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yo-imagino · a day ago
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AMOR PLATÓNICO
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En verdad hay sentimiento que es mejor que se queden en lo platónico, y es mejor recordarlos así, irreales, inacabados, porque eso es lo que los hace perfectos.
Gabriel García Márquez.
Se suele tener la creencia de que el amor platónico es aquel que por algún motivo resulta inalcanzable, que no es correspondido, por lo tanto dicho amor se idealiza y no puede incluir un vínculo sexual.
Pero este amor inalcanzable, es una pésima derivación de las ideas de Platón y nada tiene que ver con el concepto del amor según él.
El amor platónico, según el concepto filosófico, se refiere al amor verdadero y del eros, que explicó muy bien el filósofo en el banquete.
Dice Platón que el amor es una orientación gradual que si bien puede partir de la belleza física, debe trascender a la belleza espiritual, solo así se alcanza el conocimiento apasionado, puro y desinteresado de la belleza misma.
El término "amor platónico", no lo acuñó Platón, por supuesto, lo utilizó por primera vez el filósofo renacentista Marsilio Ficino, al referirse al concepto del amor según Platón.
Ficino, decía que el amor platónico es un amor real, inmutable, inteligible, eterno y perfecto, centrado en el carácter y la inteligencia de una persona. Pero no vayan a pensar que Platón defendía un amor espiritual sin sexo, más bien él abogaba por un camino medio en donde las personas se pudieran abstener de la promiscuidad, pero también de la abstinencia.
Para Platón, los tipos de amor que se basan en los placeres que nos proporcionan nuestros sentidos son formas de cariño más bien banales.
Así que, si hemos sido capaces de superar la etapa del deslumbramiento físico, entonces se revela ante nosotros el amor por la belleza en sí misma, desprendida de cualquier objeto o sujeto. Es el nivel de amor supremo.
Imagínate, conocer de forma apasionada, desinteresada y pura la belleza, de manera que ese sentimiento no se corrompa ni se vea alterado con el paso del tiempo, y que también apunte a la causa y el origen de dicha belleza, la cual es única en sí misma.
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El amor es sentir que el amor sagrado late dentro del ser querido.
Platón
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¿Pero cómo es que llegamos a confundir la idea de Platón? La confusión parte del hecho de que el filósofo nos plantea la forma más pura de amor, no sólo porque no se basa en un intercambio de cualidades físicas o materiales, de que sea totalmente desinteresado, sino que además nunca nos deja acceder completamente a lo que amamos, porque según Platón, la belleza pura tiene esencia divina, y por tanto nunca puede ser alcanzada por el ser humano. ¿Entonces, cómo es que Platón habla acerca del amor en términos tan positivos y optimistas? La respuesta es que, para el filósofo, el amor nos impulsa a mejorarnos a nosotros mismos para estar más próximos a la belleza anhelada, y esto es algo bueno en sí mismo, hay algo en nosotros que nos impulsa hacia la autoperfección, luchamos por acercarnos más a algo que está infinitamente alejado de nosotros, pero en esa búsqueda ganamos conocimiento y a la vez aceptamos nuestra propia ignorancia. Entonces en algún punto empezamos a asociar el pensamiento de Platón con la utopía y no con una utopía como la hubiera querido el filósofo, que sería un modelo a seguir sino como vulgarmente se entiende, como un imposible, ergo el pensamiento de Platón es igual a imposible, por tanto, amor imposible es igual a amor platónico.
Pensamiento de Platón = imposible
Por tanto, amor imposible = amor platónico
No nos enamoramos de las personas, sino de los resquicios de belleza que podemos encontrar en ellas. En esa armonía está el ennoblecimiento del alma y la virtud de la que habla Platón. Para él, ell amor se encuentra en un equilibrio entre lo que se conoce y lo que se ignora, y esta regla puede aplicarse también a nuestra relación con las personas. Esto es así porque, cuando idealizamos a una persona, la estamos percibiendo como un ser prácticamente perfecto, justamente porque no la conocemos lo suficiente como para ver que no lo es.
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Idealizar a alguien consiste, generalmente, en desconocer a esa persona no por su capacidad para seguir conservando el atractivo pase lo que pase, sino a causa de nuestras dificultades para conectar con ella, ya sea porque hace poco que la conocemos o porque sólo nos deja ver una de sus facetas. Esto último se hace evidente entre las personas mundialmente famosas. Los famosos tienen detrás una maquinaria de marketing tan masiva y unos asesores de imagen tan eficientes que sólo conocemos la parte más agraciada y admirable de su persona. En menor medida, ocurre lo mismo con las personas que, a pesar de atraernos por su apariencia, nunca llegan a conectar del todo con nosotros.
Curiosamente, es la estética y lo material, aquello que tenía menos importancia para Platón, lo que nos lleva a idealizar al prójimo casi nunca es un acercamiento intelectual. Quizás nos resultaría útil pensar más a menudo sobre este hecho.
Según Platón, hay dos clases de eros. El uno es el amor a la belleza, al bien, a la sabiduría. El otro es vulgar, ordinario, es el simple amor sexual o al cuerpo, el amor sin búsqueda, sin selección, el mero azar. “No todo amor, dice Platón, ni todo eros es hermoso ni digno de ser alabado, sino el que nos induce a amar bellamente. El amor derivado de Afrodita es, en verdad, vulgar”.
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En medio de esos dos polos de eros, el bello y el vulgar, definidos por Platón, ha girado la motivación del amor, con el predominio borrascoso y arrasador del eros de la pasión y del odio, si se toman como guías la observación cotidiana, el examen de la historia, la literatura y el cine. En efecto, no hay un sentimiento ni una pasión ni una ambición que haya inspirado más poetas y cantores, que haya llenado más teatros y cárceles, que haya arruinado fortunas más grandes y numerosas, ni haya enloquecido más hombres y mujeres, que el amor. Una persona así motivada, si pierde el amor sólo le queda la muerte, o quizá la poesía y la pintura para cantar y plasmar todo su dolor y sufrimiento.
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El amor se aprende y se emprende, y para algunos, como Erich Fromm, requiere de esfuerzo y de conocimiento. Sí, esfuerzo, porque el amor es lo más parecido a un ser vivo que necesita de paciencia, de atención y de cuidado para crecer.
El amor toma un tiempo, se ama lo que se conoce y enamora lo que se desconoce, el enamoramiento es una etapa y el amor es la meta. Nadie ama en tres días.
Se ama de forma integral y cuando se ama se sabe. Y esto es definitivo para entender que la atracción sexual no es amor. El amor es voluntario y no es exigible, por la misma razón es uno de los deseos que nunca cumplirá el genio de la lámpara de Aladino.
Lo importante del amor es que sea infinito, mientras dure.
Eduardo Galeano.
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El amor es difícil en cualquiera de sus manifestaciones, pero sin duda alguna, es el amor de pareja el más difícil de todos. Ése amor es el testimonio supremo de nosotros mismos, la obra cumbre con respecto a la cual todas las demás, no son más que meros preparativos. 
Cuando estamos jóvenes, nuevos en todos los aspectos, creemos saber amar, pero no es así. Amamos en ese momento con todas las fuerzas de nuestro ser concentradas en nuestro corazón, un corazón que late con inquietud, pero en busca de un norte. Razón por la cual, la unión entre dos personas muy jóvenes, inacabadas, indefinidas y dependientes, es una unión tambaleante, frágil.
El amor e incluso el desamor son oportunidades únicas para madurar, para adquirir forma, para hacernos crecer emocionalmente, para prepararnos para el ser amado. Es una exigencia superior, una ambición sin límites, que hace del que ama un elegido que está requiriendo ancho espacio. La entrega mutua y el perderse el uno en el otro, no son campos todavía para los jóvenes, antes de llegar a esto, necesitamos atesorar durante largo tiempo experiencias que forjen y templen nuestro corazón y nuestro ser. La entrega de sí mismo es una culminación, quizá ni aún de adulto se logre tal objetivo.
Pero jamás hay que considerar perdido un amor de juventud, y más aún si aquel amor sobrevive fuerte en nuestros recuerdos, porque no sólo hizo nacer en nosotros magníficos y poderosos anhelos y proyectos, sino que además fue la primera ocasión de estar a solas en lo profundo de nosotros mismos, el primer esfuerzo de interiorización que intentamos en nuestra vida.
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Todo lo que sabemos del amor es que el amor es todo lo que hay.
Emily Dickinson.
En conclusión, el amor platónico no es un amor imposible sino un amor puro e inteligible, un amor no afecto a las pasiones y de caracter espiritual, es el amor que encuentra en la relación humana un camino hacia la felicidad, y por tanto, es más importante la belleza del alma que la belleza del cuerpo, porque el alma pertenece al mundo de las ideas, de lo divino, pero en este mundo se encuentra atrapada en el cuerpo hasta que se libere de él con la muerte.  Si dos amantes fueran capaces de elevar su amor hasta esas instancias habrían llegado a la perfección.
Al igual que la gente está unida en su común humanidad gracias al amor, de esta misma forma todas las partes del universo se mantienen unidas por los lazos del amor compasivo.
Nada se le puede comparar al maravilloso milagro de encontrar con quien compartir la curiosidad insaciable de explorar, cogidos de la mano, este mundo insólito y fugaz, porque el amor es después de todo, el itinerario que nos dirige en dirección contraria a la muerte. 
Si usted ama a alguien y alguien lo ama a usted, aproveche el milagro de compartir ese enorme corazón con ganas y vivirlo como si no hubiera mañana, y amar como si el tiempo se acabara, entregarlo todo en el primer beso y dejar que el tiempo, si todavía sobran minutos, se encargue del resto. Quizás es un poco cursi, pero ¿cuánto tiempo queda para seguir imaginando o más etéreo aún, idealizando a una persona?
Digamos en su honor, que el amor es un misterio, y que su única evidencia es que existe, pues sin duda existe y aclara otros misterios con su poder revelador.
Sólo el amor con su ciencia nos vuelve tan inocentes.
Violeta Parra.
A veces muere el amor, 
pero vuelve y se levanta.  
A veces llora, 
y otras veces canta. 
Es una llama de agonía 
en una lámpara infinita.  
Amor que surge de su propia muerte,
Ave fénix que no agoniza
sólo al dolor de otro más fuerte 
renace una vez más de sus cenizas.
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https://youtu.be/rUYnXfDbZUs
youtube
youtube
https://youtu.be/VZY82TnjP0Y
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aggravatetheaxe · a day ago
some um um thoughts about eric draven + an HOH or deaf s/o? 🥺👉👈
ERIC DRAVEN X HOH/DEAF READER
I wasn't sure if you wanted this as a bullet list or a drabble or what! This is post-death, crow!Eric. Reader has no hearing in one ear and very limited hearing in the other. Also, if you like fics like this, I suggest following @deafsignifcantother!
I'm actually not super happy with how I answered this ask? This is more of a meet-cute than, like, headcanons about romance and stuff, and I'm sorry for that, but I'm willing to write more with this specific pairing if you want! This is just what came out of me for now. I guess it's mostly just throat clearing. idk idk idk I hope you like it anyway 🥺
CW: stalking/jumping/mugging by a group, dudes being harass-y and gross, reader uses speech once
Words: 1,634
Soundtrack: x x
Gender neutral reader!
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***
Devil's Night.
Where you came from, it had never been a big deal ... an excuse for college kids to get extra drunk and destroy some property, but nothing more than that. At first, you hadn't understood what the big deal was—you were a recent transplant to Detroit, and yeah, it was different than what you were used to, but nothing you couldn't handle. You hadn't understood how the night before Halloween could be different than it was anywhere else.
You were beginning to understand.
Every city had its sketchy areas, of course. You'd long since learned to hold your head up high and appear bigger than you were to compensate for what you couldn't sense. With the way you dressed and your intimidating air, most people left you alone, or hollered at you at most.
But tonight was different. You'd just been on a quick grocery run, but it'd gone south quick. A pack of guys had harassed you all the way out of the corner store and across several blocks now. You'd been walking for close to fifteen minutes, but every time you looked over your shoulder, there they were, waving and taunting you with shouts you couldn't make out.
You weren't the only person out tonight ... no one seemed to be locking themselves in out of fear. But it was like these creeps could smell it on you—your newness, your vulnerable spot, that gap in your armor.
If you were honest, it made you seethe. Assholes. You had no doubt they were shouting disgusting things, too. You were glad you couldn't hear them. But ... there was nothing you could do besides look ahead, grocery bag held to your chest, and hope they got bored.
You should never have gone out. Stupid fucking Devil's Night.
You were almost home, walking as fast as you could, when they finally made their move. They must have realized you really couldn't hear them, because by the time that uneasy feeling nipped the back of your neck, they had snuck too close.
Arms wrapped around your chest in a steely grip, making you squawk and drop your grocery bag. The smell of booze and cigarettes choked you. Your heart beat a furious tattoo against your ribcage as you struggled, thrashing your legs and trying to work your arms against the man's crushing hold.
One of his friends wrapped both hands around your wrists, and another one ducked in front of you, laughing and yelling something that only sounded tinny and muffled. In your struggle, you could barely read his lips, only catching a few vulgar words among the cackles.
"Let me go!" You weren't sure if they could understand you, but you could barely feel your hands let alone use them, and chances were these idiots didn't know ASL anyway. "Stop!"
Another wave of nicotine and alcohol washed over you as the one in front opened your jacket, shoving his disgusting fingers in the pockets. The feeling of hands on your jean pockets tore another yowl from you, and before you knew it, you were liberated from your wallet and keys.
The one in front dangled them in front of you, and you stilled your thrashing long enough to read his lips: "You want 'em back? You'll have to do a couple tricks!"
Your stomach flipped painfully, the pit of it instantly turning slimy and hard with nausea. You began to thrash again, putting all your weight into it, desperate to free yourself.
You couldn't hear what happened next. All you knew was that you were suddenly released, falling backward onto the wet cement. Pain shot up your spine, numbing your tailbone and paralyzing you for a few seconds. Your eyes snapped open, breath hitching, frantically trying to figure out what was going on—
There was a flash and a pop as a firearm you hadn't noticed your assailants carrying discharged. The acrid smell of gunpowder mingled with the ozone of the rain, strong enough that you almost covered your nose with your stinging palms. The men were scrambling in a panic, and chasing them...
A crow?
The bird flapped around their heads, herding them toward the corner of the block, but they were staring wide-eyed at something behind you. That creeping feeling at the back of your neck ... there was someone else here.
In one movement, you scrambled to your feet and turned around.
Another man stood there, around six feet tall, wearing a leather trench coat and carrying an electric guitar on his back. Black hair, rendered wavy and shiny from the rain, hung in a death-pale face. It took you a moment to realize it wasn't his skin: his face was painted white, eyes and lips lined in black ... like a clown or something.
His faint smile and the brightness of his hazel eyes startled you almost as much as the face paint. You glanced over your shoulder as the group of men disappeared around the corner, then turned back to him just in time to see his lips move. "...careful."
Had he said something? « I can't hear, » you signed slowly. « Deaf. Repeat? »
Recognition brightened those already bright eyes, his mouth parting a bit, brows tilting as he realized what you were trying to tell him. He took a big step closer, coat and hair swaying, and you took half a step back.
Searching your face, he asked, "Can you read my lips?"
It was easy enough, the way he spoke. You didn't know if it was for your benefit, or if he always enunciated his words like that. Nevertheless, you nodded. « I can read lips. »
The man nodded slowly, considering you. You almost jumped when the crow zipped through your peripheral and into line of sight, perching on the man's shoulder.
Still watching your face, the man chuckled a little, eyes making genuine crescents. The confusion must have been plain as day on your face. For obvious reasons, you'd never been one to hide your emotions.
"My friend," he said by way of explanation, turning his head and raising a hand to scratch the bird's crest thoughtfully. "Or ... guide. I ... I don't know."
The way his brow twitched and drew, smile melting away, lit a spark of curiosity in your chest. There was something wrong. Something different, maybe off, about this guy ... but he'd saved you, crazy or not.
After a moment's hesitation, you signed, « Thank you. The men were following me for a long time; I couldn't lose them. »
"You couldn't hear them," he said softly, dropping his eyes to your boots.
A frown twitched onto your face. This guy seemed really addled. « You okay? »
He didn't answer, maybe didn't understand what you were asking. He simply searched the ground, and you followed his gaze. The two of you seemed to register the groceries strewn across the pavement at the same time, and you crouched in tandem, reaching to gather the items. It was just a few cans, a bottle of liquor, snacks, a soda, and of course your wallet and keys ... luckily, none of it had been seriously damaged. Within a few seconds, the mysterious stranger had helped you sweep everything back into the paper grocery bag.
You stood first, holding the bag tightly to your chest again. The man straightened slower, gaze still on the ground for a beat before he raised his head to look at the smoke-filled skies.
"The fires are starting," he said, stare lingering, then on you again. There was a strange whimsy about him, a manic sort of energy, but you didn't get the impression he was happy about the fires in question. Not a participant in Devil's Night.
Again, you asked, this time mouthing the words, « You okay? »
"Okay? I will be." A truly unsettling smile spread his lips. "Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean."
You stared before eventually signing again. « What is your name? » Name, you mouthed slowly, pointing at him.
He blinked rapidly, his long, wet lashes fluttering. Vulnerability shone through. "Name ... my name ... my name..." He turned, crossing his arms and thumbing his chin as though this was a difficult question to answer. "Draven," he eventually said, turning his face so you could see his lips clearly. "My name was Eric Draven."
Was? This guy was something else. That name sounded familiar, but you couldn't quite place it. « I'm [Y/N]. You need anything? » Shifting your bag, you drew your wallet from it, offering him a twenty dollar bill.
Eric looked at it like you'd just offered him something worthless, then shook his head. "I'm looking for someone. A place. Nearby. A bar ... called the Pit." He met your gaze again. "Do you know where it is?"
You couldn't hear him, but again, you took note of his cadence. The way his mouth moved, you could tell his inflection was bizarre, like he was reciting poetry. You wondered if he spoke like that with everyone or if he was doing that because you were Deaf.
Never taking your eyes from him, you motioned in the direction of the bar in question, and he followed your movement. The crow called and took to the air a second later. Eric closed his eyes briefly.
Just as you were about to ask—again—if he was okay, his eyes snapped open, another smile brightening his face. "Thank you." It was the most heartfelt thank-you you'd ever received, his entire expression shifting with it.
Your heart thudded. You spared a glance behind you, watching the crow climbing the darkened sky.
When you turned back, Eric was gone.
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somos-deseos · 27 days ago
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Tumblr es un museo de sentimientos, cada cuadro representa un blog, cada blog una persona, cada persona una historia.
Chico
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being a writer is having your search history consist of excessive baby name sites and wikipedia rabbit holes about witchcraft and mythology and murder and having people watch you research the above with growing concern
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introvert-unicorn · 8 months ago
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Aesthetically pleasing activities that you can start doing right now
Grab a random book you have at home, read few pages and underline all the words or phrases that inspire you most , search for their meanings or use them to create your own poetry.
Fill out a gratitude list.
Set a daily reminder on your phone to drink water.
Practice belly breathing.
write down about your best self, who is she like ? and how can you move closer into being her ? when you’re done hang that paper you used in a place where you can see it daily.
Stretch for 15 minutes.
put on nice comfortable clothes.
Loose yourself into the internet archives https://archive.org/
Repeat after me, We deserve and still have time to be all the things we want to be! ( if necessary write it on a post it and keep it near you as a reminder.)
Start a recipes journal.
Start a Commonplace book , if you don’t know what that is let me explain  “it’s a notebook/book into which notable extracts from other works are copied for personal use. 
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froglesbianwriting · a year ago
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congrats if you’ve ever written a fanfic over 110k words you’ve written an epic 
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arvbicsoul · 3 months ago
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— maktub مكتوب —
i finally realised there’s no point in forcing things. Just make Dua, if it’s meant for you, Allah will make it clear to you.
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cryoaquila · 2 months ago
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firsts
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prompt; losing your virginity with diluc.
pairing; diluc / f!reader
themes; dom!diluc, established relationship, size kink, praise kink, squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotective sex  
wc; ~3k
nsfw content | +18 only | minors dni.
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one year ago, you met your boyfriend. one year ago, he asked you to go out with him with stuttered words and flushed cheeks. one year ago, you said yes. and today the two of you were celebrating a whole year spent together; well, right now, you both were celebrating the end of your first anniversary. he ended up bringing you back to his place for you weren’t dressed for the chilly night. currently, you were under a large, fluffy blanket with your teeth chattering together as he works on getting the fireplace in the room lit. once he manages to get a fire going he goes to cuddle next to you under the blanket, the glow of the flames lighting the cozy living area up. he snuggles beside you, the rest of the night destined for cuddles and sleep. with the fire, the blanket, and his warmth, your teeth had finally stopped chattering and you were warming up quickly, letting out a sigh of relief along with a little “thank you”. he rubs your back, leaning over to give you a peck on the cheek, both of you lazily watching the flickering flames and enjoying each other’s company. as you try to move closer to him, you accidentally poke your elbow into his side which causes him to yank away from you with a quick laugh. he stammers something out, some excuse that you didn’t really listen to as you look at him curiously, but your curiosity quickly turns into mischievousness as you exclaim with a snicker, “i didn’t know you were ticklish!”
“i-i’m not,” he stutters, not liking where this was going, “don’t-”
“this shall be fun.” you interrupt him, a sparkle in your eye as you jump up, the blanket falling off you as you begin tickling his sides.
“stop it!” his laughter, a rare sound to your ears, was a mixture of goofy suppressed chortles as he kept trying to stop his own laughter to no avail - which, you were quite happy about since his laughs were adorable. however, you were about to regret your actions: “well, two can play at this game...” was the only warning you got before he began combatting your tickles with his own.
tears well up in the corner of your eyes as you try to protect your sides from his fingers, laughing hard as he mercilessly tickles you, “m-mean!” you joke between your laughs as you roll onto your back.
he takes this prime opportunity to get on top of you, straddling you, “what? don’t like it when the tables have been turned?” he asks, a small smirk across his lips as he continues to tickle you, causing you to squirm and twist under his body weight, laughing breathlessly.
“get off meeee hahahaha!”
a devilish expression accompanied his reply, “but why? i’m having far too much fun with you!”
suddenly, though, the tickling stops completely. your laughter dies down and you manage to wipe the tears out of your eyes to see why he stopped the fun. his face was pale, eyes wide, and you didn’t quite understand why he was looking so freaked out... that is until you felt something hard pressing against your lower abdomen. your eyes trail downward where there was a noticeable bulge in the groin area of his black pants and you feel the heat rise in your face while, clearly, his heat was going someplace lower. he finally moves off of you, practically throwing himself to the side, bringing his legs up to hide what was in his pants as he cups his mouth, trying to grasp the situation. you sit up in bewilderment. you’ve never had such a thing happen before, nor had you ever seen diluc like this, his now pale face completely red, redder than his hair, even.
“i can’t believe that happened while i… i was… on top of you.” his mutters were muffled due to his palm still pressed against his mouth, his expression one of pure shock.
you blink a couple times before shaking your head ‘no’, grabbing his shoulder and gently shaking him to try to get his attention, “it’s alright, don’t worry about it! it’s, um, it’s natural!” you laugh awkwardly. your words, however, don’t appear to help at all as he stays in stunned silence, not even acknowledging that you had spoken to him. you sit in awkward silence, not a peep coming out of either of you as you search for something to say, something that would cause everything to go back to normal, a normal, fun night with your boyfriend. what you came up with, well, it wasn’t the most thought-out sentence. “it uh... felt big…?” you shrug your shoulders, unsure if that would even get a reaction from him; diluc, however, gasps as soon as you speak and begins to cough. “are you alright?” you ask in surprise as you pat his back, trying to help him.
he holds up his hand as a sign for you to stop worrying about him, clearing his throat before speaking, “yeah, i’m fine.”
your own intrigue upon seeing his reaction to such a small comment causes you to begin to think. while he stays quiet, his head lowered so you can’t exactly see his gaze, your mind is racing and loud with thoughts of the dirtier nature; it was your first anniversary, after all, even though you’ve never done anything like this before you felt like... well, maybe it was time if he was down to try. you take a breath in, about to speak, but pause for one more moment, mulling the idea over in your head for a final time before decisively choosing to see what happens, “you know i’ve never...” your words trail off as finishing such a sentence wasn’t necessary since this topic had been discussed between the two of you before.
“i know. you’ve always wanted to wait and make sure it’s special.”
you watch his reaction, but apparently he hadn’t understood what you were trying to get out. you click your tongue before speaking to gain his attention once again, “well… i think you’re pretty special and right now, our first anniversary, is pretty special, too.” a little smirk curls onto your lips as you raise an eyebrow towards him, waiting for his response.
“i think you’re special as well,” he murmurs, visibly confused at your words and expression. after a few seconds, his eyes widen, and diluc gulps loud enough for you to hear it, his hands shaking a little. his muffled acknowledgment of what you’re suggesting comes out in a simple one-word response: “oh.”
“oh?” you question, scooting closer to him, your foreheads almost touching, his cheeks flushed once more. “oh as in oh-kay?” you take his hands into your own, looking at him with anticipation.
“hm, i’m… alright with it, of course, but… it’s entirely up to you.” he accepts.
you lean forward to give him a small kiss on his nose, “mhm, i thought about it and, well, i want to, with you...” as you spoke, you pull your shirt over your head, discarding the piece of fabric onto the floor next to the two of you. you see his eyes flash across your breasts before meeting your own gaze, your voice soft as you lean forward once more, “i want you.” he brings a hand to caress your cheek, moving a few strands of hair away from your face before leaning in to you for a loving kiss.
this kiss was like none you’ve ever experienced before with him - perhaps it was the nerves that were causing your heart to race or the excitement that was causing you to feel already a little wet, but one or the other definitely attributed to the hot kiss, a kiss that felt like little sparks of electricity were dancing across your lips. he wraps his arms around you, pulling you forward into his lap where you grind against his hardened cock. you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and opening your mouth enough for his tongue to enter. you feel his warm hands shake a little against your upper back as, after a moment of hesitation, his fingers begin working on unhooking your bra strap. soon, your bra is thrown somewhere in the living room. you were afraid you’d be cold with your clothing off, but the heat of the fire and the fact he was turning you on far quicker than you thought would happen kept your warm. he breaks the kiss just to admire your body, his eyes lowering to your breasts, and you hear a very, very gentle little gasp of air from him; however, there wasn’t much time to take the view in as you pull him in for another kiss, this time a little sloppier, tongues both rubbing against each other as his hands glided across your breasts, taking a nipple in each and rubbing them. you break apart again to help him rip his shirt off, your hands tracing his muscular stomach and toned chest, a few scars here and there decorating his torso. he gently pushes you down onto your back before climbing on top of you. you watch him lift his hips and unzip his pants, pulling them off, his underwear the only thing left on his body. as he adjusts, you feel his large bulge once again press against you, this time rubbing against your thigh. you take the opportunity to slip a few fingers in the hem of his underwear and pull the clothing down, his large dick popping out as you did so. your eyes widen upon finally seeing his dick for the first time, standing straight up for you and far, far larger than you ever imagined. you feel your own wetness beginning to coat the inside of your underwear just from the sight of his size, knowing soon that it would be inside you.
“well, now that that’s out of the way,” he mutters, a little humor in his voice at how eager you were to see his cock, “only one last piece of clothing is left.” ah, you knew what he was talking about, a bright blush spreading across your cheeks. he leans down to said piece of clothing, his mouth now incredibly close to your underwear and you can’t help but worry if he could see a wet spot through the cloth, your own juices unashamed of showcasing how excited you were. if there was, he didn’t acknowledge it, and instead kisses your inner thigh, dragging his tongue up your thigh and to your lower abdomen before eyeing you, “ready?” he asks.
“yes.”
as soon as you answer he begins to slide them down and you raise your hips up to help him take the last article of clothing off, throwing it off to join the rest of the clothing. he gapes, looking at your full, exposed body, and you feel completely vulnerable under his gaze. “beautiful…” he whispers in amazement, and you feel your body melt at such a sweet little compliment, the nerves leaving your body quickly as you relax in the rug, the tenseness in your knees gone and they fall to the wayside. you feel his fingers trace around the outside of your pussy, knowingly avoiding the little, sensitive nub at the top, “you’re already so wet, that will help ease things in, when we get there.” with that, he begins to play with your swollen clit, swirling it around with his fingers at first before gently rubbing it while his other hand pushes a finger inside in very small, slow movements to get you used to the feeling. the feeling felt surprisingly good, without any pain accompanied it and, before you even realize it, another was added to aid in stretching you out. “can you lift your legs up a little more for me? maybe wrap them around my waist?” he asks, taking his fingers out. you bring your legs up and wrap them around his waist, resting them against his hip bones, “there we go, good girl.” you squeeze your legs around him from his compliment, feeling your body quake from just his words alone. you tilt your head upward to watch him align his well-endowed cock with your pussy.
“diluc...” you give him a small smile, trying to hide your nerves as you felt your face getting hotter from looking between his face and his dick. “you’re putting it in, right? this is my first time taking a cock and... um, will it fit? you’re really big.” try as you might, you knew he could feel your trembling body against him.
he looks at you calmly, and, whether it was a façade or not, it did help your own nerves relax. “yeah, i’m putting it in. it’ll fit and i’ll go slow, promise.” he reassures you. as he begins pushing into you, spreading your walls, you let out a small whine from the uncomfortableness of his girth and your own nerves which were causing you to tighten more than before. in such moments he pauses to help you relax and get used to the size, rolling your clit under one of his fingers and gently rubbing one of your nipples between two fingers, all while whispering to you, “you’re taking me so well, just continue to relax, sweetheart, relax...” his little compliments and the stimulation from his fingers does aid in relaxing your body and your tense and tight walls loosen, which allows him to slide a little deeper, in small incriminates, working until his cock was all the way inside you.
“you’re doing so well,” he admires, slowly bringing his cock out of you before pushing all the way back in, your breath hitching in your throat as you felt the intensity of his slow, methodical thrusts. “and… archons, you feel so good-so damn good.” your lip quivers, nearly cumming from his sweet praises alone. he holds one of your hands above your head while the other works on playing with your clit, gently swirling it under his forefinger, “you’re so good to me,” diluc whispers, his voice getting softer and raspier by the second. “this feels good, doesn’t it?”
“mhm,” was all you could moan through gritted teeth, trying hard to focus on not entirely losing it with each of his thrusts as the whispers of sweet nothings aiding in the swelling heat you were feeling in your nether region; already, your orgasm felt so close, far too close but his cock buried inside you felt better than you could have imagined. he rolls his hips once more, thrusting into you in long strokes that cause your body to quiver around him. soon, your mouth is anything but tight and your nerves were entirely gone; your lips part as each one of his movements produces a moan from you, along with gasps commanding him, “more! more, please, more..!” your heart was throbbing in your chest as he did as you commanded, picking his pace up, the thrusts becoming quicker and rougher per your request, “you’re hitting such a good spot, you’re so deep in already, i’m... i’m going to...!” you groan, eyes almost rolling back as you arch upward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, nails scraping his upper back. your breaths hasten along with his movements and your walls begin to clench around him as your orgasm hits you fast and hard. your mind blanks and all you can think about is the immense pleasure between your legs and a sudden warmth rushing over you. you squeeze around him, and he lets out a deep groan from the feeling, still thrusting in and out of you, his movements slower as your orgasm causes your pussy to pulsate. as the high begins to die down, you notice a strange feeling between your legs, a feeling that leaves you in immense embarrassment. you feel a warm wetness slipping from between your legs and down onto the rug, the thrusting diluc was doing was now accompanied with a wet ‘squelching’ sound. “w-wait,” you mutter, feeling your face redden as the realization hits you. “diluc i think i… i um...” the words were caught in your throat and you were unable to even finish the sentence.
he tilts his head at you as he comes to a stop, his cock still buried inside you. “hm?”
“the... liquid…” you manage to squeak out.
“the... what?” he stares at you, eyebrows furrowed, trying to understand what you were being so cryptic about as you hide your eyes behind your hands. he glances down, the realization dawning on him finally as he takes hold of your hands, bringing them away from your face, “no, no… you squirted. it’s… you’re just amazing,” he chuckles and, although it sounds incredibly cute, you huff at him for not explaining anything. he catches on, nodding his head as he continues speaking in a breathless tone, “it’s just… it’s a different way to cum, it’s alright. i promise. it’s natural for some and i love it... well, i love everything about you so…”
his admiration causes you to feel weak, your curled-up tightness disappearing as what had said comforts you, “really?”
“yes, really. you must’ve enjoyed it a lot, huh?…”
his words cause you to realize that he hadn’t finished yet and, also, that he was still inside you, “ah, i’m sorry for causing you to stop for that, then!” you exclaim, giving him the go-ahead to continue.
“you’re so cute, no need to apologize,” he mumbles with a small smile before beginning once again to buck his hips. you watch his movements with heavy eyelids and fascination on your face, the sleepiness from your first orgasming was already starting to fade and be replaced with even more excitement. seeing the pleasure cross over diluc’s face, the pleasure that he was getting from you, your body, even after you came, made you swoon. after a few long and deep thrusts inside you he shut his eyes tight, mouth agape, and he grips you tightly, yet gentle, as to not hurt you in any way, just to hold you as if you were the only thing keeping him from floating away in bliss. the moans he stifled before escaped his mouth along with fast breaths and his cock shudders within you. his face is completely flushed as he bites his lip and-
and-
you didn’t even realize it, but his noises, expressions, and own orgasm excited you to the point where another orgasm laps over you. this time, though, your sounds were softer, more exhausted sounding, and far, far more sensitive than before. your juices running down your legs and a little spraying out onto his lower abdomen. his tired body collapses on top of your own, and he brings a hand to your hair, grabbing a handful of it as his seed spilled out within you while he kisses your chin and nibbles down to your neck, your body spasming under his own twitching one. he whispers into your ear while you bathe in the lasting feeling of your second orgasm, “happy anniversary.”
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kuabia · 5 months ago
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So... hear me out.
Just a second. Alright.
Lena Luthor, billionaire heiress and mayor businesswoman. Kara Danvers, editor in chief of Catco, happily married and very publicly the It Couple of National City. Lots of events, lots of interviews, lots of internet hits and constant comments. Right?
But also, known for being friends with Supergirl. Just, as a couple, that have a common friend. You know? Invite her to fundraisers, special treatment, exclusives for Catco. You get the idea. All handled as best as possible by Alex, J’onn and the team, who work extra hard to make it all seem normal, keep the appearances, the interactions at minimum; and have serious conversations with both of the loving wifes to “tone it down” when Kara is in the suit. And let's be honest, it’s hard for both of them. Sometimes “Msr. Luthor” is just way too formal for Kara when in the suit. Sometimes Lena looks extra worried in a particular close call on the kryptonians life. Sometimes it’s just that they stand a bit too casually one besides the other… you know what I mean. I know you do.
Can you imagine the actual drama of it all when suddenly a reporter looking for a big scoop, or a blackmailer that thinks that he can outsmart the big system, walks up to Kara Danvers, civilian wife, having a nice coffee break at the notably known place as the usual spot for the couple to have dates and lunches together (Noonan’s). Way more approachable than Lena Freaking Luthor or Supergirl herself. And just tells her that he has very sensitive information to give to her. And her, being a very good reporter and not really worried by her safety (with the being a caped superhero in her free time and all) just follows this guy to a dark alley.
Here the guy very seriously informs this poor woman that he has compelling evidence to say that her wife is cheating on her.
Here Kara freezes, of course. Because who has been snooping close enough to get that kind of idea without her detecting someone spying on her wife? And besides, who could be involved and what do they want? And where should she go from here? Is this supposed to be normal for couples? Is she supposed to cry? Who is this guy anyway? Should she call Alex to handle this as one of those special situations that she often gets herself in while on her civilian persona?
All this going through her head while this guy pulls a few pictures of Supergirl gently settling Lena Luthor in her balcony late at night. With that face! That face Kara can’t help to pull when her wife is particularly cute at night, sleepy and a bit dizzy from a late day down in the labs, tired and having accepted giving the night off to her driver because her wife offered to give her a ride home.
I can’t tell you exactly how the next part of this whole situation worked out. But lets just say that Alex is not amused to receive a concussed civilian in the tower with a freaked out Kara carrying him over her shoulder like he’s nothing.
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p-trichor · 6 months ago
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mother
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Poplar Street, Chen Chen // Inheritance, Warsan Shire // Book 3: Fire; The Beach, Avatar: The Last Airbender // On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous // Mother, John Lennon // Gay Jokes, Rio Baxter // Fleabag // MAG186: Quiet, The Magnus Archives // Sharp Objects Gillian Flynn
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septembercfawkes · 8 months ago
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Scene vs. Summary & When to Use Which
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When I was a young writer, I didn't fully understand what a scene was and what a summary was. Later, when I understood the difference, I wasn't always sure when to use which. These days, I occasionally help writers with the same things. They may use summary for what should have been a scene, or they may write a whole scene for what really should have been summary. Understanding the difference and when to use which can be key when writing a successful novel.
Sure, some of it is subjective.
But what might be surprising to some, is that most of the time, one is more . . . "correct" than the other.  
Scene
A scene is a structural unit that tends to have these qualities:
- Happens in Real Time
A scene will largely happen in real time. This means we "watch" the characters move, act, and talk, as if it were happening in real life.
- Dramatizes (Shows > Tells)
A scene dramatizes. It uses showing more than telling. If a character is angry with a friend, we see that anger in action and conversation. We may witness her yell or kick a rock, for example. It's like watching a stage play.
- Concrete
Because it is dramatized, a scene will usually be more concrete. It will more likely appeal to our senses and the physical world and experience.
- Characters Acting in a Specific Location
A scene will have characters in a location (in some very rare cases, the setting or society may act as characters). They might be talking on a train ride, or exploring a cave, or dueling in the snow.
Scene Examples
(Because a full scene often lasts pages, these examples are passages from specific scenes.)
"This won't take long, Andrew," said the doctor. Ender nodded. "It's designed to be removed. Without infection, without damage. But there'll be some tickling, and some people say they have a feeling of something missing. You'll keep looking around for something, something you were looking for, but you can't find it, and you can't remember what it was. So I'll tell you. It's the monitor you're looking for, and it isn't there. In a few days that feeling will pass." The doctor was twisting something at the back of Ender's head. Suddenly a pain stabbed through him like a needle from his neck to his groin. Ender felt his back spasm, and his body arched violently backward; his head struck the bed. He could feel his legs thrashing, and his hands were clenching each other, wringing each other so tightly that they arched. "Deedee!" shouted the doctor. "I need you!" The nurse ran in, gasped. "Got to relax these muscles. Get it to me, now! What are you waiting for!" Something changed hands; Ender could not see. He lurched to one side and fell off the examining table. "Catch him!" cried the nurse. "Just hold him steady--" "You hold him, doctor, he's too strong for me--" "Not the whole thing! You'll stop his heart--" Ender felt a needle enter his back just above the neck of his shirt. It burned, but wherever in him the fire spread, his muscles gradually un-clenched. Now he could cry for the fear and pain of it. "Are you all right, Andrew?" the nurse asked.
- Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
Mrs. Reed occupied her usual seat by the fireside; she made a signal to me to approach; I did so, and she introduced me to the stony stranger with the words: “This is the little girl respecting whom I applied to you.” He, for it was a man, turned his head slowly towards where I stood, and having examined me with the two inquisitive-looking grey eyes which twinkled under a pair of bushy brows, said solemnly, and in a bass voice, “Her size is small: what is her age?” “Ten years.” “So much?” was the doubtful answer; and he prolonged his scrutiny for some minutes. Presently he addressed me—“Your name, little girl?” “Jane Eyre, sir.” In uttering these words I looked up: he seemed to me a tall gentleman; but then I was very little; his features were large, and they and all the lines of his frame were equally harsh and prim. “Well, Jane Eyre, and are you a good child?”
- Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
Summary
A summary has these qualities:
- Condensed Time
Summaries condense time. They may cover a month in a single sentence. They may talk about recurring events over a time period, within one paragraph. They may relay a past event (or in some cases, a future event) within a brief moment. They don't happen in real time.
- Explains through Telling
Since the moment isn't happening in real time, the audience is told more than shown what happened. This gives summary a stronger, guiding, narrative hand. Rather than experiencing the passage like the character, it's more like the audience is being guided by a storyteller (generally speaking).
- More Abstract
For those reasons, telling is more abstract. It's more likely to express ideas and concepts, rather than specific experiences.
- Characters and/or Setting may Change Swiftly (or Maybe Not Even Be Present In Some Cases)
A summary may not focus on a specific character or stay in the same setting. It may move quickly through settings or may not even mention a specific setting.
Summary Examples
Mother came home and commiserated with Ender about the monitor. Father came home and kept saying it was such a wonderful surprise, they had such fantastic children that the government told them to have three, and now the government didn't want to take any of them after all, so here they were with three, they still had a Third . . . until Ender wanted to scream at him, I know I'm a Third, I know it, if you want I'll go away so you don't have to be embarrassed in front of everybody. - Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card
John had not much affection for his mother and sisters, and an antipathy to me. He bullied and punished me; not two or three times in the week, nor once or twice in the day, but continually: every nerve I had feared him, and every morsel of flesh in my bones shrank when he came near. There were moments when I was bewildered by the terror he inspired, because I had no appeal whatever against either his menaces or his inflictions; the servants did not like to offend their young master by taking my part against him, and Mrs. Reed was blind and deaf on the subject: she never saw him strike or heard him abuse me, though he did both now and then in her very presence, more frequently, however, behind her back.
- Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
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When to Use Which
Most novels are better written with more scene than summary. Scenes dramatize the story, so that the audience feels like they are experiencing and participating in it. Scenes are more impactful. Scenes are more likely to stir emotions. Because they are more concrete, they are more likely to stick in the reader's memory.
However, this is not to say all novels are better with more scene than summary. You can indeed find successful books with more summary. This can be particularly useful in books with huge casts and many viewpoint characters, books that take place over a long period of time (such as a character's entire life), or books with powerful, present omniscient narrators. Not all books that rely on summary more than scene are bad.
But most books are better told largely through scene than summary.
And pretty much all novels need some of both.
So when do we use which?
Sometimes I edit passages that are weakened because they are summarized instead of dramatized. Other times I read scenes that offer very little dramatic value and should have been summarized.
Scenes
A good rule of thumb is the more significant the moment, the more likely it needs to be rendered as a scene.
Big turning points and climactic moments should almost always be a scene--whether that turning point relates to character arc, plot, or theme.
This means that the climactic moments of the beginning, middle, and end, should almost always be a scene.
Anything we've been building up to in the primary plotline related to the arc, events, or theme, should probably be a scene.
If you are following a story structure, key moments in that structure should likely be a scene. The inciting incident should likely be a scene, the midpoint should likely be a scene, Plot Point 2 should likely be a scene . . .
Now, in a novel, there may be many plotlines besides the primary. The less important the plotline, the less likely you need all its turning points in scenes (or even on page).
Impactful moments should usually be scenes. If they are summary, sometimes the audience feels cheated. Imagine building up to the climax of a novel, only to have the author summarize it. It's almost always a letdown.
Sometimes newer writers do this sort of thing, because they are intimidated by trying to write the scene. They may feel unsure that they can write it well. Remember, you can edit, and edit, and re-edit the scene to make it better. Daring to write a poor scene and then edit it, will get you further in the long run than avoiding it altogether.
In many genres, you will have what are called "obligatory scenes." These are what they sound like. They need to happen. In a scene.
So in romance, you almost always need to have a first kiss scene. In a murder mystery, you almost always need to have an opening scene where a body is discovered. Obligatory scenes should be scenes, not summary, most of the time.
Summaries
On the other side of the spectrum, we have summary. If an entire novel were written with scenes, it would probably be long and boring. Not everything is important enough to be a scene. And if you make it a scene, it's a flat scene without any real turning point or change. This kills pacing.
Use summary when the audience needs to know the fact that something happened, but it's not important for them to experience it.
For example, the fact that Jacob didn't get much sleep the prior night probably isn't important enough for a full scene, but it might be important for the audience to know for the next scene. It might influence what happens in the next scene. That is a good time to use summary.
Use summary when you need to cover a broader length of time in a shorter amount of space. For example, you may have characters who need to trek to a distant land, which may take months. But the story isn't about the trek itself. Use summary to tell us about the trek, without making the story only about the trek. (Not to mention if the trek was all in scenes, it'd be overly detailed and likely boring.)
Along the same line, summary can sometimes be great for scene transitions--usually when what happened between the scenes is worth mentioning, but not worth dramatizing.
Summary is also important in providing context for the reader. Summary may be used to set up a situation or to provide additional background information that the reader needs in order to interpret what is happening in the story, accurately.  
For example, you may summarize a short backstory to explain a character's current behavior.
Scene vs. Showing; Summary vs. Telling
Scene is mostly like showing, and summary is mostly like telling. However, the concepts are slightly different. For example, I may write in a scene "Emily was tired," which would be "telling" but I wouldn't consider it "summary." Just as I wouldn't necessarily consider "I felt angry" summary, so much as I would consider it to be telling.
Likewise, you may have a scene that is largely introspection, which may be showing a character's thought process as he summarizes events through telling sentences.
Yeah, if we get deep, it turns into splitting hairs.
Even between showing and telling, if you want to make yourself really crazy, sometimes you can use summary and telling on a small scale to show something on a big scale. For example, to show that a character has a habit of being late, you may use summary that includes some telling about his morning routine, to cover several such instances. However, one could easily argue that you could simply do a scene that shows him showing up late, and have another character use dialogue that implies this is a common occurrence.
But let's not induce headaches today! My point is, that the boundaries do blur, and things aren't always as clear cut as we make them sound.
Nonetheless, because summary and telling overlap, you can use many of the same technique that we use to write great telling, to write great summary. And rather than rewrite all those techniques, I have them in my article "10 Cheats to Tell Well."
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Mixing Scene and Summary
In order to write a great novel, many scenes will include some summary within them. Like I mentioned above, you may need to slip in some backstory information through summary. Or perhaps in the scene, the characters are having dinner, but you want half the scene to be the cooking and the other half to happen while they are eating. Depending on how long the food takes to make, you may need some summarizing: "Don finished putting the toppings on the pizza and then put it in the oven for 30 minutes."
Similarly, if you are going to have a lengthy passage of summary, it's often effective to include scene-like moments--perhaps a paragraph that captures part of a conversation in real time, before going back to summary. Or maybe the summary includes a significant action that would be rendered better with a little more detail, like a half-scene.
In any case, we want to make sure we are using both scene and summary, and perhaps just as important, that we are using them at the right moments.
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aggravatetheaxe · 3 days ago
I already sent you an ask but damn you for making me want pain.
" could... could you just hold me, a while? "
With Bo please.. -Ghoul
BO SINCLAIR X READER
emotional prompts
gender neutral reader!
soundtrack: x
--
It had already been dark for a few hours and he'd missed dinner by the time he finally came home.
Given how seriously Bo took meal times, that wasn't like him. You were already worried when his truck pulled up to the house, lights shining through the den windows, tires crackling over gravel. You listened closely, your entire body tense, for any indication that he had victims with him.
There were none, thank god - just the pound of his boots on the steps and the sound of the door opening. Before you even saw him, you sat straighter on the couch, your brow furrowing.
Something was wrong.
Bo emerged into the den, taking off his hat and carding a hand through his hair in a single, sluggish motion. He wasn't looking at you, instead tossing his hat to the side and following the motion with his eyes. He unlaced and toed off his boots - a habit you'd been helping him work on - without lifting his gaze.
He seemed ... slow. Heavy. Like he was being weighted down.
Just when you were starting to think he wasn't going to acknowledge your presence at all, he looked up at you, meeting your eye for just a second. "Hey."
It was a pretty pathetic attempt at filling the silence, but you responded in kind - "Hey" - and peered at him. This was not the seething silence of anger ... this was something different. Something rarer. After a moment's hesitation, you ventured, "What's up...?"
He didn't answer, but he did come to the couch. You scooted over to make room for him and he sunk into the cushions - though not as he usually would, with his arms spread along the back, owning his space. He sat ... smaller, somehow, his arms limp at his sides, his head back, frowning at some imaginary point on the wall above the TV.
Now that he was closer, you could smell cigarettes on him. More than usual. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he just got done chainsmoking a whole pack. He smoked more when he was stressed, you found. Probably learned from his mother.
What had him acting like this?
You tested the waters by scooting an inch closer, and he turned his head briefly, muttering, "I'm fine."
Sitting right next to him, you could smell the liquor on his breath. He wasn't an alcoholic, but you'd caught him drinking his emotions on more than one occasion. He saved the harder stuff for those times, and today, well ... he certainly didn't smell like Bud.
You couldn't help your frown of concern. He had supposedly been at work since morning, hauling cars from the mill to scrap them. Sometimes he had those foggy days, where nothing ever seemed to get done and he couldn't get his head out of the past ... this must be one of those.
"Bo..." You hesitated. "Did something happen? You know you can talk to me about whatever."
He scoffed like what you'd said was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard, but it was ... half-hearted. Not nearly as mean as he'd meant it to come out, probably. Not sufficient armor. He seemed to realize this almost at once, looking away and going quiet.
"Bo - "
His eyes snapped closed, and he raised a hand. "Shh. Just..."
You shut up. This was the part where he asked you to leave him alone and you spent the night in your room crying and stewing and wondering why you stayed here with him in the first place.
"Could ... could you jus' hold me awhile?"
His voice was achingly earnest, nearly a plea. You stared for a moment, unsure if you'd just heard what you thought you did. But the red on the bridge of his nose and the tips of his ears confirmed it ... he was asking to be held, and probably internally begging you not to make a big production out of it.
Stupid, stubborn man.
You scooted backward, facing him and resting against the arm of the couch. Wordlessly, you spread your legs and arms, and just as wordlessly, he melted into you, his head resting below your chin. His arms wrapped around your middle, holding you as tight as you held him. Humming low in your chest, you combed your fingers through his hair and closed your eyes.
He was so much easier to hug without all that armor on.
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introvert-unicorn · 8 months ago
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Aesthetics I'm in love with
Enjoying the warmth of a cup of tea or a hot cocoa surrendering your hands.
Reading one or two poems as soon as you wake up to give yourself some calmness and serenity.
Baking cookies and sharing them with the ones you love.
Memorizing random mythology or history facts.
Carrying that notebook you're filling with marvellous ideas of the upcoming work you'll share with the world someday.
Running under the rain.
Creating playlists for different moods or life situations.
Burning candles while reading a book or doing your homework.
Wearing distinctive jewellery.
Looking at the moon in silence.
Picturing the changing seasons with your phone.
Writing long to do lists because organising makes you feel powerful and responsible.
Saving money so you can visit art galleries and museums because art is everything.
Dark coats and checkered trousers.
Sending Handwritten letters.
Taking a day off so you can focus on your self-care and well-being.
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readerstories · 3 months ago
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Body Heat - Aaron Hotchner x male!reader
Summary: Been re-watching Criminal Minds lately, and ofc reading fanfics, and I see that there are very few male readers out there so here’s at least one. Some classic bed sharing because something breaks during a snowstorm and it’s freezing, so time to share body heat ;) (AO3)
Warnings: nsfw, smut
Wordcount: 3891
A case in a small and remote part of North Dakota during the middle of the coldest winter in memory was not ideal to say the least. 
You liked snow and the cold, but even you had your fill by now. Everything is frozen, the ground, the bodies of the victims, even the snow was crunchy and no good to make snowballs with. (All of you had at one point or another almost face planted before getting wise and buying shoe spikes.)
At least the case was over and you had caught the killer alive this time, so that was good.
What was not good, was the snow storm currently raging outside the cabin door, causing the whole team to be stuck waiting for it to clear so you could take off. Because of course, this being a small town, there was no hotel, only small cabins to rent. But at least there were beds to sleep in, a small desk with a chair, a small bathroom (and a fireplace that you had yet to use), which was really all you needed.
The team had split up, since there only were two queen sized beds in each cabin. You had ended up with Hotch, which you really didn’t mind. He was always a quiet roommate, very polite and proper. Didn’t talk much, mostly went right to sleep when he got in, or stared at case files all night.
He was doing the latter right now, while you try to read a few more pages of your book before planning to go to bed for the night. You are trying your hardest to keep your eyes open, determined to at least reach the end of the chapter before sleep takes you. The only lights in the room were the one above your head, and the one on the desk Hotch was using which made it actually kind of cozy, which made your goal even harder.
That coziness disappears in seconds however, when the lights flicker, and then turn off.
Silence, then the both of you try to turn the lights back on a few times. Hotch’s cell pings with a new text, which he quickly reads, the cold light of the screen now being the only light source. 
“Seems the power is out, Morgan is going to the reception house to ask the owner about it since he’s in the cabin closest by.”
“Okay, good, at least it’s not only us.” A few beats of silence, and then another text. Hotch frowns as he reads it.
“Seems like the whole town is dark, the storm has taken out the power, but this place has generators.”
“Great!”
“But it only covers the essential stuff so no pipes will freeze, so we need to keep everything else off.” You nod, forgetting he can’t really see you in the dark.
“So only heat on in the bathroom I’m assuming.”
“Yeah.” You both eye the fireplace, and you sigh. 
“The owner told Morgan they are fully usable.”
“Well, let's see if I remember how to light one, it’s been a while.” You get out of bed, walking over to the fireplace to start trying while Hotch texts with someone, presumably Morgan again.
Stacking wood and finding some old newspaper curled up in the firewood basket, it only takes two tries and a few minutes to get a budding fire going. Proud of yourself as you watch the flames slowly catch while crouching in front of it, you feel Hotch’s eyes on you.
“Did Morgan say anything else?”
“He suggested we move to fewer cabins. I told everyone to stay in their respective cabins, we don’t need anyone risking going out in this weather when we all have good heat sources.” You nod, getting up and stretching.
“Well, I’m going to brush my teeth then try to sleep, and you should too.” Hotch opens his mouth to say something, but you interrupt him.
“You can look at those casefiles tomorrow, a fire is not the best light source when reading and making notes.” Hotch sighs, knowing that irritatingly you got a point. You smile a quick smile before going to the bathroom. While you’re in there the lights you had turned on before come back to light, but Hotch is quick to turn them off, two small clicks following right after one another. You check the oven in the bathroom, turning it down to half, knowing that should keep the temperature above freezing at least.
Neither you or Hotch speak another word to each other before going to bed, curled up almost fully clothed in your respective bed in the already colder room, even with the fire now going quite well in the fireplace.
You close your eyes, sure that sleep will come easy, as it was not that long ago you had almost fallen asleep while reading, nodding off between each sentence on the page.
But sleep doesn’t come.
Instead, you lay there, head empty of any thoughts, calm, but still you just can’t sleep.
You hear the wind blowing outside, each gust of wind making the cabin creak and groan quietly, barely there, but noticeable in the quiet of the night. The fireplace crackles, giving back at least some of that cozy feeling from earlier.
You can also hear Hotch toss and turn, which is unusual for him. The few times you had seen the man sleep or just been in the same room as him while he did so, he had been still, almost never moving other than his chest going up and down with each breath.
It takes an audible shudder coming from the other bed for you to realize why.
Hotch is cold, very much so. You can’t help the little smile that grazes your lips, almost a quiet laugh in its own right. So the cold is what does the big bad unit chief in huh?
You don’t feel good about it for long however as it’s clear that some solution to the problem is needed, as Hotch sounds no nearer to sleep than you are, and you are certain that like this neither of you will get any rest soon. So you cast a glance over at the fireplace before quickly getting out of your bed. Hotch quietly speaks your name, a question more than anything else. You drag your mattress, your pillow and duvet in front of the fireplace and put it down, turning to face Hotch, who has propped himself up on an elbow, confusion in his knitted brows.
“Come here.”
“What.” The tone is deadpan, not really a question in the word.
“I can hear your teeth clatter, I know you’re cold, so take your duvet and get in front of the fire.” Hotch slowly does as he’s told, surprisingly without asking anything. Or maybe he just sees your point. He drops his duvet next to yours, farthest from the fire, but you tut, moving it closest instead.
“You’re the coldest one, so you can sleep closest to the fire.” Hotch quirks a brow, but sits down on the floor as close to the fireplace as he can.
“Are you sure there is no ulterior motive? Maybe you just want it to be me to catch fire if things go wrong.” You grin, loving when Hotch lets his humor shine through his normally stoic facade.
“Maybe.” You get down on the floor too, laying down at the same time as Hotch. Before he can really react, you pull him close to your chest. It’s the surprise of it all that lets you drag him so he’s tucked under your chin, his hands on your chest.
“What are you doing?” You feel his whole body stiffen, even his words come out like that.
“Body heat.” You hum. Hotch stays stiff for a little while, but then there’s a big sigh as he relaxes a little. Slowly, one of his arms goes over your sides, still slightly unsure about this situation. You smile, resting huffing out a small laugh.
It’s already a lot warmer this close to the fire and though sleeping on the mattress on the floor like this isn’t the best, it’s better than being cold at least. And you’re not complaining about having an excuse to hold Hotch close like this, feeling him shift as he tries to get comfortable.
You feel your eyelids grow heavy, sleep creeping up on you as you get warmer. The last thing you hear before slipping into dreamland is the crackling of the fire, and a faint snore coming from Hotch.
----
Sadly, you wake up just a few hours later needing to pee. You somehow manage to get up without waking Hotch, so you are as quiet as you can be while doing your business. He’s still asleep when you get back, face relaxed.
You stop briefly to watch him sleep, as weird as you know it is. It’s just that you rarely see Hotch without a frown or a face made of stone, so you drink in the sight as long as you dare. Which is only a few seconds, but you stop yourself when you yawn.
With quiet steps you walk over to the mattress, slipping under the duvet and back to the shared warmth. This time it’s you that are dragged into Hotch’s arms as he mumbles something in his sleep. You try not to make any sound of surprise, as not to wake him still. You don’t mind this turn of events at all, as Hotch mumbles some words into your hair before they yet again turn to occasional soft snores. Letting out another yawn, you slip an arm over Hotch’s waist and let sleep take you.
----
It’s still dark out when you wake next, although this time of year it doesn’t say much.
This time it was Hotch moving that woke you, as your arms have made their way around his chest like he has done with his, holding him close and feeling his every move. You can tell by his breathing and movements that he’s awake, so you slowly talk, more or less asking the only question you have right into his chest.
“What time is it?” Another movement, most likely checking his phone.
“6:30 AM.” You groan, his deep and sleep laden voice doing things to your heart and brain you don’t have the awake awareness to think about right now.
“Back to sleep it is.” Hotch chuckles.
“This is past the time I would normally get up.”
“Is the storm still going on outside?” You both listen, and yes, over the low crackling of the now almost dead fire you can still hear the wind taking a hold of everything around it.
“Sounds like it.”
“Great, more sleep for us Aaron.” You can’t see the raised eyebrow, but you can almost hear it in his voice.
“Aaron?” You nod, trying to get in the perfect position to go back to sleep.
“Yeah, it feels weird using your last name when I’m cuddling with you.”
“Sharing body heat.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Aaron chuckles, and weirdly enough he ruffles your hair a bit. Your heart aches at the familiarity of the motion, but again, not awake enough for any of that.
It is then that it happens. In your effort to get comfortable, you shift your leg a little to high, and suddenly your thigh rubs against a clothed, but very obivous, erection. Aaron draws in a small sharp breath as you turn to stone for a few seconds.
“I’m sorry, I, uh-” Suddenly more awake, but still not quite there yet, you say nothing at first. You could have made some lame joke about it you suppose, but instead you are just as awkward as him.
“It, it’s uh, fine, um..” Silence for a few beats, then you come to a mutual and unspoken agreement to just ignore it.
However, you find that no matter how hard you try, you can’t.
You’re not pressed up against his crotch or anything anymore, you moved your leg way too fast out of the way for that to still be the case.
But you are still in Aaron’s arms, which makes it hard not to think about it. He’s warm, a little soft, strong, and you can smell his cologne this close. His breath is steady, but too steady, like he’s trying to will himself to sleep. Your head almost spins by the feeling of it all, and your thoughts are no help either, replaying the moment over and over again in your head.
The noise he had made had made you stiffen, perhaps from other reasons than you would like to admit.
You don’t know how long you both lay there, trying to or pretending to be asleep, but you know it feel like forever and torture of the slowest kind.
An idea slips into your mind before you can really stop it, making everything else go quiet.
What if you did it again?
You had for a long time admired Aaron, perhaps in more ways than you were willing to admit to yourself or anyone else. And in some fleeting and weak moments you had thought he might be too. A lingering glance or two during a case when he thought you wouldn’t notice, him letting small smiles slip onto his face more often when you were around, him bringing you coffee from time to time.
Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself as you move your leg again.
Another sharp breath from Aaron.
“What are you doing?” He asks as you still with your thigh pressed up against his still there erection.
“Trying something.” A beat where neither of you move.
“Stop me if you want.” Aaron says nothing and does nothing, so slowly, oh ever so slowly, you use your leg to rub against him. His breath deepens, and one of his hands moves to your hip, but doesn’t push you away, simply letting it rest there. Your own hands roam across his back, shifting, fluttering, trying to find purpose. In the end you grasp the back of his t-shirt as you slowly start to try to move him too.
Aaron groans, something that makes your own dick start to stir, and then he’s moving, and oh.
He seems in no rush, just rocking his hips ever so slightly forward, pressing himself against your thigh.
His breath is speeding up, and so is yours, almost panting in the quiet of the room.
As good as you are sure it feels, you want more, you almost need more. Removing one hand from his back, you replace your thigh with your hand, rubbing and fully feeling Aaron’s dick strain against the front of his pants. A hitch in his breath, an audible swallow, him continuing to move, now into your hand, spurs you on.
As far as you can tell through the fabric, Aaron is rather large, and certainly excited. You let your hand wander, squeeze, and rub as you please, every so often pausing to grab at his thigh instead, teasingly letting your fingers drag and dance along it.
A thought, and then your other hand is in front of you, gently touching his chest. You back away a few inches, careful to keep your touch still on him. Casting a glance upwards as you start to push his t-shirt up from his stomach, you’re met with intense eyes watching your every move. You swallow, Aaron’s eyes shift to follow the motion, then to your lips as you lick them.
He lets you push his t-shirt up under his armpits, and only then does he do any of the work himself, lifting himself up slightly so he can take it off and drop it on the floor behind you. You don’t let your eyes or hand linger on his scars, instead focusing on his chest.
He’s less hairy than you imagined, but you don’t care at all.
And you had imagined it.
But nothing could compare to the real deal. Feeling him turn to putty in your hands as you rub him through his pants, hear him groan as you let your hand brush against a nipple.
“God, fuck, you-” Aaron stops himself, letting out another groan as you you lean forward and plant a kiss on his chest.
“Ah, fuck, come here.” Before you can ask what he means, there’s a hand in your hair yanking you up, and then you’re kissing him.
You’re kissing Aaron Hotchner.
Fuck.
Fuck yes.
In less than a second you’re kissing back, mouths uncoordinated and messy as they meet. Your hand which had stopped rubbing him, starts up again while you kiss, and he moans into your mouth, which, fuck, that’s hot.
Both of his hands tangled in your hair pull you even closer as you both almost forget you need to breathe, only breaking apart to gulp down some air before diving right back in, lips moving firmly against each other.
Aaron is the first to add tongue, which makes you let out a little gasp, giving him full access.
He takes the opportunity, and not to be outdone, you move your hand from his bulge to the button on his pants. A noise of disappointment turns into a small moan as he realizes what you are doing. With all the noises he is making against your lips, it’s hard to concentrate, so you break the kiss so you can concentrate on zipping him down, and getting into his pants. Aaron moves forward so he can kiss along your throat, letting his teeth nip along the little skin that is showing from under your shirt.
“Fuck!” You groan, feeling the small smile Aaron can’t hide as he kisses your skin.
“Could get used to hearing that more often.”
“Yeah, good, fuck.” You curse whoever invented zippers as you fumble with it as if you were a fucking teenager.
Finally, a few seconds later, you are able to shove your hand into Aaron’s underwear and the smug smile you could feel against your skin turns into a moan.
“Fuck.” It’s low, but you hear it, glancing at him with a grin.
“I would like to hear that too.” You say as you start to pump his length, using his pre-cum as lubrication. Another nip to your skin makes you moan.
“At least your shirts have higher collars.” Aaron teases as he moves his hands from your hair to the hem of your t-shirt, dragging it up. You let go of him only so you can take it off fully, then your hands are right back on him. One on his dick, the other tugging slightly at a nipple.
Aaron drags you in for a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as he lets his hands wander all over you. Up your sides, over your chest, down your stomach. Your breath hitches as you think you know where he is going, but instead his hands settles on your ass, pulling you even closer, so close you can barely move your arm, but fuck, he raises his leg a little and now your hard dick is rubbing against his thigh. He rocks forward, seeking friction for you both, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth.
His cock is heavy in your hand, heat radiating from all off him were you are pressed close, still under the duvets. Your movements aren’t rushed, neither of you in a hurry to finish, but fuck, it feels good. Every rock of Aaron’s hips moves his dick in your hand, and presses him against yours, building up on the desire you feel taking over you.
One of his hands move from your ass to your hair, pulling at it as he stops kissing you briefly to moan into your throat.
“I’m close, fuck.” Your eyes flicker all over his face, greedily drinking in the look in his face. The normally stoic Aaron coming apart in your hands  is a sight to behold. Hair sticking in every possible direction, breathing heavy trough kiss-bruised lips is a sight you will carry forever.
You nod quickly, diving on for another kiss.
“Yeah, yeah, come on, don’t hold back on my part.” Aaron groans as he comes, cum seeping trough your fingers as he shakes apart in your hold. You keep gently stroking him as he comes down from is orgasm, stopping when a shiver runs trough his body.
You’re still pressed close, so you you notice quickly when one of his hands moves down your front. He squeezes your cock trough your pants, and you buck your hips into his hand. He chuckles, and then he’s unbuckling your pants, and within seconds his hand is around your cock and moving. You moan, trowing your head back, giving him ample space to lean forward and kiss along your neck.
“Fuck, ah, no marks.”
“Good for you that it is scarf season.” Like the fucking tease that he is Aaron lick a long stripe along your throat, but he does move further down, sucking and biting bruises into the skin on your chest as his hand moves up and down slowly on your cock.
You can’t help the noises the escapes you, moans and groans mixing with heavy breaths. his hands is firm on you, taking you closer and closer with every second, building up until your toes starts to curl.
“Fuck, A-Aaron.” He hums against your skin, placing a last kiss on your collarbone before moving so you’re on eye level once more, a hand in your hair tugging lightly.
“Don’t hold back on my part.” The words are said with a small grin his face, and you div in to kiss him as you cum, spilling all over his hand.
For a few minutes, neither of you move, just catching your breath together in silence. You are the first to move, twisting around so you can get your t-shirt back. Aaron frowns, but you just use it to wipe his hand off and yours. You kiss his knuckles after you clean them off, getting a single laugh as a reaction. Discarding the t-shirt once more, you tuck yourself back into your pants, Aaron doing the same.
A few beats more of silence, both of you not really knowing what to say.
“That was-” Aaron breaks first, but stops himself.
“Yeah...” You can’t help but slowly break into a grin, then a little laughter. He does the same, quiet laughter and a smile making your heart warm as he pulls you back into his still shirtless chest.
You let him, content and almost ready to fall asleep again, but not before you get out some last words.
“Next time I would prefer a bed though.”
“Next time?” He questions as his hand settles against your back.
“Mhm.”
“Alright, I’ll remember that.” He ruffles your hair, placing a single kiss on top of your head. Within minutes you are asleep, back to dreamland in your arms, for once content with sleeping in.
(You don’t take your scarf off on the whole way home, but if anyone in the team notices, none of them mention it, but you can see a smirk threaten to break out on Hotch’s face every time he glances at it.)
369 notes · View notes
cryoaquila · 3 months ago
Text
threesome with you, kaeya, and childe
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pairings - childe x gn!reader x kaeya,
tags - threesome, dumbification, breeding kink, slight belly bulge, strong language, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotective sex.
wc - ~2.2k
a/n - i used gender neutral terms since no pronouns were specified in the ask just in case!
nsfw content under the cut. +18 only. minors dni. 
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when the threesome started, you were completely rational. you participated in the foreplay early on by stripping each other, splitting kisses between the three of you, licking, sucking, rubbing their skin, their nipples, their cocks, but as time went on your brain became foggier by the second before becoming completely clouded by lust. you couldn’t even recall how you got wrapped up in this sensual threesome with kaeya and childe, all you knew was one thing: you wanted, no, needed them to fuck you already.
you were sat on childe’s lap, facing toward him, his cock hard against your stomach and throbbing nether. kaeya was behind you, legs around you and him, his cock against your back. Your body was sensitive to the touch by now, the hours spent playing with you, teasing you, all at a gruelingly slow pace. childe kisses your parted lips, swirling his tongue inside greedily as kaeya nibbles on your shoulder, dragging his tongue down to your shoulder blade where he sucks hard, leaving little marks on your skin. childe pinches your sensitive, hard nipples, twisting them in his fingers with a smug grin on his face as you threw your head back with a gasp. you want them to go in already, you want to be fucked, but the words just wouldn’t come out between your moans and gasps, so you rub against childe’s cock, which causes him to laugh. he said something to you, but you didn’t catch it, your brain was focused on one thing. so, all you did was nod, continuing to rub against him, hoping that was enough to get him to hurry up and screw you.
“already can’t speak? are you that desperate to be bred that you can’t say anything?” bits of childe’s voice cut through the fog, but all you could do was nod in response and continue to rub against him. “damn i love how lost you get in the pleasure.”
“aw, you’re being so good to us, don’t worry, we’ll be good to you soon.” kaeya whispers into your ear before adding, “on your knees, let’s stretch you some more before we give you what you want.”
you lift yourself up onto your shaky knees as your arms instinctively wrap around childe’s shoulders, ass now up in the air. you spread your knees and felt kaeya’s hungry eyes on your backside, childe’s shit-eating grin still slapped on his face. both men start prodding at your hole with their fingers eagerly, neither wanting the other to be the only one to stretch you, so they went together, one finger from both men going in at the same time, causing you to moan as they begin to thrust their fingers into you unevenly, never letting you go empty. soon, they manage to slip more fingers inside you, getting you ready for the full feeling you’d be experiencing later on. while they were having fun with your hole, you were losing or mind and couldn’t take it any longer, the need to orgasm causing you to begin begging, “b-breed me al…ready… please…!” you sounded as if you could barely form a sentence together, but you didn’t care about that right now as two much bigger and better things were on your mind.
childe’s grin grew wider, a mischievous look crossing his face, “heh, whatever you say.” they removed their fingers from your hole and, before you knew it, childe spun you around so that you were now facing away from him. he held you up slightly so your hole was hovering over his hard cock, your thighs spread, everything on display for kaeya.
“ready to watch kaeya? i bet you have an amazing view.” childe comments smugly. 
“you get to go first?” kaeya pouts, eyeing you for a second before smirking, “fine, only because that dazed look on their face is so cute.” he leans in to kiss the end of your nose before childe starts lowering you down onto himself.
you felt the tip of childe’s dick prod at your entrance as he kisses your upper back, muttering against your skin in hot breaths, “want it? want my cock to fill your perfect little hole up?”
you nod your head, “p-please… need it, want it.” you wiggle in his hands, knowing what was about to come your way.
you can hear the joy in his voice as he spoke, “stupid for our cocks already, huh? what a good little pet you are.”
“oh, you can still talk? you better fuck them until all they can do is moan, childe, else i’ll have to do it properly.” kaeya chuckles playfully.
“oh please, they’ll be too exhausted for you.” you could feel a little bit of tension in the air, a fun little challenge set-up between the two, but all you care about was their lengths going inside you. “don’t worry, i’ll fuck their pretty little brain out!” he said confidently, before turning all his attention to you. he began lowering you onto the tip of his cock and you felt it start spreading you wider, preparing you for the rest of him. you let out a low whine, feeling the tip slip in slowly, your hole wrapping around it eagerly. you try to find something to hold on to as he continues sliding himself in, and kaeya grabs your frantic hands, bringing them around his shoulders. kaeya kisses and sweet-talks you, telling you how sexy you look with a dick inside you, telling you how gorgeous you were, how lucky the two of them were, all while your nails claw at his back from the intensity of childe’s well-endowed cock slipping into you.
“it feels so good, you feel so good.” childe grunts and you notice his own tone had become less composed, pleasure beginning to overtake him as well. after what felt like an eternity, childe finally lowers you down on his entire length, and you’re grateful to have him inside you. you want him to move so badly that you start riding him as soon as you can.
“eh-eh-eh, don’t worry your pretty little head about anything, you just have to take it for us, can you do that?” childe hisses, gently taking you by your shoulders and pushing you back down on his cock. you manage to nod as he starts to thrust his hips upward, completely lifting you up, causing you to bounce as he did, each thrust moving your whole body, reaching deep inside you as he sought out your sweet spot.
kaeya grabs your nipples in each of his hands, rolling them around his forefinger and thumb as they bounce along with each thrust. “you’re so out of it, it’s amazing to see the intellect leave your face and be replaced with pure desire for us.” he leans in to kiss you long and hard on the lips, his taste, as sweet as wine, taking over your senses. you let out a scream, breaking the kiss as childe hits your sweet spot. childe, now knowing where to target, kept aiming for that spot inside of you, making moans spill out of you.
his cock throbs within you, and he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down on his dick harder. the pressure was intense and you couldn’t move away from his strong grip. he keeps you seated on his cock as he comes, sending his seed deep inside of you. his grip tightens as his cock releases, the feelings of his hot seed flowing so deep inside bringing you to your own orgasm. you try to fight against your instinct to slam your legs close as you come, but childe holds them open. you felt a shock go through your whole system as you try to squeeze around him, but your muscles are so tired you can’t help but clench and unclench as your body becomes sensitive to the touch, your orgasm washing over you and putting you in a euphoric state.
kaeya rubs your belly after seeing it twitch, watching your face twist into pleasure with a hum, “tighten that hole, love, you want to keep it all in to make sure it takes.” your legs stay spread as childe slightly lifts you up, slipping his softening cock out of you. you suddenly felt empty without it inside, groaning as his cock left you, leaving behind room for some of his cum to slowly drip out of you. you try to clench to keep it in as they suggested, but you were stretched and tired, and just wanted to bathe in your orgasm before it ended. but kaeya, who was staring at you slyly, spoke, “oh, some cum is leaking out! hm, looks like you didn’t tighten it enough. well, we can’t have that now, can we?” before you could even blink he pushes you and childe onto your backs, thrusting his cock within you without hesitation. the light, floaty feeling you were experiencing from your orgasm quickly disappeared as you crash back into an overheated and overstimulated state, kaeya not hesitating to start with a fast, rough pace.
you babble out nonsense mixed with loud moans as kaeya slams his large dick inside you, fucking you like you weren’t still going through an orgasm and trembling from oversensitivity. you knew he was already on the edge of climax himself, and your hot, quivering hole was only bringing him there quicker. each thrust makes the cum that was dripping out squelch around his cock, producing dirty sounds as skin slaps upon skin. while kaeya mercilessly mated you, childe fondles one of your nipples while his other hand went down your body to your nether region, his fingers teasing down to your pelvis, his touch causing you to arch your back, consequently making you push down and meet kaeya’s thrusts, making his cock go deeper if that was even possible.
After what felt like an eternity, kaeya, who was purposefully missing your sweet spot, finally gave a deep thrust, pressing hard against your sweet spot and you threw your head backward, nails digging into his skin once again. he leans down on top of you and came nose-to-nose with childe under you, muttering, “my turn to make them lose it.” 
childe winks at him, leaning up to give him a small kiss before teasing, “have fun, i know i did.” their little discussion gave you time to catch your breath, your thoughts clearing for a moment, but almost as if he realizes this, he goes back to fucking you, even harder this time, the fog clouding your mind once again.
“...please... gonna… come…!” was all you could muster before going back to screaming as kaeya picks up his pace, going faster than you could imagine, chasing his orgasm and making your skin prickle with oversensitivity. your body was so hot it felt like you were melting, each slam inside your wet walls bringing your closer and closer to your second climax.
“shh, it’s ok, you can come as many times as you want from us,” kaeya mutters between heavy breaths as he felt himself reaching his limit.
you couldn’t even get a single word out, tears streaming down your cheeks from the unrelenting pleasure continuing without rest. your eyes roll back into your head, mouth agape, a sight to behold for kaeya, who thought he could come from your expression of pleasure alone. 
childe stops sucking on your neck, letting go with a ‘pop’ sound, leaving a small hickey behind. “be good and take all of our cum so we can breed you silly!” he said cheerfully, pressing both hands down gently on your stomach where a faint bulge could now be seen.
your legs tighten around kaeya’s hips as you scream, your second orgasm even more intense than the first, and your own cum splashes over kaeya’s, yours, and childe’s bodies. as you came, you squeeze around kaeya, who, from the heat around his cock and the overwhelming feeling to come along with you, brings him to his orgasm. he buries himself into you before releasing his load into your worn body, the overflow of cum dripping out your hole, around his cock, and onto the bed below. you try to keep it in as they advised, tightening yourself around kaeya’s aching cock. after a few moments, heavy breathing being the only sound in the air, kaeya pulls out gently, making you whine. he then peppers kisses on your face as you whimper softly at the feeling of cum slowly seeping out of you. after the kiss, childe and kaeya rest in-between you, sandwiching you. both their hands came to rest on your swollen stomach, admiring the work they did on you. “you look quite beautiful, filled to the brim.” kaeya mutters through his own exhausted breathing.
“how are you feeling?” childe asks, kissing the top of your head.
you barely registered the words they had said to you, your mind still fuzzy from the orgasm. but their gently caresses and soothing voices become clearer with every breath you took, your body relaxing into the bed below and the warmth of their bodies next to you a welcome comfort. after a pause, where the only sounds were fast breaths, you nod your head and mutter a singular word, “amazing.”
“good, once you recover enough, we can breed you, again and again, gotta make sure you took our seed properly!” childe smirks as he wraps an arm around you, letting you rest your head against his chest.
“but let’s just rest for now, loves.” kaeya mutters, turning on his side to spoon you, bringing an arm around you, and resting his hand on childe’s toned stomach. you smile tiredly, ready to drift into sleep with them beside you.
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