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riizewrtr · 2 months

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can i request riize making their partner ride their thigh scenario/reaction?? this may be such a weird ask but i feel like all of them would love seeing their cute gf trying to get off of their thigh only ooo esp like mean!dom riize omg

oooo it's a dream to ride sungchan's thighs ngl.. he works out so much, i want it... lol

content: 18+, mdni, thigh-riding, member x reader

Shotaro didn't think much of it, when he heard someone talking about their girlfriend getting off on their thigh. he didn't even think it was possible to even feel good from that. but it did peak his interest and got him curious. while you were over at the dorm, thigh riding was all he had on his mind. "ride my thigh," is all he said.

"what..?" you were taken aback by the simple comment. shotaro had grabbed you from your spot on the couch, placing you on his thigh. the friction as he pulled you caught you off guard. "get yourself off on my thighs, now." this side of shotaro surprised you, but you can't lie that this turned you on causing your slick to leak against your thin underwear. taro thought this was a picture perfect moment, his pretty girlfriend a moaning mess from just his thighs.

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Eunseok wasn't the type to try different things in bed, but when he was working on his thighs during a workout. He had wondered how it would look if he made his girlfriend ride them, grind on them like when you grind your tight little pussy against his cock.

he kept insisting the moment he saw you, "You're going to do it, NOW. You cannot say no to me, you know that right?" he would grown in your ear, before basically ripping off your shorts but keeping on the cute red thong you had on. He forced you onto his thigh, leaving almost a red mark on your arm from how hard he grabbed you. "move," he said sternly, causing you to slowly grind your pussy against his clothed thigh. The friction of his jeans against your pussy was a heaven you didn't know existed. This is something you could get used to, seeing how Eunseok enjoyed his cute girlfriend cumming all over his jeans.

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"Grind your pussy against my thigh," was all Sungchan had to say for you to obey his command. You both were needy, but he wanted to try something different, this time on the couch, with the boys around. It wasn't bizarre to them to see you sitting on his lap, so they didn't think much of it when it was movie night. The blanket was draped around your waist, and over Sungchan so the boys couldn't see since you both were the only ones taking up the couch. The rest of the boys insisted on sitting on the floor so they could share their snacks.

You had your arms wrapped around Sungchan's shoulders, gripping onto his hair, playing with it as you grind your clothed core against his thigh. He decided to flex his thigh, causing a small whimper to escape, so you bury your face into his neck. That night was just trying not to let the boys know what was going under that blanket.

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Wonbin alone had a dream of you riding his thigh, multiple times. But he never insisted on you doing it, but tonight was the night. You just looked ravishingly in the new lingerie he had bought you. He wanted to ruin the laced thong the first day, "god... you look fucking delicious, i need you to rind my thigh... now."

The grip he had on your waist while you were grinding slowly against his thigh was sure to leave bruises. "Go fucking faster darling, don't be scared.." he grunted, as he helped guide you to the speed that had you moaning loudly in the living room. Your hand gripping his shoulders tightly, who knew you can cum from just a thigh?

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You were currently already sitting on Seunghan's lap, when he felt your core grinding against his thigh while you were trying to find a comfortable position/spot to sit in. Seunghan leaned against your back, his grip on your waist tightened, "keep moving, grind your little pussy against my thigh baby," he started flexing his thigh under you causing you to let out a small moan.

You began moving yourself against his flexed thigh, the friction causing small whimpers and moans to escape your lips. Seunghan fixated on your face, seeing it curl in ecstacy. Your clothed core causing a wet stain on your shorts was the hottest thing he has seen when it comes to you. Seeing you come undone from just his thigh.

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Sohee knows he didn't have the most muscular thighs, but something was burying in his core.. You riding on his thigh, who else wouldn't want to see their s/o get off on their thigh? "Babe, just ride my thigh, it's not that hard! I can even do the work for you!" he begged before you had to agree, since he was always taking the most action when it comes to his sexual advances.

You climbed onto his lap, you both decided to do this naked so you can feel it ALL. Sohee reached under your rubbing your cute little pussy before he nodded, "you're already so wet darling," he smirked as your pressed yourself down on his thigh, a small whimper escaping your lips at the contact. You started moving yourself back and forth, your slick coating his thigh instantly. The lewd noises of your pussy can even be heard. This is going to be a new added thing to Sohee's list when you guys fuck.

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Anton usually isn't very vocal on what he wants, but you both were working out in the empty gym. But you looked very delicious to him, but you had no where to go for privacy, so he simply said, "let's take a break, I need something quick... I need you to grind against my leg, now." You were flabbergasted at the suggestion, but you did get a little hot from a shirtless Anton as he worked out. You couldn't deny you wanted him to take you then and there.

You were quick to sit on his thigh, and quick to start grinding your clothed core against his muscular thigh. Anton placing small and gently kisses against your sweaty neck, and moving down to your chest. Anton occasionally flexing his thigh to help you get off. Small moans filled the gym room, as you quickly tried to get off on his thigh before someone can walk in. But of course to no avail, you couldn't finish due to Sungchan joining. But Anton knew it would need to continue in his bedroom later.

#riize smut #riize scenarios #riize #riize imagines #riize x reader #anton smut #sohee smut #wonbin smut #sungchan smut #eunseok smut #seunghan smut #shotaro smut #shotaro #sohee #anton #sungchan #eunseok #seunghan

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grimecrow · 6 months

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Below are some of the pros and cons of each faction as I seem them.

The Phyrexians: Magic's ultimate bad guy, and all assimilating, corrupting force that at it's peak began to declare war on all of existence across the multiverse, everywhere, all at once. Pro - Phyrexian Oil - Phyrexians bleed corruption, the ichor of their bodies will slowly contaminate those it touches. The very act of killing them can over time turn you to their side. Pro - The Reality Chip - Normally used to augment an individual it can also be applied to alter an individual making them easier to join Phyrexia via the process known as phyresis making you compleated. It is believed specific indivisuals can manipulate it in ways that streamline the process on those previous immune to it. Pro - Realmbreaker - The Invasion tree allows for multiple direct breeches into a single realm. Allowing for cross universe invasion. Pro - All Will Be One - In every battlefield everyone can become a part of the invading army. This includes the insects, beasts, birds, everything. The moment they land somewhere recruitment begins, they have even compleated actual Gods by corrupting the followers whose believe the Gods were connected to compleated as a result of that connection.

Con - Individual Reliant - There are few commanders in the vast Phyrexian forces known as the Praetors. Once these handful of individuals are destroyed Phyrexian forces turn into near mindless animals. Con - Realmbreaker/The Reality Chip - These are objects that in theory can be destoryed. Realmbreaker's branches do travel both ways and in theory can be tracked back to their source.

The Borg: Pro - Unlimited Leadership - The Borg Queen is a program installed into a drone. If she is destroyed another is instituted at near instant speed. There is no command post to destroy, no one person to kill that can actually halt the Borg. Pro - Adapt Negate Obstruction - The Borg are always learning and when a weakness or work around is found the required adaptation is shared with the entire collective and the adaptions made at the speed of thought. Pro - Assimilation - In the field the Borg can assimilate their opponents gaining knowledge of weaknesses and understanding of previously unknown technology.

Con - The Collective - What affects one Borg can in theory spread throughout the collective before the Queen is aware of it happening. If an enemy can figure out how to cause disruptions to the Collective the Borg fall apart.

Con - Underestimation - The Borg always tend to underestimate those they face at first. They never throw the required resources at a problem initially believing they can just adapt to whatever they run across.

Con - Fragile - The Borg have some shielding but that's about it. Overwhelming or properly implemented force over whelms them easily.

The Viltrumites Pro - Viltrumite Physiology - Capable of feats far beyond average creatures, tending to be on a scale physically where a single Viltrumite can overwhelm an entire planet. Their skin is near invulnerable. Pro - Interstellar Travel - Viltrumites can survive in space without aide. Pro - Healing Factor - Even if it takes time a Viltrumite can heal many things that would kill mortal creatures.

Con - Sound - There are sounds that cause Viltrumites great pain, or even paralyze them out right. In theory if the frequency of the strength is strong enough it could in theory kill them.

Con - Weaker On The Inside - Viltrumites are highly susceptible to internal attacks if you can somehow get past or around their skin. Their incredible healing factor also has as much trouble as a human dealing with disease if they can somehow become infected.

The Daleks

Pro - The Time War - Daleks have faced the Time Lords, a race that could manipulate time and were still on the brink of victory before the intervention of the Doctor. Pro - Exterminate - There are threats that exist in their universe that can phase out of existence if you look at them and yet the Daleks are considered the 'greatest fire in the universe' as there isn't a threat yet aside from the individual known as the Doctor that they have not been able to at least stalemate if not overcome. They even had the power to relocate specific planets to be used as the battery to a weapon that would erase all of existence outside of the little pocket they were hiding in that was one second ahead of the rest of existence.

Pro - The Dalek Body - The outer casing of a Dalek has been shown to be very resilient to many weapons. It can also survive in some pretty extreme conditions. Not only that but a Dalek free from it's casing can in theory highjack the functionality of a biological host it connects with.

Con - The Eyestalk - If you damage a Dalek's eyestalk you leave the Dalek blind.

Con - The Dalek Body - If a weapon is strong enough to over come the outer body they have no other defense. If the being inside the casing was to get infected with something they do not possess a strong or unique immune system.

#Doctor Who #Dr Who #Daleks #Invincible #viltrumite #Star Trek #Borg #MTG #Magic The Gathering #new phyrexia #phyrexian

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transmandrake · 1 year

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Feel like talking about art... I worry a lot that I've passed some kind of 'peak' in my art, not per se skillwise but productivity wise.

'I made a 65 page full colour full shading comic chapter and had it printed! Oh my god, I could never do that now', I think. But thankfully in this age I've seen this exact thing happen to so many artists slightly older than me... intense productivity in school, sudden drop in early 20's, figure shit out in late 20's. It makes sense, art was basically the only thing keeping me together for many of those productive years, and I was miserable.

And now, yeah, I'm back in a high stress environment, but this time I'm managing my own progress and am doing things I want to do on some level, that aren't art. Is it any wonder people go on massive hiatuses when theres no longer One Thing they want to do?

And well also. The classic. It is bonkers the amount of people I grew up admiring who crashed and burned in college and then get diagnosed with, well usually several things but especially ADHD. I'd like to think I'm "learning from other's """pitfalls"""" by nipping that revelation in the bud early (healthcare system tho... pls gimme anything... an appointment, maybe...) but I've been ruminating a long time on art advice and life advice and a lot of the time it's not possible to 'skip' on doing the 'wrong' thing.

So much art advice is like 'man i wish i learned anatomy or x thing when I was younger, so much time wasted' and yes it seems true in hindsight, learning anatomy is pivotal to my current art... but I think I had to *get* to a point art and well growing up wise where that was even something I could fully comprehend. Theres lots of things where, yeah, I'm sure sitting 12 year old me down and getting them excited about Bones and Muscles wasn't *impossible*, but there was like 100 mini lessons that have no names I had to learn first. It's like, a skill tree in a video game. You have to learn fireball I and II before great fireball IV or whatever. It's easy to say man, why didn't I learn Hard Thing sooner, I would have been so much better by now, when in order to be able for Hard Thing you had to learn all the smaller easier things it leads to. Going straight for the big guns isn't impossible, but you'll end up having to go backwards at some point. In fact I feel like that's what's happening to me now!

I'm like, why is my art shit conpared to a few years ago, why am I half-assing everything, and you know what I spent 5 years only doing full colour full shading stuff because that was The Inevitable Artistic Conclusion and doing Less would be Wasting My Time! And I think that was the right choice actually. *Because* it made me learn that thought process wasn't true.

Also ummm FFAK by kosmicdream who I am sheepishly not tagging basically rewrote my brain? A 6000+ and not even half finished comic drawn with maximum speed and not sweating the details? And its great? And at no point did I think the story was worse off for not being polished to 100% 'completion'? Preposterous!

Well, not really. Loads of comics are like that. I knew I didn't want to be like them. But hm, its a conscious choice now rather than a feeling of shame at not completing things. The reassurance that, it's okay to not finish things, and it's okay to do less in order to finish things. Balance. FFAK just really punched that lesson into my skull rather than the light jabs of comics I'd loved before. I can count the comics I read as a kid that actually *finished* on like, two hands max. I reevaluated, what do I want to be, perfect incompletion or finished imperfection. And chose both and neither because I'm a vile little contrarian.

Am I going to finish my comic? Finished doesn't exist, so no. Does that mean my tedious perfection is justified as long as the unfinished work is what I envisioned? Also no, because I am not the same person I was when I stopped lifting the pen and my idea of perfection is also always just out of reach. Also it's. A story. I want to tell it. Not look at it.

Like, just... do what you want. What you want will change, you can't put a box around it. But also develop discipline, because that box helps. It's always breaking and expanding and shrinking but the box has to be there. You have to try. But you won't succeed. And that's okay, because that's not the goal. It's a dance, not a house.

You might want to build a place to dance easier but you've gotta dance. And you suck at dancing but you love it. And if you don't love ot anymore, go work on the house until you want to again, and you'll think, why am I building this goddamn house instead of dancing, and you'll keep forgetting that the house exists to dance in. Then someday you come back off the scaffolding and realise, woah, holy shit, dancing here is going to be so much better.

And you think, why didn't I make the house like this in the first place? Well, because you only started building the house when you didn't want to dance, imagine if you made the house perfect, and then stopped liking dancing? Well you'd be me, you'd knock that house down, and you'd rebuild it all shit, because you didn't need the house to dance, you needed the process of building it. You can make that perfect house all the time, but you can only make a shit house once. No matter how you try, you're gonna figure out why the house is shit, and make it better.

And you'll say, why didn't I make this first before! I'm learning so much! And you'll remember why, it's because everyone said 'man, don't make a house like I made it. Look at my new house, its so much better, do that! I wasted so much time on the shit house!' But they didnt. They learned. You made their perfect house with no understanding of why it was perfect. You had to break it, to rebuild it, to retrace the steps, to learn.

#oh god I finally made my point #long post #does this make sense I dont know #hit post and maybe someone will get it but its okay if no one does its the process not the result

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glitchydyke · 2 years

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What is your saddest headcanon for Byakuya, Junko, and Sayaka?

HI I STARTED ANSWERING THIS YESTERDAY AND THEN COMPLETELY FORGOT SORRY!! ANYWAY.

byakuya: that, despite what junko said, there was a member of the togami family still alive somewhere within the tragedy. whether it’s somebody who was part of the business, or one of byakuya’s abandoned siblings, someone survived. and when he discovers their existence, he uses all of the power he has within the future foundation to find them and go to them, to reconnect with the last of his family. and then when he finds them, this injured exhausted broken person hiding in the abandoned remains of a tiny house, the last remaining relative he has - they want nothing to do with him. whether it’s because of his actions in the killing game, or because he’s choosing to associate himself with commoners (makoto grips his arm a little tighter at this, toko stumbles back a few paces, and he feels hina bristle with rage behind him), they don’t explain, but they spit in his face and leave the last shard of his legacy broken at his feet. he should feel angry, really - he wants to feel angry, to scream and rage and defend his honour and his family’s name. but everything feels kind of numb. kyoko mutters something from beside him, and he doesn’t have the heart to push hiro’s hand away when it begins to thread through his hair. the togami corporation is lost - and togami loses himself along with it.

junko: that somewhere, deep inside, she was almost a good person. she only ever joined hope’s peak, dragging mukuro along behind her, looking for tragedy. from the moment she entered, all she could see was blood spattered along the hallowed halls and her classmates corpses laying at her feet. but then she meets them. she spends time with them. she feels makoto catch onto her arm to save himself from falling, sending her an awkward smile as he rights himself. she sees chihiro pull her hair into a tiny ponytail, biting her nails as she stares determinedly at a crowded screen. she sees celeste pull a deck of cards from her desk, shuffling them absentmindedly with incredible skill and speed as she talks to kyoko in whispers. she sees mondo fix his hair in the mirror for the third time that day, and grins as he eyes the hair ties on her wrist. she offers him one - why does she do that? what is she doing? why is mukuro talking to sayaka, why are they happy here, why is she happy? hina hugs her as she comes into the classroom, smelling of chlorine and sugar. taka chastises her altercations to her uniform, but a small smile plays at his lips the entire time. for a second, seeing these people in front of her, these wonderful people looking at her with love in their eyes - love, not fear, not worship, not grovelling at her feet - she feels happy. she can’t have that. so she speeds up her plans, watches from a tiny room as pop idols come to rest in bathrooms and her sister falls to the floor, and finds that it brings her the despair she wants. she’s alight with it, this feeling of terror. this is what she wanted. this is what she wanted. so god, why doesn’t it feel right?

sayaka: that she doesn’t know who she wants to be. pop idols were so beautiful, these sparking figures on her tiny tv, the sweet music and the voices that settled deep inside her heart. she wants that. she needs that. so she works, changing her body and her face and her life. she lets her hair grow long down her back, spends night after night losing sleep, staring into the mirror and holding a mascara brush to her eyes with intense determination. singing is only half the battle, she knows. she has to be beautiful. she has to make herself beautiful. so when she’s offered help, by fancy adults in fancy clothing, she accepts. she leaves that tiny tv behind. glitter is spread across her lips, and she wears outfits that only ever become more and more uncomfortable with time. her friends relate, though, with their pastel pink lips and equally awkward outfits. they stay up late rehearsing with her, pass her lit cigarettes over an ornate table. she coughs a little, and they laugh with her. no. at her, but that’s fine. they’re friends. the adults are her friends too, she knows that. they tell her so over and over again as their hands cup her face and slide over her waist. she doesn’t like it, not at all, but it gets her on stage and singing and dancing with the other girls behind her. her name echoes from the crowd - she can’t really see much through the blinding lights, but she knows the audience is smiling. they’re always smiling. she wishes she was too. when the show is over she sits on a scratchy couch - she can’t quite recall when her opinions of the furniture changed from it’s so beautiful to it’s so uncomfortable - and pulls her hair from its ponytail. it doesn’t quite fall, too full of hairspray and glitter, but she expected that. her feet hurt. she presses play on the tv across the room - a flat screen that fills almost the entire wall. they’re talking about her show. everyone is talking about her show. somewhere down the hall, she can hear the crowd still screaming her name. she’s so loved. she wishes she was anything else.

#ANYWAY. GOES INSANE #asks #mj.thoughts #danganronpa #byakuya togami #junko enoshima #sayaka maizono #<- yes. into the tags

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neopantheonteaser · 8 months

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can you tell us more about the gods?

I don't want to spoil too much because this is only the teaser blog! But the gods at at the core of the plot so I understand your curiosity! Here's the little blurbs I've written about them for now. There will be more information available on the main when it's ready.

ENIR - (they/them pronouns) the deity of wisdom. they who have learned all, asker of the impossible question, & the first child. Their domain is death, darkness, and the deep underground. They are intelligent, reserved, elusive, understanding, intellectual, and cautious. They have been known to gift their followers greater memory, a lessened need to sleep, and the ability to mask themselves from perception. UMIR - (she/her pronouns) goddess of fate. The second light, guiding hand of the pantheon, & bearer of the wheel which turns the stars. Her domain is the heavens. She controls the sun, moon, and turning of the stars. All things that are yet to come are the divine ruling of Umir. She is vague, mysterious, unhelpful, wise, distant, and unemotional. She gifts her followers foresight. Many of them receive visions of the future that, while vague, are helpful, when deciphered correctly. TERUS - (she/her pronouns) the goddess of courage. Tamer of the elder serpent, horizonwalker, & she who cannot be bested. Terus’ domain is the sky and mountain peaks. She controls the wind and is known to bring a chill with her at every step. She champions adventurers and warriors. Terus is known for being bold, brash, loving, foolish, and excitable. She gifts her followers with enhanced physical abilities like greater strength, speed, stamina, and reaction time. YEON - (he/him pronouns) the god of power. Bringer of storms, stirrer of seas, & the crowned one. Yeon’s domain is fire, storms, war, and chaos. He champions those who seek great affluence and prestige. He is known for being prideful, boisterous, reactive, impulsive, passionate, dedicated, and violent. Yeon has appointed himself as the leader of the Neopatheon, but that is a title gained through sheer force of will alone. He gifts his followers the ability to summon and control either fire or lightning; depending on what they choose. AKLENOS - (any pronouns) the god of loyalty. Creator of the earth, friend to all beasts, & uniter of the pantheon. Their domain is earth, flora, & fauna. They are known for being kind, honest, loving, accepting, generous, petty, jealous, and controlling. They gift their followers aura reading, empathy, and telepathic communication. However, the followers of Aklenos can only communicate telepathically with each other. BETRIX - (they/them pronouns) the deity of charity. Source of the wellspring, giver of life, & silent one. Their domain is water and life. Beatrix has never taken a form that a human has observed. They do not appear to their followers or speak to them. To follow Betrix is to blindly trust that they exist. All followers of Betrix have learned to trust their instincts and do what they feel is right; believing that if they feel compelled to act, it is the will of their patron. Betrix gifts their followers accelerated healing and the ability to heal others.

#lsrp #lsrpg #literate rp #oc rp #rp #tag:lore.

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pwnyta · 2 years

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I need to say this… Genshin’s biggest problem is not the fact that every new character needs newer materials to ascend (because you don’t need high lvl units at the beginning of the game + you can speed run the game), but the fact that event stories happen… and then they are gone forever.

Majority of Genshin event stories are really good or at least enjoyable, but I wonder what the fuck would people think couple of years from now when they would see fanarts from the events without knowing that those fanarts are connected to events… there is already people who don’t know why people ship Mona and Scaramouch, and people who are super confused about other things that they’ve seen and thought “oh I guess I will see it later in the main story” but alas… my point being that it will SUCK to be a new player, because a lot of lore/canon characters interactions exists only within events. I loved interactions between Xinyan and Childe, Scaramouch’s story was interesting, fucking FAKEBEDO is a whole new character that only exists in the event, there were TWO completely new maps to explore (Apple Archipelago and the Enkanomiya one, sorry, I don’t remember names), there is just… so much stuff put into events. Wasn’t the information about Guoba being a god a part of an event story?

There is just so much, but I also have no idea how to fix this lol. They can rerun events, but that would either mean that og players would need to go through the same plots again, or that og players would be completely locked out of the events they went through. Also, there were so many events that it would take too much time to rerun even the majority of them. My point being… maybe put those events as an extra episodes for a new players? Like, they wouldn’t be able to get primos out of it, but at least they would know a little more about lore

I disagree with that first part. I dont think you can argue the lore in 1 time events are important if youre advocating people speed run the main story of the game… THAT SAID… youre right about the 1-time events.

Its a shame really. Does Albedo have 2 events connected to him that are gone now? I know the Festering Desire was an exclusive sword from an event I wasnt around for and then Fakebedo too of course… which also had an exclusive sword which is Albedos best in slot.

Honestly I can accept 1-time events, if you can play Genshin you can watch the events played out by someone on YT but when theres an amazing free weapon attached to it… you can never get it! I mean missing out on a fun event is one thing but missing an exclusive item is the real problem.

The Golden Apple Archipelago was SO much fun I just cant believe people have to miss out on that. The community during that time was at its PEAK tolerable just because it was a ton of fun. Wait the Three Realms Gateway event was a 1 off story?! Thats ROUGH. Another weapon gone… also some great Vishap lore and possibly hints that Kokomi is a fucking Vishap. I love how theyre like 'Vishap people have slit pupils' and guess whos the only character without pupils at all…

Also Chongyun has slit pupils….

But also also… Being nervous that some people are dragon people is a little strange in the realm of Genshin where theres cat people, dog people, various Yokai and the Adepti… one of which is a literal dragon who brought millennia of peace to his nation… whos very close friends with a character who might be another one of the Vishap Sovereigns from the lore of that event… and no one cares. LMFAO

Yeah I mean its inconvenient but like I said you can just watch the event on Youtube…. the only trouble is missing some good F2P weapons SUCKS especially with the Fakebedo event since thats Albedos BEST weapon….

You also miss the little pets which is sad but probably not a big deal. Imagine not having that cute Shiba you can fight in your teapot because you missed that event. Couldnt be me.

#Dear Nonny.

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sheviolentlyher · 6 months

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Another weekend of deep space consciousness and intentional articulation and I’m convinced I’m an astronaut continuously tumbling throughout my own head space. 🚀

Grand rising my infinity and beyond. The sun has risen above the bush line before I woke. The sun peaked through my window just right this morning, shining right into my eyes. Ok. Ok. I’m up.

I found myself thinking of him this morning. Convincing myself to stay out by digging a little more into my wounds than I would like. I choose to move on quickly.

I’m not sure what do really do with my time when it is just me. I tend to move slower and regulate my processing. Sometimes forcing my mind to walk in sync with me. Slow and steady wins the race.

This weekend was full of deep but small realizations. I like putting my mindset in a position of power. I have found if you also do this with your imagination, you can manifest what it is you’re looking for. I like to imagine that I am a highly knowledgeable scientist studying the connection between words, human behavior and the human mind. Expecting nothing but appreciating everything from my results. I don’t let failed thoughts get in the way of my work. Only I know and feel when the desired result is achieved.

I think about my time on social media more than I want to. I think about people more than I want to. I think about collaboration more than I want to. Constantly hushing a natural longing within myself. I stopped trying to figure out what it is, and try to allow those parts of me to grow into something more advantageous. Finding more creative ways for these to be expressed and understood.

I have found the less effort you put into your sadness, the more it starts to make sense. I really believe that life moves at such an incredible speed that we are overwhelmed by the body wanting to be decompressed or relieved that we hardly understand the purpose of depression.

Depression is not so scary if you listened closely. Most tend to avoid this occurrence. They aren’t listening to themselves in a productive manner. Our minds need upgrading every so often and I think depression is that signal. I think some keep their lives so chaotic that they almost drown out the need to recompose. I don’t know. Maybe I am just being too sensitive about it all.

I can only really live within my hypotheses. A proposed explanation made on the basis of limited evidence, yet a starting point for further investigation. I’m a mad neuroscientist in my own home. This way of thinking puts my mind at a position of power while accepting that I am not in control. I am simply experiencing the world as a case study instead of a control group.

The biggest thing I’m working on now is regulating my patience and desire for results. When it doesn’t go my way I tend to become easily defeated. But which each defeat, I am able to learn instead of parish into self sabotage and pity. Don’t get me wrong, some days it is hard, but I refuse to surrender to the invisible and disadvantaged thoughts of what humans like to call failure. No such things exists. With my scientific analysis I am able to gain what I need in order to readjust the situation by incorporating my “failures” simply as life experiences. This gives my mind the ability to embrace what the world calls failure in order to realign me with my higher self, or with my successes.

No one determines what your success looks like. Only you hold the progressive visions and tools you need to manifest your reality. Ambition cradles the fragility of it all. Desire can by rerouted to move with you and not against you. Patience and understanding are gained as a result of this process.

I believe that if we believed in ourselves as much as we as humanity believed in God, then we would truly be able to live by “gods will.” Everyone talks so heavily about ego, and never considers the will of man. What is the will of man? Is the will of man in fact the serpent? Metaphorically it seems possible that the modern day mind is slowly turning the will of man into the beast.

We label our will with words like “temptation” and “sin” but I still don’t understand these words and how they work. I these words are subjective. Why is it so important that we maneuver so deliberately around these words? According to God, temptation looks very much like a juicy apple in times of hunger. Sin looks very much like eating the juicy apple. Well from my perspective that simply looks very much like human nature, so why does this fill us with moral regret?

I have no clue what I’m talking about. I’m just simply moving my brain. Maybe too much today. I look forward to a day of moving about in my physical body. Experiencing life the way it just is without trying to feel pressured to “make it better” because society might say I’m not experiencing it right. No, I’m simply inexperienced and in order to gain experience you must expose.

To me, exposing my mind and thoughts to someone is equivalent to lifting up my shirt and showing them my breasts. It’s intimate, sacred, vulnerable and thrilling because people tend to be stuck in this mundane facade and they don’t even know it.

Ugh. 😣 I need a deeper kind of rest today. I need to recalibrate.

Life is absolutely stunning and most days I find myself affected by how closed their minds are. Sometimes I take it personally and it makes me feel a bit crazy, but I’m always able to give myself comfort and I’m really good at healing myself when I am hurt. I know my power because I use it on myself daily. If I do fall into a sadness it is solely to learn more about myself than I did before, it is not to feel sorry for myself. I am always in close observation of myself but I pay closer attention to others. I do not compare, I only learn from.

I hope that anyone reading my writing learns something new and intimate about themselves. I hope they start using their knowledge to repair the interpersonal connections caused by inexperience. Keep getting wiser my friend.

-x

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pooma-today · 1 year

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JANUARY 12

NATIONAL YOUTH DAY – A booster dose to to reap demographic dividend

°°Dr. M Ramachandran [The UN Educationist]

As per the datas made available by UNO in 2022, India is the youngest populous country in the world. The median or mid – point age of Indians are 28 years whereas in China and North America it is (37), Europe (45) and 49 years in Japan. This age factor refers to the stage that India is experiencing the third phase of demographic dividend. Demographic dividend occurs when the proportion of productive or working age or income earning population (18 – 59 years) is more than the depended population or children below 15 years and the old aged above 60 years.

India entered the era of demographic dividend in 2005 – 06 and will remain till 2055 – 56 which means 5 decades of sustainable economic growth and development. It is expected that India will reach at its peak of demographic dividend in the financial year 2040 – 41. It means India has its growth potential of workforce to contribute 20% more to its GDP ( Gross Domestic Product ).

India – the largest population country in the world. India is expected to surpass China to become the world’s most populated country by the end of 2023. The share of Indians to the global population is 17.7%. Our Youth population ( age group 18 – 59 years ) is about 62% now. This is a reflection of third phase of demographic dividend, ie, the Labour Force ( Youth Force ) grows more rapidly than population depend ratio. In this context National Youth day is very important to us.

¶ Significance of National Youth Day 2023 :

“You have to grow from the inside out. None can teach you, none can make you spiritual. There is no other teacher but your own soul.”[Swami Vivekananda]

The above message to the youth given by the great philosopher of India, Swami Vivekananda is the core of National Youth Day Celebration. He reminded the youth of our great nation that nobody knows you better than yourself, you are the best teacher of yourself, Power lies within you. God is Omnipresent. Trust yourself, Be a master of your actions. Never underestimate yourself and maintain your unique identity. He exhorted the youth to internalise these principles in our personal life. The very purpose of observing National Youth Day on 12th January ( to commemorate the birth anniversary of Swamy Vivekananda ) every year is to guide and motivate the youth of our country to follow the right path of spirituality and inspire them to face any challenges in their life with confidence, grit and determination and to serve the nation as a Nation Builder.

The significance of National Youth Day is to recognise the important role that the youth of the country has to contribute their dues for harvesting the advantages of demographic dividend through which they can serve the Nation as Nation Builder.

The New Education Policy ( NEP 2020 ) is another major instrument to speed up the phase of demographic dividend. All the innovative and skill acquisition programmes incorporated in the New Education Policy will show its full outcome by the year 2040. Simultaneously India will reach at the pinnacle of economic prosperity or the peak of demographic dividend.

Through the Central, State and Union Territory Governments are filling the existing vacancies, recruitment to Defence forces through Agnipath schemes, new job opportunities made available by corporate firms through which millions of our youth population joins the productive work force. At the same time millions of youth particularly under graduates and graduates seek admission opportunities in foreign countries which in turn stand in the way of reaping the harvest of demographic dividend. This is a serious concern to be addressed by the authorities on the eve of National Youth Day.

{The writer is the Sr. Principal of CIT Public School, Tumkur}

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shamsaddinmegalommatis · 2 years

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Neynava: a Contemporary Music Accompaniment or the Diachronic Echo of the Orient?

Нейнава: современное музыкальное сопровождение или диахроническое эхо Востока?

(чтобы прочитать русскоязычную версию, листайте вниз!)

107 Pictures in Album / 107 Фотографии в альбоме: https://vk.com/album429864789_285631354

Music / Музыка:

Back in the middle 1980s, Hossein Ali Zadeh's Neynava was, first and foremost, my constant music accompaniment from Nineveh, Assyria, Kalhu (Nimrud), Arbil and Kirkuk to Cizre, Hakkari, Van, Urmia, Tekab, Hamadan and Kermanshah, throughout all the valleys of the Anti-Taurus and Zagros.

In summer, spring, winter and autumn, in Northern Iraq, Eastern Turkey or Western Iran, when I entered a bus, a minibus or a taxi, after resuming my seat, I always put the cassette in my tape recorder (Sony Walkman) and started playing the music. I saw interminable landscapes, traveling on the Neynava sound waves.

The years passed, the techniques changed, the exercises became more difficult, the explorations went back and forth, and the speed became comparable to the tempo of Ferdowsi's narratives. My inclination to these transcendental Russian Mountains, the constant roller coaster of my life, took me to different places in variable times.

Moving from Sargon of Akkad to Tamerlane, exploring the tellurian matter, discovering the aquatic undulations, and traveling on the aerial trajectories, I arrived in the Invisible Palace of Nezami Ganjavi.

And when the mysterious "Seven" became the ostensible "Eight", instead of me traveling, the various places and the diverse times came to visit me. Only then I discovered the radiation of the Tears of the Man, the vibration of the Blood of God, the blessings of Ludlul Bel Nemeqi, and the Truth of the Hidden Quran.

- Was I a soldier in the Battle?

- Where are the Mountains of the Ultimate Limit?

- What makes the inexorable strength of the Soft Waters?

- How long can an Army endure when crossing the sand of the desert, which is the Entrance to the Netherworld?

- Whom does the Sperm of God heal?

- Is the Fight of the Man always meant to entertain the Soul of a Mountain and the Heart of a River?

- Are all these inimical reflections truly real beings or did we all create them because of our fears?

- Will the 600 Anunnaki rise at last to greet us in a sign of approbation?

After I stayed long at the very bottom of the cylinders of these hitherto unanswered questions, I decided to rise and come back to my daily occupations. Through the myriad of corridors, across the innumerable pathways of atemporal existence, thanks to the absolute control of ethereal particles and to the balance of electromagnetic vibrations, when the velocity becomes infinite and the oscillation none, by means of spiritual anxiety, pulmonary benediction, mental supplication, cordial empathy and intestinal nihility, I crossed the nonexistent space of time and appeared at the peak of a mountain.

The Ardalani shepherd who was in the near slopes had two dogs, one male and one female. The male dog started to rub against my right leg, and the female against my left leg. The shepherd asked me how many years we were left with and I said how many millennia had passed.

The affinity of numbers is a joyful experience. Delighted because of our mutual nutritional abstinence, vitalized due to our reciprocal celibacy, electrified thanks to our mental chastity, empty of thoughts, free of desires, and clear of feelings, we embraced one another, heart on heart, as it happened since the times of Sargon of Akkad, paid tribute to one another, and returned to our respective times.

The number of affinities is a distressing experience. And the sole solace for me now is my Ardalani friend whom I so unexpectedly encountered and from whom I so much learned. I feel that you may perhaps wish to ask me why, willing to come back to my daily occupations, I inadvertently met the Ardalani shepherd. I thought you knew; sometimes, I make mistakes.

An echo was coming from the four corners of the Universe; it was an incredible resonance within the cylinders of these hitherto unanswered questions. The myriad of corridors only reinforced this echo; the innumerable pathways made it impossible for me to escape the enchanting echo. Then, when the velocity becomes finite and the oscillation begins, first the cordial empathy is held captive. With your feelings captive, you stop at an earlier moment. There I met the Ardalani shepherd.

He was not Ardalani or, if you prefer, he was as Ardalani as I am. We both had simply stopped at the time of the Ardalan Khan Helo. Enchanted by the same echo, we both made a mistake. The Ardalani shepherd was returning to his time, which has not yet come. To reach the antediluvian times that he wanted to explore he came out of the Sea of Glass. We spoke about our experience and he asked me whether I know the sublime echo. I replied positively; I knew the echo only too well. It was Neynava, my constant music accompaniment.

The Ardalani shepherd found it blissful and as ecstatic as every ascetic sound is. That's why finally my mistake was beneficial. Thanks to my sentimental ineptitude, I came to learn so much about the shepherds of the future, namely an epoch which is very close to us. In this forthcoming epoch, the Earth will be different, free of cities and villages, empty of buildings, and clean of things. The turquoise color of the sky will be due to the total absence of sea and salt waters. The few worthwhile men and women, who will survive, will not eat anything and will not copulate. It will be a free world with no thoughts, no feelings, and no desires; that's why there will be no wars, no killings, and no sicknesses.

Immaculate conception will be the majestic manner by which the life of forthcoming generations will be starting, and luminescent birth will the royal manner by which the activity of forthcoming generations will be beginning on the surface of the Earth, where there will be no more deserts.

My Ardalani friend travels always with his sheep and the two dogs; in his perfect, imperial world, all people are nomads. Their vestibular abilities are superior; their tactile functions are as subtle as the underlying force of Ether demands; their auditory duties are as harmonious as the Crystal Firmament; and their olfactory purposes are as angelic as the Frankincense of Punt-Somalia. Their formidable visual capabilities, as consequence of their luminescent birth, are unfathomable as they are able to turn their eyes into a Lighthouse of their bodies. And their Light is not darkness, as it happens in our ending times.

And despite the incessant echo of Neynava, I still remember the last reassuring and comforting words of my Ardalani friend. In the critical years of upheaval, when all the rulers of today's world and most of the worthless populations will perish in eternal fire, during the 1335 days of the darkness, two unexpected, divine presents will be offered to the worthwhile, moral and ascetic survivors:

- the invisible conduit -within which the Sun sails for all- will not be affected but perfectly protected, and

- the Moon will be the only luminary to shed ample light on a limited part of the Earth from where Life will restart. This will be the location where Gishgida, the Tree of Life, will appear among the Chosen People whom the Savior will drive back to their land.

East of Tigris River and around the Tree of Life a Luminous Cylinder will be the Sign of God's Everlasting Love - to the very few and most worthwhile ones.

These were the benefits of my attunement with Neynava.

----------------------------------------------

Нейнава: современное музыкальное сопровождение или диахроническое эхо Востока?

Еще в середине 1980-х Нейнава Хоссейна Али Заде была, прежде всего, моим постоянным музыкальным сопровождением от Ниневии, Ассирии, Калху (Нимруд), Арбиля и Киркука до Джизре, Хаккари, Вана, Урмии, Текаб, Хамадана и Керманшаха на протяжении всего долины Анти-Тавра и Загроса.

Летом, весной, зимой и осенью, в Северном Ираке, Восточной Турции или Западном Иране, когда я садился в автобус, микроавтобус или такси, после того, как занял свое место, я всегда вставлял кассету в свой магнитофон (Sony Walkman) и начал играть музыку. Я видел бесконечные пейзажи, путешествуя по звуковым волнам Нейнавы.

Шли годы, менялись техники, упражнения усложнялись, исследования шли вперед и назад, а скорость становилась сравнимой с темпом повествований Фирдоуси. Моя тяга к этим заоблачным русским горам, постоянным американским горкам моей жизни, приводила меня в разные места в разное время.

Двигаясь от Саргона Аккадского к Тамерлану, исследуя теллурическую материю, открывая водные волны и путешествуя по воздушным траекториям, я прибыл в Незримый Дворец Незами Гянджеви.

И когда таинственная «Семерка» стала мнимой «Восьмеркой», вместо меня в путешествии ко мне стали приходить разные места и переменные времена. Только тогда я обнаружил излучение Слез Человека, вибрацию Крови Бога, благословения Лудлул Бел Немеки и Истину Сокровенного Корана.

- Был ли я солдатом в битве?

- Где Горы Предельного Предела?

- В чем неумолимая сила Мягких Вод?

- Как долго может продержаться Армия, пересекая песок пустыни, являющейся Входом в Преисподнюю?

- Кого исцеляет Сперма Бога?

- Всегда ли Борьба Человека предназначена для того, чтобы развлечь Душу Горы и Сердце Реки?

- Действительно ли все эти враждебные отражения являются реальными существами или мы все создали их из-за наших страхов?

- Поднимутся ли, наконец, 600 аннунаков, чтобы поприветствовать нас в знак одобрения?

После того, как я долго пробыл на самом дне цилиндров этих до сих пор остававшихся без ответа вопросов, я решил встать и вернуться к своим повседневным занятиям. Мириадами коридоров, бесчисленными путями вневременного существования, благодаря абсолютному контролю над эфирными частицами и равновесию электромагнитных вибраций, когда скорость становится бесконечной, а колебание нет, посредством духовного беспокойства, легочного благословения, ментального мольбой, сердечным сочувствием и внутренним ничтожеством я пересек несуществующее пространство времени и оказался на вершине горы.

У пастуха Ардалани, который был на близлежащих склонах, было две собаки, самец и самка. Кобель начал тереться о мою правую ногу, а самка — о левую. Пастух спросил меня, сколько лет нам осталось, и я сказал, сколько тысячелетий прошло.

Близость чисел – это радостное переживание. Обрадованные нашим взаимным воздержанием от пищи, оживлённые нашим взаимным безбрачием, наэлектризованные благодаря нашему душевному целомудрию, пустые от мыслей, свободные от желаний и ясные от чувств, мы обнялись сердцем к сердцу, как это бывало издревле. Саргона Аккадского, отдали дань уважения друг другу и вернулись в наше время.

Количество сродств — удручающий опыт. И единственным утешением для меня теперь является мой друг Ардалани, с которым я так неожиданно столкнулся и от которого так многому научился. Я чувствую, что вы, возможно, захотите спросить меня, почему, желая вернуться к своим повседневным занятиям, я случайно встретил ардаланского пастуха. Я думал, вы знали; иногда я ошибаюсь.

Эхо шло из четырех уголков Вселенной; это был невероятный резонанс в цилиндрах этих до сих пор остававшихся без ответа вопросов. Мириада коридоров только усиливала это эхо; бесчисленные пути сделали невозможным для меня избежать чарующего эха. Затем, когда скорость становится конечной и начинается колебание, сначала пленяется сердечное сопереживание. Когда ваши чувства находятся в плену, вы останавливаетесь в более ранний момент. Там я встретил ардаланского пастуха.

Он не был Ардалани, или, если хотите, он был таким же Ардалани, как я.

Мы оба просто остановились во время Ардаланского хана Хело. Очарованные одним и тем же эхом, мы оба совершили ошибку. Пастух Арделани возвращался в свое время, которое еще не пришло. Чтобы достичь допотопных времен, которые он хотел исследовать, он вышел из Стеклянного Моря. Мы говорили о нашем опыте, и он спросил меня, знаю ли я возвышенное эхо. я ответил положительно; Я слишком хорошо знал эхо. Это была Нейнава, мое постоянное музыкальное сопровождение.

Пастух Ардалани находил его блаженным и таким же восторженным, как и каждый аскетический звук. Вот почему, наконец, моя ошибка пошла на пользу. Благодаря моей сентиментальной неумелости я так много узнал о пастухах будущего, именно об очень близкой нам эпохе. В эту грядущую эпоху Земля будет другой, свободной от городов и деревень, пустой от зданий и чистой от вещей. Бирюзовый цвет неба будет обусловлен полным отсутствием морской и соленой воды. Те немногие достойные мужчины и женщины, которые выживут, ничего не будут есть и не будут совокупляться. Это будет свободный мир без мыслей, без чувств и без желаний; поэтому не будет ни войн, ни убийств, ни болезней.

Непорочное зачатие будет величественным образом, которым будет начинаться жизнь грядущих поколений, а светоносное рождение будет царским образом, которым начнется деятельность грядущих поколений на поверхности Земли, где не будет больше пустынь.

Мой друг Ардалани всегда путешествует со своими овцами и двумя собаками; в его совершенном имперском мире все люди — кочевники. Их вестибулярные способности превосходны, их тактильные функции столь же тонки, как и основная сила эфира; их слуховые обязанности так же гармоничны, как Хрустальный Небесный свод; и их обонятельные цели столь же ангельские, как ладан Пунт-Сомали. Их огромные визуальные способности, как следствие их светящегося рождения, непостижимы, поскольку они способны превратить свои глаза в Маяк своих тел. И их Свет не тьма, как это бывает в наши последние времена.

И несмотря на непрекращающееся эхо Нейнавы, я до сих пор помню последние ободряющие и утешительные слова моего ардаланского друга. В критические годы потрясений, когда все правители сегодняшнего мира и большая часть никчемного населения погибнут в вечном огне, в течение 1335 дней мрака, два неожиданных божественных подарка будут предложены достойным, нравственным и аскетически уцелевшим:

- невидимый канал, по которому плывет Солнце для всех, не будет затронут, но полностью защищен, и

- Луна будет единственным светилом, проливающим достаточно света на ограниченную часть Земли, откуда возобновится Жизнь. Это будет место, где Гишгида, Древо Жизни, появится среди Избранного Народа, которого Спаситель вернет на свою землю.

К востоку от реки Тигр и вокруг Древа Жизни Светящийся Цилиндр будет Знаком Вечной Любви Бога - для очень немногих и самых достойных.

Таковы были преимущества моей настройки на Нейнаву.

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dienamights · 3 years

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A Reverberate Lullaby | K.Bakugou

✎ The echoing howls stalk you, a ghost hunched on your shoulders, wailing like a child calling for rescue, who cries with no tears. Chanting for a hero that is willing to pick up the pieces of its soul and being, yet it is only left to wither. For the ghost has lost faith that such others exist and can only be cured by finding them, for you are the ghost of your world and love is the only true exorcist.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 4.1K

✎ Category: hurt/comfort, Implied Mature Content MDNI, Prohero!au, Established relationship!au

✎ Caution(!): Implied Mature Content MDNI, mention of depressive state, toxic family, toxic coping mechanism, mention of reader’s weight gain and thoughts about self worth. Please keep in mind while every person’s reaction to depression is different, don’t belittle anyone’s battle when you don’t understand it.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s taking care! Still on hiatus BUT I’m here to post my contribution to the Mental Health Awareness collab by @doinmybesthere ! This has been in the works for a while because I kept scarping ideas for triggering me lmao. This piece is very personal to me and I’m glad I am able to share my experience with you all, I hope that it might help anyone out there in reaching out and asking for help because I know how difficult and scary it might be! Please check out everyone’s contribution that they worked so hard for! kisses kisses take care!

OOH ALSO! Thank you so much for 900 followers aaaaaah! You’re all so amazing and if anyone has suggestions for an event to hold in June lemme know! I’ll also think of some ideas

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The morning sun barely rises and peaks through your blinds, sunshine starting to kiss at your cheeks as you squint at the light, the room welcoming the warmth that is being brought into it after the evening’s chill that made you curl tighter in on yourself, clasping whatever heat you could muster than to turn around and find it in the heating pad of a body that lays next to you.

An alarm only just rings before quickly being shut off, followed by the creaking of the bed when the person behind you shifts, shifts again, another time, before getting up and stalking to the bathroom, after letting an elongated sigh when they sit at the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence accompanying theirs. The door clicking closed before the trickling of water fills the quiet room.

Your clock reads 5 am when you squint at it, and you blink at the time before you go on with your routine, setting up breakfast while your boyfriend gets ready to go to work.

Oddly enough, you don’t really quite remember when you started working on the food, all that you could see in front of you is nothing but a scene that looks like it’s out of a broken TV - there’s just so much static. The voices are distorted, as if they’re coming from a defective radio.

“Listen, this ain’t about me, this is about you and how you-”

“What about me? Huh? That you see me as nothing but a burden? No, you can say it-”

“You wanna hear me fuckin’ say it then fine! This is about you sitting on yer ass all day obsessing over her while she wouldn’ give you the time of day y/n. When will you fuckin’ realize that?”

The scene blurs and sways, and you feel your mind run at a speed you didn’t know it could muster, and you’re unable to keep up with it. The knife in your hand shakes vigorously and barely misses your fingers when you bring it down to cut the vegetables.

The sound of the bedroom door shutting closed alerts you, straightening your back when you hear the drop of your boyfriend’s gauntlet by his chair at the dining table. Katsuki approaches you with careful steps, his still ungloved hand circles your waist before pressing his lips to your temple, a gruff greeting of a whisper laced in between.

“G’morning.”

The familiar scent of caramel mixed in with his aftershave welcomes you, wraps around you and cradles you, promising everlasting safety and happiness. Yet, your heart wrenching sobs and muffled crash of your laptop against your floor that rings in your ears tell a different story, shrieking at you, roaring about your failures, mocking your entire existence.

“Made gohan, should be ready in a minute.” you mumble back, posture stiff at the close proximity of Katsuki and you feel the curl of his lips in displeasure pressing into your temple from both not reciprocating his greeting and your choice of meal for the morning. “You don’ eat gohan,”

“s’why I’m making it.” The quick retreat from your figure is like a slap to your face, and you barely stop yourself from reaching out and forcing his arms back around you. Because it's the bite in his voice that halts your movement.

“You’re still going?” you finally turn to take a look at him, the garnets in his eyes shifting, bleeding from hurt, betrayal, confusion, you really weren’t sure. And by God you had no energy left to try and figure out. “Yes I’m still going Katsuki, they’re my-”

“Yer really listenin’ to the bullshit spillin’ outta ya? This isn’t about em being your family y/n, we’ve been through with it already.” the space between you two feels like endless miles, pieces of the broken bridge you both worked so hard to build the only evidence of it ever being there, the rest crumbling into the valley in between your bodies.

“No, you’ve been through with it, I just wanna make things right, m-maybe I can fix it”

“It ain’t yours to fix y/n, when will you realize that?”

“No!” there you go again, sobbing pathetically. “W-why can’t I have a family, huh? Why- why can’t I, fuck, have a family that just loves and supports me a-and just doesn’t- ” your voice croaks, not failing to notice how Katsuki stepped away from the wreck in front of him. Probably having had enough of you, had enough of how troubling and bothersome you are, probably wondering how he got roped with all your shit and got dragged into your mess of a life.

His hands feel like scolding fire when they’re placed on your shoulders, halting their shaking as you cry into the palm of your hand to muffle the sobs, a habit Katsuki has been working so hard on to help you overcome, saddened to see you try and hide your vulnerability from him.

“Because they never made an effort, so why should you?” The tugging at your heart burns, the swallowed sobs feel like needles prickling at your lungs, making breathing feel like an impossible chore. You can’t help but feel restrained whenever you’re presented with the truth, especially unfiltered and unsugarcoated like right now, you know he’s right, you’ve known he was right a long time ago, but admitting it out loud just felt borderline impossible.

So you do what you do best, push him away, all the strength you can muster barely budges his figure, the meal forgotten on the counter as you run and lock the bedroom door on yourself.

Your footsteps feel heavy, dreading the topics and scenes you’re bound to relive. The grip on the strap of your shoulder bag tightening as you push the glass door open. A sigh escapes past your lips again as you enter the restaurant, half-heartedly smiling at the hostess before making your way inside to look for them.

It’s always the same scenery, the kind that always makes you want to run away to the other direction instead of being dragged down into whatever hell this is. And you pause to question yourself, again, why you actually agreed to put yourself out there.

There they are, seated in the four person table, with two empty seats, one for yourself and the other for the sibling your mother always hoped to have instead of you.

Your mother’s pursed lip could be seen from where you stand at the entrance, the clicking of her tapping foot sounding as bad as grinding metals in your ear, you hate it, despise it

It’s the same clicking you learned to memorize, to anticipate, to fear, when she passed by your room, the clicking that made you smother your face in your pillows and swallow your sobs, because the sound of you crying brought her more distress and annoyance than concern for her daughter.

With another tug at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, you approach the table, hugging your father when he stands up and nodding to your mom when she eyes your figure.

“Good morning mother. It’s good to see you.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Here we go, you breathe out before tugging at a strand of hair, spitting out your words “nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Then why does it look awful like that?”

There are times like these where you are left to question your reasoning for accepting whatever invitation you received from your parents to have brunch with them after all those months, a moment of weakness deceiving you into believing it was better than to spend it in your empty apartment, with the silence that ate away at your sanity every second. The only evidence of life in it other than yours was the recently cleaned dishes and the note thanking you for the meal, the promise of cuddles and movies tonight making you gain just a little more patience, barely.

You refrain from answering, your response is to lower your head, drag the dining chair before plopping on it, a dreary sigh escaping your lips as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Your mother never changes, it’s been a while since you were able to move out of her home, and while your father tries to tell you that these brunches are a way to reconnect with them, you yourself know that it’s merely a chance for your mother to nitpick at everything you ever did or are doing since you left.

“How have you been y/n.” your father smiles at you, both of you ignoring the sound of your mother kissing her teeth when her attempted jab at you is ignored. “Uh, I uh I’ve been good, I just wrapped up with my exams and so far things have been-”

“How is your hero boyfriend?”

For a second, you contemplate whether to ignore her question and keep conversing with your dad, dreading the questions that are to be pushed your way regarding Katsuki, of which will be used as bragging material for when she meets whatever group of friends she associates herself with, but you know better than to ignore her with the way she gets when she isn’t fed with attention.

“He’s uh, good.”

“Why isn’t he here today? What, too good to meet us?” your mother nags, and for the love of God, would that fucking clicking ever stop?

“No, he’s doing his job of, you know, being a hero.”

“Is he now? Well, what about you, hm?” She cocks her head as her nails tap the table. ”Did you think your father and I wouldn’t figure out you got fired?”

“How-” the gritting of your teeth is deafening at this point, your jaw clenching so tightly as you and your mother stare each other down. “Your dad pulled some strings, it isn’t that hard. So tell me, you like leeching off of him after you were done with us?”

“This isn’t, I just- I was- I, I had a lot of university work piling up a-and I couldn’t make time for my shifts and I just, it was just so hard for me to get out of bed these days and I.” why are you doing this? Why are you explaining yourself to people that don’t deserve it? Why are you feeding off of their acceptance, knowing damn well you never got it, and that thing was never gonna change.

“Oh, I don’t wanna hear about you not getting out of bed, you’re here now aren’t you? This is all in your head y/n. You need to stop talking nonsense, what’re people gonna say about you, about me, when they hear you?”

It feels just like yesterday, your figure standing and facing your full length mirror, your reflection eyeing you with identical vacant eyes. Fingers running through your bed head, a wince escaping you at the movement. Bringing your hand up and catching a glimpse of a slight swollen purple bruise along your wrist and the dried blood on your knuckles, the skin stretching upon rotating your wrist and causing notable pain.

Alas, that pain paled in comparison to when your mom barged into your room, blaming you for the way you were acting and belittling your reasoning. Beckoning your father over to replace your broken vanity and for your house maid to disinfect the space, the place sparkling clean and void of any evidence of what had transpired the day prior.

The shattered glass was picked up and thrown out, the splatters of blood were wiped clean, and whenever you brought up, what your mom refers to as ‘the temper tantrum’, you’re ignored by both your parents as they continued about their day, fearing the shame it would bring upon their name if the event was to catch others’ attention.

“Good morning! I’ll be your server for the day. What can I get you?” the foreign voice sounds more comforting than your own mother’s, and you almost laugh at the irony of it, but you only return her smile and take a look at the menu. Lighting up a smidge at the name of one of the dishes, while your parents place their order.

“Can I please get the soufflé pancake?” you look up to catch the horrified look on your mother’s face, followed by her clicking her tongue and shaking her head as if your choice of food was shameful.

“Certainly-”

“Uh, no she won’t be having that. Get her the Honzen Ryori,” your mother eyed your figure -whatever was visible to her from across the table- before turning to face the server again “maybe cut down on the rice, God knows she doesn’t need the extra calories.” and waves her off, disregarding your protests and tapping her nail against the table top, her annoying method in demanding your silence, which you subconsciously react to, snapping your mouth shut when the sound reaches your ears.

“What was that for? You know I like having sweet breakfasts,” was fuming even close to what you are feeling? Probably not. “Yes I can clearly see that, you’ve let yourself go as well. Do you think that boyfriend of yours will stick around when you start putting on even more weight?”

At a loss for words, you turn to your father, who has been quiet this whole time, for any sense of support when it comes to his wife. But the way he presses his lips together tells you all you need to know, how just because he isn’t bad as her, doesn’t make him that great of a parent. That standing by while you have been bullied your entire childhood and well into your adulthood is just as bad as being the cause of it.

“God forbid he realizes how much of a train wreck you really are and throws you on the side of the street, because you know damn well we won’t be here to pick you up.”

It began as a whispering in the air. The day had been beautiful -well, as beautiful as it can be with the kind of day you’re having- and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. The clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of sun. People quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The postcard-perfect sky started changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade merged in with the flaming orange and mesmerizing purple as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, before beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud start to form, blocking out the old-gold color of the sun.

The first splatter of rain hits you when you’re halfway across the street, dismissing the need to take shelter under the roof of the buildings like some passersby are doing, hoping to see out the shower. Droplets of moisture begin to drip onto your head, sprinkling onto you like a gardener’s hose. It was well after your meal with your parents, and you had spent the last few hours walking aimlessly through the streets, making sure to avoid those covered by your boyfriend during his patrol. Hoping, praying, that something will clear your head, will help your poor jumbled mess of a mind forget about this entire nightmare of a day.

Should’ve listened to him

The rainfall intensifies, the drops drumming against the hood of the cars that you pass by, there is so much rain that the sound blurs into one long, whirring noise, reminding you of the blades of the fan that you stuck your finger in, that one time when you were left alone in your house when you were only five years of age. Eventually, they fade into a musical chime as you push your drenched hair away from your face and feel the vibration from your phone as it rings the ninth, maybe tenth time.

He told me so.

Tall apartment complex building; you couldn’t see its end from where you stand. You shiver as you approach it, the doorman - bless his heart - running and placing his umbrella to futilely shield you from the rain, and you just laugh and tell him that you’re already drenched and just waiting to go back home.

God forbid he realizes how much of train wreck I am

Not wanting to dampen the people at the elevator and make them uncomfortable, you take the stairs up to your shared apartment, you usually don't mind the exercise but with how heavy you feel after the rain and day spent up on your sore feet, all you think about is locking yourself in your room and discover what kind of new façade could you try and fool Katsuki with when he reaches home.

Just how I trick him into thinking I’m not with him to leech off of him

Eventually and with a struggle, you make it to the door, dreading the sight you might come to face, almost hoping for a black hole to emerge and swallow you whole.

What would people say about me? Do people think I’m crazy?

With a forced exhale out of your lungs, you fetch the key from your bag to unlock the door, but it’s wrenched open before you have a chance to insert your key.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Your eyes meet the beautiful rubies of Katsuki, and despite his anger that always overcompensates his worry, you smile and throw yourself on him. The shivering ceasing when he wraps his warm arms around you and that loving caramel scent engulfs you, in spite of how your hair is drenching his shirt and how you sniff against his neck.

“You need a shower, you’re shivering.”

“Take one with me?” you look up at him through your lashes, and he blinks at your uncharacterized boldness but agrees nonetheless, helping you out of your clothes and turning on the hot water before stepping in with you.

It is a struggle to help you clean up when all you do is grab at him, whether they’re your hands on his shoulders to lower him to kiss you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your breasts against him, or palming his hardening cock as the poor man tries to shampoo your hair.

“Would ya knock it off? I’m tryna help you here shitty woman” you frown and squint your eyes when the shampoo gets close to them. “I wanna have sex.”

“Yea I can fuckin tell, just lemme-” you bring his arms down and press his palms to your boobs, letting go of his wrist when he starts squeezing at them. “Do you not want to?” he gulps, his dick twitching at the feeling of your soft mounds in his hands, your nipples covered up by the suds from the shampoo, as your finger traces the underside of his cock. “Yeah, I uh, fuck, I do, just- you need to wash up so you don’t get sick, alright?”

“Do you not think I’m pretty anymore?” you pout childishly, tears threatening to escape your eyes, and they burn as you close them when he washes the product out of your hair, a deep frown on his lips when you open your eyes back again. “The fuck you on about? That rain really fucked with ya?”

“Are you gonna get rid of me when you realize how much of a mess I am?” you whisper, your voice muffled under the sound of the shower above you, and you keep quiet as he helps you scrub your body, but your boyfriend is observant, he isn’t fucking dense.

“What do you want, right now?” he lowers himself to your level when he’s done, his hands stroking your cheeks as he eyes the way the water droplets cling to your lashes, but still not missing the red rimming around your eyes.

“I just wanna for- I uh, I wanna have sex.” you mumble, a plea hidden underneath your words, a plea to help you forget, to help you bury this day behind you and pretend it never happened.

What you don’t expect is the way that Katsuki pulls your naked wet body out of the bathroom and drops you on the bed, feeling your bodies dampening the bed as he hovers over you, no words are spoken between you as he kisses and nips at your skin. Marking it up and down as he all but worships your body, strands of his hair tangle between your fingers when you run your hands through it, arching your back at the feeling of his tongue tasting your slick.

He doesn’t let up until you cry out, and not in pleasure, your sobs far beyond those he loves to hear when he’s denying you an orgasm. No, they’re sobs that wreck your whole body, kicking away at his shoulders as you curl in on yourself and wail into the sheets. Sitting on his haunches on the floor, Katsuki’s eye soften at your figure, the way your shoulders are shaking and how -yet again- you’re trying to muffle your cries with the sheets this time, pressing your face against the mattress in an attempt to lower your noise, as your mother would call it.

“Hey, look at me” you feel his lips grazing your ear as he kisses it, pressing his lips against your temple, fingers unwrapping your fist against the sheet and digging into your hands and pressing kisses against the nail marks in the palm of your hands. “There she is, there’s my girl.” you hear when you lift your head from the bed, sight blurry from your shed tears but still easy to distinguish Katsuki even between billions of people.

You sniff when he kisses at your lids, groan when he chuckles and calls you ‘snot the naught’ when you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, beaming when he hears you let out one weak chuckle at the way he teases you. Still pressing his lips against any surface of skin he can reach.

“You don’t have to talk about it you know, to me at least” he mumbles to you when you’re both dressed in your sleepwear and are cuddling on the dry side of the bed, opting to change the sheet the next day. “Maybe, maybe we can get someone who can help you, you know.” you press your face deeper between his neck and shoulder, shuddering when his warm palms rub your back from under your shirt.

“I can make some calls, get in contact with someone.” you lift your head. “But I can’t afford-” he tuts and frowns at you “None of that.”

“Remember what I said when we agreed to move in?” you do, you just love the sound of his voice when he says it, feels like he’s making all these promises all over again. “Tell me.”

“Told ya I’d be whoever you want me to be, whoever you need me to be. I’ll be yer mom, even better than that bitch, I’ll support and love you unconditionally.” you sniff and tighten your hold against him as he presses his lips against your cheek.

“I’d be better than yer pussy dad, you can rely on me any time and I’ll live up to all your expectations. And callin me daddy is always a plus” he tangles his legs with your own when you wiggle away from him, laughing and giving you no chance of escape, not that you are even thinking of it.

“I’d even be yer genius fuckin nanny that taught you to tell yer mom to go fuck herself when you were four,” your suppressed giggles lights him up and he can’t help but chuckle as well. “I’ll be anything and everything you’ll ever need, baby. I’ll be your goddamn hero.”

The sun comes out again, casting slanted beams of light across the buildings. Steam rises slowly from the greenery. It rises up eerily and drifts mist-like towards the molten-gold sun, right before it escapes into the abyss. The image is so vivid that it stays with you for as long as you remember. Because on this exact day, the shrieking that follows you everywhere you go, haunting you and mocking you, suddenly is nowhere to be found. And all you can hear is the comforting sound of Katsuki as he hums you a lullaby to sleep.

aaaah I hope you like it!

627 notes · View notes

kohakuarisaka · 3 years

Text

Untamed (chapter 3 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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"Baby," a voice cooed at you while hands gently shook your shoulders, stirring you from sleep.

"Come on. Get up. The sun's gonna be rising soon," he continued, speaking to you softly.

You groaned like a wounded animal and tried to resist the pull to consciousness, hoping you could slip back away and he would cease this assault.

Of course, that didn't happen, and the murmuring and shaking didn't come to an end. You found yourself turning around and groggily taking in the sight of Hawks. He already looked wide awake, gold eyes beaming, skin glowing, handsome face as immaculate as ever.

It made you want to punch him.

"Get up," he said, more so telling than asking, albeit politely.

He had warned you last night that he intended to wake you early; but, that didn't stop you from groaning tiredly, rolling over, as if in protest, before complying with his request, removing the blanket slowly, afraid to expose yourself to the cold.

He had stoked the fireplace before waking you; that much was clear, seeing as it wasn't blistering cold when you wiggled out of bed. It was chilly, of course, but not enough to leave you trembling helplessly.

You realized that Hawks had already dressed himself, boots thumping quietly on the floor as he stepped around the bed. He had slipped on a grey T-shirt, and didn't seem to be feeling cold at all, judging by the lax way he rolled his shoulders, wings jutting out from his back gracefully.

He gave you a sideways glance, an almost untrusting look written across his face.

"I'm getting up!" you hissed at him.

Hawks wasn't expecting that sudden outburst and flinched a little, eyes widening slightly and feathers shuddering behind him. It was a comical sight, if you were being honest. It wasn't like him to be so high strung.

Before you could assume you had upset him, Hawks blew raspberries and turned away, heading for the stairs.

When he walked away, you most certainly did not admire the way his cargo pants hugged his ass, nor the way his shirt was pulled tight across the plains of his muscular back, nor how his crimson feathers looked so beautiful draped behind him.

Hawks didn't laugh when you met him downstairs; but, he sure looked like he wanted to. Here he was wearing some loose, comfortable clothes like it hadn't snowed all night, while you were dressed up in thick pants and a heavy coat with multiple layers underneath, ready to weather the elements.

As soon as you stepped downstairs, you were hit with the familiar smell of coffee lofting about the cabin. You recognized the aroma as his favorite, the one he stockpiled at the agency, that was almost always coming from his office.

He had taken the time to pour you some, as well, evident by the mug he was trying to hand to you with a suspiciously innocent look on his face.

"Seriously?" you laughed when you eyed the receptacle he was offering.

It was his merch, clearly. The mug was black with sparkly gold trim, the pattern matching the chest on his jumpsuit . It was covered in comic book style quotation marks containing, what you were guessing, was supposed to be his quotes.

Hawks watched you admire the cup, looking a little too smug for his own good, and returned to sipping from the very plain mug in his other hand.

"Do you really say these things?" you laughed, not expecting an answer because there was no way such nonsense flew from his mouth in the middle of a fight.

"Aheh. 'I am speed'," you read aloud with a scoff. "More like, 'I do speed'," you teased with a grin, catching the way he almost choked on his coffee, shoulders trembling with laughter.

"Who the hell approved these?" you added on.

"The hero commission, I think," Hawks replied, shrugging his shoulders a little.

The coffee, of course, tasted great. He bought the expensive, high-class stuff, after all. Hawks was the only person you knew who could sleep in the dirt with his visor skewed across his face, without a complaint to be had, but refused to drink anything but imported, specially grown coffee beans.

He was ushering you out the door the second you were finished with your coffee, pushing you out into the snowy forestscape, hands grabby and wings fluttering anxiously.

Before you could shudder and complain about the cold, Hawks scooped you up into his arms, kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot, and took to the sky.

You couldn't believe he was out here without a jacket on. Your fully covered arms clung to him for dear life, shivering and trembling in the cold. He wasn't flying particularly fast; but, the winds felt punishing, ice cold biting at your cheeks and seeping in through your clothes.

You were too cold to really appreciate the beauty of the forest covered in freshly poured snow. The glistening, white peaks sparkled like something out of a fairytale in the dimly lit morning light.

"Come on, babe," Hawks cooed, turning his head to blow hot air right on your ear.

Well, no wonder he wasn't cold. It seemed to make sense to you, then, why he went into his rut during these times of the year. He was generating enough heat to be a transportable furnace.

"If you keep clinging to me like that, you're gonna miss the view," Hawks uttered, so close that his lips moved against your skin as he spoke.

You peeled back from him, away from the warmth you were desperately trying to steal. He hadn't stopped flying yet, but slowed down a bit.

"O-oh..." you whispered, taking in the snowy wilderness.

A few miles past the cabin's backyard was a cliff that dipped down into rolling mountains. He had flown overhead, granting a wonderful view of the many acres of untouched wilderness, towering trees and lush forest landscape over rolling hills and mountains.

But, Hawks hadn't dragged you out here at the crack of dawn just to see the snowy landscape. He wanted you out here right at sunrise for a very specific reason.

He had made it just in time for the sun to peak out from the horizon line, like a giant glimpsing through the trees on the mountain top.

The sun was shining a mystical light across the mountains. The overcast clouds were dark purple gliding across crystal clear, blue skies. Rays of red sunlight glided through the trees while gold laid out across the piles of snow like a glistening blanket.

"See?" Hawks murmured, his flight coming to a halt.

He hovered, fairly high up, wings flapping gently, arms still wound tight around you, holding you close. There was a gentle breeze brushing through his hair, causing the feathery strands to tickle at your cheeks.

While you were looking at the landscape in awe, he was staring at you. The sunlight lit up your face and reflected heavily on your eyes, making them glow like crystal orbs. You had finally stopped shivering, too in awe at the sight to notice the chilling bite of the wind.

He didn't say it aloud; but, the most beautiful thing in the sunrise was you.

He liked to tell himself that the rut was making him mushy, emotional. Surely, powerful pro-hero Hawks couldn't be this soft? But, he knew his rut was only amplifying what he already felt so strongly.

His rut made him less inhibited, surfaced darker, feral desires that lay in waiting under layers of discipline he had spent most of his life building.

Even without his rut, you had a power over him he couldn't deny, the power to break him, to peel back the masks he wore, to melt away his self-control, until he was reduced to a desperate animal.

Oh, but the beauty of it all was that you loved that side of him. You had proved to him that you loved every side of him, even the parts that he tried so desperately hard to ensure would never see the light of day.

Even if he could blame his desires on his mutation, that didn't change that he was an assassin, for heroes, yes, but a murderer none the less.

You-

-you knew that, and yet, still, those soft hands held him as if he was untainted. You purred beneath his touch as if those weren't the same hands he had used to kill.

"Keigo?" you hummed.

Just like that, there you were again, freeing him from the torment of his own mind, a lifeline to free him from drowning in the ocean.

"Thank you for this," you uttered, turning your head to look at him.

God, he was beautiful. His gold irises were amplified by the sunlight, like shiny coins in a wishing well, taking in the sight of you shamelessly.

The bird-like curve of his eyelids already gave him a mystical appearance, now further illuminated by the rays of light shining down from above. The wind was blowing, tossing his already frazzled hair in a senseless dance.

The bright red plumes that made up the shape of his wings looked like something out of a dream. In the sunlight, the feathers glowed magnificent crimson, glowing in sharp contrast to the pale white, wintery landscape.

Your hands, that had been gripping his shoulders during the flight, wove up the back of his neck, fingertips touching the trimmed hairs there. You felt his hands tighten where they were holding you, his arms weaving tighter, as if he could get you closer.

"Do you like it here?" Hawks uttered softly.

His tone concerned you a little, as if he was sincerely worried that you were a prisoner here.

You smiled, replying, "it's the first time we've gotten to truly be alone. I'm enjoying myself more than you think."

His gaze softened at your words. A couple of your fingers played with the soft, short hairs at the top of his neck. He felt unbearably warm there, skin slightly damp with sweat. It was startling, considering how cold it was outside.

You felt the soft brush of his lips and let your eyes flutter shut. He was slow, careful, like he was tasting something new and delicious for the first time.

When he pulled back and tilted his head, you felt the faintest drag of his chin across your cheek, felt the fine hairs of his beard tickle your skin.

He hadn't shaved in a couple weeks, leaving you to see him in a mess than most didn't get the honor of. The normally neatly trimmed hairs he shaved down to a fine patch on his chin were now covering most of his jawline, the same beautiful, pale blonde as the hair on his head.

Tantalized, you leaned in, nuzzling your cheek against his jaw, before tilting your head back and feeling the drag of his soft beard against your skin. It felt good, maybe a little too good, and you failed to suppress a quiet gasp.

When you had pulled back far enough to catch his gaze, you immediately realized his eyes had changed. The calm was gone; now, something akin to a storm was brewing underneath.

It was a look you were very familiar with.

He let out a low exhale, as if he had been holding his breath. Your name fell from his lips, low and sultry, a warning, or a curse, and it made you shudder.

Hawks tilted back suddenly and started a sharp decent downward. Having flown together many times, you weren't afraid. The arms around his shoulders tightened and you let out a soft gasp, but more so out of surprise than fear.

His wings fanned out and took him sharply soaring through the trees at a speed much faster than he had brought you here. His grip on you was almost painfully tight, as if his fingers were trying to dig past the fabric of your clothes to get to your skin.

Excitement made you forget about the biting cold, the forest around you distorted almost violently. Suddenly, the cabin door was creaking and then being slammed shut. You hadn't even seen the cabin come into view. Everything felt like a daze.

He flew up to the loft and dropped you unceremoniously at the edge of the bed. The tumble had resulted in you facing away from him; but, you could feel his eyes burning through you.

"Take off your clothes," Hawks commanded, his voice oddly polite despite the nature of his request.

Just as soon as you started working your jacket off, he was kneeling to pull at the laces on your boots. He was strangely gentle when he pulled your shoes off, less so when he tossed them aside. As you worked your shirt off, he pulled your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop, leaving you mostly bare and cold.

You rotated around and leaned up on your elbows, catching his cold stare, indicating that you were not done yet. You peeled your socks off, feeling a rush of excitement at the look he was giving you.

Hawks usually wore a kind, harmless face, not that it was unnatural, for he truly was a good person. However, most could easily forget or be blind to how powerful he was.

Now, in his gold eyes, that was what you saw, the reality that he could take whatever he wanted, when he wanted. You didn't have to be reminded, for every sparring and training session did just that: you couldn't best him if your life depended on it.

Still, Hawks wasn't that kind of person. He was the kind of loved, often times so passionately that you feared you couldn't keep up.

Even now, when his hands took hold of your waist, his body language dominating, wings spread wide behind him, you felt loved.

An amused sound, like a hum, rumbled out of his chest as he carefully maneuvered you around.

You were compliant, letting him roll you around and push your chest down into the bed. The hand on your back was gentle, but commanding, fingers splayed wide in the space between your shoulder blades.

Instead of nudging your thighs with his hands, a boot-clad toe poked between your ankles, commanding you to spread your legs, which you did with a low moan. You leaned up on your toes, presenting to him like an animal.

The sight threatened to send him into a spiral, and you felt his clothed body fall over you, pushing you down into the bed.

His wings flapped once, sending a sharp gust of wind spiraling around the room. There was a painfully obvious contrast between the soft texture of his shirt and the rough texture of his pants.

He made it very clear, with a roll of his hips, that he was ready to take you. The feeling of his clothed erection against your sex, combined with the knowledge that he could just slip right in without preamble, had you mewling.

"You like this," Hawks observed, the words like thunder as they rolled off his tongue.

He retreated, suddenly reeling back and standing behind you, warmth leaving along with him.

"You like when I just take?" he asked, accentuating 'take' with a smack to the back of your thigh. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it did manage to startle a yelp out of you.

"Yeah," he uttered lowly, agreeing with his own observations. "You like being Hawks' little plaything," he continued, almost purring the words.

Your delirious brain didn't really know what to expect next. When you heard a thump, you had no idea what to make of it, until you felt breath on your skin and realized that was the sound of Hawks' falling onto his knees behind you.

He didn't waste any time diving in, lapping a heavy tongue across your slit, from top to bottom. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you still while his tongue breached your entrance.

If his enthusiasm and lack of grace wasn't enough, the rumbling sound he made was enough to make it obvious he liked it.

You couldn't fathom that your taste could possibly be that good; however, you didn't dare comment, especially not when he was doing things with his tongue that shouldn't be humanly possible.

A rough smack to your behind startled you from a delirious daze of pleasure. You yelped quietly, but otherwise remained compliant. When he smacked you again, this time growling faintly into your sex, it was clear he wanted something that you weren't delivering; but, you didn't know what.

"K-Keigo, what-" you whined, breaking off into a howl when he smacked you again.

Normally, such a touch would have you instinctively shriveling away; however, his grip on you was tight, and it kept you still.

Hawks smacked you again, you helplessly cried out, again, and the sound faded into moans that you couldn't possibly contain with what he was doing. You started to wonder, when another smack was delivered, if he was just doing that for his own amusement.

Eventually, he stopped and leaned back, rising to his feet. His hand slid over yours, large palm practically swallowing yours, and guided it back to your sex. You rotated a little, angling your body to follow his movement.

"Feel that," he gently commanded. "How wet and warm you are for me."

You heard the floorboard creak as he leaned back, clearly to get a good view. You did as he requested, immediately driving two fingers into yourself. Sure enough, you were slippery, walls compliant and squishy, and unbelievably warm inside.

Being ready for him with little provocation wasn't exactly a new thing. You were both very busy heroes and keeping your relationship on the downlow. That meant quickies more often than proper time together.

Yet, Hawks sounded immensely pleased; with himself or with you, you couldn't quite tell.

He returned to the floor, hand brushing your knuckles to push your fingers in as deep as they could go.

"Keigo, what are you-" you began, cutting off when his tongue returned to your heat, right alongside your fingers.

"Finger yourself," he told you, sounding oddly blissful despite the fact that you hadn't touched him at all. His cock was still trapped inside his pants, throbbing against the rough material.

You complied with his request, lacking in any grace or proper friction considering the awkward angle. However, Hawks groaned in approval at the view before leaning back in.

His tongue dipped in right alongside your digits. Immediately, he forced the pace and you were desperate to try and keep up, fingers squelching in and out of your core alongside the slobbery mess of his tongue.

Your fingers couldn't compare, lacking in the length, thickness and dexterity of his digits. But, it seemed that Hawks was less focused on getting you off and more focused on playing with you; or, maybe, you had severely underestimated what the taste of your essence was doing to him.

At some point, he pulled back, grabbed your wrist to remove your fingers from your core, and sucked them into his own mouth. You weren't expecting the teeth, and let out a low hiss when his fangs threatened to pierce the skin, holding you firmly in place while his tongue sucked your fingers clean.

He didn't release your hand when he was done. You heard the floorboards creak as he stood up, felt him tug your hand down, until your knuckles brushed his clothed cock.

"You want that?" Hawks breathed.

His free hand gently spread over the space between your shoulder blades, pushing you down before you could dare think to lean up. Your cheek was resting against the sheets, hair spewed about in a mess. His hand wandered, pushing hair out of the way until your neck and shoulders were properly exposed.

From where you laid on the bed, you couldn't make out the sight of him; but, you could see one of his wings, stretched out, looming predatorily.

"Yes," you replied hoarsely.

His hand glided over the prominent bump where your first vertebrae jutted from the top of your spine, and lowered, setting between your shoulder blades once more, where he held you still.

"Then, take it," Hawks uttered, his other hand releasing your wrist.

You let out a low hiss, wanting to curse him for making such a ridiculous request. You couldn't see his face; but, you sure as hell could feel the smirk he was wearing as he stared at you, watching your handle fumble with his belt.

You doubted it was mercy; but, Hawks leaned in closer, the tops of his thighs sliding over the backs of yours, making it a little easier to undo his belt buckle.

The button on his pants followed, but not with ease, before you tugged his zipper down. You couldn't tug his pants down like this, leaving you to fumble around with his boxers, trying to fish his cock out.

"Keigo, you fucking ass-" you growled, not bothering to hide your frustration.

Hawks laughed softly, sounding a little more out of it than he did amused. "'m sorry," he cooed. "-like seein' you struggle."

The slur in his voice should have given it away, his patience had depleted; however, it still surprised you when he suddenly swatted your hand away. He hooked his thumb on the hem of his boxers and pulled them down just enough for his cock to bob free.

You felt the smooth tip nudge at your entrance, the faintest warning, before he pushed forward and entered your moist heat.

"Ohhhh fuck," Hawks howled.

He gave you no time to become accustomed to the sudden intrusion, immediately pistoning his hips back and forth, driving his cock in and out of you.

One hand pinned your torso, while his thighs pinned your legs, and his other hand gripped your hip for leverage. You shifted your feet, trying to lift up on your toes to better the angle, and bumped against his boots.

He was still fully clothed; and, really, that shouldn't have mattered so much. After all, how many times had he freed his cock from his jumpsuit to take you quick and hard before tucking it back in and immediately looking as if nothing nefarious had occurred. Yet, still, the realization had you feeling dizzy.

Before you could nudge a hand between your thighs, something beat you to it. You recognized that bizarre texture. It was soft, sure, but a tad bit pricklier than a normal feather, with an unnatural, firm touch. The little heathen knew exactly how you liked to be touched there, too.

The wet, lewd noises of your union, skin slapping together, was drowned out by the litany of moans pouring from his mouth. If he wasn't crying out in ecstasy, he was huffing and puffing like he had just ran a marathon.

If you were being honest, he was being just a little too rough, a little too fast, offering you no reprieve. You didn't doubt that he would stop if you asked him to; but, you sure as hell didn't want him to. The intensity of it all had you on a plain of existence you rarely got to experience, where pleasure became blinding and mind-numbing.

His hand slid off your back and onto the bed, grabbing a fistful of the sheets as he set a brutal pace, the kind that threatened to unravel your sanity.

"Fuck! You feel so fucking good," he growled, sounding so out of breath and lost. "Gonna fill you up. Yeah, I am. Want my seed dripping out of you all fucking week."

High off the pleasure, and maybe a little influenced by his own state, you moaned approvingly at the suggestion.

"Baby," he whined, suddenly sounding like he was in pain. The feather fluttering against your pearl intensified, practically vibrating against you with how fast it was moving.

"Need you come, need you to come," Hawks pleaded, the words hissing out from his lips between desperate pants.

You didn't think you could come in that moment. Everything felt so good, from his cock rearranging your insides to his feather flicking at your clit. The pleasure was tingling down your thighs and crawling up your spine. You could barely breathe, let along process a coherent thought beyond Keigo.

The hand that had been holding your hip let go and joined the other in gripping the bed. He arched over you, forehead meeting your back.

"Come for me, come for me," Hawks sobbed.

You realized then, as he trembled behind you, that he had reached his own completion, and he didn't slow down until his orgasm waned. You could feel his seed, like molten lava as it filled your insides.

Hawks was still panting when he growled, "again."

He flipped you over, winding your legs over his waist and somehow managing to keep his cock seated inside of you during the transition. Your arms flopped uselessly above your head. You felt weak, laying there like a doll while he turned you over. Still, it felt good: his cock, his hands, his warmth.

One of his arms looped beneath your lower back and tugged you properly onto the bed. He climbed onto the sheets and followed, dragging you beneath him.

He was prepared to continue thrusting into you wildly and blindly chase another orgasm when your eyes met and he froze up. You could practically see him blink away delirious arousal, the sight of your debauched face bringing him back to his senses.

"B-baby, do you need me to stop?" Hawks offered, the words falling from his lips so weakly.

You huffed out a weak breath and reached for him. He leaned down, letting you wind your arms across his shoulders. Your fingers dipped across his clothed back until you reached his wings.

Hawks literally shouted when your fingers dipped into the exposed seams on the shirt and touched the baby feathers growing fresh from his back. The sound rattled your bones and made you jerk from the startle.

He didn't have to be told twice, obviously, for Hawks continued his thrusting immediately. The slippery, wet sounds of his claim over your body was downright disgusting, and you loved it. Your legs clung desperately to his hips, heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

One of his feathers was still pressed against your clit, now trapped between your bodies. It had stopped moving; but, every time he thrust back into you, it created delicious friction.

Your assault on his wings rendered Hawks incapable of speech. The pleasured sounds he made was almost unnatural. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he was in pain between the broken, blabbering moans and choked, sharp gasping.

His arms were still wound beneath you, holding onto you for leverage and clinging to you so closely, so tightly, it was almost crushing. His wings were arched up high, flapping occasionally as if to increase the momentum behind his thrusts.

His face fell into your throat, forcing your head back into the sheets. He was burning hot, practically oozing sweat. In the corner of your eye, you could see the red tint staining his ears. You could practically feel his frustration gnawing its way through his body and into yours.

Without warning, you felt what couldn't be mistaken for anything other than Hawks' teeth piercing the skin of your neck. Sure, he had bit you before, even left faint hickies on occasion; however, this was something else entirely, and forced a scream from your throat.

You had no doubt he had pierced the skin, judging by how it burned. He was growling into the skin, holding onto you with his teeth as if you were attempting to flee. You didn't dare release his wings, fingers woven through the fine plumes, caressing the sensitive skin of his shoulder blades, where crimson feathers grew.

The bite hurt, without a doubt, but there was no denying the electrical shocks of pleasure it sent through your body. If it wasn't that, then it was the growls vibrating from his mouth onto your skin.

Suddenly, your orgasm hit, and left you screaming and gasping with a sort of ferocity you didn't think you were capable of. Something that sounded almost like his name fell from your lips at some point. Your back arched and your legs trembled where they rested around his hips.

You failed to realize he was following closely behind you. Your grip on his feathers had gone limp and you didn't notice the way his wings arched up, the tips of the longest quills nearly touching the ceiling. He kept going and going, until he was spent and your cries of ecstasy came to a halt.

Hawks let go of your throat and leaned up, removing his arms from beneath you to set his palms on the sheets. He should have felt embarrassed or ashamed or something. But, looking down at the bleeding bite wound on your shoulder, watching the way your chest heaved with heavy breaths, seeing the tint of red along your cheeks and neck, he felt blissfully proud.

Hawks scooped you into an embrace and carefully rolled onto his side, bringing you in with him and cradling you against his chest. One of his wings fell over you, the plumes stretched wide to hide you from the outside world. All you could see was him, his handsome face, the crimson feathers of his wings.

You were acutely aware that he was still inside you, still somewhat hard; but, his temperature was lowering and his breathing was steadily returning to normal. Your fingers untangled from his plumes and came around to rest limply on his chest.

He lapped his tongue softly against the bite wound until it stopped bleeding before peppering it with kisses. It stung a little and you squirmed in his grasp.

"I'm not sorry about the bite," Hawks confessed lowly, leaning back to look at your face.

"Me either," you replied, offering him a weak smile.

He looked blissfully unaware until you leaned in and sucked some of the skin of his neck into your mouth. Hawks groaned approvingly, laying still until you were satisfied and let go, leaving behind a faint, purple bruise.

You stared at his handsome face, watching the vibrant, red blush slowly leave his features as he calmed down. Blonde locks were clinging to his sweat soaked forehead and everything between the two of you reeked of sex. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to complain when he looked so damn happy.

Hawks leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against yours lips. Before he could retreat, you tilted your head and leaned in, not letting him escape. He hummed into the kiss, letting you lead until you were content and departed with a wet smack.

"Just a little bit longer," he promised, fingers gently digging into your back.

"Tell me what you're thinking," you requested, nuzzling your nose against his.

Something uncertain flickered in his gold eyes and his lids narrowed slightly.

"It's not sensical," he uttered lowly, and you felt one of his hands slide around to your front. His thumb lovingly brushed along the dip of your tummy, beneath your belly button. His gold eyes shifted down, staring at the expansion of your naval with dedication.

You both had implants. It wasn't going to happen. He knew that. Of course he did. But, he couldn't help but feel dedicated to commit to the effort, as if it would.

Your hand followed his, spreading over his fingers to press him down gently over your lower abdomen, as if this would be successful, as if there was a chance he would take. The encouragement to put him ease.

Hawks wanted to believe it was the rut talking. Some of it was, his body deliriously driven to mate, to the point that he overheated and arousal pained his core. But, his motivation wasn't purely biological. It was because it was you, whom he trusted with every fiber of his being.

But, he couldn't bring himself to tell you that. You loved being a hero, and he wasn't going to take that from you.

It felt special, being hidden with him like this, beneath his wing, whispering such depravities to one and other, that the rest of the world would never know. You felt safe, in a way that felt impossible. Here, as irrational as it sounded, you felt like Hawks could protect you from the world.

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #takami keigo x you #hawks x reader #hawks smut #takami keigo fanfiction

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sondepoch · 3 years

Text

Silence Starts to Overflow (Venti x Reader)

Barbatos’s voice, whispering gently in the wind, stirs you from the slumber you were about to give into. How cruel, that you would allow yourself to pass without saying farewell to him.

MASTERLIST

Death isn’t quite the right word for it.

It would be more fitting to say that you’re passing—because passing is something that precedes catching, catching is something that precedes continuing, and continuing is something that precedes life.

Though to say that this state you’re in can precede life is a lie at best.

Where are you?

Barbatos’s voice, whispering gently in the wind, stirs you from the slumber you were about to give into.

How cruel, that you would allow yourself to pass without saying farewell to him.

The final remnants of your strength—the strength you’d been saving for a final, devastating blow against Baal, the strength you never got to use because Rex Lapis ambushed you first with an cataclysmic meteor—fly out from your fingertips in a single beacon of light that pierces the clouds as it broadcasts your position to the world.

Instantly, you feel the wind turn.

A smile crosses your lips at that. Channeling your Lumino into the sky so freely is a risky move, especially given that every archon in the area now knows where you are. You can already sense the familiar pulse of Geo and Electro growing closer as Rex Lapis and Baal doubtlessly venture back to you to finish the job, but, of course, Barbatos is faster.

Geo is slow, after all.

Electro is marginally faster, given the right medium.

Nothing, however, can trump the speed of Anemo.

Nothing but Lumino, though you suppose that will cease to exist with your passing.

“You’re a fool,” Barbatos whispers in that breathy, exhilarated voice of his. “Someone could have seen,” he says. “You’re lucky I was so close.”

Ah. It appears that he hasn’t seen your wounds yet.

Well, that’s not so bad.

You allow yourself to relax as Barbatos gathers you in his arms at the speed of wind, holding you close against his chest as he rides a breeze of his own making into the sky.

“There are less than a hundred gods left, now. You and I can keep a low profile these next few days and wait for the numbers to dwindle, and then we can start working together to…”

You say nothing as Barbatos continues.

To die like this, in the arms of your lover, the sound of his laughter in his ear and the element of his soul surrounding you...would be a peaceful death.

A nice death.

As Barbatos eagerly tells you about his fight against Beleth, you press your head deeper into his chest. You take a deep breath of his scent, the scent of cecilias and happiness and youth and freedom, and you begin to let yourself drift away, the strength of Lumino finally fading from your gnosis and from this world, and…

How cruel.

You can’t bring yourself to part from your lover just yet.

Not without a proper goodbye, at least.

“Barbatos,” you whisper, just strong enough to lift your head off his chest. “Barbatos, please.”

It’s at this moment that Barbatos looks, properly looks, down at you, and you can see the adrenaline of his victory sap from his expression, beautiful blue eyes turning from overjoyed to mortified in a single second.

“No,” he mutters when he sees how the light has already begun to fade from your eyes, the natural waves of Lumino that used to radiate off you so naturally now turned dim with your impending death. “No. No, this can’t—no, no. No. Please. No. No.”

Within a second, he has your back lain against a cloud, as if the stoppage of movement can do anything with your elemental energy so far dwindled.

“Who—who did this—”

You smile gently.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Baal isn’t an especially dangerous woman: you know Barbatos can defeat her; but if she’s managed to obtain an alliance with Rex Lapis, God of War, then the last thing you want is for your lover to attempt to avenge you and get himself killed just like you. Not when Barbatos is already so strong. Not when he already has a chance at becoming one of the Final Seven.

“T-This isn’t a time for—”

“Shh,” you whisper, reaching for his hands. The touch calms him. You channel what little power you have left into his hands, praying that he can feel it. Feel you.

“Tell me,” Barbatos says, tears beginning to build in those mesmerizing eyes. It’s hardly the time to be thinking about it, but this form that he’s chosen is truly beautiful: skin like porcelain, perfect and fine and untouchable, stunning dark blue hair, thick and nearly-black at every inch, and eyes that hold your entire world in them, blue and green and Barbatos. “I—please, they might still be around here. I can defeat them and give you their gnosis, and—”

You force yourself past your limits to lift an arm up to Barbatos’s chin. It takes all your effort to press a single finger against his lips, a wordless seal on the conversation.

“You’re dying,” he whispers, the tears now spilling forth. “You’re—you’re—”

You press your finger against his lips again, silently asking him to speak not of your death, and the god breaks down next to you, sobbing loudly as he pulls you closer, now holding you in his arms instead of allowing you to remain flat on the ground.

It’s quite uncomfortable, actually.

Yet, you prefer the warmth of your lover’s arms to soft chill of the clouds, prefer the sensation of his salty tears spilling onto your hair, prefer the way you can savor the feeling of him a little bit longer this way.

“S-Sitri should be near here. I-if you can last just a little longer, he’ll be able to heal you and—”

Your heart falls. This must be karma.

“I killed Sitri this morning.”

The devastation in Barbatos’s eyes when you say that is more painful than the spreading darkness in your gut.

“Ph-Phenex might—”

“Sitri killed Phenex. He told me.”

The sound that spills past Barbatos’s lips at that is something between a wail and a whimper, a sob and a scream. It’s nothing like the beautiful music you’re used to hearing from his lips, and it hurts you to know that you’re the cause of this awful noise, this awful pain that will hurt him so much more than it can hurt you.

Though that’s the nature of this war, isn’t it? The very notion of thousands of gods, thousands of elements, all fighting against one another in an attempt to sit on one of the final seven seats in Celestia is something that can only occur with death, with sacrifice.

You and Barbatos were naive for ever thinking that both of you would be able to make it.

“Barbatos,” you say, cupping his cheek gently, admiring the silky softness of his skin because you know this is the last time you’ll be able to do so. “I want you to live.”

“Stop it,” Barbatos says. “Stop—stop talking like you’re going to—to—”

“To die,” you finish for him, and your hand falls from Barbatos’s cheek. You don’t have the strength to hold it up anymore. “But I don’t want you to die.”

“N-no, please, I—” Barbatos sobs, an ugly sound. “I don’t want to live in a world without you.”

“I want you to live,” you say, stubborn. “Live for me.”

“I don’t want to,” Barbatos whispers. “Not without you. S-so if you want me to live, please just try to—”

“I can’t.” Your smile is sad as you stare at him. “I can’t, Barbatos, but you can.”

“I don’t—”

“Take my gnosis.”

Your lover physically recoils at that, shock painted on his beautiful features before denial takes over.

“No,” he says, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, no. No. I won’t. I—you’ll only die faster without your—”

“Barbatos,” you say, wishing you had the strength to reach out and grab his hand. “Barbatos, for all purposes, I'm already dead.”

“No!” he shouts, and when he sees how you wince at that, he lowers the volume of his voice. “No, you’re—you’re not dead. You’re alive, you’re here, and you don’t have to—”

“I can’t control it if I die.” You turn your gaze from Barbatos to the sky, vaguely wondering what heavens are above the heavens. “But you can make sure you don't. Take my gnosis.”

“I don’t want it,” Barbatos whispers, and his eyes shimmer with tears he’s trying to hold back.

“Take it,” you say. “Take it and live. And remember me. And build a world where no one else needs to die like this.”

“I don’t care about anyone else,” Barbatos whispers, but his hand is on your heart, now. “I just want you. Please. Please don’t—”

“Take it.”

The power of Lumino comes to a peak as you allow the source of it to expose itself, raw elemental energy radiating off your body.

“Hurry,” you whisper. “Someone will come.”

“I-I don’t—”

Barbatos lets his hand grip the gnosis, but he can’t seem to bring himself to take it out from you. Doubtless, it’s because he knows that this gnosis is the only thing allowing you to cling to life—but for him to be able to absorb its power, he has to take it from you when you’re still alive. You need him to take it now. If you want to make sure he has the strength to become one of the Final Seven, this push is the only thing you can offer him.

“I love you.”

The words fall from your lips naturally, and the power of saying them—a power that inevitably rises because those three words, that declaration of your heart’s true sentiments, are the reason you’re able to get up every day, a power that gives and gives and gives and is the sole reason for which you live—sends you a final boost of strength.

You thrust your hand onto Barbatos’s and hold it.

With the gentleness that only the shadow death can bring, you lift his hand, still closed around your gnosis, from your body.

The second your gnosis is off of you, it binds to Barbatos.

You can see the power travel into his body: the power that manifested as Lumino in you being absorbed into his body as the tips of his braids turn bright at the edges, a beautiful blue as bright as the sky where the edge of Barbatos's hair was once nearly black. You can feel, then, as the gnosis amplifies his power: it happens in a shockwave that jolts your body, a shockwave that shakes you to the core with the original source of your power now gone.

“You…”

Barbatos stares down at you with wide and teary eyes. Where you seem mesmerized by his transformation, it seems that he’s horrified at yours. No doubt, just as the light entered him, it must be equally visible that it’s left you.

A chilling breeze draws towards you. You shiver under it.

“Cold,” you mutter, and Barbatos instantly pulls his cape off to wrap you in it. Somehow, it does nothing to warm you up. The cold, it seems, originates from within.

“Stay with me,” Barbatos says, cradling you in his arms. He presses his lips to your forehead. “Stay with me, love. Stay with me. You can live through this, I know it, just stay…”

Ah.

It’s so cold.

The chill that begins from deep inside you spreads, branching towards your fingertips and your toes and up your neck. With it comes a darkness, one that your power has always protected you from. Now, though, Lumino is weak. It stands no chance at being one of the Final Seven elements. You failed it as an archon.

“...with me. Please. Please don’t go. Stay. Please. Please…”

You want to respond to him. You’ve never heard Barbatos sound so miserable, so broken. You stare up at him, trying to make your lips form the shape to words that will comfort him.

You can’t seem to move your lips.

You can’t seem to move your eyes, either.

Numb, you stare up at Barbatos, unblinking and unmoving. Your gaze is fixed on him, a darkness creeping in at the edges.

No, you think. No, stop. I want to look at him longer.

The darkness doesn’t oblige. It creeps closer and closer, and a desperate fear begins to overtake you. Is this the last time you’ll see your lover? Why? How? How can that be? That can’t be right. You and Barbatos were supposed to win this war. You and Barbatos were supposed to survive this war. You and Barbatos were supposed to rule a nation together and save the world together and build a life together and—

Why is it all going away?

Stripped of the power of light that had always protected you, the darkness you’d always feared crawls closer.

Stop, you think. Stop it. Don’t take him away. I want to stay. I want to stay with him. I don’t—

Despite the chilling cold that’s wrapped around all your body, you feel a tear fall.

I don’t want to die.

You hear something that sounds like a scream, but it’s so distant. It’s like a howl: monstrous and enraged and furious and terrifying, yet...familiar. Suddenly, you can’t figure out who this wailing reminds you of, but the thought of the person sends a strange sense of warmth to you.

It’s nice, you think.

You can’t be quite sure what’s happening anymore. All you know is that it’s cold and dark, so horribly cold and dark.

The howling sound grows louder. Vaguely, you feel something grip you, shake you, cling to you.

Something about you is instinctively soothed by the touch. Amidst all this cold and all this darkness, you think you can find comfort in this sensation. You know you shouldn’t like it—that the feeling of your body being shaken and clung to and howled and wailed at isn’t something you should like—but there’s peace in it.

It’s a nice feeling.

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: freedom sword come home

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I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

#Word Count: 2.3k #gender neutral reader #TW: DEATH #genshin impact #genshin impact venti x reader #genshin impact barbatos x reader #venti x reader #barbatos x reader #dying #reader dies basically #pre-canon #archon war AU #reader is a god #reader is gender neutral #veri sad venti

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harrieatthemet · 3 years

Text

Mustache

He has never been keen on sharing.

And Gemma’s mere existence, as well as the small indent on her left thumb she swears is a scar (though Harry vehemently denies it is), is living proof.

Mr Ducky was his favorite bath time companion for a good bulk of his childhood. There were even times he’d carry it around with him in the house tied to a string like a pet, one of Anne’s fondest memories and favorite stories to tell whenever she found the opportunity.

Maybe it was Gemma’s own fault; she was only six at the time and was foolishly under the impression that the stupid rubber toy was at anyone’s disposal, which is what led her to try and situate the duck in her backpack as she geared up for school.

It’s also what led her to tears because Harry caught her on the way out the front door, Mr Ducky in tow, and he instinctively sunk his teeth right into the side of her hand in protest. And, okay fine, he may have bit down a little harder than he should have, but the overall message he was sending came across very clear. Gemma never touched anything he owned again for a very, very, long time; and eventually went on to tell everyone in her class she had a vampire as a brother.

“What do we think of this little number,” your hip jut, innocent as it was, just now became a permanent memory in Harry’s brain, “too much, like.. revealing?”

You like nice in red; devilish, even, and in the best way possible. There’s nothing revealing about the dress at all. Somehow, though, he finds himself perched squeamishly at the foot of your bed in complete fucking anguish. In theory, no, the dress is not too much. It’s the perfect ensemble and flatters you so well he feels like whoever made the dress conjured it up with you specifically in mind.

And no, it’s not too much, for literally anyone else except him. How is such a modest dress enough for him to think you up the way he is right now; bent over in front of him with your hair wrapped tightly up in his palm while that dress lays in a sloppy ball by his feet.

“Would be nice with nude shoes,” he mules, “like, those sandals y’ave, yeah?”

The way your eyes light up, that same way they always do when your mind starts to move at light’s speed as you start assembling a million different ideas into one, is enough to tug a grin onto his mouth.

He didn’t really want to agree to this. When you texted first to ask he ignored it, that way you’d have just carried on without him and he could blame a busy schedule or an overrun nap on his delayed response time. It’s much easier to blame a missed text for no response. Of course it’s not in your nature to send a text, and he knew that already. So it came a son surprise when he was bombarded by 4 phone calls. By the fifth one he had picked up, succumbing to you and just the flat out unfulfilled urge he had to hear your voice at the other end of the phone.

“Seriously Harry,” your voice is like fucking honey, sweet and sullen like it always is, and he’s in euphoria listening to it as you poke your earring through the lobe of your left ear, “it’s just, y’know I don’t- I’m nervous and I appreciate you helping me do something as stupid as picking a dress.”

“S’not stupid,” he reassures, “y’know I just like spending time with yeh, since y’so busy ’n stuff.”

Which is true. That’s the only thing that got him over here; and he rescheduled a zoom call just to sit in your bedroom for all of twenty minutes. Not one part of him regretted it, either.

“I’m busy?” You tease, “coming from the A lister who’s in London, than LA, than New York, London again, oh, than LA again oh, then ‘sorry love, m’in Tokyo.’”

Also true, he knows that, which is why he’s snickering at fault in response to your harmless teasing. He wouldn’t say it now, mainly because he doesn’t want to make it weird, but regardless of where he falls on the map he somehow still finds a way to fit you in. He’s never minded doing it, either.

Twenty minutes isn’t enough. Maybe another twenty more could be a sufficient amount. That’s almost an hour, right? Forty minutes is almost a full hour with you and he’d love to get even that much. Or twenty more hours, even, would be that much better. It’s better for him to think of getting more time with you than to let his thoughts wander and remind him of where you’re getting ready to go off to.

A date. It’s why he was so hesitant to come here. It’s hard enough as it is being a prisoner to his own thoughts, being around you and not getting to interact with you the way he actually wants; kiss you the way he wants, touch you the way he wants, hold you and talk to you the way he wants. Adding a new element to the mix, another man getting access to you the way he wants, well that’s just mental warfare.

You don’t know anything about though. And thank God, because if you could get a peak into his thoughts and see just a preview of what he thinks he almost knows for sure you’d ice him out in a heartbeat. He’s got a soft spot for you, nonetheless, which is why he swallowed the massive-sized lump in his throat when you told him you needed help on an outfit for a date and b lined it over to your place.

“Who’s this guy, anyways.” He chimes, following you similar to that of a lost puppy as you start heading towards the staircase, “Like, wha’s he look like ’n stuff.”

Immediately after he asks he wishes he hadn’t. The way that pesky fucking lump reappears when you wiggle your eyebrows in response, stuffing your hand into your leather purse in an attempt to fish out your phone. A simple response like ‘handsome’ or ‘he’s a nice guy’ would’ve sufficed for him. Seriously, that’s all he needed. What he didn’t need was an entire fucking slideshow of an above average looking guy. And he had a cool mustache, to boot, which really pissed Harry off for some reason.

“Should probably shave,” he squints his eyes at the photo you’ve got propped right in front of his face, trying his hardest to act like he isn’t so fucking jealous of that mustache, “kinda looks like a squirrel on his top lip."

“If I didn’t know you so well,” you tut teasingly, “I’d think you’re a dick.”

“You know me so well and still don’t think that?”

He likes the way your laugh sounds, and it makes him happy that he said something amusing enough to drag it out of you. And the toothy smile you pair with it practically knocks the wind right out of him. Everything you do seems to wow him, corny as it sounds. It makes him feel so at ease, and the butterflies he gets each time gets him reminiscing to the days where he was just a kid and had the worlds biggest crush on the girl who sat three rows ahead of him in grade school. He’s giddy and he doesn’t want you to leave for this date.

For a second he thinks about doing something elaborate; breaking his foot or faking an illness so that you literally have no choice but to hang back and look after him. That’s selfish though, and honestly just crazy and super fucked up, so he opts out of that. But he doesn’t want you to go so bad he seriously considers it, especially as you start sorting through the downstairs closet to find a coat that doesn’t clash with your shoes.

He could just be honest. He could just tell you that he doesn’t want you to go, solely because he’s absolutely infatuated with you and for every hour he’s awake and functioning you manage to consume every thought he has. He could just be an adult and tell you he’s got feelings for you that very much surpass a platonic, friendly demeanor. That might be a better way into persuading you to stay back with him than breaking his fucking foot.

“Ok now wait a minute,” he chokes, and there’s a painful twang that strikes his gut when you frown, “gotta tell y’somethin’.”

“What,” you groan, and he swears he would rather die right now than do anything else, “it’s the shoes, right? They make my calves look like I’m a running back don’t they?”

He wants to laugh but he thinks if he opens his mouth he would projectile vomit everywhere. But the thought occurs to him that if he does that than it would be an excellent excuse for you to skip the date. Though, of course, he runs the risk of grossing you out and absolutely humiliating himself all in one go of it.

So he shakes his head no. In fact he loves the shoes, and they make your ankles look slender and really compliment your legs quite nicely. Still, he’s scrambling to string together a coherent sentence because his brain is working a lot faster than the muscles in his mouth are and it feels like someone just super glued his lips shut.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” you tease, and the cheeky wink you shoot him over your shoulder just edges him even more if that’s possible at this point, “Styles.”

“I don’t want y’to go on this date, (Y/N).”

He’s well aware that he blurted that out in a way that he really, really, wish he hadn’t. Now the air in the room is stale and heavy, dense too, like someone just sucked all the air out and left the two of you here with nothing to inhale but words and unspecified tension.

And he’s starting to get more anxious as your playful manner dissipates. He can tell your puzzled not just be the demeanor of your face, but by the stance of your body because your letting shoulders hang the way you do when you’re a little uncomfortable.

“Oh,” you breath, and his chest starts sinking inward, “okay, I just- well why not? Do I not.. like, do I look bad or something?”

“No,” he coos, and he feels like the worlds biggest asshole when you start to frown, “No y’don’t- Christ, (Y/N) y’look amazing. Y’always look so fuckin’ amazing. It’s just-”

“What,” you huff, “than what is it, than? Why wouldn’t you want me to go?”

He’s really done it now. The proper thing to do would’ve just been to let you go, walk out with you and watch you drive off before he headed home himself. The proper thing to do would’ve been for him to just go home and think about you on a date with someone other than himself, curled up in a ball watching a Friends episode he’s already seen four times while he felt sorry for himself. But that’s not what happened, and what he should’ve done was just broke the fucking foot like he initially thought to do. That would’ve been less agonizing than this.

“Because,” he’s frustrated now, not with you but really just himself, “I should be taking y’out. M’absolutely in love with yeh, (Y/N), and I don’t have a cool mustache but I could take y’out on a date, ’n I want to so bad.”

There’s still that dense energy looming in the room, and his gut now too as he feels it winding up tightly in an anxious bundle of knots and twists. You’re not saying anything and the only thing he notices is that you’re breathing is vaguely staggered and your clutching onto that purse in your hand like he’s about to snatch it and run off. God, he should’ve just broken the foot!

“Please don’t go out wit him,” and now, his voice is small, “think it might kill me.”

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sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.5 (NSFW!)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

'Cassandra's favorite', the other maids call you.

You can't tell if they mean it as a good or a bad thing. Hell, you can't even tell which of the two it really is.

Being her 'favorite' does not make you immune to harm in any way; bruises litter your shoulders and sides from when she grabs you too forcefully and cuts from her nails sting at your neck and stomach, renewed each time she comes to take a kiss.

None of that existed back when you were something of zero interest to her. On the other hand, she's told you several times you're 'a thing of beauty' --her thing of beauty-- and she won't let anything ruin a natural piece of art.

If you know anything about Cassandra, it is that she takes art very seriously. Your interpretation of the word greatly varies from hers, you're sure, but it doesn't change the fact she won't easily raise a sickle on you.

Cassandra won't break you. She won't let Daniela do so, either. Bela doesn't even care to hurt you. It means you're safe for now...

Unless Lady Dimitrescu decides you're best taken away from her daughter. Permanently. You don't dare meet her eyes, but you can feel them on you, scrutinizing, every night at dinner.

You're pretty sure she knows.

The thought sits heavy in your mind while you're cleaning bloodied steps off a corridor at three in the small hours of the morning, along with another maid. Adella is a quiet and hardworking one; the two of you make a good team and you know you'll be done in record time.

But it only takes a single moment for everything to go wrong.

Adella is hastily walking back to you with a bucket of fresh water in hand when you hear a different set of steps approach from the side. You make to warn her, but it's already too late.

The collision happens at the turn where the two passageways meet. As soon as you see black robes dripping wet you pray to whichever God will listen for mercy.

Because Cassandra has not been in a good mood all night and she is not the understanding type regardless.

Adella gasps and shakingly backs away, a waterfall of apologies spilling from her lips. Cassandra rolls her neck and draws her sickle, advancing on her slowly. She looks terrifying.

"Don't move now." she orders.

And you just- can't watch this. You don't know why, but the realization you cannot hits you like a speeding truck. You can't stand there while the the woman you frequently kiss cuts away at a girl you know is as good and compassionate as a human under your circumstances can possibly get.

You react.

Before you can even think how impossibly stupid you're being, you drop the mop in your hands and dash forward, crashing into Cassandra's form. Your right arm wraps around her waist and your left grips at her wrist like a vice. Your heart is pounding. You don't even know what you're saying;

"Cassandra, no! Please. Don't." Cold and rigid as she is, it may as well be a statue you're holding. "Cassandra, stop. Please." Once impulse dies down, you realize you've just signed your death wish for two seconds of playing hero.

And you thought you were smarter than that. Ha. But maybe, just maybe, part of you wants to die, so long as it's quick and painless.

With Cassandra, though, you doubt it. Especially with how lethal she sounds when she says:

"You. Disappear." You hear, rather than see, Adella scurrying off for her life. "As for you..."

You only register a blur, nausea, cold nails piercing at your neck, over already existing marks. You are shoved into the nearest wall so powerfully you can't breathe for all of ten seconds. It's a wonder you don't hear any cracks from within your body.

Cassandra is on you, her fingers harsh on your chin and breath chilly on your lips. "Good pets don't bark against their own masters. What made you so bold, hm?"

You don't answer, too busy summoning your mental strength for what comes next. The way her eyes and the lines of her pretty face have hardened, she looks nothing like the flirty girl who comes to steal kisses from you at random times during the night.

"Maybe I've been too nice to you. The first time you call my name and it's for some other maid?"

She looks like she wants to let out a bitter laugh, break something and slice you into stripes simultaneously. And then you realize; Cassandra is jealous.

It doesn't get any worse than that.

"Maybe I should make sure you never say anything again." The corner of her lips curls up in dark amusement as she talks. "You don't talk much, anyway."

Well. She did say she wouldn't let anyone ruin your looks. Never promised anything about what's on the inside.

You're shaking, even if her grasp doesn't leave much room to do so. Your brain is restlessly trying to come up with something to get you out of this mess-

"I'm of way more use to you with my tongue intact." you somehow manage to speak without stuttering. It makes you wonder where the hell this confidence came from.

Cassandra stills for a moment. Her grip eases the slightest amount, probably from surprise.

You wonder what the hell you're even doing, yourself, when you bring your hands to her sides and lean in, to the curve of her nice jawline. You've never kissed her neck before, but you remember from the times you've given her a massage that she's very sensitive around it.

Cautiously, you press your mouth to the soft spot under her ear.

She smells so good and her skin feels so smooth you're not exactly forcing yourself to kiss her. If you're going to be mutilated anyway, the part of you that must be severely messed up muses, you may as well take some pleasure for yourself beforehand. Who knows, it may change her mind along the way.

So you lick her there and suck over her faint pulse. You don't get any stimuli from her, at first.

Until her hand trails from your shoulder to your nape, urging you harder against her. It's the green light to keep going.

You put all your skill into it as you lavish her neck and collarbones with open-mouthed kisses. She's loose and moaning low in her throat now.

You can't tell why, but the sound echoes right though your adrenaline-induced system, tickles down your spinal cord to pool low in your stomach. You either had a kink for danger you never knew of, or you developed one in the castle.

Whatever the case, your fingers are working on the buttons of her outfit and she doesn't seem like stopping you has even crossed her mind.

When the robes barely hang onto her shoulders, Cassandra maneuvers you to the closest room, shuts the door and presses you against it. Hard. Your lips slide together hungrily. You taste wine on her tongue.

At this point, your hands are the only thing supporting her outfit on her. She looks too fucking sexy for words like this, half-undressed, lipstick smeared, so turned on and ready for you. But you also want to see more of her, so you let the black fabric drop.

She's getting impatient, though. Being more vocal, tugging your hand to the apex of her legs.

"Cassandra." you moan when you push the midnight lace of her panties aside and touch her. She's so wet.

Her mouth falls open in a soundless gasp, brows drawn softly. "Oh, you're lucky I like my name on your lips." she says, breathless.

You did start this trying to prove to her how useful your tongue can be attached to your body, however... so it's only fair that's how you finish it.

Finish her.

Cassandra looks dazed and confused when you kneel in front of her, but it's quickly replaced with a broken moan when you take her into your mouth. You revel in every single gasp you coax out of her, every minuscule shake of her perfect thighs.

She bites into her own hand when she reaches her peak, nails leaving four parallel marks on the wall.

You're gentlewomanly enough to pull her outfit up for her while she's coming down from her high. Your gaze takes its sweet time admiring the contours of her chest as you button it closed. She really is the most attractive girl you've ever seen, if you somehow don't take into consideration her body count.

"Good?" you ask when she opens her pretty eyes to look at you.

"It's not cute to be smug, plaything." Cassandra makes a soft grimace at you, though you can see the lazy, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her lip. "But. I suppose your tongue has its uses to me, after all."

You gently push off the door to let her exit at her leisure. The movement makes you realize you won't really be able to move tomorrow, with how sore you already are.

To your surprise, Cassandra takes a moment longer in the room.

She turns back to you and raises her hands to your torso, then carefully adjusts your wrinkled shirt. Her long fingers smooth over the imperfections she caused...

And you don't know why after everything the two of you just did, it's this that feels the most intimate.

The same digits brush over your throat as she pulls away.

By the time your mind starts working right again, Cassandra is already gone. Absently, you trace over the weeping scratches on your neck.

Later, at the main hall of the castle...

"Oh, boo, look who's late again." Daniela rolls her eyes at Cassandra's fashionably delayed arrival.

"Surprise, surprise." Bela smirks, casually leaned against the side of the fireplace.

"Are you two done being insufferable or should I come by later?" Cassandra asks.

"And scar our ears and minds with another round of your 'oh's and 'ah's, sister? I think not." Daniela comments.

Bela raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Had a nice time?"

"You two have very active imaginations, you know? Tells a lot about you." Cassandra chuckles. "She was just giving me a massage. But do go on. Be thirsty. I can wait."

Daniela and Bela share a look, thrown off their game by the nonchalance.

Cassandra hides a smirk under her hood and steps out first, into the peerless dark.

#cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil village #fanfiction #the thirst is real in this one guys #you have been warned

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