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letterstotheflre · 3 years

Text

my drug is my baby

summary: sirius is glad he was patient enough with you and takes part of what he has been craving most

warnings: daddy kink, a smidge of religious references, dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering and oral sex (fem receiver), innocence/corruption kink

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i kinda hate this now but i think it’s because i read it too many times, idk || i think it's a universal experience to not being able to cum from your own fingers... right?? and we all know that sirius has a crying kink... also i think it’s so hot when they make you thank them for letting you cum, sue me!!

Sirius Black liked to believe he was a patient man when he needed to be.

He was known for being reckless, always jumping into the next adventure without much thought, ready to follow James wherever he went. Most of the time he spoke without thinking, especially if he knew his comments would make his parents red with rage. Sometimes he didn’t even mean what he said, he just spewed whatever progressive or controversial opinion he had in hopes of making his mother’s heart stop beating.

He revelled in making rash decisions, somehow always ending up being benefited by them. He never gave much thought to anything: always doing his homework last minute yet somehow still getting top marks, taking some jokes too far, never taking into consideration other people’s safety unless they were close friends.

Some may call him selfish, but he liked not having to put too much thought into every single action. He spent most of his childhood walking on eggshells, afraid of saying the wrong thing and being punished or worse, Regulus taking the beating for him. But now that he finally escaped the Black family, he enjoyed the freedom that came with leaving Grimmauld Place.

He enjoyed breaking rules and creating chaos. It made him feel mighty, knowing he had the power to make all of those choices, still coming out on top, and see how they affected certain people. Most applauded him, revered him for being so spontaneous and adventurous; others couldn’t stand him, complaining about his mean jabs and sometimes harmful pranks.

Yet he knew how to wait for the things he deemed important or worthy. He knew that it was best to wait for Euphemia’s cherry pie to cool down before eating it, to wait for three days after the full moon to make a werewolf joke to Remus, to wait a few hours after James lost a Quidditch match to suggest a quick trip to The Three Broomsticks. And he knew it was best to wait for you.

Good things come to those who wait, that was his mantra. Of course, most of his restraint when it came to you was because he cared deeply about you and your comfort, but his conscience also drove him to keep his hands to himself. Every time his hands were about to go under your skirt, every time he heard your breathy moans when he kissed your neck, every time you looked at him with pouty lips begging for a kiss and his fingers craved to squeeze your neck, he took a step back. He felt so guilty for tainting something that in his mind was so pure, so he just held you close and peppered your face with kisses until you giggled.

But the thought of you being so untouched and how bashful you looked when he teased you or someone made a sexual comment made him want to ruin your innocence. Something inside him craved to see you tainted, to have you writhing under him as he rolled his hips against yours while you clutched his shoulders. He wanted to take that holiness you had and turn it into something so sinful that there was no way for you to ask for redemption.

And when you opened the door and took the first step, who was he to deny you?

He dragged everything out. Since the day when he taught you how to touch yourself, he wanted to make you wait for every sexual act that followed. He wanted to see how long it would take for you to beg him for some relief.

So today during a lecture when you looked at him with glazed over eyes and begged him to help you relieve the strange ache you felt in your stomach since you woke, he decided to be benevolent and give you some relief. He swiftly moved his hand under your skirt (thanking God that most of your closet consisted of that particular piece of clothing and dresses) and pushed aside your underwear before his fingers made way between your dripping folds. He didn’t enter you, just played with your clit until you had to bite the back of your hand to muffle your moans.

But when you whispered a small “thank you, daddy” and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, the only thing he wanted to do was take you back to his room and press you to the bed until your legs shook and tears ran down your cheeks. His eyes quickly scanned the classroom to make sure no one saw or heard anything, shoulders tense because of your words. All he could see were students with their own glassy eyes as they listened to whatever the professor was talking about. Fucking tease, Sirius thought.

And now, as he watched you on your knees and clutching his leg, lips pouty and cheek nuzzling his jean covered thigh, he was thankful for being patient enough.

“Please, Sirius, they’re back,” you said. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but played dumb as one hand petted your hair. “What’s back, baby?”

“The tingles,” you explained.

“And you need me to fix it, hm?” A small taunt was evident in his tone. “Your hands aren’t enough anymore, right bunny?”

Your cheeks warmed up at the implication, nevertheless, you shook your head. You still managed to make yourself cum, but the way Sirius could play with your clit like an experienced musician and how his big hands moved your hips along his jean covered leg would never compare to your dainty digits. The thought of his big fingers inside of you was enough to increase the tingles, and your hands pressed down on your stomach trying to soothe the pain.

“Please, Sirius, it hurts so bad,” you whimpered.

“Use your words, angel. Be good,” he said. You looked up at him with watery eyes, your mind already slipping and not letting you form too many coherent thoughts. “Please, daddy,” you sniffled.

He kept petting your head. “What do you want, angel?” He asked, looking almost bored with the situation as he listened to your pleads. “Anything,” you whined.

He shook his head, mocking disappointment. “You know you have to ask for what you want, puppy.” Even though he wasn’t angry, honestly a little amused at your desperation, his voice was stern, trying to engrave his rules in your fuzzy brain.

Your hands squeezed his leg, “I need you… down there.”

“You need to be clearer.''

You closed your eyes. You hated being so crass, but Sirius certainly had no qualms about it. “I need you… in my pussy,” you got out. But it wasn’t enough, not for Sirius who longed to ruin every aspect of your innocence. “What do you want, baby? D’ya want my fingers or my tongue?”

“Both,” you whined. Bingo, he thought with a dark smirk that would’ve sent shivers down your spine if you weren’t absolutely drenching and desperate for his touch. “Up you get, puppy,” he said, “lay on the bed f’me.”

You got on the bed right next to him, your head laying on one of your fluffy pillows. Your dress rode up a bit with your movements, but it didn’t really matter, and you pressed your legs together trying to relieve some of the tension while you waited for Sirius to do something. He simply watched you, taking in the image of you wriggling in place and toying with the rings he bought you for your birthday.

You felt a soft touch on your calves, and it gave you a fluttering feeling in your stomach. Sirius’s hands were moving slowly up your legs, nudging them apart without needing much force since you complied immediately. You were about to burst, ready to scream at him to just get on with it, but decided to keep quiet.

One of his hands made its way to the edge of your dress, swiftly going under it and his fingers slightly grazing your clothed pussy. Your hips bucked at the soft touch, but then just as quickly as it came it was gone. “No, come back!” you implored, reaching for Sirius’s wrist but being too slow.

Sirius arched one eyebrow, “What was that?”

“I’m sorry!” you cried out, “M’sorry, I just need you so bad. It hurts.” But Sirius remained where he was, arms now crossed over his chest as he looked at you. His eyes were full of disappointment and you wanted to cry, “What’s gotten into you today? You were so demanding in class before, so bratty, I don’t think you deserve it at all.” He was stretching the truth, you were by far the least bratty person he had ever been with, but he couldn’t help himself when he saw how much his words affected you.

A few tears fell at his words, “No, no, m’not bratty. I’m a good girl, daddy. I promise I’ll be so so good, your best girl! I won’t ask for anything more, m’sorry.'' You were saying anything you could to convince him that you were still his good girl, his angel.

Your lips were quivering and your chest was heaving with sobs you tried to keep inside; babbling apologies and trying to convince him that you would never act like this again, and he finally took pity on you. His hands gripped your ankles and opened your legs so he could lay comfortably between them. He could see a dark patch on your lavender underwear, and he huffed out a laugh with a slightly amused shake of his head. “I forgive you, bunny, but you’ll have to take everything that I give you. D’you think you can do that f’me?”

You nodded eagerly, choking a small ‘thank you’ as you tried to control your breath. He grabbed the ends of your dress and bunched it up over your waist, not bothering to take it off. He licked a strip over your underwear and the combination of his warm tongue with the friction of the cotton cloth was enough to make you mewl.

Sirius could not deny that he had been craving to taste you once more after he licked your fingers clean that day, and now only getting a smidge of your taste from what seeped through your underwear drove him insane. He needed to taste you completely, so he quickly pulled them off and pocketed them in the back of his jeans.

He used his fingers to spread your folds wide open, staring hungrily at all the slick that had gathered. “Oh puppy, look at the mess you’ve already made,” he crooned. “Y’re dripping, d’ya really need me this bad?”

“Yes, so so bad. Please, daddy.” He was so close, his warm breath hitting your wet folds and making you tremble in anticipation.

You watched, using your elbows to raise yourself a little, as he slowly started to take his rings off. “Hold ‘em for me, bunny, don’t want them to get dirty,” he said as he slid his chunky rings into your fingers. The metal dangled a little because of the size difference, so you closed your hands to keep them from falling.

Finally, his tongue made contact with your clit and you sighed in relief. It was followed by a moan when he started to suck on it, making sure to swirl his tongue all around before slurping. He looked like a starved man that finally came into contact with some sweet fruit, moving his head around your pussy to have you gushing on him. The ache in your tummy was slowly decreasing, now replaced with a nice fluttering feeling.

Your whines and moans echoed through his ears, resembling the most beautiful angel choir he had ever heard. He pulled away for a moment, “I’ve been waiting to taste you for days, puppy. S’better than I remembered.”

The more he pushed his tongue inside you, the more your legs shook. You involuntarily closed them, your pillowy thighs acting as earmuffs around Sirius’s head. He let them rest there for a few seconds before pushing them open once more, adding more fervour to his movements, eager to drink your sweet ambrosia.

Your closed fists went to his head, and you opened them a little to grip his hair, trying to ground yourself. “Gonna cum, daddy, can I?” You breathed out. Sirius just hummed, sending vibrations that were enough to make you let go. You tried to close your legs once more, but his shoulders prevented you from doing so. You felt like you were floating, your brain shutting off for a few seconds before returning to earth.

But Sirius didn’t stop moving his tongue, one of his fingers circling your hole before entering you slowly. Just one of his fingers felt like two of yours, even though you knew it wasn’t an accurate comparison. The stretch this time burned more than when you touched yourself, and you whined while shaking your head. “Too much, s’too much.”

Sirius paused for a moment so he could press your legs to your chest with one hand while the other kept moving in and out of you. The sudden switch in position made you gasp, but not as much as when Sirius thrust his fingers hard. “Are you dumb? I told you you had to take everything I gave you. D’you want to make me mad again?”

More tears fell when he curled his fingers, expertly finding that spongy spot inside you that pumped white heat through your veins. The way they twisted resembled a musician fiddling with a harp, your needy whines accompanying them like the main act. “No no, I can take it” you gasped, drowning in bliss as his fingers kept hitting the perfect spots.

You were already so close, Sirius giving you no respite as he quickly pushed his fingers. Your hand gripped his arm, fingertips digging the ink-covered skin. “C-close,” you whined, eyes rolling back and mouth open as you felt the tension ready to break.

“Going to make more of a mess, angel?” he grumbled, and you tried to nod as much as you could in your constricted position. Sirius chuckled, “Dirty little thing. Go on, I’ve got you.”

You whimpered brokenly as he pulled another orgasm from you. It felt like his fingertips were scrapping your insides to drag it out, and your feet dangled in the air as you swung them while trying to grab his wrist to stop him from moving.

Sirius couldn’t tear his eyes from you, with your pretty tears dripping down your cheeks and your chest heaving with small sobs from how good you felt. For him, all for him and only ever for him, because no one had ever touched you like he has and no one else ever would. “You look so pretty like this,” he cooed. “God I love your tears, baby, look how hard you make me.”

Your eyes moved down his body—when had he taken off his shirt? His tattoos splayed over his toned muscles made you clench around his fingers. You adored the small drawings that covered most of his body, they looked so beautiful on him and you just wanted to cry even more at how pretty your boyfriend was. When your eyes moved lower, following his previous instruction, you could see there was already a bulge in his pants that you knew was his cock, and your mouth watered at the thought of it just resting against his stomach like it did the first time you sucked him.

“I wanna feel you,” you cried while stretching your hands to touch him. He let you, your soft palms going over his chest and grabbing his shoulders so you could pull him down. “Kissie,” you breathed, letting his lips hover over yours for a second before kissing you hard and messily. His tongue played with yours and it only added more fuel to the fire inside you.

A moan broke you apart when his fingers resumed their pace, “P-please, no more” you babbled, the stimulation too much to bear.

“How are you gonna take my cock if you can’t take my fingers, hm?” He asked and you whined, his fingers burying themselves up to his knuckles and making your eyes roll back once more. Your mouth was dry from being constantly open, whimpers and moans constantly escaping from the open cavity. “Come on, one more, I know you have it in you. My good girl aren’t you?”

The squelching sounds were so dirty and they rang through your ears, yet even through your fuzzy mind you could discern the important words, “Y-your good girl,” you managed to get out with a smile, glad to be praised by him.

His other hand pressed down on your legs even more, and now you could see the way the digits moved in and out of you, a slight sheen coating the skin every time they came out. “God, you were right, bunny, you are tight,” he grunted, “I don’t think I’ll ever fit, m’gonna break you.”

At that, your eyes widened. “No no, you’ll fit, daddy!” But he just chuckled at your desperation, “M’gonna break you in half, angel. Do you want that? Do you want me to split you open?”

A small chant of ’yes’ and ‘please’ echoed through the room. You could feel another wave coming, ready to wash over you as your toes curled in anticipation. It was like you were dangling on the edge, your hands holding on for dear life as you tried to hold on, and your moans grew louder and louder with every thrust Sirius gave.

Your clenching walls around his digits were warning enough for him, and he kept his eyes on your form as you struggled to keep it at bay, waiting for his permission. He watched as your ring clad fingers scrambled to the sheets, gripping them tightly as your head moved from side to side. “That’s it, bunny, let go f’me” and with one harsh thrust, you slackened the hold you had on your release and finally let go.

If you felt like you were still on your body you would’ve screamed. A white heat engulfed you as your vision grew hazy, your hips raising of their own accord and aiding Sirius in dragging your orgasm out. You looked so beautiful like this, a sweaty sheen on your skin and now tangled up hair sticking to your forehead. Sirius leant down, tongue cleaning the fallen tears before they dried, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you.

He grabbed your face, squishing your spit covered cheeks. “What do you say, angel?”

With a shuddering breath, you looked into his stormy eyes as he cleaned your release from his fingers with his tongue. “Thank you, daddy.”

You tried to lower your legs, but Sirius kept them in place. You stared at him, confused, yet he was staring at your puffy cunt, all shiny and stretched out for him. A smirk covered his lips as he finally looked at you, “I think y’re finally ready for m’cock, angel.”

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#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black smut #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black one shot #marauders smut #marauders fanfiction #harry porter fanfiction #harry potter imagine

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jade-parcels · 3 years

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Can I please have some domestic fluff with Azhdaha and Osial 👉🏻👈🏻. Would they be cuddly? Cook? Would they be touch-starved 😉

Of course you can!!! In a world where Azhdaha and Osial were let out of their sealed caverns in order to sign a ‘I will protect Liyue in exchange for my freedom’ contract with Morax….

This was so fun! I wanna write more for them now…hehe..

Osial:

He tends to see himself as better than mortals, he’s proper and somewhat high strung. He was locked away in an era far different than this, so when he arrives in Liyue harbor for the first time in centuries, he’s surprised by everything. The things people eat, their religion, their storytellers…Hell, the dialect is even different (time for Zhongli to tutor his old friends so they don’t sound insane while trying to have a convo with regular folks lol)

He speaks very proper, similar to Zhongli, but he sounds very old fashioned. That is, when he does talk. Osial is quiet, he prefers to listen rather than speak

So when he meets you, his old fashioned tendencies leap out as he tries to court you with handmade gifts like necklaces or glazed pottery. Osial is very skilled with his hands! Back in his day, he’d adorn himself with all sorts of jewelry and headdresses he made himself

He can be very hands on too, before you’re ever on an established relationship he’ll link your arms as you walk down to the harbor or wrap an arm around your waist. Internally, you’ll probably think ‘oh man, we aren’t even together and he’s already this touchy…’ but in reality, that’s just how he is. He links arms with all of his friends because to him, it’s a friendly gesture!!! He fails to realize that in modern times, doing that makes it look like you’re a couple

Due to his imprisonment in the deepest, coldest part of the ocean, Osial is very touch starved. When you hug him for the first time, that’s when you really see it cause he doesn’t want to let go :’) he always smells like the ocean air and incense

Massage his shoulders and hands, he’s never had a massage in his entire life!! This is a new experience that he’ll treasure cause…you’re making him feel so good

When you’re together, he’ll want to go to the beach or take a bath, anywhere with water really. Being able to submerge himself in the tub soothes his skin and mind. When you are together, he’ll show you how he can ‘dissolve’ into the water! He isn’t actually dissolving, he’s kinda turning into water? And melting into it? I’m having a hard time finding the right word for it ahhh-

Osial, while gentlemanly and quiet, does have a temper. Zhongli really brings it out of him just because he thinks it’s funny “You stupid lizard, you better quit stepping on my shoes” “I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear friend” “MORAX!!!!” “….You must stop calling me that in public” it’s kinda funny to see them interact

Osial is a pescatarian, meaning he is a vegetarian who doesn’t eat any meat except fish. He eats…a lot of fish. Sometimes, instead of cooking the fish he just bought from the market, he’ll take one and sit on the sofa with a book…Then eats it raw as a snack…bones and all…blood dripping down his arm, smeared on his face. This is where Zhongli’s aversion to seafood comes from. When you bring up the fact that watching eat a raw fish that way is somewhat disturbing….Osial, again, doesn’t get it. It’s a fish, there’s nothing gross about eating fish?? Babe the fish isn’t gross but the way you’re eating it is gross

Also, Osial is an old fashioned romantic. I mentioned earlier that he’d make jewelry and stuff for you but he’d also write poems for you too :) are they good? Well…’good’ is subjective

Azhdaha:

When Morax sealed him away, Azhdaha had been his most loyal companion. After the god of contracts gave him a set of eyes, Azhdaha swore to protect him. He followed him around, did almost everything he was asked to do

He had centuries to ponder his behavior when he was locked away. He sat and mourned the loss of his freedom, the loss of his dearest friend

So when Morax came to release him, he leapt at the opportunity to come up out of the ground

Azhdaha’s human form is TALL, like 6’5, and Liyue harbor is noooot meant for people that tall. He’s gotta duck when going through doors and kinda hunch in areas with low ceilings. He has a good sense of humor so he thinks it’s funny how he’s so tall, he makes jokes about it and laughs :)

Speaking of laughing, Azhdaha does NOT have an inside voice, he talks super loud!! He’s a bit rowdy too, he doesn’t like sitting still for long and loves going on adventures together

Azhdaha used to be blind and even though he has had eyes for centuries now, he never takes a sight for granted. He’ll watch the sunset, take ‘mental pictures’ of you when he thinks you look pretty, he’ll make you stand and watch street performances even if you’ve seen them ten times already just cause he loves it

His favorite colors are red, purple and orange. They’re just pleasing to his eyes! So when you wear those colors he’s sure to take as many ‘mental pictures’ as he can :) cute

He isn’t really a good cook but he DOES try. Cooking usually takes a delicate touch which he just doesn’t really have lol he’s got big hands

Azhdaha isn’t the best at cooking and is insecure about picking gifts, he just worries you won’t like it :( sooooo the way he shows his affection is by just hanging around you all the time! He’ll help with commissions, come pick flowers or break open cor lapis for you, go fishing with you, whatever you want to do!!

Once he’s fallen for you, it’s pretty easy to tell, he isn’t very subtle :) cuuute! You can just see it in his eyes….he’s totally infatuated with you

Zhongli will tease him too just cause it’s funny to fluster the gentle giant

((Thank you for reading this far!! Now I have a question, should/can I pick a human name for Osial and Azhdaha? Or should I just keep their god names when writing for them? I think I have a name for each but idk 😅))

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact writing #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact osial #genshin impact azhdaha #azhdaha #osial #azhdaha x reader #Osial x reader #answered requests!#asks #asks!

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unpretty · 3 years

Text

askdump with spoilers up to chapter 22! but also including some older ones because i keep forgetting

bramblepatch asked:

I LOVE the implication that the answer to Minnow's "cool, I wonder why there would be a door here?" is that Vaelon decided "cool, let's put a door here." Heroes Just Wanna See Cool Shit.

being able to set your own fast travel markers is the dream

@apparently-possessed asked:

I can't believe no one has commented on how Karzarul has the gall to call the Abysscale erotica scandalous. You made them to have sex with sailors you horny buffoon. You go off and find them in

Groups for frustrated sex.

No excuse my dude. They have always been the horny monster.

that was a PRIVATE INTERLUDE between a monster and several different ships worth of sailors and also sometimes other monsters and someone was INDISCREET which is RUDE and he would not have invited them if he'd known they would snitch

also tbh he was mostly offended by the implication that he was some kind of monster bimbo

anonymous asked:

"Monsters that are just slime orbs would have implications" yes, because the entire design and origin of Abysscales is completely without implications.

i find those implications less distressing tbh

@bramblepatch asked:

On rereading the last couple of chapters: as tragic as Vaelon's wish binding them all together is, it kind of seems like it might not be all bad for the world around them? Lynette already had her blessing at that point and I feel like a Sunlight Heir who didn't have that kind of persistent connection to the Hero and Monster would have the potential to go waaaay off the rails a lot more often than Heirs do anyway. Karzarul might be the one blatantly causing problems on most cycles, but having him and the Hero active when the Heir comes to power at least keeps them focused on their reincarnation bullshit...

you cannot deny that the hero does try to stop them from killing each other and also everyone else

he never said he'd succeed

@spinachwrap asked:

BIGGEST BOY It took me til chapter 20 to understand how Violet and the boys showed up and I about yelled. New! Monsters!!!

@asimovsideburns asked:

Sorry I’m just thinking about Astielle again and most if not all of Ari’s humanoid forms being at least partly imitative of someone he likes (and the others being made of what he thinks they’ll like) because moonlight is a reflection

@ephemeraltea asked:

part of what i love so much about your writing, particularly noticeable in astielle, is that you take a silly or off-hand thing and make it have true depth and emotional weight. like. collect one of everything from this open world video game. but for minnow, it's proof that she has desires outside of previous lives, that her experiences are not just slowly pixelating copies of things she's done before. this flower, i know i've seen it as me, because i have it pressed and saved at home. i have a memory of it that is only mine. and that fucking gets me!!!!

anonymous asked:

Karzarul getting all huffy about monsters naming themselves after descriptors *shakes my head* This is a TRADITION OF YOUR PEOPLE carried out EVEN TO THIS DAY *gestures to Violet who is... violet* I don't want to hear anything from you on the topic Mr. Beautiful.

anonymous asked:

RE: Karzarul getting huffy. It's probably influenced by the little Vaelon voice in the back of his head repeating "But that isn’t really a name..." over and over again, but still. I don't want to hear it from you, Mr. Beautiful!

anonymous asked:

Just from the way Karzarul responds to being told Elias died of being old with an Unconvinced Hm™ it seems like he knows about the immortality thing. But maybe they DO start aging after one (or more) of them dies?

@ceruleanvulpine asked:

RETURN OF “I WANT YOU WHATEVER YOULL GIVE ME” AHHHH

anonymous asked:

MA'AM. MA'AM HOW COULD YOU. I can't believe you did this to us VAELON NO

listen. i did it to myself also.

@punkpixieprince asked:

god even when I KNEW how it ended I still cried SO MUCH. I'm still crying right NOW. I imagined it in so many ways but honestly knowing it was an accident, that even after everything he killed her on accident, just really... destroyed me a little.

anonymous asked:

Vaelon: If I like everything *just the right amount* and not too much, then I won't want to commit suicide when it's gone. FORTUNATELY, I only have one person that applies to. And EXTRA fortunately she is now immortal. ... UNFORTUNATELY, there are now TWO people. EXTRA unfortunately, they are now trying to kill each other.

it turns out having gratitude-based cbt and existential nihilism as your religion has its limits as a depression treatment when literally no one around you has ever noticed that's what you're doing

anonymous asked:

What Vaelon Says: I don’t want any of us to be alone. What Vaelon Means: I don't want to be alone, and I don't mind leaving Karzarul alone if it means I can avoid being without one of the two people I can't live without.

vaelon has always vastly overestimated the extent to which karzarul wandered off to hang out with the many cool new monster friends his mom made him, and who he never wanted to introduce him to

anonymous asked:

Excited about the first mention of Moon priests. Also enjoy having my personal belief that the Sun priests are insufferable validated. Vaelon is STILL the only Void priest in evidence, ever. Understandable, seems like a difficult calling. *imagines poor little deluded Star priests running around in modern times being VERY WRONG*

anonymous asked:

They get a little mark on their hand to show who killed who? Does that work with people not-them? Did Leland wander around with a little sun on his hand from killing all the heirs? Is that how he's been telling everyone HE's the heir??? Did it happen to some random guardsman the first time and then Leland murdered him to try and get it himself? *chanting* Mark of Cain, Mark of Cain!

anonymous asked:

Idk if I should be happy or devastated for predicting what would happen for the most part in chapter 21 and 22. But also wth the sun on his hand???? Where are those terms and heckin conditions please tell me those were as immutable as the weapons

anonymous asked:

That Lynette died with her left hand clean makes me feel violent emotions. How many? Monsters with Vaelon’s face and deaths that Karzarul could feel. Enough to get used to it. She waited until he said he wasn’t connected to them. She spat monster like a slur. Sun circle advisors whispered in the ear of a woman who’d asked to be able to commit atrocities that her empire was the world. You’re too good at this, I don’t know if I can recover.

(☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

anonymous asked:

Yeah, Lynette. You never asked for help, AND THAT'S THE PROBLEM.

anonymous asked:

“Why is it always my fault?” That's a very valid question, Karzarul. I can't think of any time the other two attempted to accommodate you, other than Vaelon mentioning he started helping people because he knew it bothered you, or him taking you back to the lake when you were in visible physical distress. Even when you hadn't done anything to cross her empire, when the only thing you'd taken from her was a small amount of Vaelon's attention, Lynette blamed you.

anonymous asked:

“Of all the fucking things you could have done, You made a new one. Another fucking monster, with his face. Do you think that’s going to stop me? Or do you think you’re proving something, making me kill him? Having to see his face, again and again and again, every time I kill one of those fucking things? His face, staring back at me, every fucking time and now you’ve made another one." ...Not everything is about YOU Lynette.

anonymous asked:

I loved learning that Vaelon designed Karzarul's moon/bug motifs.

anonymous asked:

Gaslight (Karzarul about things being his fault), Gatekeep (Karzarul away from Vaelon because if you can't have him *the way you want him* nobody can have him), Girlboss (of an empire that is actually only negatively impacting your mental health and it would be better for you to ditch that gig)

karzarul just hated to see a girlboss winning 😔

#original #writeblogging #astielleblogging #astielle spoilers

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tooweirdforyou · 3 years

Text

The OP Boys & Their Personal Dirty Secrets pt. 2

A/N : Hey hun! I hope you like this! ( i can’t tag you idk why ) I saw you wanted a part two to this and decided to do it because it was fun. I guess, lol. anyways hope you like this! :>

Soooo, don’t judge the gif I couldn’t find anything else. Also I’m kinda tired ;-; alsooo. these ones are a LITTLE bit dirtier.

Warning : NSFW AHEAD! PROCEED WITH CAUTION! ⚠️ ESPECIALLY W/ THATCH.

kid and mihawk don’t have specific dark secrets since I couldn’t think of anything that would yk connect to them. ;-;

Summary : All of these boys and their personal, hidden dirty secrets. PART TWO!

Doflamingo

Oh boy, this male, despite his possessiveness, has a bit of a voyeurism kink. He hasn’t yet, but he DEFINITELY wants to turn on the country wide announcement, ( like those screens whatever used in Dressrosa when he talked ) and just fuck you as everyone watches throughout the island. He dreams of it, and one day, HE WILL make it a reality.

“How does it feel?” The lick of his lips and the shit-eating grin was on display all over the island for the people of Dressrosa to see, the image of Doflamingo’s hips thrusting and making contact with your rear.

“Does it feel good to have the whole island watching you being fucked senseless, by me? Their king?”

You couldn’t respond, lost in the insane amount of pleasure that ran through your body, specifically your lower regions. You didn’t even care that you were being watched, basking in the euphoria you were given at the moment.

Doffy’s strings suspended you partially in air, the material binding your body so you couldn’t move in the slightest as he took you from behind.

Arms wrapped around your bare figure, one holding you thigh tightly while the other wrapped around your torso, his hand grasping your throat and his fingers, pressing itself onto the flesh of your neck.

If you were fortunate, your face was cut off from the screen to be visible but your exposed body was seen by everyone who watched.

Doflamingo felt glory and power, as he continued to fuck you for all to see, your sweet, melodic moans echoing through the island as he did this.

What a fantasy that will soon become a reality.

Kid

Literally anything but also nothing. I couldn’t think of anything.. so here’s a kink he has! Dominant Submission. (?) basically, he LOVES the submissive ones, but those who really fight back. Feisty bitches yk? But like, he knows you’re all talk because he’ll have you begging for him on your knees once the two of you really get started. ;)

You’re teasing the hell out of Kid. You’re being bad by ignoring Kid and disobeying his orders and the Captain has had enough.

He barges into your room, slamming the door shut with the lock clicking on and before you could react, he has his hand around your throat and your back shoved to the wall.

“You think you’re being funny?” He growls into your ear, instantly using his free hand to rip your clothes off in a swift pull.

Despite the lack of air you had, your face still formed a sly and cheeky smirk in response. “I..I think it’s.. hilarious. Ha.”

Kid scowls before slowly smirking himself and tightened his grip on your neck a little bit more, but not enough to actually kill you. ( he cares after all :> )

“Tch. Looks like you need a punishment.” He drags you over to your bed and shoves you roughly done onto him, unbuckling his pants and pulled the belt out from the loops and pressed the two ends together so he had an able whipping belt. ( make sense? )

You merely grin at this and tilt your head. “Oh? Is that for me?” You hum and sat up, legs up and spread for him to see your already getting wet pussy, arms over you knees.

The sight of it made Kid growl lowly before he walks closer to you. “Time for you to face the consequences of pissing me off.”

With one hand, he forces you down onto the bed, breasts against the mattress and your ass forcefully in the air.

And with the raise of his other hand, it was only seconds before a loud whip was heard.

Tears stings the corner of your eyes but you still held strong, biting your lip. “Is that all you got? Guess you weren’t so angry.” You laugh and Kid didn’t respond, only whipping you once more, a little more force.

“Don’t you worry. I have all night long.”

[ I could write a whole OneShot about this, I had to stop lol ]

Marco

Little bit harder, buttt, come on. Sex in the air? Marco’s dream, for sure. And if he’s going to admit it, yes, he has done sexual activities in the air, where no one would be around.

The blonde doctor soars across the sky, a little ways away from the ship, not too far to lose sight but enough where he wouldn’t be seen, regardless of it being the time of night.

He’s only ever done it once or twice, but the no matter how many times Marco would do it again afterwards, the first time experience couldn’t ever be bested.

Sexual activities in the air.

Yet, that didn’t mean Marco didn’t love the thrill and excitement it brought him, especially when he did it so often in his younger days.

Extending his bright cyan blue wings out and around him, Marco palms himself through his pants, shutting his eyes before slightly lowering his pants enough to release his cock into the exposed cold air.

Marco shivers before reeling back and moving so he was laying down, his wings as support. One left propped up and his fingers wrapped itself around his shaft, his touch slow.

With nothing but the moon lighting down on him and the refreshing night breeze in the midnight sky, Marco felt at ease as he continues to rub his length in a teasingly slow motion, only increasing in speed seconds after.

Marco won’t lie, when it came to his release, he often did it into his hands and a bit dripping down onto his hips and chest,

but it felt good letting his cum spurt into the ocean.

Thatch

It’s pretty known that Thatch is a real perv with large sexual desires. ( at least to me because of @ honeybakedthatch lol ) however, this personal secret is his dirtiest one yet.

Thatch bit his lip as he grunted out a soft groan, feeling the rest of his warm, bitter cum shooting out from his tip and into the leftover mixture of cream and condensed milk he made for the cinnamon buns.

Pulling his pants up and zipping it tight, Thatch made sure to thoroughly mix the cum and mixture together with a plastic spoon before drizzling it over the cinnamon buns he left out just for you.

The plastered grin Thatch wore merely widens as he watched the ordinary looking cinnamon buns look identical to the others, but he knew the pleasant surprise in taste that differed.

Just as he finished drizzling the cream, the door opened, you having walked in. “Thatch, I smell something good! What is it?”

The cheery, innocent smile you had made Thatch smirk a bit, the imagination all too pleasant, the thought of you eating his delicious cinnamon buns.

“I made cinnamon buns. Here, I made these especially for you.” Thatch holds out the separate plate he had and walks closer to you, placing a sweet kiss on your temple before letting you take the plate and fork.

“Enjoy. If it’s a bit too bitter, let me know and I’ll.. sweeten it up for you.”

Mihawk

This stoic ass man is such an intimate, romanticist, he doesn’t quite have very dirty secrets.. but, one kink he secretly has is bondage and slight corruption. He won’t ever mention it but if you bring it up, he’ll voice his opinions on it.

“Now, now, love. You should be careful.”

Mihawk’s strict but amused tone was evident as he sat in his chair and watched you writhe in the tight black silk ribbons that bounded you on the ground.

Your arms were tied behind your back, your vision blocked by a silk blindfold and your legs were forced spread by a ankle bar, exposing your bare heat towards Mihawk.

You were leaning against a table/chair, and the only thing you could hear were Mihawk’s praises and warnings, along with the humming vibration that came from the vibrator strapped to your clit.

“You might loosen the binds, and you know you don’t want that, do you?” Mihawk sternly questions and you shook your head, biting your lip to prevent yourself from moaning out too loud.

“Oh? You aren’t responding?” Mihawk smiles slightly as he leans on his hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair. “I asked you a question.”

You gasp out in realization and stammered out, trying to close your legs from the shock and orgasm you keep receiving.

“I-I mean no.. h-hah.. ah.. I, I don’t want it to loosen.” Your blush darkens at the embarrassment you held, but you loved this, just as much as Mihawk did.

Shanks

I could come up with a bunch of things but the first thing my mind went to was — sex tapes. Shanks is all for EVERYTHING but I feel like sex tapes seal the deal. Especially since he hooks up with so many women, I’m sure.

Shanks watches as the woman below him arches her back and curls her toes in pure bliss and euphoria.

The loud moans escaping her lips and filling the motel rooms only edged him further.

His tight grip on the woman’s left thigh glides up to grab the soft mound flesh on her left, his fingers twisting the little perky bud as he thrusted his hips roughly into her, eliciting a louder pleasurable cry.

The sound of skin slapping was the only thing heard other than the heavy grunts of Shanks and the mewls of the woman being fucked into oblivion.

Shanks, despite having the time of his life and was nearing his climax as he continued to thrust into the two small and tight lips, it’s walls clenching around him, could only think about the recording camera on its designated position on top of the drawer.

As much as he loved the real experience at the current moment, he couldn’t wait to rewatch the recording of it and relive the experience that way.

A/N: here you go, hun! I know you wanted a part 2 with these characters and I hope this went out you expected and wanted! :>

A few don’t have proper endings but it’s gooddd enoughhh for me. :p

jus wondering, what do y’all think Kid has? Master, sir, daddy or captain kink? Or none and just his name?

Law def has a “doc/doctor” kink lol but since I’m at it, I don’t think Marco has that.

#tooweirdforyou #one piece #one piece x reader #op x reader #x reader #op #one piece writing #dracule mihawk x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #one piece thatch x reader #one piece thatch #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #marco the phoenix x reader #marco the phoenix #eustass captain kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #ns.fw

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opalesense · 3 years

Text

the last appointment

zhongli & gn!reader

3.4k words • ~25 min. read

summary: as a studious and credible fortune teller in liyue, you discover something about your last client of the week that completely derails your outlook on life.

warnings: liyue arc spoilers, little bit of existential dread, slight mention of family member’s death

notes: might make more parts to this idk? just kinda wanted to dip my toes into genshin writing for the first time!!

LIFE IN LIYUE HARBOUR seemed to be repetitive and mundane. For the past few years, you would wake up, open your fortune telling shop, analyze the futures of your clients using your geomancy, possibly take a stroll around Liyue when you needed to run errands, and then call it a day. You performed the same routine constantly, sometimes travelling beyond the harbor to collect crystals and magical supplies for your shop, but rarely did anything truly change in your routine. If something was off in the slightest, it was never too exciting to note.

As anyone would have suspected, you were tired of your state of limbo in life. Other vision holders seemed to be going on adventures, travelling with companions and exploring the vast mountains and valleys of Teyvat. Other vision holders seemed to be fighting against evil, helping citizens, and saving the world from imminent dangers. You could even recall a recent event where the Qixing had evacuated the harbor to defeat a terrifying sea monster. The Jade Chamber had been sacrificed for the safety of the people of Liyue, and yet here you were, playing with a bunch of rocks for a living. Despite being able to grasp the glowing Geo vision that held your coat together, you could not grasp why you felt doomed to tend to this shop for the rest of your days.

You didn’t know where or how to “start” your life. The small, inherited establishment from your late aunt was located in the small alley of Chihu Rock, practically out of sight from most of the foot traffic in the harbor. Not many people came to visit, though your name was still decently known. In fact, most of your appointments were simply previous clients from your aunt, regulars that relied on her readings for years and believed you were the next best thing after she passed. Especially considering you were the first vision holder in your family, it made your credibility even stronger.

You still remember how you got your vision. The morning after your aunt had passed, the elemental gift somehow made its way into your hand as if the timing was meant to be perfect. You didn’t celebrate such a special and momentous occasion with pride or joy. Your face stiff with tears, you instead reflected on why you received your vision at that moment in the first place. With the shop doors closed upstairs, you gripped your vision and did what you felt needed to be done. With your family’s legacy and tradition on the line, adventuring like other vision wielders was not a priority at the time.

But after years alone of research, a social life consisting only of interacting with customers, and a constant state of grieving the experiences you could’ve had in your youth, you were now in your late twenties and closing the shop for the day. Your last appointment was either extremely late or not showing up at all and you were tired of working today, just like every other day. Regret gripped you tightly as you wondered how you managed to get yourself in such a boring, slow burning loop.

That is until the shop door opened, eliciting a gasp from you at the sudden noise, shattering the previous thought. You accidentally dropped the basket of cor lapis you were refilling and immediately knelt down to pick up the precious pieces that thankfully hadn’t cracked on the way down.

“Hello, [Y/N],” the tall figure practically glided through the doorway, “My deepest apologies for being late.”

He closed the door behind him, “...and for startling you, it seems.”

You sighed, checking for any scratches on the gems and sighed again with relief based on the good results. You grinned to hide the fact you had just been in deep thought. “It’s quite alright, Mr. Zhongli. It’s kind of you to stop by at the very least, even if you’re late.”

Mr. Zhongli was one of your aunt’s longtime clients. Since you were a child, your aunt had always described Mr. Zhongli as a complex yet thoughtful man that had always shown kindness to your family for many years. When Mr. Zhongli learned of your aunt’s death and began to receive readings from you instead, you quickly realized what your aunt meant by calling him complex. Mr. Zhongli was truly a tough nut to crack in every single reading, his sessions taking longer than most other cases. That is why Mr. Zhongli would always offer to take the last spot of the day at the end of every week as to not trouble any of your other clients.

As you took a few of the best cor lapis from the basket, you could see Mr. Zhongli’s acts of kindness and thoughtfulness unfold in front of you. He seemed to carry what was now clearly a gift basket at closer inspection.

“This gift is for you,” Mr. Zhongli took a few steps forward to set the basket on a countertop. “I brought you your favorites. Slow cooked bamboo shoot soup, qingxin, glaze lilies, and all the crystals I could find… needless to say, let this be a token of my appreciation for your patience and hard work from our last few sessions. I know I am not the easiest to read, but you truly have a talent.”

You were speechless at the gesture as your eyes sunk into the intricate detail of the handwoven basket and decorated items inside. No one had ever done something so kind for you in so long. It was astonishing enough that he remembered your favorite soup that you mentioned only once a few months ago, let alone your favorite flowers and crystals as well. “Thank you so much, Mr. Zhongli! I’m at a loss for words – this is so thoughtful of you!”

“I even brought you that Rex Incognito series you had mentioned, although, I am not sure why you would need to read the series when I am fully capable of educating you on the history of Rex Lapis myself,” he flaunted, taking his seat on the cushioned chair in front of the reading table.

“Now, Mr. Zhongli...” you picked out some prithiva topaz from another basket, following the usual protocol you had with such a personalized, frequent client like him. The required materials for his readings were imprinted into your memory like carvings in stone. “You know I don’t want to burden you with my curiosity. And with such an intriguing topic like Rex Lapis... once I start asking questions I’m afraid I will not stop.”

“I have all the time in the world,” he got comfortable in his seat as you sat yourself across from him, “I truly think it would benefit you to discuss the history of Rex Lapis with a learned scholar such as myself. We can even have some tea as we discuss.”

You chuckled at his eagerness. He seemed more forward than usual. “You are too kind, Mr. Zhongli. Perhaps I’ll take that offer someday, but at least let me put those books to good use first. Maybe I won’t need to bombard you with questions if I’m already well briefed on the subject.”

He sighed happily. “You make a good point. And you will enjoy them, I’m sure.”

You settled into your seat as you arranged the crystals between the two of you. “The usual for tonight?”

“Yes, please.”

Your hands meticulously placed the last crystal in its spot on the surface. You closed your eyes and hovered your hands above the rocks, clearing your mind to make way for the usual reading: a reflection on the past, any significant events of the present to focus on, and some insight into the future. You held this hand gesture for awhile, letting the energy from the rocks lift into the air and envelop your gloved palms. When you felt there was enough energy to work with, you opened your eyes to reveal the manifestation of his thoughts in front of you, able to take its physical form using the powers from your glowing vision.

No one had ever taught your this skill, not even your aunt. If you had to bloat your own ego, one could say you invented this Geo fortune telling process yourself. The process indeed came to you naturally, a true display of pure talent.

You slowly lifted your hands to allow the visual manifestation to settle on the table among the gems so Mr. Zhongli could watch his reading unfold in front of him as well.

“Let us analyze the past first,” he spoke, already knowing the routine without you needing to ask him where to start. You slowly waved your hands as if you were digging a hole in sand on a beach, the manifestation displaying ambiguous patterns that wouldn’t make sense to any commoner’s eyes but could be interpreted easily by yours.

Two pairs of focused eyes fixated on the picture as you spoke your mind out loud. “You have recently given up something extremely important to you, it seems. I see you handing over something… small, physically, yet unbelievably significant and personal. I can’t tell what it is exactly, only that it glows like the sun with its energy. But you have handed this important object over to a very... evil... figure?” you cocked your eyebrow, confused. “You seem to be brooding over the fact that its aura is dark with malicious intentions.” You hesitated, “Well, that can’t be right, can it?”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, that is indeed what happened recently. But it had to be done.”

“Didn’t we talk about a similar situation in a previous reading? If I remember correctly, I thought I had advised you to not give up whatever that object was.”

“I am aware of the consequences that will follow. Especially with your future guidance, I’m sure the events following this one questionable decision will unfold in a better way soon enough.”

“I will always be here to help you, Mr. Zhongli. But please be careful in the future with these decisions. The importance of this object seems to be off the charts.”

He nodded. “It is as you say. Please, have faith in me now. I cannot change what happened in the past, after all.”

You hovered over this image of the sacrifice. You couldn’t make out what this object was, no matter how close you tried to inspect it. It had the likings of a chess piece, but surely this wasn’t simply a chess piece, was it?

“Let us move on, if that is alright with you,” his low voice cut the silence.

You wiped the image from your mind and waved your hands again, as if you were slowly putting the sand back into the hole you dug before. If the last image wasn’t enough bad news, this new one that formed was even more painful to witness.

“You have been grieving your losses very recently,” you said gently. “Your mind is currently weighed down by your past. I see you looking out at the sea in deep thought. There are flashes of…”

You stopped as you inspected the graphic images that suddenly appeared beyond your hands. You gasped at the terrifying horrors.

“What is it?” the low voice tried to search for understanding of what you were seeing. Even though the image was clearly laid out in front of him, it was still too ambiguous to tell when he lacked your years of experience.

“There are flashes of war,” your breath stifled as you watched his thoughts splayed out in images of lifeless bodies and destruction. “Very graphic details of war and death. Mr. Zhongli, I believe this image of suffering has been weighing over your mind like an anchor in the sea.”

He paused to process your comparison. “That is... a very good way to put it.”

“Though, I believe that despite the sorrow that emanates in this image, you are in a state of relief and tranquility. It seems you are grieving, but you are simultaneously at peace,” you hesitated again, “Yet I wonder what these graphic images of war are meant to represent. Surely we are not in an actual war, are we? Perhaps you are at war with your past, wanting to move on but haunted by your memories?”

Mr. Zhongli unfortunately knew the images you were seeing were, in fact, real events he had experienced in his life time and the truth was that lately he had been reminiscing on these events. Mortal life is kind to humans for them to be blissfully unaware and carefree of these harsh realities, he internally commented.

He still put your analysis into thought, though.

“I am haunted, indeed. I have been attempting to come to terms with my troubled past, just as you advised me only a few weeks ago. I have tried to follow your guidance, and although they resurface what I have been trying to repress, I believe I am coming to peace with what happened.”

You grinned. “That is very good to hear, Mr. Zhongli. I believe you are currently making good progress when it comes to moving on. Just remember that it is okay to remember your sorrow. Let your emotions pass through you instead of repressing them or rushing to move on. It is okay to take your time and let the thoughts bubble inside of you for awhile.”

He closed his eyes as you continued, letting your advice seep in. You continued. “Imagine the stillness of the sea. Many creatures and lost remnants take their place in the depths of the waters, but on the surface we see constantly moving yet serene waves wash over what is hidden below. Your memories are there to stay, Mr. Zhongli. But your present self, the surface of the water, can peacefully coexist with whatever is hiding deep within. Let these thoughts weigh you down momentarily, but rest assured, you will find balance and acceptance in due time.”

His eyes fluttered open as he reflected over your words. You always seemed to know what to say. “Your words have truly resonated with me, [Y/N]. And you are absolutely correct. I have been fighting these memories to avoid the pain, but it had not dawned on me that sorrow is... what I am meant to feel, not push away. I suppose your advice has put my mind at a bit more ease, and I suppose I am focusing too much on when I will be able to move on rather than allowing my thoughts to coexist for a moment.”

“Now you’re getting it,” you grinned with the relief that washed over his face.

“Shall we move on?” he offered.

You got to work on the last segment of the reading. If manifesting the other images didn’t take long enough, reading one’s future always took the longest. Interpreting an event that hasn’t happened yet always made you a bit nervous with your words. You never wanted to let a client down with an inaccurate reading.

On the contrary, this reading, despite taking quite awhile to appear on the surface on the table, was very clear.

“That is undoubtedly an image of me,” your eyes glazed over the facial features of the person in the manifestation. “I apologize for the delay, Mr. Zhongli, I must have accidentally let my thoughts seep into yours–“

“Do not fret, I believe this is accurate,” he interrupted. “Keep going.”

Your perplexed expression remained as you continued the reading. “I am admittedly stumped. There is nothing left in this image. I suppose it is simply me standing in what looks like some ruins. I am holding a staff, or some kind of long object.” You paused to think out loud. “Why am I in your reading? What could this possibly mean?”

Mr. Zhongli chuckled as you thought out loud. “Perhaps this is a good time to tell you why you are in my thoughts.”

“I’d love to hear it, I have never appeared in someone’s reading in my last decade and a half of experience. This is quite unique.”

He folded his hands in his lap, “For some reason, I have had this strange vision of training you. I’m not sure why, since you don’t seem like the fighting type, but there is some voice inside me that is telling me you are destined for something great and i need to take some part in it. What do you think, now that you see this vision as well?”

Your eyebrows rose in shock. “Training me? I guess this does relate to something I have been pondering as of late. I do not want to lay out my troubles on you though, my job is to interpret your life, not mine.”

“Our lives have clearly intertwined in this vision,” he insisted, “Please do not hold back for my sake. I have the time.”

You thought for a moment. How could you form the words without seeming too selfish? How could you maintain professionalism by talking about your personal problems?

“I am not the fighting type, Mr. Zhongli. Though, lately I have been quite depressed about the fact that I am not doing as much with my vision as other vision holders are. My life is uninteresting. The truth is that I am a simple fortune teller that plays with rocks. I hope you can understand why I am failing to interpret this reading,” you apologized. “It’s because this doesn’t seem characteristic of me at all. And with all due respect, after giving you readings for years, I would have never guessed you were versed in combat to train me!”

He chuckled. “I respectfully disagree. To tell you the truth, your talents surpass the abilities of many other vision holders. Not everyone can read thoughts or tell the future. Now that I mention it, I know of one talented astrologist in Mondstadt, but think about that. You are one in hundreds of thousands in Teyvat,” he reassured. “You did not receive your vision for no reason and I truly believe you are destined for something big. I regret not being able to realize this before.”

“How are you so sure of this? I would love to believe you, but I’m afraid I am not destined for much, really. Again, I am simply a fortune teller. What could I possibly do for Liyue other than read some rocks?”

He sighed and connected his palms with yours, interrupting the reading and wiping the manifestation off the table. The hovering crystals dropped onto the surface, making you gasp at the sudden sound.

“I am not who you think I am,” his amber eyes finally met yours for the first time this evening, which sent a chill down your spine. “Promise me you will not fret, for what I am about to show you may shock you.”

“What do you mean? What are you doing, Mr. Zhongli?” you slightly panicked as he firmly grasped your hands.

Suddenly, the room was engulfed in golden light that emitted from the seat across from you. Scattered, distorted images of a mystical dragon, a devastating war, and seven seats in Celestia flashed across your eyes as you stared at the beams of light. Death seemed to swallow you, but not take you. The baskets of crystals around the room shook with the surge of energy. The world seemed to destroy itself then remake itself over and over again within fleeting moments. These thousands of years of memories made your body tremble. It all happened within fleeting moments, and after a few seconds of your senses being overwhelmed, you finally pulled yourself together and connected the dots.

His expanded knowledge of Liyue’s history. The sudden gift of your vision immediately after your aunt passed. Grieving his losses and having flooded thoughts of war and death. Offering combat training. Remembering your favorites the same way he would remember Liyue’s customs and traditions. His glowing amber eyes alone.

Mr. Zhongli was the God of Contracts and overseer of Liyue. Rex Lapis, a being that lived for millennia, sat in the seat across from you. He had been posing as a mere mortal for years, taking readings as if he were any normal customer. The realization shook you to your core as you sat there bewildered, grateful, and horrified at the same time.

He let go of your hands after seeing that the information successfully processed in your mind. He saw something in you that was yet to be awakened, where the sky was the limit under your own expectations. This daydream of his was no simple vision – it was a calling. Internally, whether you agreed to it or not, he vowed that he would not leave your life until your true destiny was fulfilled.

He would see this vow fulfilled by offering you a contract that would change the course of your life forever.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #rex lapis #mine #boom #genshin impact x reader

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tainted-wine · 3 years

Note

Oh wow first of all please let me congratulate you on your skill and good taste. I absolutely adore all of your hawks writing. It's so good and also hilarious when you want it to be. I especially love how annoyed he seems to get with song birds, and that low-key makes me wonder how he would be with a reader w a songbird quirk. Like he wants to find her annoying so badly, and in some ways he does? But at the same time he knows they have a lot of shared experiences as ppl with bird mutation quirks and that's kind of nice for him? To have someone to share that with, you know? Idk.

You're super sweet, anon. ♥

(This turned into a messy ficlet thing)

I don't know why I decided to make Hawks a songbird hater; it’s just a headcanon I decided to stay consistent with for whatever reason.

I've actually gotten similar asks like this and I'm currently hoarding them all in the hopes of one day making something out of it, because I love this idea very much. Hawks views songbirds as obnoxious hopeless romantics. Do they really need to be that loud about their love? It's like having the top 100 love songs playing all at once.

He already admitted that you were pretty cute when you both first met. Your wings were smaller and required frequent and rapid flaps, the opposite of his large and soaring pair. Very cute, along with your shyness in approaching a bird of prey such as him, but he promises that he doesn't bite. Then your singing began...

It’s instinctual, you say. Once your fondness for him grew strong enough, the urge to vocalize your love in the form of a song specially made for him became impossible to fight. He’ll predictably tease you at first. Creating a melody straight from your heart, the sound of your voice perfectly simulating the strength of your bond, giving other listeners a mere taste of a relationship they could not have. It’s corny, it’s sappy...

It’s so freakin’ sweet.

He blamed your quirk at first. It had to be some secondary ability that attracted whoever you decided to sing about, like some bewitching siren. It’s a dumb accusation; he trusts that you’d never manipulate him like that. It may even ignite a petty argument or two, but in the end, Hawks will accept it. He loves your song.

As wonderful as it is to just listen, he feels that he needs to reciprocate, but what is he gonna do? Sing back?? He doesn’t know how to do that. His instincts were telling him to show his appreciation in another way.

It’s instinctual, he says. He expresses the joy he feels around you by performing an amazing aerobatics show. It’s quite nerve-wracking at first. So many daring maneuvers — twirls, turns, dives, and flips — all just to impress you. And he has the gall to call songbird traditions excessive? So many of these moves could have killed him if he didn’t time them just right! It’s so dangerous, so reckless...

So spectacular.

As exciting as it was for the two of you to flaunt your natural skills, both of your rituals felt incomplete. You wanted Hawks to sing back. Hawks wanted you to dance beside him in the sky. One discussion later, you both decide on...a cultural exchange of sorts.

You want Hawks to sing? You want him to sing? Even after he promises you that his voice sounds more unsettling than the screeching of violins in a horror movie? Fine. You even protest when he mentions practicing. “Just sing from your heart,” you say. Ugh, whatever. He warned you.

At the crack of dawn, Hawks does everything as instructed. He joins your side at the top of the Fukuoka tower, and sings his heart out. He sounds terrible, he’s certain of it, but he ignores his blush of embarrassment and keeps going, letting his passion guide him like you told him.

His song is everything you could’ve asked for. His voice was shrill, unsteady, and had absolutely zero technique. But it was so...him. So Keigo Takami. The melody carries his courage and compassion. His tone reveals uncertainty in his singing, but it also reveals the raw confidence in his love and devotion. It leaves your heart melting, and before you knew it, you were joining him in a duet, trying your best to harmonize with his...erm...unique vocals. The song went on as the sun rose, prompting several noise complaints about a ‘dying bird that needs to be put out of its damn misery already.’

You give the flustered hawk a hug and kiss for that beautiful masterpiece. You also make sure he doesn’t see those complaints. He already feels awkward enough about his performance.

Alright, now it’s your turn to feel anxious. Very anxious. As Hawks led you to the seaside park, he reminded you once again that he doesn’t expect you to pull off any expert moves in the air. “If you’re really not sure what to do, then just follow my lead. I won’t do anything crazy up there. This is about trust.”

You trust that he’ll save you if anything goes wrong, whether it be during the warm-up or during the....oof, you shudder just thinking about it.

The first act has you taking off over the water, warming up your wings before your own little stunt show begins. Knowing your body’s limits, you focus on flight patterns and speed, pushing your flying abilities further than you ever have before. It doesn’t even compare to Hawks’s amazing moves — you were too scared to even attempt any of those flips — but at least you pulled off a couple spins, and Hawks looks captivated while watching from below.

You tried not to look out of breath already when it was time for act two. Hawks took flight, passing you and heading upwards. You followed, mirroring every single one of his little tricks (he thankfully kept his promise of not doing anything crazy) as you both flew higher and higher until the air became uncomfortably thin. You’ve never been this high up before.

Reaching the desired altitude, Hawks took your hands and locked them in his, bringing you in close. He gives you a few light pecks while praising your skills. “I’ve never seen you zip around like that. Such a quick and clever little bird.” The flattery almost distracts you from the final act, the part you’ve been dreading the most.

The very idea of the Death Spiral still sounds utterly insane, even as you’re about to attempt it yourself.

All you do is hover and hold each other for a minute or two, then Hawks gives the unspoken cue. His wings fold in, you quickly follow suit, and you’re both plummeting down headfirst toward the water. You did end up screaming halfway down, but at least you were still able to remain fairly focused until the end. You were just a few meters away from impact when you and Hawks simultaneously released your grip, just barely righting yourself before you could make an embarrassing splash.

Hawks tackles you hard into the ground the second you’ve recovered, hugging you tightly and attacking with rapid fire kisses.

“You did it, baby!” Kiss. “That was so intense!” Kiss. “I never thought I’d find someone to do the Spiral with!” Smooch. “You’re so brave. Thank you for trusting me!” Mwah.

You’re shaking too violently and need to go find a bathroom immediately.

---

And that’s how you and Hawks became mates and learned to better respect each other’s bird traditions. Hawks now owns a songbird calender that hangs in his bedroom.

#asks #hawks

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 42)*

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+, this is smut folks. Plus, the usual warnings, and a focus on Ivar’s past experiences/trauma regarding sex, and related issues. Also, idk if I still need to let you know, but I write Ivar as a sub/bottom, always will.

A/N: Hi, thank you so much for being patient with me for taking an extra week to post this update after my return from the hiatus, I think I can get back to a more regular writing/uploading schedule from now on. Hope you like this chapter!

Alongside this chapter I posted an Ivar’s PoV. I very much encourage you to read it. You can find it here :)

Your fingers are quick making the knot, and you find yourself chuckling.

“What is it?” Ivar prompts, but the trail of kisses he leaves down your neck distracts you for a few breaths.

“I married you in red. It means nothing to your people, but does to mine,” You explain, before lifting the wrist that now bears your pendant like a bracelet between you, and tracing the inside of his wrist right under the leather knot. “And now our fates are tied as one, just as they would have in my homeland.”

“What do you mean?”

“When two people get married, amongst the things we do is tie their hands together. Like this,” You demonstrate, putting your palm against Ivar’s, fingers still greedily tracing the inside of his wrist that now bears the mark of your promise. “And a Hiereia would tie a knot to symbolize the union,” Your smile is a little dazed, more than a little lovesick, but you can’t find it in you to care. “Similar to how I did just now.”

“So we are married now?” He teases, and you chuckle, rolling your eyes. Ivar persists, though, a tad more serious, “Before your Gods, are we…are we husband and wife?”

“Of course we are,” You reply, almost affronted. Your brow presses against his, and you turn your hand to intertwine your fingers. “I swore before your Gods and mine to become your wife, did I not?”

He searches your gaze, or is lost in it, for a few breaths before he gives any answer.

The answer, it seems, is a soft smile and a slow blink of his eyes.

“I love you.” He tells you, an answer as well.

He lays his body over yours, and your senses are overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. His hands settle comfortably on your waist as he explores your mouth, tongue seeking entrance you willingly give, but he doesn’t waste a moment to grip surely on the curve of your ass when you bend one leg to bring him closer.

“I want you, I want…” He doesn’t finish his train of thought, choosing instead to trail open mouthed kisses down your throat, nuzzling at the dip between your collarbones, before his kisses grow more heated, gentle sucks and scattered bites over the tops of your breasts.

He is stopped by the nightdress you still wear, and resting his chin in the valley between you breasts, Ivar looks up at you, big eyes dark and plump lips bearing the reddish mark of your kiss. The sight shouldn’t be as distracting as it is, but you still lose yourself in it, and you think he speaks but you cannot hear it, too focused on reaching with one hand and trailing your fingers in through his loose hair.

Ivar says your name, a question, and all you can reply with is an inquisitive, hm?

“Can I…?” His hands bunch up the sides of your nightdress, the intent obvious.

It makes warmth and something else, something darker and made of iron more than silk, blossom in your chest, to hear him ask, to have him await your permission, to have him…surrender.

You nod your head, barely having to put any strength in lifting your body off the mattress to get the dress of since Ivar lifts most of your weight. That will never cease to surprise you, and you don’t think it will ever cease to make you want him even more either.

Laid bare before him, as you have been many a time before, you look up into his eyes. He doesn’t bother hiding anything right now, maybe if he tried he couldn’t, and you are witness to everything that swims in those pale blue eyes. The desire, the awe, the lingering frenzy from when you first told him of your choice, that frenzy of not wanting to waste a moment, a breath.

You had never felt want like this, not until him. You hadn’t felt wanted like this, not until him.

Not until the wide blue eyes that gaze at you like something out of a dream, not until the voice roughened by desire breathing out your name, not until the reverent and frenzied hands exploring whatever part of you that they can reach.

Ivar continues his previous trail, sealing lightning against your skin with every press of his lips over your body, with every caress of rough hands on delicate skin.

Nestled between your legs, he looks up at you with a smile that speaks of arrogance but something sweeter too, something softer.

Hooking one of your legs over his shoulder with practiced ease, Ivar licks a stripe up your center, making you shiver.

One of your hands tangles in his hair as it always does, and as Ivar starts working his tongue against you, your fingers tighten and pull at his hair, only succeeding in making him redouble his efforts, drawing the occasional moan from him that reverberates through you.

He takes his time slowly making pleasure build inside you, tightening like knot in your lower stomach, to the point where your body is begging for release.

In between tight circles of his tongue against the bundle of nerves in your core, Ivar puts his fingers inside you, skillful curling of them making your legs tremble and your breaths stutter.

Praise is falling from your lips, you aren’t sure if in any language he knows but certain he understands regardless, judging by the bite followed by a reverent kiss that he presses to the inside of your thigh.

And you climb higher and higher, lost in him, lost in the pleasure he so willingly seeks to draw out of you as if it your moans were the most exquisite form of praise.

With one last cry of his name that sounds high and breathless, you reach your peak, feeling as if the waves of pleasure rolling over you are never to end.

As you come down, you blink past the daze of pleasure and draw him back up to you, bringing his lips to yours.

You never hesitate in kissing him, even when the evidence of what he has done to you is still on his tongue. If you are honest, tasting yourself on his mouth sends a pang of heat through you each and every time.

And you are hungry and desperate, hungry for pleasure that isn’t yours, desperate for giving him the pleasure you know you can.

Your hand trails down his chest as your mouth demands entrance into his, tongue exploring his mouth leisurely. Your free hand tightens on his hair, and you pull him closer, while you reach exactly where you wanted.

You barely are able to cup your hand around him when Ivar pulls back, breaths ragged.

His hand grips at your wrist, stopping you. You expected that, though.

Ivar takes a deep breath, and states, “It won’t work, you know that.”

Your free hand reaches for the side of his face, trailing down the side of his neck, and you search his eyes as you promise fervently,

“Even if it doesn’t work normally, you can feel pleasure, Ivar. I know you can, I h-…”

“I can’t,” He interrupts you, eyes wide. You remain silent after his words, and a shaking breath leaves his parted lips. Voice low and rough, he explains, “It feels…painful, and…do you think I didn’t try, after that first night with Margrethe? I-I couldn’t go to her again, o-or anyone else, but…I believed she had done something to me, I believed-…she had to be the reason why, it had to be her fault.

You think of how long it has taken him to feel comfortable around you, how much he still struggles with the soft intimacy of just the two of you, how aware he is of his own body and where and when you touch him; and you cannot help but think he most likely wasn’t ready at all to be with that girl. You know him well enough to assume it was probably something having to do with his pride, with that public image that seems to seep into how he sees himself all too often.

Ivar continues, “I tried using my hand to-…I tried, and it…and it was useless. It is of no use,” His expression tightens, a furrow in his nose of old anger, of resentment at the world and Fate itself. “Being touched…it-…I can’t bear it.”

“Have you felt that way with me?” You ask quietly, suddenly sickened by all those times you felt him lean into your touch or almost surrender to the press of your body or your hand against him and believed you were offering pleasure. “Is it painful when I touch you?”

More than anything you wish you could be in his head right now, you wish you could know which are those thoughts that make for a few moments his breaths slightly more panicked, that make something like anguish cross his features before he can offer any words.

“No,” He tells you, letting you breathe easier, “I-It always felt…good with you. But I can’t, you know I can’t.”

Something in you steels at the way his eyes fall from yours. There is no reason he should ever feel he cannot hold your gaze, least of all for something like this.

Your hand on the side of his face is gentle, and he obeys the silent command and returns his eyes to yours. The sight of tears -this time not overwhelmed, happy, disbelieving tears at hearing you are to stay, but defeated, humiliated, helpless- makes you strengthen, offer certainty when he has none.

“It will feel good with me, Ivar,” You say, unwavering. You know it is true. Still, even if you ache to show him, you offer your words and your sincerity and nothing more. “It will feel good, because you are mine and I am yours. There’s no room for pain, for anything else, not when it’s us.

He starts shaking his head, words stuck in his throat but trembling lips trying to form them anyways. You lean closer, the hand on his cheek moving to grasp at the back of his neck.

“You can feel pleasure, my love,” You promise. His eyes -wide, uncertain eyes- jump in between yours, frantically searching your gaze as if truths can be found in you, as if he’s desperately hoping he can believe what you tell him. “Let me show you.”

“I…I’m-…”

You press your lips gently to the corner of his mouth, and even that simple and intimate touch makes him jump, makes the faint tremble of his body slightly worse.

“Shh,” You soothe, daring to put a hand on the center of his chest, the caress firm but soft as you try luring him to a normal breathing. “It is alright. I will stop if you want me to. Is that what you want?”

You lean back just enough to meet his gaze, your heart suddenly picking up speed at the sight of him. Ivar’s eyes are wide and his breathing hasn’t slowed down, and it is after a few shaky breaths that he manages to give you an answer.

The barest movement as he shakes his head, and promises, “I want you.”

Simple words, but they make pure and raw hunger run through your veins like wildfire. A wilder part of you, a part of you that lingers in all the ways he has proved he is yours, wants nothing more than to satiate this hunger with starved touches, demanding kisses and hurried and desperate proof that you want him, however you can have him.

But more than anything you want to erase any memory of any hands on his body that aren’t yours, even if they are his own, when those memories bring forth pain. You want to show him there’s no pain to be felt when it comes pleasure, you want to show him there’s no humiliation to be dreaded when it comes to intimacy.

Pleased with the answer and unable to help yourself, you capture his lips on yours, a leisurely exploration of his mouth as you press as close as you can. Ivar moans against your lips at the first of presses of your mouth on his, leaning into your touch with barely any hesitation.

When you pull back his brow is furrowed and his breaths are fast, and a pang of heat goes through you at the way he licks his lips, already missing the taste of you.

“Then trust in me,” You ask softly, your mouth moving slowly through the curve of his jaw to reach his ear. Voice low, you demand, “Give in to me, Ivar.”

The effect of your words is immediate, and Ivar doesn’t bother containing the overwhelmed little sound, somewhere in between a whimper and a moan, that leaves his parted lips. Your hand on the back of his neck is the one thing that keeps his head from falling back, and the only thought that runs through your head at the sight of him is that he is yours, yours, yours.

Past the daze of hunger and desire, you remind yourself that there will be time for hurried, there will be time for desperate and hungry. There will be time for you to leave your mark on him, there will be time for his skin to bear the reminder that he is yours and yours alone.

But now, now you want to explore every part of him, with hands, with tongue and lips. You want him to feel safe with you, you want to get him drunk on nothing but you.

And so you do.

With aimless but gentle touches of your hands over his body, with presses of your mouth that linger between hungry and soothing, with whispered praises of how much you want him, of how no one compares to him in your eyes, of how good he is for you; you make the lingering tension in his body give way to something else, you make him give in to the lull of touch and the high of being just the two of you and the intimacy between you.

And this time when you reach down and palm him over the thin barrier of his pants he doesn’t even try to stop you, instead offering a haggard breath of your name and nothing else, surrendering to your touch.

He tenses underneath you when you move your hand to reach for him under his clothes, but you press quick and soothing kisses to the exposed skin of his neck and remind him quietly,

“It is just me, Ivar. All I want is to give you pleasure, nothing will change that.”

“Y-You know I-…”

“I know,” You tell him softly, “Just focus on me, focus on how it feels.

After lifting your hand back up to your face to spit on the palm of it and make things easier, you whisper your instructions as you circle your fingers around his cock.

“It feels good when I touch you, doesn’t it, love?” You ask, not expecting an answer, but you do get one, a choked hum of affirmation. You smile against his neck, “It feels so good to finally be able to touch you, to be able to make you feel good.”

Slowly but surely, you feel him hardening slightly under your touch. You still keep the pace of your hand steady, as well as the flow of praise that falls from your lips, certain that if you draw attention to it he will close up or revert to the defeated certainty of before.

When you get him hard enough that even he cannot ignore it anymore, Ivar gasps your name, a call to stop even if you don’t obey it.

“H-How-…? I don’t-…”

“Focus on how it feels, Ivar,” You reiterate, not wanting him to overthink things, not wanting the past to have any reach in this moment. “Focus on me.”

You make sure to keep talking. He has told you many times, and proven even more, that there’s something soothing to him about you talking, either because of the sound of your voice or what you have to say, you truly don’t know.

So with your fingers toying at the waist of his loose pants, you look up and ask,

“Can I see you, my love? All of you?”

Ivar licks his lips, but they still part helplessly as he looks down at you, barely daring make a sound past the gasping breaths that leave him.

And he nods his head. His eyes remain intently on you as you take off his pants, remain on you searching for something in your gaze as you take in all of him.

Bare before you, his skin baring the faintest shine of sweat and a few marks that may be the result of less-than-gentle exploring on your part, you feel your throat tighten, your mouth dry. You want him, you want to make him moan, you want to make him surrender, you want to make him yours.

But, teasing both him and yourself it seems, you take your time, slowly crawling up his body until you are face to face with him, straddling his hips but not close enough for you to be pressed together.

Ivar looks up at you, wide eyes asking -pleading- for something that he doesn’t yet dare voice, chest rising and falling rapidly with each expectant breath.

Your mouth slowly curves into a smile, and keeping your eyes on him in a silent command that he keep looking at you, you reach for his hardening cock.

At the first of your touches Ivar lets out a haggard moan, head craning back and leaving his throat exposed, tempting you to place a few more marks here and there. But you want to see him, you want to see the effect of your touch on him.

“Look at me,” You order, a pang of heat running through you at how quickly, how pliantly, he obeys the command, forcing heavy eyelids to remain open and dark eyes to remain on you. “I want your eyes on me, love.”

His cheeks are tinted red and his eyes are slightly moist as he looks up at you, his hair roughened my movement and the passing of your fingers, he looks like every desire you’ve ever had made man.

The strong body, open gaze, the moans and whimpers he tries and fails at keeping hidden. Perfect. Yours.

You run your thumb over the tip of his cock to gather the moisture that slowly starts forming there, turning your wrist slightly when you stroke upwards. Ivar gasps, almost sitting up, but you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

And…Gods, how easily he complies, leaning back and letting you continue to touch him, surrendering his pleasure to you. And still, in the daze that makes moans and whimpers fall from his lips so easily, he still remembers to keep his gaze on you, to keep endless blue eyes focused on you. The sight of his surrender is enough to make a woman mad.

His lips form helplessly around the words before he even utters them, but eventually Ivar gasps, “It…ah, it feels…”

“Good?” You ask, and he nods his head frantically.

“Y-Yes,” He promises, eyes wide, “Don’t…don’t stop.”

You don’t stop the movements of your hand, but you move down his body, and settle between his legs. Ivar’s eyes are wide, and he looks tortured when he looks down at you.

Licking a trail from the base of his cock to the tip, you delight yourself in the tremble you make take over his whole body, and after a few tentative licks that are there just to see if you can make him beg without having to tell him to, you take him in your mouth.

He moves as if to sit up again, unconscious movement of his body against the new feeling, but you still put one hand against his stomach, keeping him down even if it is not through brute strength that you do so.

Ivar cries out your name as you start moving your mouth over him, while your hand strokes the base of him. And you try keeping your eyes on him as much as you can, not wishing to lose a moment.

You don’t keep track of time, couldn’t even if you wanted to, but you do notice him climbing closer and closer to that edge. It is written in the tension of his arms and shoulders, in the red that starts spreading over his chest, in the way the sounds he makes are broken by whimpers, in the breaths that stutter over one another.

But he stops you again.

“S-Stop, pl-…ah, please stop,” He pleads, taking a few shallow breaths when you pull back. His hands grip tightly at the sheets underneath him, and breath by breath he starts to let go. Once his hold on them is almost loose, he speaks again. “Stop, or I will…I…don’t want this to end yet.”

Your heart does a strange thing in your chest, and you move back up to be face to face with him. Your eyes linger on the few details that make him look so utterly wretched, from the faint shine of sweat on his forehead to the bite marks on his lip.

You want to kiss him, but hesitate, wondering if he will be disgusted by his own taste. Ivar doesn’t even think about that, it seems, for when you are close enough he lifts a trembling hand and tangles it in your hair, bringing your lips to his, kissing you slowly and deeply.

You pull back, a hand on his chest, and promise, “It isn’t the end, love.”

“I want to be inside you.” He argues.

“And you will be,” Is the answer you give, before kissing a quick path down his chest. Grasping him in your hand once again, you look up at him. Unable to resist the temptation, you grant the faintest of licks to his tip, making a ragged groan leave his lips. “But before that, I want to make you come undone, using just my mouth.”

He doesn’t offer any resistance after that, but judging by the way his breaths get quicker and his eyes flutter shut before you even get to put your mouth around him again, your words had a deeper effect on him than you had anticipated.

Bracing yourself on his thighs, you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, ignoring the discomfort of your jaw as you move your mouth over him.

The litany of sounds that leaves his lips becomes more ragged and broken the longer you pleasure him, even if it isn’t that long until you notice the clear tells of him being close to the edge again.

This time you redouble your efforts, daring to moan slightly around him, making a string of curses leave Ivar’s lips. And when you reach with one of your hands to play with his balls, his hands grip desperately at the sheets underneath him once again.

As Ivar’s voice begins to give out, head turned to the side and nothing but broken moans leaving his lips as you get him closer and closer to the edge, you try your hardest to commit this moment to memory. This moment, of his voice sounding so beautifully wretched by the pleasure you give him, of his body pliant under your every touch and desperate in equal measure.

Ivar reaches his peak with a hoarse shout, his back arching off the bed, wide eyes looking at the nothingness above him. You are lost in the sight of him lost in the throes of pleasure, and you can almost ignore the bitter taste of his seed as you swallow.

He loses all strength and collapses against the bed, gasping breaths as he comes down from his high. You move back up against him, pressing a kiss against his chest and resting there, soaking up his warmth.

His hand settles on your waist, but it does so with such effort that pride surges through you. His chest still heaves under you, and as you lay your cheek against his heart, you hear it beating wildly under your ear.

“That was…” He lets out an incredulous laugh, a breath past parted lips. His eyes meet yours, “Thank you.”

“Hm, so polite,” You tease, pecking his smiling lips. “I’m still going to insist that I told you so.”

And for now you remain in this moment you wouldn’t change for anything, this moment of leisurely traces of hands on each other’s bodies, this moment of kisses exchanged like secrets, this moment of a beginning in more ways than one.

____ ____ ____

So that happened! Hope it was okay! Thank you for reading!

You can find Gǫfga, the Ivar PoV that continues from this chapter, here.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside@aprilivar @msrawog

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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dreadpoetssociety · 3 years

Text

Fevers Don’t Exist

TW: Fever ? (I’m not sure what counts for triggers so pls lmk if I miss anything)

Prompt: hi!! could u do one maybe where like, the reader is an actress on supernatural and she plays like their younger sister on the show or something and she gets sick at a con or something? Thanks !!

NOTE: Hey guys, I’m alive!!!! I know I have a lot of Spencer prompts atm, but it’s really hard to write them when I’m not like, hyper focused on Criminal Minds. I am going to try though! So sorry I’ve left so many of you in the wind, I am a very inconsistent person, my bad. But here’s this! It’s REALLY bad because I’m terrible at being realistic but like idk it’s something.

I really don’t even know what to put for tags on this.

()()()()()()

Ah, September. You knew what came along every September, and looked forward to it for the first eight months of every year. Secaucus, New Jersey. You loved every con you went to, truly. Everyone was so nice, you love staying in hotels, panels are such a great time, the whole thing. It's a great experience outside of the set to get connected with fans. And, they loved you almost as much as you loved them. You were typically closer in age, since you were still just a teenager. You also started out as a fan of the show before somehow snatching a role, so you really were with them at one point. Everything that excites them excited you just as much. And, you loved making friends with them. You weren't allowed to be reckless with your phone number, so you made a snapchat that you shared exclusively with con goers, whom you made swear to secrecy. It was like a club, and you just enjoyed genuinely talking to everyone. But, when you woke up that first morning, you knew it was going to be a long day. Your body ached, and you were still pretty exhausted. You had a fever, but didn't really know if it was a fever because you were still young, and God forbid you ever decided to recognize the signs of you being sick. It was almost like a form of denial, not knowing. You were sweating, but freezing, and your throat felt particularly dry. Your headache rested underneath your eyes for the most part, to which you just blamed on being tired. Your stomach didn't hurt, but you definitely weren't hungry. Even though you hadn't felt exactly 100% the past days before, and you obviously weren't feeling right now, you just deduced that it was all because you were tired, and had a late flight in. As a responsible person does, of course. You didn't even bother taking any medicine for it, because hey, you obviously weren't sick, you'd feel better in a bit, and you didn't have any, so why waste the time, right?

You groggily got dressed and met up with "the boys" (even though they were all older than you) for the free breakfast downstairs, in a separate room, since fans did happen to stay in the same hotel. You grabbed some Cheerios, only to conspicuously throw them away after.

"You good, Y/N?" Jared asked out loud, gaining the attention of Jensen, Misha, and Alex. You could feel their eyes burning through your skin. Or, maybe that was the fever. It had to be their eyes, you convinced yourself, you didn't have a fever. You were fine.

"Yeah, why?" you asked, faking the perk in your voice and confused eyes. Your eyes felt really heavy, you noticed.

"You just... You look exhausted. And pale." he said, "And you threw away that cereal without eating any of it."

You looked down at yourself as an effect for what you were about to say, "Wow, well that's one way to make me self-conscious. I thought I looked kind of poppin'." you laughed slightly, trying to play it off.

"W-wait, no that's- that's not what I meant! You look fine, I just-" he was embarrassed. You and the others chuckled.

"I'm kidding. I'm all good, just went to bed late, y'know?" you smiled. It was hard to try and mask the rasp in your voice, and doing so made you feel the need to cough, so you downed some water until it dialed down a bit. He nodded. In your mind, you blessed your acting skills, thinking you got away with it. What you didn't know was that Misha, Jensen, and Jared, as fathers do, knew every trick in the book, and each noted to keep an eye on you. Not to mention, they'd been acting far longer than you had, and could just tell when one switches into a character. They all figured that if you weren't sick now, you would be in days to come, and exchanged glances with each other, while Alex innocently continued to chew on his toast.

"Well, if you're tired, I don't think you have a panel or anything for another hour or something, maybe you could catch up on some sleep then." Jared suggested. You shrugged.

"Nah," you said, "I've got photo-ops in like, twenty minutes. I should actually probably get going. I'll catch up later!"

You left with a wave, and disappeared into the hotel somewhere. You stopped in your room, allowing yourself finally to set free the coughs living in the back of your throat. You blamed it on your throat being dry since you didn't drink enough water. Not on germs. So, you grabbed two water bottles from the small fridge in your room, and left, making your way towards the convention center.

You felt slightly better during photo-ops, which just confirmed in your mind that it was impossible that you were sick right now. You smiled and talked to everyone. There was one girl, who introduced herself as Meredith, who stuck out in your mind. She gave you this super cool hand painted keychain, which you very excitedly put on your keys instantly.

"Dude, I've been looking for a cool keychain. Not just one of those janky ones you find at like 7-11, like a cool one. This is so exciting." you smiled genuinely. You had just recently bought yourself a car, and thought that your keys looked a little lonely, and searched for hours on Etsy for something to spice it up a bit. A weird obsession, thinking about it now.

She laughed, "I'm glad you like it!"

"Hell, yeah! Now, are there any poses you wanna do? Or do you just want to hit that casual look? I could make it look like I'm meeting you." you stupidly rambled. One of your traits that was so widely known was how funny and awkward (in a good way) that you were. It took you a long time to get to that point, though, because you were always anxious about meeting others. You still are every now and then, but it's different here.

"I was just hoping to get a hug." she said, "If that's okay with you."

"Yeah, that's cool!" you wrapped your arms around each other and shot the camera a grin. The girl looked a bit confused.

"Hey," she said, quietly, "are you like, okay? You feel really hot."

Nervously, you replied, "Oh, no, yeah totally fine. I'm just wearing two layers, and it's getting spicy in here."

"Yeah," she answered, "don't push yourself, okay?"

"I won't, thank you. It was really nice meeting you!"

"You, too! Thanks!" she waved goodbye and you moved on to the last few people in line. She was right, though. You realized that you felt worse than you did when you walked in. You thought it had gone away for a while, but now it was just amplified. You noticed you were cold again, but that you were sweating as well. It must've just been the temperature in the room. These conventions aren't always able to keep a steady temp in the entire building, right?

This day, you didn't have much to do. Most of your events were on the other days to come. You had one panel in a few hours, and then a panel with Jared, Jensen, and Misha a few hours after that, and then bam, the day was over. You just had to get through those two events. Just two.

Two, events. And both were an hour. So, two hours out of the day. Rookie work. Yet, as your panel approached, the headache had expanded from under your eyes to anywhere that there was space to hurt, your throat ached and so did your lungs from how much you were going off somewhere to cough in privacy, your body felt heavy, you couldn't tell if you were hot or cold at this point it was some weird combination of both, your stomach hurt just slightly, the world was moving around you a bit more than it usually would, and the fever you "didn't" have had climbed a degree, probably two. And, at some point during the day, you got pretty congested. You felt like you could just fall asleep at any moment. Jared and Jensen happened to be walking by where you had been waiting by yourself, away from any congoers or employees, and noticed that even though you were leaning against a wall, you somehow were still swaying.

"Y/N?" Jensen called out, worried. You heard him, you knew you were supposed to respond, but didn't know how. Maybe you did have a fever, and maybe you sort of let it out of control. It was like you were comprehending them, but not at the same time. You heard everything, but it just swept right through your feverish mind. The walked in front of you and examined you within seconds. You felt Jared's cold, really abnormally large man hand sweep your hair back and land on your forehead.

"J, she's burning up." you felt another hand on your face. You, quite exhaustedly, swatted it away. They couldn't figure out how it'd gotten so bad so quickly. You were sick this morning, but not to this degree. They knew then that you had just shrugged it off all day, and your teenage fever brain probably didn't even think to take any kind of medicine or anything for it, even if you were trying to hide it.

"I'm good. Just tired. Fevers don’t exist." you finally mumbled, taking a few deep breathes, which you hadn't really been able to do in a bit without being rudely interrupted by a bone-shaking cough. It felt nice, almost. The boys sighed at you and shook their heads.

"Y/N, you should go back to your room and get some rest. We can bring you some stuff that'll help." Jared suggested. You shook your head and opened your eyes, which somehow felt even heavier.

"Nah," you said to them, "I've got a panel, I think, in like, I ‘dunno, some minutes or something. Something I-" you pushed yourself off the wall to try and make your way somewhere, but stumbled a step or two, which result in Jensen and Jared instinctively to grab you in order to keep you steady.

"Like hell we're letting you go to that, Y/N, you can't even form a sentence, or stand for that matter. You're out of your mind. We're going to bring you back now, we'll take care of your panel thing." Jensen stated pretty sternly. You were about to fight back, and they could see it, but you coughed a few times, and they could almost feel it in their own chests. You just nodded in defeat.

"Yeah, maybe I could just like, sleep, for an hour or two." you whispered, tiredly. The two were still holding you steady, and could see you already falling asleep before even going anywhere.

"Or six, by the looks of it." Jared joked lightly.

"Poor kid." Jensen said to Jared as the were walking out of your room. They helped you get there, and you were gone before you even saw the bed, "Why do they always have to pretend like they aren't sick? Look where it gets them."

"Don't know, man. You can't talk, though. You literally tell people you are immune to illness." Jared laughed quietly, shutting you door.

"Well I am. I am the perfect example of health. I don't get sick."

"Yeah," Jared rolled his eyes, "Right. Watch you catch what Y/N has. You practically carried her all the way here. There's no way you're escaping it." Walking towards the center, the back way of course, Jensen scoffed, "Please, germs take one look at me and know not to mess this up. And, by the logic, that means you're already infected, too. So, tell me, princess, what sort of soup do you want spoon-fed?"

Again, Jared rolled his eyes, and the two laughed. They weren't making fun of you, they were making fun of each other, and knew that you would've wanted in on that action.

"Y/N probably would've destroyed us if she heard that. Something along the longs of 'You want me to tuck you in? Carry you bridal style?'" Jared pitched his voice a tone higher for it. Again, the two men laughed.

They made their way backstage of what's supposed yo be your panel, and informed the crew about what was going on. They were just going to fill in for you, probably tell a few embarrassing stories.

When they made their way through the curtain, the crowd shouted. They were obviously excited to see the two leads, but also were obviously confused. "Alright, you're probably confused." Jensen stated the obvious, "Because obviously, we look nothing like Y/N, and thank God she does not look like us." The crowd laughed.

"Anyway, Y/N can't make it today. She's really sick-" the crowd cut Jared off with a unison "awe." People yelled out that they hoped she felt better, tell her to take care of herself, and so on.

"Yeah, poor kid looked like she was just going to fall asleep right where she was standing. She literally tried to come anyway, like, kid, you're making no sense. Y/N couldn't really fight against us, though, so she's sleeping now." Jensen explained, "So we came here to chat in her stead, but just know she really was planning on coming. That kid loves you guys." and again, the "awe" rolled through the crowd.

"If she wasn't sick, she could totally kick both your-" the last word was cut off, but was implied anyway, someone screamed from the crowd, which resulted in laughter.

"Yeah, probably. Even if we were stronger than her," sarcastically, of course, "she'd still beat us. Kid's too fast, and I'm too old." Jared laughed.

In the last ten minutes of the panel, Jared decided to give you call. Not only to check in on you, but so you could at least say hi to your crowd. When you heard the phone ring, you groggily opened your eyes and aimlessly reached for it.

"Hello?" you answered. Jared almost frowned at how sick you sounded, even with just one word.

"Y/N?" Jensen stepped in, "It's Jensen."

"Unfortunate." you sighed exhaustedly. It was joke, a really tired one, but still enough to make the crowd laugh.

"We're here at your panel, we thought you might want to say hi." Jared said loudly, holding the speaker of his phone to the microphone.

"Panel?" you asked. Panel? What panel? Your delirious mind was clearly confused, "Who's that?"

"Y/N, the con. The convention panel?" Jensen actually sounded worried. They probably should've thought to give you some sort of medicine to do something about the fever you had before they'd left.

"Oh," you closed your eyes again, almost falling asleep, before remembering finally what it was they meant, and after a moment, "Oh! Crap, the panel thing, I'm late."

"No, Y/N, stay there, we've got it covered remember? You can't come. You can say hi to them, though." Jensen interjected quickly.

"Okay, hi guys." you just followed as told.

The crowd responded with a series of hello's.

"'M really sorry. I hope they aren't boring you." the two men could practically hear you closing your eyes. The crowd responded in inaudible chatter. Jensen and Jared walked from the mic for a second.

"Sorry if we woke you, kid." Jared apologized, having just realized they probably could've left you alone, "W also just wanted to check in. See how you're doing."

"How are you feeling?" Jensen asked, but got a mumbled word in response, "Alright, well, just go back to sleep, we'll be up there soon."

Jared hung up the phone, and the two began to answer the last few questions and close up. They waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and started heading back your way.

"Jensen, you got any over the counters with you? Thermometers or anything? All I've got is Advil, and I don't even know what's really bothering her yet other than that cough and being tired."

"Yup. Danneel always makes me carry literally an entire medicine cabinet, just for these moments. I'll go get 'em and meet you there. It'd probably do her some good to eat something, too. I don't know if she's got like, a stomach virus thing going on, though." Jensen answered.

"I'll see what she'll say and let you know."

The two parted ways, and Jared made his way to you. Even though he'd only talked to you just a few minutes before, you were dead to the world by the time he opened the door. The room was boiling, and Jared looked over to the thermostat to see that you'd at some point put it on to 90 degrees.

"Jesus, Y/N, I know you've got a fever, but damn." he said, more so to himself than to you. He looked over at you after turning it down to see you curled beneath what looked like any blanket you could find. He came over and started removing the blankets slowly, and shook you gently to wake you up.

"Y/N, wake up for a minute, it's Jared."

"'Mm." was all you said, until you realized your layers of warmth had been moved, "What're doing? It's cold."

"Y/N, you're dripping in sweat. It's the fever making you cold."

"I don't have a fever." you retorted, "I'm good. Just tired."

"Kid, you've been tired the whole day. You've been sleeping this whole time." he tried rationalizing.

"I have?" you questioned, closing you eyes again. Jared put his hand to your forehead again. Somehow, it was warmer than the first time he'd done it before the panel. It was then that Jensen finally appeared, a whole bag of things in hand, "Could you bring the thermometer over?"

"Yeah, gotcha." He walked over and rummaged through the bag at the same time, pulling out a thermometer.

"Y/N, we need to take your temperature." Jensen said.

"No need." you said, "'M not sick."

"You are so obviously sick, I'm not asking." again with that stern voice. Jared gave him a "Hey, she's sick, back off a little" sort of look, but it had worked, and you let them take your temp. They were almost shocked when the thing beeped at 103.

"Should we take her to a hospital? That's way too high." Jared asked.

"If it gets any higher, yes, but let's see if we can bring it down first." Jensen replied.

"No hospitals." you demanded, opening your eyes and glaring at them.

"We aren't bringing you yet, Y/N, but I need you to eat this so you can take some meds." he held out two pieces of toast that he must've brought from his room. You hated toast even when you weren't sick.

"I'm not really hungry."

"I know, but it'll help. You haven't told us what's bothering you yet, either." Jared responded.

"Nothing's-" you coughed a few times, a bit violently, "bothering me." "We can see that." Jensen said sarcastically.

"Everything's bothering me." you whispered, giving up.

"Your stomach hurt?" Jensen asked. You waved your hand from side to side to signal a so-so, "Think you'll get sick at all?"

"No, it's not like that, I don't think." you breathed out, another cough escaping you. You took a few bites out of the toast. It made you uncomfortable, but it was then that you realized you probably felt that way since you really hadn't eaten much that day or the one before, which probably contributed to the splitting headache. It didn't go away after, either though. You pushed yourself up. You almost fell over, but Jared put a hand out for you.

"Alright, good. Take this. I'm going to be frank, it tastes disgusting." Jensen handed over a small cup of liquid, "Sometimes, if you take it like a shot, it helps. But you shouldn't know how to take shots, but if you do it, I won't judge." And so you did, causing the two to chuckle slightly at you.

"You were right, about the sleep thing." you slumped back onto the bed heavily, like a brick.

"When am I ever wrong?" Jensen asked, "Don't answer that, actually."

But you were already sleeping again, and the boys decided to stay nearby for now. The next panel wasn't for another few hours anyway, and they just didn't want you to be alone. Also, incase you were wrong about the toast, and it decided to make its return. Jared's phone began to ring loudly, to which he very quickly tried to answer so his obnoxious ringtone wouldn't wake you up again, not that you wouldn't have just fallen back asleep anyway.

"Misha? Hey, what's up?" Jared answered. Jensen walked over to hear what was going on on the other side of the line, but Jared just decided to put it on speaker.

"Where are you guys? I haven't seen you all day. Felicia, Alex, and I are going out for lunch, we were wondering if you guys want to come. I tried calling Y/N, but she didn't answer, so." he rambled.

"That's because Y/N's not feeling well." Jensen said, giving him a solution to his predicament of not being answered, "We're with her right now, so we'll have to pass."

"She's sick? Is she okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. She's just got this crazy fever we've been trying to bring down. Thinking about it now, Jensen, we should probably check it again."

"A fever?"

"It's been at 103 degrees for like, two hours. At least for what we know of. She's probably had one all day, but as a dumb teenager does, she just tried to ignore it."

"If it goes up you should-"

"Yeah, we know," Jared said, "we're trying really hard to avoid that, though. Also, she'll definitely fight against it, I don't know."

Jensen, from the other side of the room at the sound of a beeping thermometer, could be heard on Misha's end, "It went down, finally. 102.2."

"Thank God, I was getting worried."

"Should I come there? Do you guys need any help?" Misha asked.

"I mean you can, but I think we're good. She's just been trying to sleep it off the whole time, so not much is really going on." Jensen was closer to the phone now, "Like, she's got this cough, a headache, and you can hear how congested she sounds, but mostly I think she's just exhausted. I honestly don't know how because she's just been sleeping for hours."

"Fatigue."

"Yeah, poor kid. I don't think I've ever seen her so tired, it almost makes me tired to be honest." Jensen joked.

"Maybe you're just getting sick." Jared slipped in.

"Not possible. I am immune."

"Nobody is immune, Jensen." Misha sighed.

"I'm not nobody." he shrugged.

"Alright, well, we're going to get lunch then. If you need anything let me know, and tell her I hope she feels better." Misha concludes.

"We will, thanks Misha." and with that, Jared hung up. For a few more hours, the two hung around. They were there when you woke from some fever dreams, and when you needed a cough drop, or twelve, and wake you up every now and then to check your temperature, which raised and dropped and raised and dropped, but currently was at a very steady 102.4. But, soon enough, it was time for them to leave for the last panel of the day, and unsurprisingly, you tried to follow suit.

"Y/N, we gotta go, but we'll be back in about an hour from the panel." Jared said. You took a deep breath and sluggishly pushed yourself to the side of the bed. Having been sick, and not having sat up in a few hours, the blood rushed from your head, leaving you dizzy.

"What're you doing?" Jensen asked.

"The panel. I missed the last one I should go to this one. I feel okay." you yawned, then coughed slightly.

"Y/N, really, you shouldn't even think about pushing it like that." Jared said. Jensen walked over to you, half on the bed, clearly trying to steady yourself just from the movement of sitting up. The spinning room honestly almost made the toast make a reprise, and you hiccupped, and held your breath.

"Hey," Jensen grabbed a can quickly, noticing, "are you going to be sick?"

Giving it a minute, it went away, and you shook you head no, causing a huge tension to leave the room.

"Alright, well, remember how you said I was right all the time earlier?" Jensen pun the can down.

"No, must've been the fever." you half joked, causing Jared to laugh.

"Alright- well- okay, shut up. We agreed I'm always right, and that I was right about needing sleep, so I say you need some more." Jensen demanded rather than suggested.

"Yeah, or at least lay around and do nothing. I can't imagine ever sleeping as much as you just did." Jared joked, pushing you very gently back down, with his hand on your back, knowing you would just hit the bed without it. Your eyes were heavy again, and your throat was painfully dry, and you coughed. Your aching head also agreed with the two of them to your dismay.

"Maybe just a bit more." you mumbled, "A few minutes."

"Yeah a few minutes, sure." Jared smiled, knowing you were probably going to knock out for a few hours once again. You opened your eyes again.

"You think," you coughed, "that they'll be mad?

"Who?" Jensen asked.

Feeling pretty sick, you said, "That I don't go? I don’t feel really good."

Ah, the fever comes to play once again, it seems, but the two felt some sort of triumph now that you've at least admitted to being sick, even if it's been hours. It concerned them, though, if you felt bad enough to admit it.

"No, they'll be fine about it. We'll be back soon. Misha or Alex might come in to check on you, alright?" Jared answered, to which you nodded.

They weren't gone long. You spent half the next day sleeping, too, until you could stand without swaying. You did sneak back to the con, against Jensen and Jared's orders, since you really didn't break that fever and cough for a few more days, only to be caught after a tweet of you at the con was trending and the cast caught wind of it. But, eventually, you were better, and got the chance to help Jared take care of an "always immune" Jensen. And he was more stubborn than you were.

#jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #jared padalecki x you #jared padalecki x reader #y/n #supernatural #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #sickfic #spn #spn cast

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olivinesea · 3 years

Note

Oooh fun! Okay, do you have any headcannons or thoughts on a dyslexic Hotch? I feel like I never see dyslexia with any characters really, and I like the idea of him with it. And if you do and you want to write something about it, a dyslexic Hotch with the team (and them being the supportive and protective family they are?) Thank you! ❤️

I hope you have fun, wherever/whatever you’re doing!!

I love this so much!! Thank you :) okay I don’t have much personal experience with dyslexia so hopefully I get this decently accurate. The biggest thing that surprised me when I was doing a quick search is that it isn’t actually a matter of reading words or letters backwards? It’s more an inability to connect letters to the appropriate sounds or to break words up into component parts; a general phonological awareness struggle.

So, as with many things, it seems to me to be a matter of slowing down, learning at your own pace. This ties in nicely with so many of my other Hotch thoughts, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. Idk what this is, it’s neither headcanon nor proper story but hopefully it’s something like what you were looking for:

When he’s a kid he gets called a slow learner due to his undiagnosed dyslexia. It was much less common to get that kind of diagnosis back then in general and I am sure his dad would have hated the idea of his son needing any kind of extra help. So he’s slow to speak, slow to learn how to read, has difficulty with numbers, absolutely hates being called on to read out loud because it’s actual torture and the other kids have no hesitation about laughing at him. So he becomes withdrawn, labeled a “bad kid,” stops trying because, fuck it, he never gets any kind of support, who cares right? It’s always a fight at home, he starts hiding his work, lying about his grades. This works for awhile bc his parents are distracted by other things. His problems are much bigger than grades by the time they do notice.

However, while he hates school and the way people talk about him and his struggles, like he isn’t even there, he discovers that he doesn’t hate learning. There’s a small library in town where he found he could hide out, no one bothering him for hours if he just sat still for with a book open. He was good at sitting still, at being invisible. But eventually a librarian notices that he’s always got the same book open, some sort of technical manual, that he is rarely turning the pages. She asks him if he likes what he’s reading. He’s just alarmed to be spoken to, afraid that being noticed means he will soon no longer have this sanctuary. He nods and tries to bluff his way through but it’s obvious he hasn’t read it, despite having looked at it for weeks straight. The librarian doesn’t say anything outright, just lets him be for now.

Next time she sees him she brings him a different book, a collection of Grimms fairy tales. He wants to complain that it’s for little kids but is too nervous to refuse it. She asks if she can read him her favorite story from it. It’s dark and twisted and fantastical and he can’t help but be drawn in by it. He’s sad when she’s done reading, wants to hear it again, to capture all the details to replay to himself later. She shows him where it starts, encourages him to read it himself. He doesn’t look at her bc he doesn’t want her to see how upset he is by that, already frustrated by the anticipation that he won’t be able to get through it. But she stays with him, helping him where he gets stuck, asking him questions about the story, making sure it’s making sense to him.

They slowly work their way through the whole collection over the course of months. They spend days on each story, repeating it until he’s confident, she never makes him feel like he’s taking too long or wasting her time. Sometimes has to reread a section multiple times, gets hung up on the language rather than the story but it’s okay, she gives him a notebook to copy down parts that spin too loudly in his mind, saving them and also releasing him from their hold so he can move forward. She lets him keep the book, tells him it was too old to stay in circulation anyway, they had a new copy on order already. She’s the first person who was patient with him, that showed him he could do it, he just needed a little more time, a little more practice than other kids.

In college this is part of why he spends so much time at the library. Part of it is his natural inclination to overwork himself, push until he’s given more than he can in hopes that it might be almost enough. He knows he’s never been enough, why would that change just because he’s in a new place? But the other part is he simply needs more time to get through the coursework, to make it through the excessive amounts of reading he’s assigned. Some other students don’t even bother to read but he would never do that, he makes sure that he not only reads every chapter assigned but he reads it again, takes notes, highlights, annotates, does everything in his power to be prepared. Sure he might work himself to the point of exhaustion, to the point where he makes himself sick (though he’ll try to deny that too) but he’s never caught trying to read something while others wait for his answer, the letters and sounds meaningless, slipping away from him faster the more eyes he feels turn towards him, wondering what could be taking so long. No one ever gets the chance to laugh at him for being slow in college, he never allows them to see that side of him.

As an adult, the leader of the BAU, he’s too well respected for anyone to dare laugh at him but he still hates feeling unprepared. This ends up looking like long nights in the office, reviewing case files to the point of memorization, so that he won’t have to read any of it in front of his team. He can if he has to, he’s developed skills over the years, ways to calm the panic that only makes it harder, can fake it well enough that no one would really notice. Until one day, distracted by a migraine and the fallout of some fight with Haley, he gets stuck. He can’t remember something and he tries to read the sentence that has the information but the stupid word just won’t resolve into sounds that make sense and he just stops talking. He’s glaring at the form like it might catch fire. No one says anything for a moment while he tries to refocus, tries to work around echoes of laughter, decades long past but always ready to jump out at him if he lets his guard down, allows a mistake, a tired moment to derail the image of perfect competence that he’s built around himself. Penelope jumps in, finishing the thought, completing the list of traits shared by the victims. He forces himself to smile at her because he really is grateful, it wasn’t her fault. She scrunches her nose at him, dismissing his silent thanks with a toss of her head. It was nothing, everyone needs a little assist now and then.

No one brings it up and he doubles his efforts not to let anyone see. But he’s so tired on the plane coming back from a case, he’s been staring the same forms for an hour at least. He can feel his ears turning red with frustration. There’s really no reason he has to do this now but the fact that his mind is refusing, almost seems to be teasing him, makes him dig in harder. Emily sits down opposite him, pulling the folder away without asking. He’s about to say something sharp, something he’ll regret saying to her when he really means it for himself, but the expression on her face is so odd, smiling with a frown between her eyebrows. It isn’t pity, she respects him far too much, but there is curiosity and something else, something soft.

“Drink with me.” She slides him a glass and they don’t talk, just look out the window, look at the light playing off the ice in their glasses. He doesn’t see the file again until it appears on his desk, every form neatly filled out, the places needing his signature flagged. All but the last spot, where she’s signed his name eerily perfectly, difficult for even him to see that it’s not his own. Just so he knows she can if she wants to. Equal parts offer and threat.

Penelope and Reid start a book club. Derek joins right away. Emily rolls her eyes when she’s invited, muttering something about spending her free time on more work but they know she will join. Rossi flat out refuses to read the books but offers his house for meetings. Hotch hesitates, wanting to say yes but nervous to commit to an activity like that. He loves books, loves to talk about books. He doesn’t love a time limit on books.

The next time they have to drive to a case, Derek puts on a copy of the audiobook. It’s the first time they make it to a destination without any bickering from the backseat. They don’t get through the whole thing but later he finds a copy of the audiobook on his desk, complete with a disc player and headphones.

A different month, Reid tells him about how his mother always used to read him books and somehow finesses an offer to read to Hotch without him even realizing he’s accepted it. So Spencer comes in to Hotch’s office on lunch breaks occasionally and reads to him whatever the book of the month is. He loves it, remembering the first person who read to him, how shocked he’d been to be treated with patience, with understanding and wondering how he got so lucky to be surrounded by people like her, so ready to support him, wanting him there with them rather than off alone, uselessly fighting with himself to prove his self sufficiency over some uncooperative letters.

Okay, that was so much more than I was planning on but here we are. I hope you liked it and thank you SO much for the idea. If you ever have any others you want to share I am totally here for it. :)

Send me requests!

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

seven minutes

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: smut 18+, cursing, temp play, oral sex, bratty behavior, slight degradation

word count: 6,533

a/n: I got carried away, and this was supposed to be up two hours ago, but I suck, anyways this Is for the bnharem server collaboration, and well idk if I did the prompt correctly cuz I was mad confused. seven minutes in masterlist found here!

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Shouto stared at the box in his hands, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

What the absolute hell was he supposed to put in this? It was supposed to be unique, something that he and only he could recognize and claim as his own, but he wasn’t one with many possessions.

He had possessions, sure. He was a successful Pro Hero after all with a trust fund from his father, but his belongings were ordinary, mundane, and universal. Nothing he owned was solely his, except, of course, his hero costume. But to give a part of that away was not going to happen.

“Do I have to put something in? If I’m the only one who doesn’t give anything, then they’ll know it was me.”

Midoriya, who had placed his favorite pen into his own box, looked up at his friend with a look of horror.

“Todoroki-kun, you can’t do that!”

“Well, I don’t have anything that I can give,” Shouto raised, his hands running through his hair. This was supposed to be shipped out by tonight to get it to the girl he was matched with. Some girl by the name of y/n.

“You can…” Midoriya trailed off, his fingers scratching the back of his neck in thought.

He had no idea, it seemed.

“Well, if these are going out by tonight, I guess I can do this,” Shouto contemplated, his right hand forming a block of ice, and his left hand coming to melt a structure in the ice.

It was a simple heart.

“Should be fine, right?” Shouto asked while placing the heart into the box and sealing it.

Midoriya, whose jaw has opened in complete disbelief of his friend let out a strained laugh, his head dropping.

“I-I guess…”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You had opened your box that same night, your heart hammering in your throat, finger shaking when you peeled the top off. Would you be able to recognize just who you would have? In all honesty, you probably couldn’t, but still, you hoped.

Throwing the top of the box off, you stared down at the containment, and confusion and incredulity flooded your veins.

There was nothing there, not a single drop of anything, just a lot of water stains that proved at one point held something that had long ago melted.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you muttered, dropping onto your seat, hands rubbing your face.

Unbelievable. What idiot would send something that was made of water to you?!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Knock. Knock.

With your toothbrush in your mouth, your eyebrows scrunched together. It was late, so incredibly so that you had no idea who that could be. Finishing up, you pulled away from the sink and looked at your outfit in the mirror.

Leggings and a tank top, perfectly acceptable to open a door in.

Jogging towards the door, you swung it open without checking to see who it was. A smile rose to your face, a prayer that this wouldn’t take too long, and you looked at the person.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

Your eyes only found a cotton-covered chest, and you faltered, your eyes rising higher to meet their face instead. Now, you would never in a million years admit that people could take your breath away. First, just how tacky was that?! No one could be that distinctive or attractive enough that you would forget everything, including how to breathe. Second, well, how could you?! This was a stranger — well technically, you recognized this man before you — his heterochromatic eyes were staring down at you intently, curiously.

“Y/l/n y/n?” He asked immediately, his head tilting to the side and you nodded your head dumbly. “I’m—”

“Todoroki Shouto,” you interrupted. Heat began to build on your face, what in the actual fuck was a top Pro-Hero doing at your door. “Oh fuck, am I in trouble?!”

Shouto’s eyes widened when you began to panic, your arms flying around animatedly while you explained the various reasons as to why someone would want to hurt you. None of them were particularly good reasons, especially not good enough to warrant a lowkey dead in the night meeting with a Pro Hero who had saved you only when you were in high school.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” Shouto interrupted your telling of how you could have potentially annoyed some super villain by not shutting up while singing when you were drunk. His hand rakes through his hair and again you’re stunned into silence on just how attractive he is. “You got the ice heart, right?”

Your eyebrows scrunched, your head tilting while you looked at Shouto. He looked the slightest bit stiff, his hands fisted in his jacket pockets, the slightest blush on his cheeks and ears, and of course, the constant lip licking.

“... you’re sure I’m not in trouble; that sounds like a threat to me,” you whisper, cupping your hands around your mouth to make sure those words stayed between the two of you.

Shouto rolled his eyes, but a small snort of laughter eliminated any theory that he was annoyed by you. His lips curled into a smile, and you blinked quickly, stop beating so fast, stupid heart.

“No,” he shook his head, his feet shifting beneath him, “I sent it.”

Then it hit you.

“Ohhh,” you nodded, walking into the house finally, letting in the Pro Hero who followed in after you. You walked towards your recycling bin and pulled out the water-stained box. “That’s what it was supposed to be!”

You presented the foiled box to Shouto, your lips quirking into a smirk at the way he froze behind you.

“I thought it was going to make it,” he apologized, and you laughed loudly, “hold on.”

It took a matter of seconds, but you watched in fascination when he brought his hands together to shape a block of ice into a flawless heart. Your chest filled with warmth despite the fact, your hands taking the ice structure from his outstretched hands. How he thought something like this was going to survive the heat of the day was beyond you, so when you were ready to make fun of him, it hit you.

“OH FUCK,” you screeched, throwing the box down like it was made of lava, shoving the ice heart into his arms, and jumping meters away from Shouto.

His eyes were wide while he stared at you, confusion inking his face, unsure how to handle the fact that you were seconds from being consumed by some extreme panic.

He was from the company?! Why didn’t you put that shit together before walking into your apartment?

Your eyes continued to awkwardly dip down from his eyes to his body, the body that you knew was most likely perfection. Your breathing was hard and fast, your head spinning at the thought that in seconds, his dick could very much be in you.

Would he have a small dick? You shuddered at that thought, you couldn’t imagine this unit of a man with a small dick, but again there was absolutely no way of knowing. Not without actually fucking him.

“Are you okay?” Shouto asks, his face full of concerns, taking a step towards you, and like the well put together girl you were, you stumbled backward. Your blood felt so hot in your veins, your breathing erratic, and the most whining voice escaped your lips.

“You’re from the— oh my god, I didn’t think that?! I thought this was for prostitution or something?! If anything, a look-alike, not the real deal!” you point out, your fingers fisting in your hair, your chest heaving. “This was an ad I found online?! How the fuck?! What are you— you don’t have to do this!”

Shouto’s eyes widened, he knew what was going on now.

“Do you not want to do this?” he asked, taking a step towards you.

You took a step backward with his advancement, “It’s not about what I want! I just assumed that this was a hoax and that I wasn’t going to really get anything but some horrid cosplay attempt of someone famous!”

He takes more steps forward, and you receive an equal amount backward, but his legs are much longer than yours, and he’s gaining on you.

“Tell me that you don’t want to have sex, and I’ll leave,” he whispered, “no one is holding this accountable. You also have the right to refuse, and I won’t make you say yes.”

You shivered when your back connected with your counter, the fresh counter doing little to calm your nerves when he stood before you. His scent immediately drafted into your nose, warm and clean, it made your eyes close while you took him in.

“Do you want this?” you croak, your fingers digging into the counter, trying your all to keep from pouncing on your celebrity crush. “I’m not going to say yes to someone who doesn’t want this either.”

“I do,” he affirms, and your eyes peel back open to see Shouto so close to you. His hands are by yours on the counter now. The heat emitting from both sides was sending goosebumps down your body and a chill down your spine. “I want this.”

Swallowing roughly, your spine straightened, and your hands reached out to latch onto the collar of his shirt. Your eyes met his, his pupils growing larger by the second while he drew in. Your fingers trembled when his hands met your waist, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your hips.

“I want this, too,” you confess and seal it with a kiss.

Kisses were everything. It was such a human and mundane sign of affection, a gentle and passionate display of emotions on so many different levels. Ever since you were young, you’ve always read about how, when characters kissed the character they were meant for, electricity shot through their body. How a single and straightforward first kiss was enough to draw out if they were meant to be or not. Sparks, that’s what they were, were deadly essential and not to be taken as a joke.

But as a person, you knew this was a lie. The only electric shock you’d ever get was a static shock. No kiss in your life made you experience that game-changing electricity shooting down your body from your first kiss. But why was it that chills were running through your body the second his lips danced with yours?

Your lips moved with his in almost a delirious fashion. His mouth intoxicating to you. The warmth and smoothness of his lips that were gliding effortlessly against yours were proving to be a lot. His fingers pressed against the small of your back before sliding underneath your shirt moving so that his hands were pressed against your bare back, eliciting low groans.

But it’s when his hands move to grab onto your waist, pulling you in dangerously, mind-numbingly close, does the essence of your makeout change.

Your lips slammed against his. Your lips coming to meet in hot and heavy movements as you pressed further into him. You were now uncaring and unconcerned about your initial doubts, you only wanted to make the best of these seven minutes.

Shouto groaned lowly, his lips moving to keep up with yours. His fingers digging into your hips as the two of you felt dizzy, leaning against the counter while your lips continued this passion-filled battle.

His lips are fervent against yours; your mind spins from having his mouth against yours. Were you really making out with one of the world’s best Pro Hero? Ready to take him stumbling to your bedroom in this passionate affair to sleep with him as if you were lovers? Shouto’s hands move from your hips to pressing against the counter; your eyes barely manage to open during his search. His eyes are dark with lust, and growing desire as your lips part. Thankfully, your counter is already clean for the most part, just some unopened letters that get shoved to the side. Shouto’s warm hands return to your waist, but only that they feel like fire against your heated skin, and you pull him in closer for another impassioned kiss.

His lips are massive against yours, pushing and pulling you in with every movement of his lips. The magnetizing effect he has on you was genuinely unbelievable, how someone you didn’t know could have this effect on you was beyond you. He continues pulling you closer, and soon enough, you’re clambering on top of the counter. Pants leaving your mouth from the high position of the founder as you open your legs for the man who was making your heart beat faster than any strenuous activity. As he moves closer between your legs, his hand runs from your waist to rest against your ass. His hands are strong against your ass, and he pulls you nearer so that you’re resting on the edge of the counter, his body between your open legs.

The friction of your now connected bodies leaves you gasping, sharp breathing while you try to calm your nerves. This man set your body on fire, and you were without a sign of struggle drowning in his lips. His mouth was quick to dissipate all the uncertainty and nerves you held in mere seconds. Your mouth opens, and your tongue swipes at his bottom lip, pleading for entry. Shouto moves his hands from your ass, trailing down your legs to pull you closer to him, making your legs wrap around his waist, and his mouth opens, granting you entry.

Tongues crash together in the middle. Dominance riding high on both of your parts, neither one of you want to let the other into each others mouth, him because he thought it was right, and you because you wanted to prove that you were no pushover in bed. But lord, is his tongue working magic against yours. Your body shuddering when your legs wrap tighter against his waist, your crotch pushing forward to grind into his pelvis. His bulge is prominent against your clothed core, and both of your keen moans tumble out of your mouths.

His hands trail under your shirt, and you arch against his chest. In this moment of serenity, his tongue can push into your mouth. You shudder in his hold, his tongue tracing around your mouth in a way that makes your eyes roll back. His tongue runs against yours, swirling around it before outlining the roof of your mouth. A moan expels from your mouth as his other hand slips under your shirt. Shouto chuckles, vibrations falling on his tongue, and you tremble softly.

What the fuck were you actually doing? Making out with the Todoroki Shouto in your home? One step from then fucking Shouto in your bedroom should the two of you even manage to get there?! There must be something in the air, or this had to be the biggest prank in the world.

Shouto’s mouth then left yours ultimately. His hot mouth trailing down your neck; teeth nipping at your skin; lips sucking against your skin. Your head tosses back in increasing pleasure, your hips pressing against his bulge again. His mouth stays on the same spot, sucking harshly against your skin, biting down sinfully against your skin until you were whimpering his name.

Your arms wrap around his body, pulling him desperately closer to you. The friction is not enough, these actions are not strong enough for you. “Don’t be a pussy about fucking me,” you can’t keep yourself from challenging when Shouto pulls away from your neck. Your skin throbs and burns in the best way from the hickey that has for sure formed.

“Don’t worry,” Shouto smirks when he lifts your shirt over your head, “I’ll make sure this is the best seven minutes you’ll ever have.”

You suck in a sharp breath of air as the cold air hits your exposed body. You feel delirious at the thought that Shouto wanted to fuck you, ardent, and shy at the idea that you want him to claim you right on your kitchen counter before trying to stumble to your bedroom. You don’t have time to think anymore as his lips come back to claim your lips. This time, you’re not going to give in as your teeth sink into his bruised lower lip.

The harsh motion of your teeth sinking into his plump and bruised lips makes him growl, the sound melodious to your ears. Your tongue slides back out to smooth over his throbbing mouth, your grin spreading across your face when Shouto picks you up from the table. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms around his neck. Your body shudders when your aroused sex brushes up against his hard cock. His hips thrusting up against your own, and you cry out in his mouth. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, and Shouto’s mouth trails down your chin, an unmistakable grin printed on his face. His teeth scrape against your jaw, sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine, causing your hips to roll out against him.

Your hands fist into his hair, you pull onto his hair until he’s no longer attached to you and then you bring your mouth against his neck. Your mouth trails peppering kisses against his strained neck, his warm and smooth skin slightly salty with his sweat, but it’s a taste you find intoxicating. Your hips grind down against his bulge, relishing in the snaps of his hips to increase the friction.

“Take off your shirt, Todoroki,” you moan, your fingers dragging against his muscular back. The muscles are delicious against the pads of your fingers, every bulge of his flesh, every dip of a scar makes you almost vibrate with excitement, yet you feel denied, you feel teased at the fact you can feel him better.

Shouto moans as your heavy and hot breathing, makes his mind reel against the cold saliva on his neck. “Call me Shouto, I think we’re past this last name business.” He growls.

“But I—.”

“Then pretend it’s my hero name, y/n.”

The simple use of your name sends a massive and electrifying shiver down your spine. You never thought you’d hear him call you by your name, much less be in your house seconds from fucking you and Shouto — outside of using it as his hero name — felt like a stranger on your tongue, but you feel heat exploding in your core as you nod.

You push away, your hair whipping over your shoulder as you stare at his blue and gray eyes. You watch his pupils that are blown wide stare into you as you lean in close, the sweat building slowly on his temple as your mouth pressed against his ear softly.

“Of course, Shouto,” you accentuate his name, and he groans.

His hands grip tighter against you as his lips come back against yours.

Your hands reach down for the hem of his shirt, and you waste no time in tearing it up over his head. The action making him place you back onto the counter. His toned body is now open for your desiring eyes as you breathe shakily, you wanted to drag your hands against his body is interrupted by your desire to strip too.

Your shirt soon joins his on the floor, and you grin when he freezes.

You look at him, and a proud blush spreads across your face as he stares at your breasts. You were not at all wearing a cute set at all, you were getting ready for bed after all! The bra was simple, black, and not revealing. But the way Shouto was looking at you, the way his finger trailed up to your covered bra made you believe that you were wearing the best lingerie set in existence.

“Do you like them?” you tease, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip as you look into his eyes under your eyelashes. Your hands press onto his, making the contact between your breasts and his hands firmer, more in tack.

“I think I’d be a fucking idiot if I didn’t,” Shouto groans as his face pushes forward to kiss the valley between your breasts. You feel like you’re melting in his arms as his lips and fingers ravish your tender breasts.

“Why wouldn’t — fuck do that — why wouldn’t you want me?” you pant as his mouth continues trailing sweet and hot kisses against your skin. “I’m a pretty amazing woman, you know.”

“That was pretty obvious,” Shouto grunts his lips curving into a smile while his large hands envelop your breasts, groping them. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to be mine as well. Besides, who looks for a fuck on an ad?”

You don’t have the chance to respond back as Shouto’s right-hand moves behind your back and removes your bra with one hand. The smooth action somehow turns you further on. The bra is thrown off your body, and your breasts bounce as they’re entirely exposed. You don’t know how to feel bashful or to feel confident in the way that Shouto stares at your exposed chest. His eyes locked on your breasts, his tongue dragging against his lips as he looks back up at you.

“You’re fucking hot,” Shouto groans as his mouth slips your nipple into his mouth. You cry out at the way his tongue rolls against your nipple, his tongue alternating from heat to cold, it fogs up your mind at the sensation and the pure delirium of his actions. Your hips roll against his crotch again, and you feel him pressing forward.

Your fingers shift all over his body. Digging into his shoulder, pressing into his hair, trying to reach the tent in his pants. But your pants heighten when he slips off your leggings, the cold air hitting your heated legs, causing you to shudder at the temperature difference.

His finger rolls your free nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The sensations on your nipples are overwhelming as your hips thrash against his hand. Moans, gasps, and his name pour out of your mouth as he continues ravishing your breasts. His teeth nipping and pulling on the sensitive skin. Your head throws back as he pulls away, a resonating pop filling your ears as he lets go of your nipple. Harsh heaves leave your mouth as you look down, your breasts shine with his saliva, and you moan again.

“I’m going to fucking eat you out, and you’re going to watch me the entire fucking time.” Shouto commands you, his fingers hooking around your panties. “Do you understand?”

Breathlessly you nod your head, your eyes locking onto his bi-colored ones as your panties join the rest of your clothes on the floor. Shouto chuckles as his finger drag against your soaked slit, “You’re so fucking wet,” he remarks, and your body shudders against his actions. Your eyes flutter close before you force them back open to peer down at Shouto, “Good girl,” he praises, and you feel your pussy throbs at those two words.

Shouto presses a hand against your waist, and you watch as he sinks two fingers into your blazing heat. You cry out in pleasure as his heated fingers plunge in and out of you. Your eyes struggle to keep themselves onto his proud form. Your hand slaps across your mouth as his fingers curl within you, their curve adding even more stimulating pleasure within your body. Melodious moans are now muffled underneath your hands, and Shouto smirks at that.

“Don’t hide what I’m making you feel, y/n.” Shouto warns, his fingers increasing in their roughness as they pound against your soaked pussy. His steady hand pushes you down against your counter, and you scream at the cold surface, pressing against your heated skin. Your hips snapping against the sensation making Shouto chuckle. “Don’t you want the world to know that I’m the one making you feel this way?”

Your hand trembles as you move it away from your mouth, but your teeth subconsciously clamp down onto your bottom lip. You’re embarrassed at being caught fucking on your kitchen counter, and even though you were attracted to Shouto, you didn’t want to be found in this state.

By a window, legs wide open, and Shouto’s fingers and tongue deep into your pussy.

Shouto, unsatisfied with your quiet affirmations of his actions, slips another finger into your aching pussy. A silent shriek leaves your mouth as you push up off the table, the additional width of his thrusting fingers overwhelming. But it doesn’t end there. No. His fingers warm-up against your inner walls, eliciting the wildest bucking your hips can muster. The most prolonged pleas escaping your mouth for more heat.

“Oh,” Shouto laughs smugly, his smile stretching wide across his face. “Did you like that?”

“Yes, Shouto, fuck!” you thrash against his fingers, your head falling back in your distracting pleasure. The sensations are numbing your mind, your rationale slipping away as his fingernails drag against your inner walls, slowly stimulating your g-spot. Your cunt feels like it’s pulsating faster than your heart as he continues going.

“Aren’t you just a fucking sweetheart,” Shouto purrs, and his hand reaches out to lock in your hair. Your head is roughly brought back up, and a low groan of pain rumbles in your throat as you stare at his slightly furious eyes. “Didn’t I say to fucking look at me?”

Your chest heaves in embarrassment and excitement. You wanted to be dominated by this man, wholly and entirely, you wanted to be black and blue at the end of this night, and like a brat, you readied to do more.

Before you could try wrestling him for dominance, his mouth lowers towards your dripping cunt, and his tongue takes a languid lick. His tongue slipping in between your slit, and you fall back onto the table, your eyes fluttering in their battle to stay open. Your eyes are still locking onto his victorious face.

Your legs tremble as he thrusts his tongue within your drenched walls, his tongue swirling in circles and pushing further in. His hooked fingers still thrusting into you as you fall apart on the table, he’s long since stimulated your g-spot and your body trembled for him. Your screams loud and pitched for him to do more. On one particular lick, one measly irresistibly mind-numbing lick, your legs come snapping against his head. Shouto’s free hand moves to grip onto your trembling thighs, his tongue coaxing your orgasm closer to the edge.

“S-Shouto!” you curse, your hips snapping desperately against his mouth. Your hips twisting against his merciless tongue.

Your eyes struggle to remain locked on his eyes, your body twitching with the building pleasure. The electricity igniting in your flesh and bloodstream. You can hear the sounds of your squelching pussy against his moving fingers, and your jaw drops. You’re under his absolute control, and you’re no longer able to hold back anymore as your orgasm is right on edge, but then he pulls away. His fingers and tongue disappearing from within you, causing you to whimper in pain, in lust, and in denied orgasm.

“Suck yourself off my fingers.” Shouto pants as his arousal covered fingers press against your mouth. You take his fingers without a second thought. Your teeth scraping softly against his fingers as you suck your juices off of him. Your eyes remain on his as your tongue slips between each finger. You suck onto his fingers as he pulls away, and Shouto growls as he pulls his hand away from you.

“Get up,” Shouto snaps, his hands moving to remove the belt around his waist, and you are quick to slide off the counter. Your knees buckling under your weight as Shouto removes his pants. You watch in an almost lusting glee as his cock springs out from under his underwear. He was by far the biggest guy you’ve ever seen, and your throat feels dry as he gasps when your fingers brush the beading head of his cock. His dick must be hypersensitive already.

Steeling yourself over, you drop to your knees, uncaring that he wasn’t quite ready as Shouto struggles to step out of his pants.

As soon as his feet are free, your hands immediately grab onto his length. His girth wide enough, you struggled to hold it with one hand. You smirked at the fact that he had two protruding veins on both sides of his cock.

“Y-Y/n…” Shouto stutters as your hand fists up and down his length in pretense, you spread the pre-cum as for as it can go, your nails teasing his sensitive and heated flesh. Your eyes snapping up to meet his lust covered ones.

“Now,” you grin as your thumb rolls over the pre-cum that slips from the tip of his head. “I better not catch you, not looking at me, understood?”

Shouto licks his lips, his eyebrow quirking, “Is this payback?” You smile softly, but there’s a robust sadistic tone to it as your hands twist his skin. Shouto curses as he nods, “I understand!”

“Good boy,” you tease as your mouth opens and you press his cock all the way into your mouth. His girth is wide enough that you had to open more extensive than you were used to, the stretch already making you groan. You gasp as you push him further down your throat, your eyes flashing up to see Shouto struggling to keep his head down and eyes alert.

Good god, you hope you were wet enough to take him in without lube.

Your mouth sinks down as far as you can go while not straining your neck or jaw. Your fingers trailing up and down his toned thighs as you move your head up and down his length. You’re now in a consistent rhythm, sucking his cock with enough vigor to make Shouto curse your name. The sounds of his cock ramming down your throat rang within the kitchen, making Shouto’s skin flare with goosebumps while you face fucked him.

Your movements signal to Shouto that he can move as well. Shouto groans, and his hips move forward. You relax against his slowly rocking hips, you’re focused on your breathing as his cock moves up and down your throat. Deeper and deeper, you feel his cock move within you. His hand pressing against the back of your throat, and you gag softly against his length.

Your eyes look back up to see Shouto’s eyes closed, slapping the side of his thigh, his eyes snap back open, the embarrassment of being caught evident along with the apparent likeness of the slap. Moans and pants spilling out with every thrust, and your cheeks hollow out, creating a vacuum sensation against his length.

“Fucking shit!” Shouto snaps, his hands tangling within your locks as he overtakes your dominance and begins fucking your throat. “Taking my cock like the dirty slut you are, of course, you would be good at this,” he hisses as his cock only goes further down your throat.

“Only sluts look for sex online.”

You struggle to breathe with his thrusting, his snapping hips overwhelming you with their speed and depth. He’s barbarous against your throat, uncaring about the burning sensation erupting through your airway as he continues at his strength and pace. Your tongue swirls around his thrusting cock, trailing against his veins as his hips stutter.

You moan against his length, the action allowing you to gain more air and sending a snarl from Shouto’s mouth as his pace increases.

His hips abuse your throat, and you’re delighted in the fact that you’re keeping up. The soft gags that occasionally slip from your mouth, stirring him on. The hum on your throat allows him to further his strength and speed as your actions overwhelm him. He’s sinful yet heavenly in your mouth, and you want him in your dripping cunt. Your thighs shaking with the mere thought of him having his way with you.

He pulls his length away from your mouth, your saliva stringing between your mouth and his still erect cock. You cough as you try taking in the air again, the lack of oxygen had been ignored as your pleasure was so high.

However, you don’t have the time to adjust to your new air as Shouto pulls you up from the floor. His mouth once again attacking yours as you find your back pressed against the counter. His lips are intoxicating, and you can still taste yourself in his mouth, and you moan as he lifts you up on the counter again.

“Fuck you’re amazing.” Shouto grunts as his mouth trails down your neck, and you shudder. How you craved a man you were ready to beat the shit out of earlier was beyond you. Maybe attraction and hatred ran on a fine line.

“I know I am,” you gasp as he spreads your legs, the tip of his cock stroking your wet folds.

“I’ll get you to say it when my cock is in you,” Shouto chuckles, and you moan at the feeling of the tip of his head sinking into your trembling cunt. “Are you ready?”

Your head nods nevertheless, and you still as he chuckles.

“Say it.”

“Shouto--”

“I want to hear you say it,” he interrupts, and you stare into his bi-colored eyes and feel as if you’re drowning in his them. They’re desperate, needy, and full of want. It’s enough to steal your breath away as you nod again.

“Please fuck me.” you whisper, and Shouto smiles.

A shriek crashes through your mouth as he pushes his cock all the way into your awaiting cunt without hesitation. His girth stretches you out in an unimaginable way, your walls fluttering as they attempt to relax and grow used to his size. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re so huge!” you cry, your body trembling when Shouto leans forward. His own breathing a quiet hiss as your walls clench around him.

“I bet I’m the biggest you’ve e-ever had.” Shouto cockily rasps, but his words feel powerless as he is affected by your pulsating walls. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

You whimper as the painful throb in your pussy lulls, and you wiggle your hips against him, “N-Now fuck me right. Don’t fucking make me regret signing up,” you gasp as his eyes lock on yours.

Shouto smiles, small and sweet, yet terribly contrasting as he adheres to your demand. His hips position to a better angle, and you can only watch with fluttering eyes as he begins ramming into you. Your hips move in time with him. Both of you desperate under your denied orgasm and this heightened state of pleasure. Shouto’s hands grip your waist, for sure leaving bruised marks as he slams your body faster against his huge cock, stretching you out deliciously. His hands drag out under your ass, clenching your supple flesh as this barely different position stretches you out in a mind-numbing way.

His hips crashing into yours is transcending, and your cries only fuel Shouto on. Your body feels as if it is on fire as he drags a single leg up onto his shoulder. His cock bottoming out into you, making your back arch off the counter as you wail out his name. Shouto’s heated fingers press against your throbbing clit, they alternate from scorching heat to blistering cold. It spins your mind, and your eyes cross. You sputter as he rubs harsh and delicate figure-eights into your puffy nerves, his movements insistent, deliberate, with the intention of getting you to come. It’s too much, the pure temperature play making you feel like you were dissociating from your body, and drool pooled from your mouth from his deliberate actions. Your pussy is clamping down on his moving cock, slowing him down slightly before he grunts and increases his speed and strength.

Your noises of pleasure become silent screams as his cock hits the back of your walls, your legs thrashing around as he drilled into you the same way.

Again and again.

More and more.

His cock smashing against your walls until he tilts his angle and comes down hard against your g-spot.

“SHOUTO!!!” You scream as he continues pounding into your g-spot. His name a prayer on your lips as he keeps fucking your brains out.

You shoot up off the table, your screams sounding in his ear as you wrap your arms around him. Even though your leg was on his shoulder, you held on. The angle allowing Shouto to drive his cock against your g-spot over and over again. Your screams drowning out as his mouth covered yours. His body is giving you exploding sensations, your tightness making Shouto moan and curse.

“I needa — fuck, Sho do that again — I needa come!” you squeak as your body rocks against his own.

“Come for me, baby,” Shouto sighs into your mouth. “Come on my cock.”

The pleasure in your belly is overwhelming, it's building up so fast, and your toes curl in electrifying pleasure. You can’t handle it anymore, the desire being too much.

Your orgasm crashes through you, your vision turning white as your jaw drops as your screams go silent. Shouto’s mouth continues to move against yours, kissing sloppily against your teeth as he chases his own orgasm.

His hips continue slamming into you, they’re brutal as they slam over and over again. He’s chanting your name as your stimulated cunt keeps clenching around his length. His pace is making you grow limp in his arms, although your hips still continue to roll against his. His breathing is short and tense. Panting as he struggles to keep himself composed.

“Come inside me…” you whine into his ear, desperate to feel his hot seed expelling within you.

His cock stretches you out in a new way as he presses you back onto the counter, his arm lifting your second leg over his shoulder. The twin bulging veins on his cock, rubbing a fire against your walls. Shouto fucks you mercilessly, his fingers clenching your ass as you come apart for him. Shouto, unable to keep a controlled mind on his shoulder, loses himself within you. His hips drilling forward one last time. A heavy load shooting into your throbbing cunt.

Shaky breathing fills the air as he pulls out of you.

You whine at the lack of him within you, and your body relaxes as he steps back. Your hands pressed against the counter as you heave, desperate to find your air again. A whimper on your tongue as you feel your combine cum seeping from your clenching pussy.

“You were amazing.” Shouto chuckles as he helps you down.

“If you want,” you pant, your legs shaking when you stand. “You’re welcome to stay.”

His eyes lock on yours, dark and knowing and already accepting.

“Why should I?”

You grin in response, “I have a few toys I’ve meant to try out.”

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha

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hebescus · 3 years

Text

remember this ship ask? yeah, i wanna do them all with lawlight bcs they control my brain. but it's a happy no death note au bcs it's me. oh and this shit is long plus it's 3 am rn so my words are very messy. but enjoy.

(i skip some numbers that i answered and the ones that i can't think of btw)

pre relationship :

How did they first meet?

L's investigation hq. he was a suspect of L, still, but this time he told soichiro to bring this 18 yo boy to the hq to test him, asking light to work with all of them. he ends up not guilty ofc, but L still wants to keep him…around.

What was their first impression of each other?

ah, the good old 'what the fuck dude???' from light and the 'oooh he got a big brain' from L. it's hard to get out of canon in this one.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

L. But it's more like thoughts, rather than feelings. It's just these random thoughts that pop out in his head like 'i don't mind kissing this guy, if he asks' but not like 'i want to kiss him' yknow what i mean? idk this is just something i experience a lot lmao. it develops to feelings once light falls for him and L can see that. So in terms of ideas, it's L, but in terms of feelings, it's Light.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Oh our favorite light denial yagami. Of course he's cursing himself for having feelings like this but once L calls it out he's over.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Light would laugh it off, and be like "i don't like him that way you know". L would shrugs be like "well yes that's possible, i don't think i mind".

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

boring, lonely, empty, you name it

(more under the cut)

general :

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

hmm, they both initiated the relationship? ykwim? They both notices they had feelings for each other and just...go from there. they never have like a relationship talk, they just go with the flow until at some point they starts to get comfortable to refer the other as partners. They basically can read each other's mind, after all.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Yes, sort of. A tennis game! And a coffee sesh after, just like canon. They plan this to be just "let's just relax, this case has been really exhausting, take a one day break, L" but when Light got home, sayu asked "how's the date going?!" He immediately said "it's not a date, you watch too many dramas it's rotting your brain" And sachiko gave him a smile while shaking her head at this statement and when he's back to his room he immediately calls L and was like "hey does that count as a date?" and L answers with "depends, do you want it to be?" with a smirk that light can hear.

What was their first kiss like?

it was late at night, light was helping L with the case when everybody went home. they were sharing their view about this certain criminal when light notices L staring at his lips, first he ignored it but it happens again and again to a point where their face just got real close and then...kiss, somehow. idk lmao.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

First person who can understand each other and are equals, the only ones who can tear the other's wall down, and just practically soulmates in any form that even their sun & moon signs mirroring each other's? YES.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

i hc L as just a little bit taller than light, but it's not like you can see it through the hunch anyway. ofc we all know the 6 years and 4 months age gap

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Sayu likes L, Sachiko is kinda surprise Light doesn't date a typical pretty person, but it only makes her heart fonder. L doesn't mind them, he thinks they're nice, light grew up in a good place. Soichiro? Well, he might me a bit reluctant but he loosen up slowly, his son is happier than he ever was, after all.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Light, obviously. Because he's a charmer and if L takes control, the person they speak to would run immediately the first 2 minutes.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

it is a universal knowledge that L does this. like, come on, count the fics, you can't, there's just so many. he loves to break that perfect wall and make light feel 🥴😳. it's entertaining. But he knows when to stop. too much of that will be embarrassing in light's part, and he respects his boy's dignity.

love :

Who said “I love you” first?

Light!! The thing is it was said over the phone. He gets more and more comfortable talking with L through calls, since every now and then L travel frok countries to countries. One time he just like "yeah, safe flight. love you, bye" he expected L to say goodnight to him as a response as usual but L was silent and he realised what he just said and realised that he fucking mean it. L seems to still be able to read his mind even thousands miles away so he replies with "i love you too, goodnight". they never missed seeing each other more than that night.

What are their primary love languages?

we had a discussion for this! but as we see in canon, they're both very acts of service with a little hint of physical touch here and there. quality time is also important. words and gift aren't really needed for them.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

L. Only to annoy light. It's terrible that he almost cringed to himself, but it does bring a good laugh for light.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

PDA is a not their preference, they just love being in private more. They might hold hands sometimes, butmost times they won't. Altho they always stand or sit reaaaaally glued to each other even though there are so many space.

Who initiates kisses?

both. they want it, they got it. but light gives light kisses (ha) more, not necessarily on the lips, usually when L was really busy working, keeping his feet on the ground.

Who’s the big and little spoon?

They don't spoon a lot, they prefer not touching at all or cufdling face to face, but when they do, Light is the little spoon because being a big spoon makes his sleeping position kinda uncomfy, he feels awkward with his legs, it's just not. thankfully L thinks cuddling light this way is very calming.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Tennis and solving cases, duh. Or sometimes they play video games fighting each other. Anything competitive and/or challenging that make their brain grow 10 times bigger. But sometimes, a comfortingly peaceful and quiet dinner with hushed words thrown here and there about random things feels like the best thing ever.

Who’s more protective?

L. For identity reasons, ofc.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Physical. They can read each other's mind, they knew it by gesture, touches, and glances.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

IT'S MY TIME TO SHINE. venus by sleeping at last fits them so well, that song is in the background of multiple cozy couch smooches sessions or even when they're slow dancing (please listen to this tho song it's so good). also i think they would like persephone by the tragic thrills too, L would be like "this song reminds me of you" and Light answers with "i'm persephone?" "Yeah" "i'm a fucking badass then" "yes you are". oh and first day of my life? lover of mine? pink in the night? sweet creature? the lakes? oh god i have too much answers

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

they don't do nicknames, really. although, L sometimes called light with some snarky tony stark styled nicknames when he feels particularly playful but annoyed at the same time.

Who remembers the little things?

They both do. Big brained assholes they are.

domestic life :

If they get married, who proposes?

It's not really a proposal, they didn't even remember who said it first. But one sleepy night after a hard case, someone said "hey you wanna get married" and the other was like "sure, why not" "really?" "yeah, i think i'm ready, you?" "me too" "great" and then they go to sleep. at breakfast the next morning L called watari from across the room and said "wammy i need you to prepare [enter marriage stuff here], and light, you must call your family after this". poor old watari chokes on his tea.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

The wedding is in a secluded little place near the wammy's house, L used to go there a lot as a kid. With just light's parents, sayu, and watari. Well, not until Light caught Mello, Matt, Near, and Linda peeping from the bushes

Do they have any pets?

A chunky cat the wammy's kids feed daily but never try to keep them in, because no animals are allowed inside the orphanage. L saw it and was like "light let's bring this bitch home" she is, indeed a little bitch, but light and L loves her dearly. her fur has light brown and black colors, like both of their hairs, so she becomes their daughter, L gave him a weird ass name but i can't think about it rn.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

Light because he's the one who's actually bothers to. They ofc annoyed L but he cpuldnt care less to actually get rid of them.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

L. He rarely sleeps and once he did, he wakes up very fucking late and will pull light back to the bed if he's woken up by the empty space beside him.

Who’s the better cook?

Light. L is a spoiled brat. But Light can't bale for shit, that's Watari's job. Light grow up learning and helping his mom making meals for the family. He's not the best, but it's good enough to make L craves them in between his sweets.

Who likes to dance?

None of them. But they would slow dance on rare, sentimental occasions. And it's like so fucking romantic bcs all the lights are off except for a candle or a table lamp or a cabinet lamp whatever that has yellow-y dim light. And they don't speak, they just casually move against each other, but heart ready to combust like i do when i the mental image came into my head.

#lawlight #death note #very fucking self indulgent whoa #brainrot hours #anyway i love them so much #scenarios and shits

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narsh-poptarts · 3 years

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I came here to tell you that your art is amazing and AAAAA I love it so much!! Your Angry Sky honestly made my day

Also, I don’t know if you’re still doing the “ask me about Sky” thing but if you are...what are your thoughts on the silent realms? I don’t see enough Sky content related to them but to me they have so much angst potential??? And also are a proof that Sky didn’t have it easy at all during his adventure?? Idk I find them very interesting

aaaaaaa thank you so much!!!!! honestly every tag and every message yall send me just makes me so happy, i’m so glad y’all are enjoying it!!!! :DDDD

OH BOY THE SILENT REALMS!!!!!!!!!

YEAH you’re right!!! there’s not a lot of content there!! lucky for you, this is also another topic from Skyward Sword that I have thought extensively about, I have many many headcanons for what the Silent Realms are like.

okay first of all, the Silent Realms are a very unique kind of think in the LoZ series. The concept itself is repeated a couple times but the reasoning WHY is different. Usually link has to go through trials in multiple different games to prove himself and his courage or whatever in order to get the master sword or other such very important item. and then in Twilight Princess (it did come first but whatever) you have those light trial things? i don’t remember what they’re called but you collect the tears of the Light Spirits and they’re all trapped in bugs or whatever. So the basis for the trials or their main mechanic is not a new concept.

But! what is very interesting and unique is, like I said, the reasoning WHY Link has to go through these trials. in botw (this may be wrong, i haven’t played it), you have the trial of the sword, basically a big gauntlet to improve the sword and prove your worth, in addition to the “you must be this tall to ride” thing with your health. but that’s about the sword. in TP, the light trials are about restoring light to the land. they’re not even really trials, and iirc, there’s not,,, really trials for TP. i may be wrong.

anyways, what makes SS different is that it’s specifically about upgrading your spirit. the Hero’s Spirit. Link never has to prove himself to the sword because,, well, the damn thing is his companion. in the zelda timeline, he’s one of the first heroes ever so there’s not even a Hero’s Spirit to have because he hasn’t made it yet. same with the Master Sword.

so therefore, no other Link has had to create or upgrade their Hero’s Spirit. It’s simply not a thing they’ve had to do because Sky did it all those millennia ago. One and done, cool and awesome. He has a uniquely different and alienated experience because he set the foundation. Probably feels alienated from the others because he never had to prove himself to the sword, and then because of the prominent upgraded spirit, got them easily and recognizably cursed (thanks Demise).

SORRY i realize i just went on a related-but-not-your-question tangent, but now to the actual Silent Realms themselves :D

so, in terms of what I think Silent Realms are like.... first of all: terrifying!!!! If my own playthroughs of them are anything to go by, Link is terrified out of his mind!!!! no weapons, no items, no Fi, you’re completely on your own, you have a time limit, and you’re being LITERALLY HUNTED. and god, that music when the Guardians wake up is actually a heart attack, botw guardians have NOTHING on these bad boys.

From the inside perspective, I imagine the Silent Realms are just that: silent. not dead quiet, not still, silent. There are no sounds in the Silent Realm, not even a ringing in Link’s ear. and also these trials are a test of the Spirit. the body stays behind. This is a plane somewhere within the overworld, a layer formed from many. There’s no air there. They’re spirits, and entities, they don’t need it.

And having no air is a little disorienting at first, hell being a spirit is a little disorienting at first, but Link finds it a little cool, not feeling the need to breathe and not being able to feel air move in his lungs when he does.

And when Link is safe, whether by standing in that first safety circle or by virtue of collecting a tear, it doesn’t feel calm. Calm is exactly the wrong word because calm is flying out on the open air with your loftwing. Calm is sitting, for just a moment, on a stool to regain some health (and maybe take a nap). Calm is not whatever this is. This is like sneaking through the sleeping dragon’s nest, or feeling the chill of a graveyard, or walking down a dark alley at night. Every inch of link is telling him something is very very wrong and he is in danger. and, to be fair, he is.

Now for when the guardians are awake, it’s like a bomb of adrenaline and panic goes off. He doesn’t hear anything but he can feel them coming, feel their presence just behind him, ready to take him down, ready to make him fail and start over. He is a trespasser, taking pieces of an ancient spirit and make it his own, and he is hunted for sport. every inch of him, every screaming inch of him is crying desperately for him to move, run, flee, desperately grab at the next tear, we don’t have time, we’re going to die. screaming screaming over and over, a pounding in his brain like war drums, a sharp, painful insistence out of desperation to survive.

He can’t hear them coming so every other sense goes into overdrive, and he can feel where they’re coming from. The screen in the game actually has pulsing rings at the edge of your screen to indicate that there’s a guardian off screen right over there (which is a very cool indication imo!) and their intensity indicates how close they are. it’s like this sense of dread goes into overdrive in a desperate attempt to keep him alive and he just knows by feeling it that “don’t go that way, you’ll die”

And dude, do you know what the official explanation is for when you fail? the wording they use is “your spirit will shatter”. Shatter!!! that’s gotta hurt!! what do you think it feels like to have your spirit shattered?? Luckily i think both for gameplay and the story itself, if you’re determined enough, you can retry as many times as you like.

but i imagine, for the sake of drama, getting your spirit shattered has Link shunted back into the real world, clutching at his chest in pain, heaving and crying as his spirit stitches itself back together piece by piece until he’s ready to try again. It’s not a pleasant experience.

and speaking of coming back, i imagine actually succeeding isn’t all that great either. the silent realms are silent. there’s no sound at all. coming back to the real world and suddenly getting hit with the sound of the wind and the birds and the ambiance and the sounds of your clothes and the sword and your heavy breathing and too much too much too much!! I imagine it’s very overwhelming. the silence is not a pleasant experience so Link is very glad to have sound again but it’s just too much at once.

you’re very correct anon, there is a lot of angst potential here. i’ve really wanted a Skyward Sword manga or something like that for so long because I really wanna know how the Silent Realms would be interpreted.

also i’ve kinda got a fic idea were basically Sky has to end up doing the Silent Realms again while on the LU adventure because something something Hero’s Spirit is messing up and he has to reupgrade it. and it’s bad and traumatic and the other boys have to watch as each instance (there’s four of them by god) just leaves Sky an utter mess and they don’t know how to help and he won’t tell them what’s wrong either or what exactly happens in the trials to get him to react so badly when he gets back. i don’t have anything written down but basically “Sky doesn’t know his own limits and won’t ask for help” the fic.

also oh boy this is long, sorry

#asks #anonymous #not art #long post #long #listen yall are asking me about my hyperfixations this is bound to happen okay #there's so much cool stuff to talk about for Skyward Sword and for Sky #very underrated game #the motion controls are one of the things that made people eh about it but honestly it's not that bad

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brave-clarice · 3 years

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“Clarice” Liveblog: Episode 1

Here are my extremely unfashionably late takes! They’re long, so strap in if you want.

okay, I genuinely thought the scenes in Gumb’s basement were ripped from the film for a second. extremely well done.

I both appreciate that they’re acknowledging the Bureau-mandated psych eval Clarice would have to go through (not sure she’d have to have another one a year later?)...

...but I sure wish they hadn’t chosen to open this show in a therapy-like session. it’s going to be subject to enough NBC comparisons as it is.

gosh, Rebecca Breeds is so pretty, and in the same almost, idk, elfin kind of way Jodie Foster is.

“Bride of Frankenstein”! a novel reference! and a Hannibal Lecter reference even though they can’t use his name! I’m excited

I was afraid of this part, though--everyone’s going to call her “Clarice” aren’t they?

it’s very significant that in the books, Hannibal is virtually alone in using her first name to address her; even Ardelia calls her “Starling.” but of course this series chose “Clarice” as its title, so...

“the checkout lady at the Safeway asked me to autograph a melon” omg

so Clarice has supposedly been “mandated” to see an FBI therapist for an entire year? hmm.

tbh, this feels kind of like a proxy for Hannibal’s scenes in the movie, especially with the therapist calling her “Clarice.” not sure if I dig it.

“...given that your last therapist was an inmate” Hannibal reference #2!

they’re explicitly talking about Hannibal without being able to name him and it’s hilarious, frustrating, and immensely satisfying all at once.

there’s no way to avoid talking about him altogether without being disingenuous to Clarice’s eventual character arc, so I’m glad they’re ripping off the band-aid early

“you let that relationship be intimate” Yeah, Clarice and Hannibal’s relationship IS intimate and YOU! SHOULD! SAY IT!!!

it’s kind of ridiculous for this guy/the show not to acknowledge that little trainee Clarice was sent to see Hannibal by someone who should’ve known better. That Crawford was doing it with the intention to save lives doesn’t mean he didn’t use the shit out of Clarice.

that’s not to take away her agency or minimize the choices she made after she met Hannibal. She wouldn’t have been in a position to make those choices if Crawford hadn’t arranged it, though.

even if they don’t have the rights to Crawford’s name, either (I have to assume that’s the case) couldn’t they at least mention this??

“hasn’t seen her own family in years” Are they actually going to address Clarice’s maybe-dead-maybe-not mother (depending on the canon they adopt, book or film) and possible siblings??? Please tell me they are!

Clarice’s “egregious” PTSD doesn’t have much to do with Buffalo Bill ofc, and this therapist seems to be making excuses to be the first in a long line of men getting in the way of Clarice’s career goals...

...which she recognizes and confronts him about. Call him out!!!

*Anthony Hopkins voice* That’s my girl.

the way she’s been written in this scene gives me a lot of hope going forward! she’s funny, she doesn’t take any sexist bullshit, she’s calm and polite but you get a glimpse of the rage underneath.

wow, they promoted Senator Martin to Attorney General!

the opening credits (if you can even call them that) are a let-down, though

she has her beads!

can anyone who’s not Hannibal please stop calling her Clarice

wonder if they’re going to touch on any of the extreme tension that existed between Senator Martin and Clarice in the novel? they didn’t interact in the movie, but in the book, Martin is under intense stress, and it doesn’t go smoothly.

of course in “Hannibal,” Martin invites her to “ride horses,” so they obviously reconciled after Catherine’s rescue and kept in some kind of touch.

and speak of the devil: horses! (and Catherine)

“I can’t have a reputation, I’ve only done it once” Thank you for being the voice of reason, Clarice.

“Paul Krendler” *ugly screaming commences*

“you don’t have any people, Clarice” Aaand that’s the plot of the Hannibal novel!

looks like they even gave her the ring Jodie’s Clarice wears!

oh yeah, this Krendler looks like a sumbitch if I ever saw one. No one will ever be as perfectly cast as the dude in Silence imo, but a much better fit than Ray Liotta.

“small carat, but it’s a sweet ring” A very in-character observation probably directly informed by her comments about nail polish in Silence.

she mentions this victim’s nail polish (!) being “tasteful,” and I shrieked a little again.

I understand it’s necessary for Krendler to be a douche, but there’s not even going to be any payoff for the audience (or Clarice) when Hannibal eats him, so boo.

wait...wait, why aren’t Clarice and Ardelia in their Alexandria duplex? They’re not just best friends, they’re roommates! For the entire seven-year story! GIVE ME THE DUPLEX!!!

BUT points for Ardelia bringing Clarice a treat, since she was always leaving her candy bars in the Silence book!

Clarice interacting with the washer/dryer is a nice nod to the books, too.

speaking of... “What did we learn in the laundry room back at Quantico?” For some reason this line made me actually cry, I guess because this whole episode has been such a love letter to something I love so dearly, and it’s making me emotional.

FIRST PRINCIPLES!

DESPERATELY RANDOM!!!

wow, the men in Clarice’s new office giving her lotion as a hazing “welcome” gift is awful, and now I’m just mad (which is the point of the scene ofc).

so this ex-military OC is the John Brigham stand-in, I take it?

if that means John Brigham won’t be here, No Thanks.

Clarice telling him she’ll drive...a tribute to Dana “Why Do You Always Have to Drive?” Scully, perhaps (who was herself inspired by Clarice) as well as a nod to Clarice’s love of cars?

“Why do they call you the bride of Frankenstein?” Sorry, I don’t have the legal rights to tell you about my last intimate relationship.

“Already on my way to West Virginia Granny Witch�� Look, this show could crash and burn from this scene on, and it would still have been worth it just for these first 25 minutes.

I like that Clarice is shown wanting to help people, and the scene of her with the baby is a nice call-back to the eventual shoot-out at the beginning of “Hannibal”...but I hope they don’t try to domesticate her too much. Clarice needs her hard edges. To be tough (reasonably so)--a cub growing into its big cat’s claws.

also, somehow I doubt that Miss Valedictorian spent her six years in the Lutheran home “changing a lot of diapers,” but sure, okay. If her siblings are alive in this, she might have changed their diapers!

even though Krendler’s a real dickwad so far, he’s not slimy enough for me. Needs more grease.

“I got a call from your therapist who’s concerned that you might genuinely flip out” I really do not like this subplot Sam-I-Am. Aren’t the huge glass ceiling/Boys’ Club obstacles enough?

seriously, though, I know Hannibal tells her that the metaphorical lambs will come back--at the end of Silence, though, she’s at some kind of temporary peace, not in danger of “flipping out” any time soon.

if Esquivel really is our Brigham stand-in, I’ve got...problems with that. He was Clarice’s teacher and became her friend, not some Krendler double-agent. (Also worried they’re setting him up as a love interest for her which...eesh, no thanks.)

and sorry, I actually hate that Catherine kept Precious the dog in this.

I have no problem with Catherine being a character, or with her interacting with Clarice...that said, I don’t know if her being shown as severely traumatized and reaching out to Clarice as a form of emotional lifeline is...a good idea?

I understand the symbolism of Catherine’s smashed mirror, but...smashed mirrors are already a Thing in this series (albeit not Clarice’s chapter in it), and that’s all I can think of here.

Catherine’s a victim of unthinkable trauma. Nevertheless...she’s talking to the woman who saved her life. Who risked death to do it. I just don’t like the way this scene is written. Apparently, in this show’s canon, Catherine hasn’t gotten the help she needs. But Clarice isn’t her therapist, and it’s upsetting to have Catherine being all “I’ll never be safe and neither will you.”

how does Catherine remember “the mannequins, the autopsy table”?? And why is she throwing them in Clarice’s face?

I’m going to stop talking about this scene now because it’s making me angry and a little upset, which is maybe the point? I just don’t think it’s written well. If Catherine’s going to be a recurring character, I hope she’s shown getting professional, medical help.

Clarice finding the victim’s papers in the box of pads is a direct callback to her finding the photos in the jewelry box in Silence. Nice.

let’s agree that Hannibal and Crawford are both in Ardelia’s (too-cutesy-for-me) book

another nice little X-Files homage?

I have some qualms about that big climax, but...meh. It was capital-F Fine.

Yikes, this is a full week late. Thanks for reading this entirely-too-long post through to the end, if you’re still here!

To sum up my thoughts...

The Good:

the visual connections to the Silence film (that green coat/blue knit scarf combo in particular)

Rebecca Breeds’ performance overall so far

Clarice’s strong writing/characterization

her sense of humor and her inclination to call out bullshit

maybe it was just me, but I also got a sense of Hannibal’s influence on her in some of her dialogue--her blunt observations--and I love it

Ardelia Mapp

the repeated in-your-face references to Hannibal Lecter

the respectful, non-exploitative way the victims were treated by the narrative.

let’s just say, not all Harris-inspired shows managed to do this. :)

the many, many allusions to the novel

“you let that relationship be INTIMATE” !!!

The Bad:

the near-constant implication that all Clarice’s trauma stems from her experiences in Gumb’s basement

I just don’t understand this one...it’s not supported by the text imo

the “Clarice-is-a-psychological-loose-canon” subplot

almost everyone calling her “Clarice”

NO DUPLEX IN ALEXANDRIA! Boo!

Esquivel maybe replacing Brigham

the narrative choices they’ve made surrounding Catherine so far.

Seriously: please let Catherine seek/get help instead of screaming “HELP ME” at Clarice, who after all risked her own life to save Catherine’s, over the phone.

The Ugly: Paul Krendler, lol. Confession time: I also don’t care for the way they’ve styled her hair. Not sure why it bugs me, it just...does.

Overall, I’m thrilled to death with this. I was so afraid it would be disappointing, so even if it’s not a five-star episode (and pilots rarely are), it’s a great beginning! It’s beyond amazing to see our girl on the screen again. Just this hour-long episode did her character way more justice than the entire Hannibal film. Despite its shortcomings, it’s such a loving homage to characters and a story that mean a lot to me, and I love it just for that.

Going forward, I’d like to see more of Clarice as a person. Her hobbies and interests--cars, sharpshooting, running, fashion magazines stuffed under her bed, horseback riding, her total inability to cook...anything would do. I of course want to see more of her with Ardelia. I want to hear more about her backstory and find out which version of it (truly orphaned when her father dies or sent away by her mother) they’ll choose to explore. And while we all agree that this show is about Clarice and she don’t need no man, I won’t lie: I’d gobble up more sly references to Hannibal. He’s her endgame, after all.

I’d also like to really see the warrior underneath. There are flashes of her in the last twenty minutes of this episode. But Clarice Starling is a big cat, she’s a warrior, she’s between iron and silver. I’d hate for her to spend most of this show doe-eyed and traumatized. I want her to be ferocious, to see the woman who’s a match for the monster.

Krendler needs to get nastier. He should make us feel like we need to shower. In the novels, he wants to use Clarice--only for her body. And when she won’t allow him to, he takes his revenge. That’s what makes him so particularly awful. Let’s amp him up here.

And finally...maybe I’ll appreciate Catherine’s scene more on a second watch. Maybe I’m not being sensitive enough to her trauma, her struggles. But I didn’t like the way that scene was staged or scripted, and I didn’t like the suggestion that she just hasn’t gotten help after a year and is subsequently taking her pain out on Clarice on some level. I hope future episodes handle this subplot, and her character, a bit better.

Please let me know if you guys would like me to do another of these monstrosities for the next episode. (I promise it won’t take me an entire week this time!) And thank you again for reading!!!

#Clarice Starling #clarice #cbs clarice #rebecca breeds #media [cbs show]#char [clarice starling]#I'm sorry again about how amazingly late this is heh #you've probably all watched and processed by now and have moved on to Episode 2 but I am slow

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