipation. Then, without warning, he presses forward, his cock sliding partway into your tight channel before pausing.

"Relax," he commands, his voice firm. "Give yourself to me completely."

You try to relax, breathing deeply, but the stretch is overwhelming. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he begins to push deeper, filling you inch by agonizing inch. You bite your lip to stifle a cry, your muscles clenching around him as he forces his way inside.

"That's it," he whispers, his voice strained. "Take it all, my little slut."

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he's buried deep inside you, his balls pressed against your ass. You gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the fullness, by the sheer dominance of his presence within you. It's almost too much, but somehow, it's exactly what you need.

Capitano doesn't wait for you to adjust. With a low growl, he pulls back until only his tip remains, then thrusts forward again, his hips slamming into yours with bruising force. You cry out, your hands clutching at the desk for support as he claims you over and over again. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your head spin and your vision blur.

"Fuck, you feel good," he grunts, his voice rough with exertion. "So tight, so perfect."

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. He fucks into your at a monstrous pace, your body going limp. He picks you up, holding your neck firm from behind.

“Arch your fucking back.” He growls, roughly handling you into position. You can feel the tension building in him, the same tension that's coiling inside you, tightening with every thrust, every caress. You're close, so close, but he's not done with you yet.

He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your ear. "Look at me," he commands, his voice a low rumble.

You obey, turning your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are wild, filled with lust and possession. He looks at you as if you're his world, his everything, and in this moment, you believe it.

"You're mine," he whispers, “Anytime another person- another damn harbinger calls for you- shit” He groans, “…tell them to fuck off. Captain’s order?” his voice thick with emotion. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, I will-!" you breathe, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

His hand slides down to your clit again, his fingers rubbing in fast, desperate circles. The added stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you scream his name as you come undone, your body convulsing around his cock. He follows right behind you, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave, filling you with his warmth.

You’ve never served Capitano with a cold cup of tea again.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[solivagant242]

losing you pt. 10

remus lupin x f!reader

warnings: strong angst, swearing, hospital, car accident

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 pt. 9

amberly is used as the MC here since i used to write a lot of fanfics with her, but feel free to self-insert or use whatever name you’d like <3

________________________________________

“Moony, have you eaten yet?” Her dark head pokes around the corner, framed by the untidy soft curls that he’d always longed to push back from her face. “It’s nearly three.”

He rests his burning eyes on his hands, groaning. “It is?”

She perches on the edge of his desk and leans forward to press a soft kiss on his cheek. “Yes, it is. Did you have lunch?”

Remus grimaces. “Forgot.”

Amberly sighs. “You need to eat, love.”

Her hands find their familiar spot in his hair and he pulls her into him by the waist, savoring the smell of lavender that’s imbued in her clothes and skin. “Thanks for checking on me.”

She nuzzles into his shoulder. “Of course.”

She was so warm. She’d always been warm, everything from those chocolate-colored eyes to her pale, gentle hands that had always been able to soothe his scars and wounds and fears. Her smile melted him like spring sunlight on stubborn snow.

Amberly stroked the back of his head. “It’s okay, Moony.”

He chucked a piece of crumpled paper across the room, fists clenched. “I should have gotten better than that”-

“You did the best you could, right? It’s not like you didn’t try.” Her big brown eyes are wide with concern.

“It wasn’t enough,” he spits, chest heaving. “I wasn’t enough.”

Amberly touches his shoulder and he collapses next to her on the bed, burying his face in the pillow. “You’re always enough, Remus. No matter what.”

A sob shakes his shoulders and he clings to her, tears soaking her jumper, as her fingers card through his hair. 

Icy tears are soaking Remus’ ears and pillow.

He’s been staring at the same blue-washed ceiling for hours now, unable to move or sleep or think anything other than the same four words that have been repeating mindlessly in his brain all day.

It’s all my fault.

It’s all my fault.

It’s all my fault.

If Amberly were here right now, she’d use her thumb to wipe his tears away and kiss the spots where they had been. She’d snuggle right up next to him and rest her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. He’d wake during the night to find her in the exact same position, clinging to him with her soft curls draped over her face. 

Once, Sirius had joked that sleeping with Amberly when she stayed the night must be like sleeping with a very large and very affectionate Venus flytrap. Remus had laughed as warmth flooded his bones and Amberly blushed next to him.

Now he doesn’t think she’ll ever look at him, much less hug him, again.

If she’s even here at all-

The thought hits him like a punch in the gut and he doubles up as a raw sob rends his chest in half. 

No more holding hands on the way to the bakery in the mornings. No more sleepy cuddles on the battered living room couch. No more back and neck rubs by the light of the fireplace in the evening. No more random animal and math facts exchanged over lunch, or cheesy cat memes sent over text at all hours of the day. 

All of that would be gone.

The added thought of and it’s all my fault wraps iron fingers of guilt around Remus’ ribs and squeezes. He buries his face in his hands as tears pour down his face, more tears than he believed possible after all the crying he’s been doing.

You did this to her. You pushed her away. Over and over again, after all she tried to do was help. You were a complete and utter prick to the one person who loved you more than she loved herself. 

Merlin, she’d do anything for me. Did do anything for me. Countless visions of keeping her waiting, of her making him his favorite food even when she was tired, of those brown eyes being exhausted and drained because of him rose to his thoughts. But always, always so warm and full of love and that he felt like he was coming home every time he saw her face.

Until now. 

Remus chokes back another sob.

The hospital gave him a room on the first floor, down the hall from Amberly. Apparently it was the “least they could do” after the state he’d been in when he saw her. He’d collapsed to his knees on the floor as the sheer force of what he’d done hit him. Sirius- who’d still been very close to punching his face in- had had to drag him out as the doctor watched impassively. 

Down the hall.

She’s just down the hall. 

His feet are on the ground before he knows it and he’s padding noiselessly down the white, blue-lit corridor. An eerie silence permeates everything. The narrow windows in front of the doors are dark and silent. No one is awake at two forty-three a.m.

Her room.

Her door.

Her bed.

Her-

Remus feels fresh tears pour down his face and he sinks onto the chair at the side of the bed. 

She’s still, so still. Her face is paler than ever against the sterile white of the hospital sheets. Her eyes are deeply shadowed, and she’s breathing so faintly that the blue quilt is hardly moving. Her hair is spread across the pillow like it’s melting into the night, barely discernible in the dimness of the room.

He takes her hand. He can’t remember the last time they held hands, not the way they’d used to. Fingers interlocked, warm and sure, the one single guarantee out of everything in this life that he’d loved and loved and loved.

Amberly stirs. 

His lips part as he turns towards her, shocked; her eyes flutter open and fix on him.

He can’t tell what she’s thinking. He can’t read her expression at all, and as he opens his mouth to croak out a I’msosorryIloveyoupleasedon’tleavemepleasepleaseplease-

“You’re not Remus.”

Her voice is soft, almost disappointed. There’s an odd note of resignation in it that strikes Remus to the core. 

He clears his throat and tries to keep the tears out of his eyes. “It’s me.”

“No,” she murmurs, shifting slightly in the bed. Her cast rustles against the covers. “He wouldn’t have come.” Her eyes close again.

Remus’ throat closes up at the note of assurance in her voice. “Wh- what do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Amberly mumbles. “Busy. He’s too busy.”

“Busy with what?”

“Stuff,” she breathes. “I think I should leave him alone. He doesn’t like when I help.” A tiny bit more alertness returns to her eyes and she gazes at him in the dark. “It’s my fault.”

“No,” Remus manages to choke out. “It’s not.”

Her eyes are luminous in the dark. “It is. It’s why I have to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop”- Her voice is getting breathy and quiet as she sinks back down into sleep. “Stop caring.”

Then she’s asleep again and tears pour down Remus’ face as her hands goes limp and slowly, slowly slides away from his. 

[physalian]

Narrative Framing Devices

This is a long one…

A story need not be told chronologically, nor does it have to be only one layer deep. There’s a ton of different ways to frame your narrative, I’m just picking a couple today, some I thought worked and some I thought didn’t, and my personal favorite.

Most people think of framing devices in terms of time travel stories or fairytales, where it may start in the present or the future and work backwards, giving up the ending before telling how we all got here. Or by chopping up the chronology and letting the audience try to puzzle out the order.

There are also those that break the fourth wall, with the narrator beginning the story directly addressing the audience but never doing so again, or the narrator opening the story telling their own story to a present audience, so we’re the audience behind the fictional audience.

The other obligatory framing device is the time-skip, a la “6 years later” or “8 months later”. I’ve already talked about those. Or the preface/preamble/prologue that may spoil some important event later in the story, or is simply an important moment or montage of moments to catch the reader up on “how did we get here”. Shoutout to Castlevania for the most efficient pilot episode I have ever seen, with a 1 year timeskip.

Also honorable mention to the “A Life in the Day” montage from Magicians, speedrunning decades of a life together between two characters stuck in a Situation, maybe 60 years? Key moments between the two having a whole romance, with a kid and grandkids, over the course of one beautiful bit of soundtrack. One of the best episodes in the show, for a sequence that only lasted a little over 5 minutes.

—

Story within a Story | Princess Bride, "Ember Island Players"

Best example I can think of, specifically the film, which is based on a book that already incepts itself. The movie opens with a regular kid being read the book The Princess Bride by his grandfather, and occasionally cutting between the kid’s reactions and the fantasy story with the actors.

There’s several moments where the grandfather either loses his place and rereads a scene that replays the same dialogue, or skips a scene in the “kissing book” because his grandson gets squirmy, and moments where the grandfather narrates over a couple montages.

Princess Bride is one of those movies that knows exactly what it is and isn’t trying to be something it’s not. It’s self-aware and loudly and proudly sincere, with one of the best revenge arcs ever put to film.

Recap episodes can either be clipshows or get really creative like ATLA, telling the series recap through the medium of a propagandized play about the Avatar's journey, performed by actors of the Fire Nation. The Gaang sits there in vague states of discomfort, horror, or in Toph and Sokka's case, thrilling enjoyment, watching their hardships and heartbreaks played for laughs. That it's the story we know, but also with the added filter of it being enemy propaganda takes what could have been just a clipshow and still told multiple layers of a story with it.

The Fourth-Wall Break | Riordan-verse, Deadpool

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood” defined a generation. It’s one of those fourth wall breaks that opens up the story and never appears again, though occasionally Percy will get slightly self-aware, saying things like “I didn’t know it then, but I’d never come back here”. But for PJO it almost doesn’t count.

Kane Chronicles on the other hand chose a bizarre framing device, having the two leads pretend to host a radio show, or a podcast—something where they were recording themselves and I don’t think it worked very well whenever it popped up and stopped the plot.

Shoutout to Tangled, too, for having a fairytale style fourth-wall break at the end, much like KC, where Flynn reveals that Rapunzel has been listening to him tell their story the entire time. Many fairytale stories open up with the physical book flipping open to the story, like Shrek and Shrek 2, but I don’t think those are translatable to the written medium very well.

The big one, though, is of course Deadpool. Have not seen the second one, and while ‘breaking the fourth wall’ isn’t by itself a framing device, DP & Wolverine absolutely makes it one, fast forwarding and jumbling up the sequence of events to deliver a “how did we get here?” during the opening credits.

Chronology Salad | Memento, Predestination

Have not actually seen Memento but I know the premise, working backwards as the protagonist recovers his memory of “how did we get here?” Predestination is a batshit insane time travel story that I don’t think most people have even heard of and detailing the plot at all is giving spoilers but it is the most “how the fuck did we get here??” movie I have ever seen.

Then you have stories like Twilight that open with “I’ve never given much thought to how I would die” that spoils (kind of) the ending, with the goal of the story not detailing if something bad will happen, but how. Twilight’s prologue reminds me of The Bachelor, where they’ll tease the audience with *shocking* moments completely out of context from later in the season that are way less cool when they actually come to pass (from the one time I watched with relatives out of morbid curiosity).

The point of these chronological mixups is how all the random puzzle pieces fit together, despite essentially spoiling themselves constantly, they’re so random, so out of place, meant to keep you constantly guessing until the big reveal of the picture on the box—and are extremely tricky to do well without completely losing your audience. You’d have to have a very thorough outline to not confuse yourself while trying to write it.

Honorary mention here for Inception, one of my favorite sci-fi movies, because the plot is crazy, but still told chronologically, just across different dream levels. However, the movie does open with the ending scene (though you don’t know that on your first watch). And Tenet, but I don’t know anyone who likes or cares about that movie.

Dual Timelines | Outlander

There are others I just cannot think of them at this moment. Dual timelines tell two stories simultaneously across two different eras, either decades apart or mere hours, with some relation between the two. Sometimes one timeline’s protagonist is the ancestor of the present timeline, for example.

Dual Timelines happen in sequential order, making them distinct from a flashback arc (more below) essentially two chronological plots running in tandem squished into the same book, episode, or film. They carry equal weight and try not to overshadow each other in flair or importance.

In Outlander, Protagonist Claire is already a time traveler, in a time travel story whose rules are “whatever happened, happened, and you end up causing whatever you tried to prevent”. Season 2 opens with her returning to the present, leaving the entire rest of the season with a foreboding sense of dread, wondering what will get her back to that moment.

Season 3 dangles the carrot on the stick, randomly cutting between Claire in the 60s and trying to move on with her life for… I think 20 years, while Jaime, her love interest from the past, just keeps getting kicked while he’s down. It takes forever to get these two back on screen together. And the dual timelines continue taking up screen time when Claire and Jaime’s adult daughter also eventually makes a trip to the past. Points off for being blatantly manipulative storytelling with its cliffhangers, but season 1 is still worth the watch.

Flashbacks, Flash-Forwards, and Flash-Sideways | Lost

This show’s earlier seasons were heavily framed with this device. In The first 3 seasons (up to the last episode) the framing device was exclusively flashbacks, focusing on one of the main 13 heroes for an episode, particularly in season 1.

They didn’t always answer “how did we get here” but told some story relevant to the character in the present, either a challenge they had to face or parallel relationship drama or ghosts come back to haunt them. Usually, these little flashbacks were told in sequential order, but they could hop months or years ahead at a time depending on the episode.

The flash-forwards began in season 4 and closed the gap between the “Oceanic 6” escaping the island and all the missing time while they were gone, before the infamous “We have to go back” line.

The show also had flash-sideways, which featured the main cast, many of whom had been dead for a few seasons, reprising their roles to show what could have been their lives if they never crashed. To… mixed reception.

The show also also had a time-traveling character who in-universe experienced flashes of the future and got mentally temporally displaced between two timelines for a hot minute.

Lost was… a show that demanded a dedicated following. I still love it.

Flashback Arcs | My own personal soapbox

This right here is the whole reason for this post. First you have flashback episodes and I can name a lot of those—ATLA has a couple, “The Storm” & “The Avatar and the Firelord” but both are technically “stories within a story” with characters either around a campfire telling it or reading about it. The alternate timeline takes up a majority of the runtime, only occasionally cutting back to the present characters for a reaction.

In TFP there’s an offbeat flashback episode “Out of the Past”, framed, again, as a character telling this backstory stuff to another character. Many, many vampire stories will have flashbacks to some degree, since their characters live for so long. Vampire Diaries, especially in the earlier seasons, had dozens of them filling in all the blanks back during the Civil War when the two leads, Stefan and Damon, were competing for the affections of the main villain, all leading up to how they were turned, and how she allegedly died. Once the Originals were introduced, the show then had flashbacks to a thousand years ago, when they were human, and various eras in between.

True flashback episodes don’t waste precious minutes setting up a framing device, they just dump the audience in an alternate timeline and let them figure it out on their own that something isn’t right.

But none of that comes close to the full-on Flashback Arc. I. Love. This. Trope.

I actually first saw it when Arrow was good in its earliest seasons, cutting fairly equally between a present-day Oliver back home and starting his hero journey, and him learning combat back in the past, over several episodes like a series within the series.

What you end up with is a happy medium between a full dual timeline and a random grab-bag of flashbacks as they become necessary to the plot. A flashback arc relies entirely on the existence of the A-plot to make sense, as opposed to a dual timeline where it’s essentially two self-sufficient stories rolled into one big narrative. This arc is substantially shorter than the rest of the plot, cutting the story it’s telling down to the absolute need-to-know moments and cutting all transitions between the two. These arcs tend to cover weeks, at minimum, and decades of a long life at most.

I think they're best implimented after the first book, film, or season. Not something you want to throw at your audience who barely knows or cares about these characters, so if you're stuck with ideas for a sequel, consider the Flashback Arc.

My favorite thing that I have ever written (sans ENNS) was for my sci-fi WIP, a C-plot flashback arc in 13 parts. They started out as in-universe nightmares to give credibility to when these flasbacks started occuring, framed around the character's reaction to the scene, but then took off independently to avoid redundancy.

This arc covered his time as a POW, telling the reader how he came to be the living weapon he was, and the first detail it opened with was the reveal that he wasn’t the only one of his kind, he’d lied and shouldered the blame of every atrocity to protect the others, as their numbers dwindled and it all fell into place. A truth he wouldn't tell with a gun to his head.

Because you already knew he lived, because he’s right there in the present A-plot, the arc wasn’t telling you if he’d survive the war, but what he’d do to survive, and how it all fell apart. Because it was framed up with the existing narrative, I had a lot more leeway in omitting details and dropping the reader weeks or months ahead as opposed to this being a completely fresh story with new characters. You knew immediately based on the tone that this POV was the C-plot flashback POV, and you knew the only person who could narrate it was my poor character.

Over 13 POVS, 34k words (of a total whopping 202k), I told a whole love story, established and killed off 10 characters, and gave heaps of worldbuilding lore and exposition to fill in all the blanks in the present and answer questions that this character would never, and revealed just how much he lied about and why.

All of this tied in with the A-plot, staggering the physical placement of POVS within the book to hit at the right moments tonally and as the character’s condition kept deteriorating because he refused to talk about What Happened. His reason was that he’d done all of this and suffered so much to keep their legacies pure. If he gave it up now, he would have done all this for nothing.

And this was some heavy shit. There was murder, suicide, death by giant alien super robots fond of ripping people apart, assault, mercy killing, torture, gaslighting, and psychological horror. One of my magic systems let magicians regrow limbs alchemically, which meant they could endure a shit ton of pain and just get reset to do it all over again.

It was a lot.

But because it was just in flashbacks, I gave you just enough dark shit before cutting back to something marginally lighter, not just one long slog of misery. There was also the unknown of how quickly it would end. The book would end when you hit the last page, but you had no idea which flashback POV would be the last.

And also.

I got to flex my writing skills to the fullest, writing this character’s flashback POV in a completely different tone and style to make it that much more distinct from the rest of the present book.

ENNS’ sequel is very much under construction, but the one thing already polished is a flashback episode packed into one chapter for one of my characters. It’s perfectly knife-twisty and I can't wait for people to read it.

—

There’s dozens of framing devices out there. Most important thing, I think, is not sacrificing audience understanding for the sake of something ‘cool’. Doesn’t matter how amazing the story is if your audience gets completely lost and confused trying to keep up with what’s going on.

If you'd like to check out my book, Eternal Night of the Northern Sky is available now!

[dazzelmethat]

Some messy Mushishi fanart. Ginko could be a microbiologist.

I'm still sad that 'journey to the microcosmos' the youtube channel is ending. If you are a mushishi fan of the surreal mushi I recommend watching their hd videos on microbes.

[thepoisonroom]

'I flirted with the idea that instead of being trans that I was just a cross-dresser (a quirk, I thought, that could be quietly folded into an otherwise average life) and that my dysphoria was sexual in nature, and sexual only. And if my feelings were only sexual, then, I wondered, perhaps I wasn’t actually trans.

I had read about a book called The Man Who Would Be Queen, by a Northwestern University professor who believed that transwomen who were attracted to women were really confused fetishists, they wanted to be women to satisfy an autogynephilia. And though I first read about this book in the context of its debunkment and disparagement, I thought about the electricity of slipping on those tights, zipping up those boots, and a stream of guilt followed. Maybe this professor was right, and maybe I was only a fetishist. Not trans, just a misguided boy.

About a year later, on the Internet, I come across a transwoman who added a unique message to the crowd refuting this professor. Oh, I wish I remember who this woman was, and I wish even more that I could do better than paraphrase her, but I remember her saying something like this: “Well, of course I feel sexy putting on women’s clothing and having a woman’s body. If you feel comfortable in your body for the first time, won’t that probably mean it’ll be the first time you feel comfortable, too, with delighting in your body as a sexual thing?”'

-Casey Plett, Consciousness

[mortellanarts]

"The steady thump of his heart in my ear made me feel like I was home- It's beat was almost like a lullaby"

(Today on the 10th of December 13 years ago we got this amazing little game called 999, happy anniversary!)

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know multiple of these are likely important to people, but I'm asking in terms of like - which of these do you tend to focus on the MOST, enjoy the most, that is most essential for you to actually care about the media, etc.?

(For example: someone finding "Relatability" most important would likely not enjoy a show much if they have trouble empathizing with the characters/relating to it, even if it were good otherwise. Or, someone might be able to overlook bad acting and ugly costumes, as long as the Character Dynamics are fun to them, because they value that more than Aesthetics- while for others, bad costumes would be a dealbreaker.)

Also feel free to reblog and explain your answer or more information in the tags- I've always been curious about people's relationships to media, how they conceptualize it/what they get out of it, how some people value some parts more than others, how that informs their overall taste and genres they may be more inclined towards, etc. :0c

[smalltownghosts]

Sunday

[alwayshappyhoursomewhere]

Cup of China 2023 - Adam Siao Him Fa and Shoma Uno during the men’s victory ceremony

[the-priestess-of-dawn]

is there a reason you prefer the chrom sealing grima ending over the robin sacrifice ending? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a chrobin fan that likes that one more before :0

Oh boy... Well... I think this is a very unpopular opinion, but I'll explain my thoughts. (If anyone here follows me on Twitter, you may have seen me rant about this before lol)

Alright, in the context of the narrative, the sacrifice ending is quite compelling, I'll admit... But...

It's... kind of an incredibly fucked up ending, and the fact that I've seen many people call it the "good ending" of the game really upsets me. Oh, sure, we all say it's the "sacrifice" ending, but... It's really more of a "suicide" ending. When Robin speaks to Grima, their exact words are "The evils you would visit on this world are unthinkable... In some way, I—we share the blame. It's only right we meet our end together!"

And like... I'm sorry, but WHAT? This is not Robin triumphantly sacrificing themself for the world; this is Robin feeling GUILTY and like they owe their life for their sins??? (And also, this is way worse if you don't think Robin is Grima's soul reincarnated, because if Robin isn't Grima then saying that they share the blame is just straight-up not true; Robin didn't do ANYTHING wrong in this timeline. If Robin IS Grima then at least we can be like, okay yeah, you sure did commit some atrocities a thousand years ago...) In any case, I hate the "Redemption Equals Death" trope, and is that not exactly what Robin is attempting to pull off here?

But here's the thing... What about all the people relying on Robin in the present? Okay, depending on how you play the game, it's possible that Robin has no spouse or children (though Chrom still heavily relies on them regardless of whether or not he's married to them), but if you're doing a Chrobin playthrough, well, not only do you have Chrom, future Lucina, and future (past) Morgan if you did the paralogue, but you also have baby Lucina, the one child who definitively already exists in this timeline. Sorry but I actually think it's kind of bad to choose to die (when you absolutely don't have to) when you have an infant at home!

And look, people like to talk about how Chrom wants to "doom the world" for Robin, but honestly that's an overreaction. If it weren't for the machinations of the Grimleal, Grima wouldn't have been revived in the first place! And the Shepherds just finished killing the leader of the Grimleal, plus presumably a large number of the members were sacrificed to restore the fell dragon's body, then you also have however many died in the Endgame battle (because infinite Grimleal reinforcements get warped up to Grima's back). It kind of seems like the people most enthused about dying in Grima's apocalypse would probably have already given their lives for the cause? So it might well be that nobody will actually WANT to bring Grima back in a thousand years. And even if someone does, they might not be able to, if knowledge of key details has been lost. And even if they do have the knowledge, they might be stopped before they can succeed. And even if they aren't, Chrom is right... "[Grima] may rise to threaten the world again, but he'll never destroy it. One such as [Chrom], or the first exalt before [him]... One will rise up to challenge him."

(I'm going to be honest... it REALLY bothers me when people act like Chrom is somehow in the wrong for opposing Robin wanting to die. What is he supposed to do, agree that someone else should be killed for the greater good? Sometimes I see people using it as proof of how much Chrom loves Robin, but no, I'd say the proof is in every OTHER moment of the game. THIS is simply the proper response to ANYONE saying that they feel like they ought to kill themself to make the world a better place.)

Moreover, I feel uncomfortable with a lot of popular fanon portrayals of this ending... In particular, I can't stand the idea that Robin LIES about not sacrificing themself and then does it anyway. This is not in any way something you're required to do in-game, and I don't think it's super in-character given most popular interpretations of Robin, and to the extent that I can buy there being some universes where it indeed happens that way (you can, after all, hit the buttons to play it out as such in-game if you really want to), it ultimately suggests a complete lack of character development because y'know who else thinks their opinion about good and evil is the only one that matters? Grima. Additionally, in the Chrobin context specifically I think it's even more of an asshole move if you did the Chapter 11 automarriage...

I mean, it's not like I don't enjoy Robin being an asshole (I prefer Grima-flavored Robin, after all. And a lot of my fics do stem in some way from the sacrifice ending, though it's BECAUSE I think it's not a very good choice that I'm interested in it), but... Honestly, a lot of my dissatisfaction boils down to the fact that the game ends, and then Robin abruptly comes back after the credits, and then the game ends for real, and at no point are any consequences shown. Then fans declare that it's the "good ending," that "nobody chooses the other ending," that "they can't imagine Robin doing anything else." People wax poetic about the sacrifice ending as though it's the ONLY canon option and like, I have nothing against people who prefer it, it's just... there are also plenty of valid reasons to NOT prefer it. Stop telling everyone that nobody ever lets Chrom land the final blow!

Also, I'm going to make a bold assertion here, but... Chrom CG (which is the happiest he ever looks in Awakening) > the reprise of the meeting cutscene (which doesn't really make much sense in context anyway... Seriously, why are Chrom and Lissa rehashing the conversation they had when Robin was a stranger to them? Chrom should be in tears. I do love "Welcome back. It's over now." at the very end, but it's just hard for me to buy that everything before that goes exactly the same way as the first time they found Robin on a field.)

Furthermore, when you let Chrom land the final blow, I find it really heartwarming to see Robin's family affirming that they're happy Robin lived (and if you want to talk about proving Chrom's love for Robin, he's the only one who doesn't get additional dialogue if he's Robin's spouse... He just affirms his love no matter what.) After everything Robin has been through, it's just... a lot more satisfying to me to see Robin trust in their friends and family and choose to live even though they aren't sure it won't cause problems in the future. I mean, can ANY of us ever be completely sure that we'll never hurt anyone in the future? In fact, it's almost certain that we will. I still think life's worth living, even if it means we have to keep doing battle with the demons that continue to haunt us.

So yeah, the final line of the game when you let Chrom land the final blow makes me really happy.

"Don't you see? You belong with us. We want you here to share our present. ... And help create our future."

[illbestarryeyedforyou]

I passed out in the living room floor waiting for my brother to call me because he asked me to be on standby since he needed help with new furniture and I woke up with my glasses broken 💔👓😭😭

I'm so stupiddddd — I had them on and I should have kept them on instead of putting them aside next to me as I took a nap.

On top of that, the WiFi has been out since 8pm, then my LTE started not working properly, and now my favorite glasses are broken?! 😔😔😔

What an oof night

Oh well 😮‍💨

[heeseungsbm]

thinking about fuck buddy jake... (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

₊˚⊹ pairing❥: jake x female reader

jake's sex drive is extremely high. he can't remember the last time he was able to go a week without it, he's always horny so he's grateful to have you to accompany his needs when he calls. he loves a good quickie and doesn't really care where you do it. fucking you when and where you're not supposed to gives him a pleasurable adrenaline rush, and he's really good at not getting the two of you caught. ♡

you've fucked in numerous peculiar locations; the couch at his grandparent's house, a victoria's secret fitting room, a playground late at night, his little brother's closet— listen... being squished on his lap for an hour during hide and seek wasn't going to end any other way. you surprisingly haven't done anything in a movie theater yet, but he absolutely plans on it.

jake's favorite place to fuck you is definitely in his car where you can get loud as ever. he loves taking you to the back, bending you over and pounding your pussy until the seats get sticky with sweat and cum, the windows get so fogged up from both of your hot heavy breathing combined.

fuck buddy jake will always give you head before fucking you. he has the most plump, voluminous lips that make you feel better than any toy can. he'd whisper against your cunt that aches for him, spitting on it and smearing the saliva around with his digits to prepare you for his tongue+fingering combo. the way you look down at him with so much adoration when he's in between your legs makes him crazy hard, and it feels so good to give his cock slow strokes as he french kisses your pussy. he keeps a certain length to his hair solely because he loves how you run your fingers through it while he makes soft suctions on your sensitive clit, how you grip it hard to grind against his soft lips before cumming in his mouth.

you never cared for australian accents until you met your fuck buddy jake. the way he speaks is just saurrr sexy, his tone is soft and sweet with you and it makes a complete pool in your panties. you easily do anything he asks. he thinks it's so cute how embarrassingly wet you get from his voice alone, so he makes sure to talk you through your orgasms as much as he can when you fuck. most of all, jake loves to call you his good girl, it's his favorite line of praise. "you look so pretty taking my dick. you wanna be a good girl and cum for me?" he'd talk your head off during missionary, showering you in filthy compliments.

fuck buddy jake likes to text you consistently. sending good morning & goodnight texts just feels right to him, and he always insists you text that you made it home safely after you leave his place. he's the first person you send selfies to before you post them on social media, and of course he gets the exclusives, if you're picking up what im putting down. you two exchange nudes and sext back and forth during late horny hours, he desperately fucks his fist in his bed to the nasty messages that pop up on his screen. he likes to send you videos of him stroking his dick and cumming all over his abdomen with his face in the frame, you save and touch yourself to them when he's not able to come over ❤︎₊ ⊹

fuck buddy jake loves to mark your body, even though you're not officially his. he'd hungrily bite and suck on the sweet spots of your flesh, creating dark bruises in places only he gets to see. not your neck since its too obvious, but your tummy, in between your thighs, and his favorite place— your tits. he hates when you wear tops that expose your chest and will pull up your top when nobody is looking, because all his hickies reside there, which are only for his eyes only.

fuck buddy jake is a whiney moaner, he just cannot help himself with the way your warm walls grip and tighten around his cock. he gets really high pitched and breathless, really loud when he's about to cum. "shit, oh fuck you feel so good. im gonna cum inside you," he'd moan pathetically, throwing his head back as unbearable bursts of pleasure pulse through his body. the groans he makes during sex are probably your favorite part of the entire thing, they're needy and dramatic. when giving him blowjobs you purposely continue to suck and tease his tip after he cums, just to hear him whimper and beg you to stop because he sounds so cute >؂•̀

jake tries his best to last for you, but sometimes he physically can't. you love how easily he leaks his seed though, it's kinda hot... especially because his load is always so excessive and messy. he'll use a condom depending on if you want to, but you almost never do, you love to fuck raw thanks to your handydandy bc pill. his pull out game is terrible... but to be fair, the warm sensation of his semen shooting up inside you feels too good to ever want something between the two of you.

fuck buddy jake cares alot about your pleasure. with his past bodies all he cared about was getting his own nut, but with you its different. when you first started messing around, he read books and took notes on female anatomy to make sure he knew exactly how to make you feel good, how to thrust, where to lick, where to grope, where to suck. you'd think he was a virgin after going through his search history; "how to make a girl cum from head" "how to make her squirt" "how do you find a girl's gspot?" he knows better than to learn from porn. he gets so carried away like a complete nerd, sitting and watching educational sex videos for hours at night with his dick hard, planning what he'll do to you the next day.

fuck buddy jake calls you his girl/girlfriend jokingly, but deep down inside there's meaning behind it. he's had the gushiest crush on you ever since the first day you met, and having secret sex nearly every day only deepened his infatuation for you and made him fall in love. however, he would never confess unless you hinted at it first. he has a great fear of rejection and would hate to make things "weird" between the two of you if you didn't want something more than just moaning each other's names behind closed doors.

all he can do is cross his fingers, hoping that one day his dick game will make you cum to your senses.

(yes, that was a pun pls LAUGH)

𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯!

🏷️ @emowonz cornered and bullied me to drop bye

reblog if you enjoyed <3 pretty please💕 i'll do heeseung's tmrw most likely. have a goodnight/day/evening babe

[roturo]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK!

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! ₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, exhibitionism, getting caught, he fucks you while he's on the phone, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son, age-gap.

A/N: well, this was surely and adventure and maybe self-indulgent title because guess what?, i'm back baby.

It was a nice morning, he felt clean. Like his life was finally steadying. Even after some stressful weeks trying to get rid of his now ex-wife, he won the trial and kept Yuuji. Poor little boy, just turning 5 years old and he’s already facing all this type of stress. But thankfully he will not be experiencing enduring his crazy mother behavior. Which basically was a gold digger, and a bitch– Not that he would ever say that outloud, maybe with other words? Bastard? Witch? Not that it really matters right now.

He could finally take a break now, just focusing on raising his little boy, and being an old boring 31 year old dad. Life doesn’t sound that bad.

“Daddy! Daddy!,” His son went running to his arms, almost stumbling by himself- clear happiness shown on his face. Quickly, Gojo opened his arms ready to lift the young kid. “Miss Y/N congratulated me on my homework! She was pretty amazed!”

Your name wasn’t unknown to him, Yuuji was very open when talking about his favorite teacher, even though he hasn’t seen you yet- from what he’s been told you’re the kid’s favorite, including Yuuji’s. “I had to talk about who’s my hero, and I chose you!” If this day wasn’t going great, it was now. Because his son's comment just made his whole week, life even.

“Oh look dad!” The little boy pointed towards your moving frame, each time getting clñoser towards them. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/N!” Yuuji kept presenting the both of you. He was really excited to present his two favorite persons to each other- but all Gojo could think of what’s how young and beautiful you looked. He expected someone older, maybe even an old lady with wrinkles and that loving grandma vibes, but what he saw made his heart beat in a way he never thought he would feel ever more.

“Daddy? Are you paying attention?” The little boy gained Gojo’s attention back, face now looking at him again. “I’m sorry kiddo, kinda just zoned out there. What did you just say?”

“Uhh, what was it? Oh! Did I tell you Miss Y/N told me you were a very handsome man?”

“Yuuji!” His gaze moved towards your blushed face, a hand covering part of your face. “I’m so sorry Mr.Gojo, I didn’t intend to say-”

Gojo cut you off before you could continue apologizing “It’s okay, I also think Ms.Y/N is a very beautiful woman.” 

Uh, well. So this is how kinda you found yourself in this situation right now.

You swear it wasn’t your intention! You really tried, you really did, but how could someone say no to Mr.Gojo? And mostly because he really showed his attraction towards you. Sending Yuuji with a rose for you every day, and the little boy was rooting for his dad, because dear god- he did not shut up about him, and how happy he would be with a new girlfriend and maybe one he could call ‘mommy’ and give him a sister. 

That made you blush. 

Not only because the little boy commented on it, and was agreeing- but because it was his dad’s idea.

“You’re so wet, s-shit.” Loud thrusts filled the room, he was fucking you raw on his sofa– waiting for Yuuji’s mom to bring him back, the little boy was eager to come back and ‘see Ms.Y/N and his daddy finally starting to fall in love’

Kids being kids. But, he was right- the both of you were falling in love with eachother.

Gojo throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you. 

When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, “Shut it. You don’t deserve to speak.”

His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrive from it, come to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.

“Ffffucckkk- oh baby, would you like that? Be full of me and my baby? Make me a daddy again?”

“yesyesyesyes, make me yours Mr.Gojo-” 

He pays your climax no mind,a smirk clearly showing on his face while he fucks you on his sofa- You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now he’s shirtless–taut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rolls–before seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.

“Good girl.” His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?” Your poor fucked up mind couldn’t think clearly now. The way your abused and overstimulated pussy was still taking his rock hard cock gratefully inside you was making every feel giddy. A sudden noise bringing back a little part of your senses, Gojo clearly grunting grabbed his what you suppose phone, and answered. Not bothering to stop his thrusts.

“Yeah?,” His voice sounded almost like a whisper because of how breathy it was. “Gojo? I’m almost at your house- Yuuji wanted some ice-cream and bought some for you and… your new girlfriend?” His chuckle interrupted his ex-wife’s conversation, accompanied with a whimper at the feeling of you clenching on him- overstimulation clearly bringing you back to climax soon again.

A slap was heard from his part of the line, an unbelievable laugh coming from his ex-wife line, clearly noticing what was going on and then she finally heard you moan. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and you were too fucked out to feel embarrased about it right now.

“Finish before I leave Yuuji- Enjoy yourself.” Gojo was so lost in pleasure that he didn’t even realize she hung up before he even processed what happened.

His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the sofa. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that could’ve been, it melts you like it’s how it always should’ve been.

His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed “fuck,” and he empties out into your used hole. The moment he pulled out, a knock was heard. 

“Shit. Can you walk?”

PART 2

[seasaltandcopper]

I think one of my favorite creative joys is seeing how many different things people can do with the same concept. give ten writers the same starting point, or basic plot, or set of tropes to use and you're still going to get wildly different end results

the details you focus on, the ones you omit, turns of phrase, tone, and framing, the cadence and tempo of the sentences themselves, all the little fingerprints you've left littered across the prose — how you tell the story matters, and your personal voice is what makes it unique

[seraphdreams]

ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK? | GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. the campus power outage gives your sly classmates a proper chance to get to know you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader, college au, dark content, kidnapping, use of toys, one (1) mention of “you cryin?”, vibrators / dildos, fearplay, eiffel tower position, blindfolds / restrictions, dubcon, squirting, double pen if you squint. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 4.0k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! happy friday thee 13th !! i know y’all remember me saying i wouldn’t write jjk anymore but i caved! so here’s my comeback to writing them , i literally can’t get gojo out of my head. as always, comment / reblog if you like it ! i’d muchly appreciate it ♡.

“isn’t she lovely, satoru?”

“fucking beautiful.”

a pair of crystalline-like eyes followed your bare figure down from your heaving chest to your lower abdomen where they settled on your glistening folds. you were spread open, laid against the armrest of the couch you were splayed across, hands bound taut by what felt like cheap, abrasive rope.

of the softer voice you had heard, its owner pulled out a silk piece of cloth from the pocket of his sweatpants, carefully binding it over your eyes, eluding your already subdued line of sight.

their mannerisms were recognizable, the two men who’d gotten you into that pathetic situation.

they were none other than gojo satoru and geto suguru from your foreign affairs class. prior to, you hadn’t shared much of a striking moment with them for their names to be ingrained in your memory, other than the times suguru would ask for a pencil, and gojo, a copy of the notes. it wasn’t until the start of the fall semester that you had grown closer to them.

they’d invite you to the campus’s library on account of needing you, /and only you,/ to tutor them, along with accompanying them to parties held by the school’s fraternity, and back to their dorm when things got boring — they took quite a strong liking towards you, despite your persistence on rejecting each advancement they made on you.

it wasn’t like you found them unattractive, or even unbearable. they just had more rumors than they could keep up with hanging off their reputation; rumors consisting of them switching girls much like they switch clothes simultaneous with how they weren’t particularly shy about their hookups, were among the ones you’d grown familiar with.

but, as the end of the semester grew nearer, you felt a need for excitement and a change of direction; especially in the form of gojo and geto.

“y/n?”

walking back from your overtiring night classes, the call of your name from a familiar voice whipped you straight out of fatigue. it was none other than the duo that seemed to follow you step by step, like puppies with their owner, as you turned around to catch a finer glimpse of them.

“hi,” your voice came out dulcet, and slightly hoarse. “why’re you guys out so late?”

“could be asking you the same thing.” suguru retorts, strands of long, inky black hair framing his mirthful expression. he had always been handsome to you, over six foot tall with sharp facial features that involuntarily caused him to exude an intimidating presence yet, he had a tame personality to back it up. there was a reason he was popular on campus.

he was also remarkably attentive when it came to you. suguru would make it a habit to check up on you from day to day, under the guise of morning texts and showing up to your dorm with limited edition beverages from your favorite cafe.

it wasn’t considered flirting if he was constantly referring to you as a “friend,” right?

satoru quickly came up behind him, resting his arm over the shoulder of the black haired man. he was donned in his signature style of attire, tinted glasses low on the bridge of his nose despite the sun being hours away from rising, which you had presumed was just his fashion choice. he looked better like that, anyway.

“i was just coming back from my night class. it let out early,” your words flowed airily into their ears, the tone cordial as ever.

it was the thing they loved most about you — your doe eyes, plump lips, and sexy curves that they’d fantasized about tracing every inch of with their tongues. you were too perfect, and far beyond naive. The ideal victim.

“pretty girls like you shouldn’t be out so late. it’s dangerous.” gojo held an emphasis to his last vocables, the warning you should’ve taken, yet brushed off as concern. because, of course it was. your friends were only “concerned.”

you nodded your head, lips involuntarily jutting out in a soft pout. “i know, i know.”

gojo was the rather flirtatious half of the duo, often opting to remind you of his undying attraction towards you that never seemed to get through to your glitter-filled mind. you were wrapped around his finger whether you knew it or not — you were but the final reward for him when having the others back to back failed to feed his salacious desires.

“you should swing by, though. satoru and i aren’t doing much,” geto spoke, looking at the blue-eyed man hanging off his side. “right, satoru?”

gojo perked up, a sly smirk making its way to his lips while he beckoned you closer with the movement of his fingers. “yeah, it’s friday. you deserve some time off, pretty thing.”

he wasn’t wrong. most of your time was spent dealing with school in which you barely had a moment for yourself. not to mention the fact that it was convenient, the commute to their dorm held less distance than it would’ve had you walked all the way back to yours. it worked out perfectly, for both parties involved.

with the mindless nod of your head and an “okay”, you made your way towards the two, and began to stride along in the direction of their place.

things were off about the duo, though, but not quite strange enough for you to think anything of it. the route was the same, some vacant corridor that always kissed your skin with its glacial breeze, leading to their hall, and down just a few steps was the doorway to their dorm.

as you patiently wait for geto to scan his keycard, the sensation of featherlight touch ghosting along the mast of skin that your tiny cropped top allowed to be exposed, shook you from your veil of comfort. you had come to realize it was gojo who took it upon himself to rest his hand on your lower back.

the world around you felt recognizable, yet you couldn’t shake the suspicion that deep down, something’s wrong.

the latch of the door beeped, signaling that it had been unlocked successfully, and with a sturdy hand, geto opened the door to allow for you and gojo to slip past while he kept his distance, treading leisurely behind.

satoru flipped up a light, the whole place illuminating immediately after. it looked different from the last time you came over, posters that littered every wall in the living space seemingly replaced by minute frames of artwork, all cohesive with the neutral nature of their dorm.

lit at the coffee table across from the couch where you decided to settle yourself at, was a single-wick candle that filled their air with its hints of fresh sage and amber musk.

“lemme take care of your bag,” suguru extended his arm out to you with a soft smile on his face. gojo sat down beside you, ridding himself of his glasses while you gave geto your tote. “i need to get something from my room so i’ll just put it on the bed that way you won’t have to worry.” he continued.

“thanks, sugu.” you returned his warm smile with a beam of your own.

gojo’s tongue clicked as he rolled his head back against the headrest of the couch. “marry her while you’re at it too, huh?” his tone is painted in vexation that wasn’t clear enough to distinguish between mirth or solemnity.

you heard geto chuckle as he made his way to the bedroom, waving off satoru’s comment. “wouldn’t hurt you to be nice every now and again.”

“you jealous, ‘toru?” you taunted to the ivory-haired man, relaxing further into the couch as his arm took purchase around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. “and if i am, baby? what’ll you do t’me?”

it wasn’t hard to get lost in his eyes, especially when they seemed to draw you in with that playful expression of his and kept you craving more of his attention. he’s so annoying.

you brushed off his query with an eye roll, turning your focus back to geto as he sat on the other side of you, a small box taut in his grip.

oddly enough, the soft whirring of mechanics died down along with the luminescence that filled the dorm shutting off, leaving the three of you in pitch black darkness, with only the faintest sliver of light emitted coming from the candle.

it painted an eerie picture, one that caused the pace of your heart to quicken as your body involuntarily tensed.

“oh?” suguru was the first to voice his mystification. he set the box aside, taking a haste look at gojo; which was more of a silent cue to the latter, reminding him of their true intentions.

what you assumed was geto’s hand over your thigh, diligently ran along the expanse of your lower half until its fingers curled at the hem of your bottoms. “aren’t we lucky?”

his touch was unfamiliar, nonsynonymous to you as the chivalrous suguru you knew. the sensation was weighty with lust, hungry against your skin, enough so to cause you to wonder.

“suguru, your—“

just as you were about to question the man before you, his eccentric best friend cut in.

gojo created the slightest gap of distance between your bodies, mainly to take advantage of the sight before him — geto working diligently to rid you of your garments, stripping you bare, safe for the thigh high socks struggling to contain the spill of your plush thighs.

“what? you afraid of the dark?” satoru’s teasing aided in affirming your suspicions. and the fact that you were utterly helpless, only sprung on his arousal as well. “we’ll take good care of ya.”

geto’s left hand found its place back on your thigh, more-so to spread your legs for the two. “you trust me, don’t you?” he smiled, that same smile that was painted over by an ulterior motive. he stood up, finding his knee in between your thighs, centimeters from your heat. “satoru, the rope?” he held his hand out for gojo, feeling satisfied once his request was fulfilled by his best friend, handing him the cord from the opposite end of the couch.

the words you wanted to say struggled to bubble up in your throat, rendering you speechless and anticipating. in one hand, suguru took both your wrists, tying them taut by the cable and stepping back to get a better view of your helplessness, specifically the way it leaked from your cunt and soaked into the cushions.

all the same events that explained the predicament previously mentioned.

after the unfortunate affair of being blindfolded, you felt lithe fingers drum at your clit. it was a teasing, rhythmic sensation that made it clear to you in the strongest way it could, that gojo was the one with reigns over your body now.

“our feelings are so hurt, babe,” his voice feigns offense, and although you couldn’t see him, you sensed that his signature smirk was etched over his features. and that, it was.

he toyed with your heat, running his index and middle fingers along your slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he could before sinking them into your hole. “you kept rejecting us in the past, but,” as his words trailed off, the pace at which his fingers pumped inside of you quickened. “we’re treating you fucking good, right?”

even though it was just two of his digits, the stretch that they’d allot to your hole was delicious, the tips of his fingers deliberately curling against your gummy walls, right at your g-spot which only made the shaking of your thighs worse.

“god—” you rasped, nodding your head. your heat made no effort in slowing the way it greedily sucked in his fingers. it was almost as if you were waiting for this, fantasizing how it’d be like to be one of their girls.

with every foolish thought came foolish actions.

satoru awaited your answer, speeding up to an impossible pace when you didn’t respond within his time bracket. “wanna hear you say it, baby. tell me how good I'm making you feel,” he demanded.

it felt as though your mind was going to break, the pleasurable mixture of sensations causing your head to spin and orgasm to build within you. you only allotted the fortitude for soft babbles, trying your hardest to conjure up something coherent. “f-fucking good! ‘s so fucking good!”

the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing vigorous circles over the bundle of nerves. “attagirl,”

wet squelches were sonorous in the air, so much so, that the students inhabiting the dorms just across the hall could probably hear the filth taking place at that very moment. not that it was something new to them — it was just another satosugu friday night.

you couldn’t take anymore, your thighs threatening to close around his arm, yet his free hand kept you spread.

“i think she’s gonna cum, satoru,” geto coos, leaning down beside you while watching as gojo edges you closer and closer to sweet release. “can you squirt for us, princess? make a mess?”

before you could retort, your release rippled within you, sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. evidently, geto’s questions were answered instantaneously the moment you soaked satoru’s fingers with your essence. your chest heaved, your breath growing ragged just moments after.

if only you had the reins to see them — touch them.

gojo slipped his soiled fingers into his mouth, moaning at the saccharine flavor you left him with. if he could live off the taste of you alone, he’d know for sure that he’d die happily.

“are you really that sensitive?” suguru queried. in his hand was the concealed box, filled with toys; some that could vibrate, along with others that were clearly meant to stretch you out. he pulled out one of the thicker dildos, running it along your slit in paintstroke motions.

“do you think this could make her squirt just as fast?” his inquiry to gojo made it undoubtedly clear that they’d been plotting against you from the very start; it wasn’t just some spontaneous idea.

gojo’s focus was unwavering on the dampness seeping through his sweats, his palm rested atop his hard-on as he watched the pleasant sight of geto sinking the silicone into your hole. amidst satoru, he was concerningly gentle. he had kept one hand at your thigh, draw soft patterns while he kneeled between your legs to give himself a better view at how hungrily your cunt sucked him in. “‘toru’s always so rough, isn’t he?” suguru cooed,

you mindlessly nodded your head; it wasn’t like you agreed, but you were stuck between heaven and bliss, not knowing which felt better. whereas gojo was, albeit, impatient and loved to get the good parts, suguru was refreshing, like a cold glass of lemonade on a warm summer’s day. suguru started up a thrusting motion with the toy, building it up to a speed that had your back arching and thighs quivering under his hold.

“you’re so tight, darling. you a virgin?” his soft voice speaks out.

as you were about to respond, gojo’s large hands found themselves at your tits, kneading the flesh while his fingers tweaked at your stiffened nipples. “this virgin’s pretty hot,” satoru commented.

“n-not a virgin!” your reaction came in the form of a cry, seemingly at the increase of stimulation within your gummy walls, the tip of the silicone cock nudging so sweetly against your gspot that the nothingness of your sight morphed into white hot pleasure.

you had fallen perfectly into their trap — what would’ve taken a considerable amount of effort, and even thinking, was handed to them easily though the power of the gods; they’d be sure to thank them later for their service .. or maybe you will.

suguru removed one hand from your thigh, relocating it to dig aimlessly through the box. he was satisfied when he pulled out a tiny bullet vibrator, switching it on to the most mild level and gently circling it against your clit. “mm, i don’t think i believe you,” an amused smile etched on his features watching you squirm in his hold.

with pleasure stemming from the most sensitive parts of your body, it’s difficult to chase away the feeling of yet another, messy, mindnumbing orgasm. “geto..!” your whines fell to deaf ears, suguru hyper-focused on the way your puffy clit twitches underneath the toy. he knew you were close; anyone within a mile’s radius could tell that, and perhaps he was covertly evil, because the loss of stimulation that came soon after he pulled the toys from your heat was pure work of the devil.

he spoke up just as he switched his attention from your aching cunt to your heaving chest. “if you’re not a virgin you shouldn’t have any trouble taking us both, right?”

oh?

they were like that. you should’ve known — the two did everything together, it’d be foolish to deny the possibility of them fucking together.

your obstructed vision was finally restored when gojo took off your blindfold. he figured it’d be much better if you saw how you were about to be obliterated — and obliterated you were.

he took your hand in his, standing you both upwards.

you wobbled beside him, your legs feeling like jello from the insane amount of stimulation your cunt had to endure. “look at her, suguru. she can barely stand,” gojo teases. “and we haven’t even got to the good part yet.”

he wastes no time in freeing his hard cock from the prison that was his boxer briefs. his length was long, bulbous head flushing a soft pink as beads of pre-cum dribbled down his shaft. he gave himself a few experimental pumps before turning you around and bending you over.

without the stability to keep yourself bent completely, you crashed into geto, who was no more than an inch away from your face. you looked up, sheepishly as he rid himself of his hoodie, faced with his toned abdomen.

“we haven’t done this position in a while, huh?” there’s a cocky smirk on geto’s face. one that was his own, yet it wasn’t the suguru you’d known.

since when was he the conniving type? did all his time with gojo finally rot his brain? or were you staring at a man you truly never knew?

suguru’s hand slipped just under the waistband of his sweats to free his cock. the tip tapped harshly against your lips before he took a firmer grip at the base to smear pre-cum over your already saliva drenched lips. “open up, pretty baby.”

instinctively, you slid your tongue around the head of his cock before suckling the sensitive area, only gradually taking in more. on the other end, gojo pushed himself into your core, letting out a low hiss at how eagerly your needy cunt took him in.

“she’s fucking tight,” he groans, squeezing at the plush fat of your hips while rocking his own into you.

“don’t get greedy now, ‘toru,” geto’s voice is soft as his hand in your hair gently guides you to take him deeper, up and down his cock. it’s evident you’re pretty damn good at giving head from the adoration in his eyes when he looks down at you, silvery orbs with hearts for pupils locked onto your vacant ones.

“what a well trained whore you are.” he praised, beginning to buck his hips up into your mouth, not rigorously, but enough to prod at the back of your throat and scatter tears to your waterline.

gojo slipped his thumb into your puckered hole while his thrusts became harder, with fervor. he wasn’t one to be patient nor hold back, especially when it came to someone like you, with a pussy so tight and moans so sweet, he’d have to break you just a bit. where’s the fun in that if he doesn’t?

his balls slammed against your clit, creating a potent string of pleasure to course through your body. throbbing was pertinent within your walls, each drag of his cock along the ridges inside you posing you weak from the shocks of euphoria. a hard slap came crashing down at your ass, gojo’s sizeable hand repeated the motion occasionally to watch the way the flesh rippled.

your moans were muffled by the intrusion of cock getting fucked into your mouth. the room reverberated in an array of messy skin slapping in tandem with groans and whimpers. it was music to their ears, a song they’d want on repeat if it were possible.

“shit.. ‘m gonna cum,” geto’s dulcet tone alerted. you watched in pride at how the muscles of his lower abdomen flexed in the onset of his orgasm. his rhythmic thrusts faltered, morphing into a resonance of scattered heavy thrusts that led him closer to his orgasm until he eventually jettisoned his seed into your mouth. the taste wasn’t as bitter as you were used to, it was almost pleasant and you swallowed every drop before he pulled out ever so slowly, his chest rising and falling while his cheeks were dusted in a soft rose flush.

“you were so much better than i imagined,” his fingers wrapped around your jaw, gripping ever so gently as he bent down to messily kiss at your lips, groaning at the taste of his orgasm on your tongue.

“yeah, yeah. good for you,” gojo started up in his usual bratty tone, sounding more guttural than his typical self. “can finally cum in her without you messin’ me up.”

suguru was used to gojo’s sharp tongue, his complaint not seering as deep as it would’ve had it been their younger years.

whorish moans slipped past your lips, your balance wavering as gojo picked up speed. he was far deeper inside your plush cavern, hitting at the spongey spot with precision that had your whimpers turning into babbles. “s-sho good .. you fuck me sooo good,” gojo took amusement in your slurred speech, pulling you up by the waist until you were completely upright.

it felt as though he couldn’t reach any deeper, yet he did, the feeling spreading all over your body, you were almost 100% certain that you could feel it in your ears. tears had filled your waterline and came cascading down your cheeks before you could even establish what it was. satoru held you close, your bare back pressed against his chest. it was an overwhelming feeling, one that made you lax enough to rest your head on his shoulder.

he smirked, gripping your chin with his fingers to get a better look at you.

“you cryin’?”

that familiar sensation bubbled up within you, what had felt like your nth orgasm had come in blissful surges, his cock coated in the translucent milky essence of your release.

with haste, you were fucked through aftershocks and overstimulation as satoru chased his high.

he had stamina for days, having built it up through multiple one night stands, and yet, he wasn’t quick to pull out like his counterpart, no. there was something of love that came with cumming inside you.

the skin of your thighs clung together with a mixture of your cum and his as he pulled out of your twitching hole. you stumbled a bit, getting back grounded on your feet, the two men tucking their third legs back into their garments.

a flickering noise was sounded from the building, different from the soft flickering of the candle that was beside you. quickly, the surgance of electricity illuminated the dorm, bringing much needed light to the situation at hand. you looked down at your bound wrists before the rush of embarrassment washed over your being once you had taken your naked, used body into account.

gojo carefully whisked you both back onto the couch with you sitting on his lap. “guess our fun’s over, huh?” he pouted, unbinding the rope that rubbed uncomfortably against your wrists. you weren’t exactly sure of who his rhetorical query was aimed to, and you would’ve spoken up had your throat not have been aching from the constant whining or even the pounding of a thick cock fucking bruises in the cavern.

geto was now situated behind the couch, leaning over the both of your figures.

“over? she’s spending the night.”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — @valentinevampyr @oneofthesevensins @ryukatters @dabibreeder

[aromantic-pantyanarchy]

It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.

I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.

I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.

I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)

I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.