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revelisms · 8 months

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All Gilded and Golden

I've been getting back into Zelda a bunch recently, so I've thought about sharing this fic here. It's an oldie and a big prosey braindump on Zelda/Link and gender identity, but it's become a bit of a personal favorite of mine :-)

Full story below and cross-posted on AO3.

Rating: M | WC: 2.9k | Zelda POV | Oneshot Even a lifetime of constructs can still find ways to be freed. Or: Zelda and Link, as the night sees them. CW: Mentions of war, blood and violence, themes around gender identity and sex, implied sexual context

The boisterousness of men had long dissuaded her: a vile, sordid thing; each galumphing footfall and splatting hand caking the walls with blood-thirst and sweat—but the coffins of seams and satin fared no better, a confine equally damning. On this night, one of countless predicated on ceremony, she is trapped between both.

Throughout the hall's great arches swelters the sweet of mulled wines and meads, roast hog and wild hare, holly glimmering gold with the light of a thousand pyres. She, the Head of their kingdom's exuberance, sits with a chained elegance: a witch burned for her beauty: a dismal observer to a joy numbly felt.

Boots on tile, shields, swords; metal gleamed and glistening. The banquet roars with the fires of a war freshly won. Blood still stains the silver of her soldiers' armor. The stench of it is suffocating. It spears the air like a tainted stream, and she—queen-becoming, highness of wisdom-born, yes—she is meant to take it in with grace; chew on its rotted flesh and sip down the wine of its poisoned fruit, gleefully.

(She will not—and, were it not for her namesake, the ritual itself would never be demanded. But the fates of ones birthright are ineludible. To tear away the vines of their becoming would be as foolish as attempting to split steal with bare hand alone.

She is not the first in this long line of magic, jeweled crowns smothering, to resent the title she was born with. She will not be the last.)

The thought is a dismissed one, spit into the moon-red of her wine and swallowed down. She has too many hours more to go to slip into such loathing already. But it will pass—it will always pass.

(Come star-rise, the men will scatter: to boast the tall tales of their kills, to drown their sorrows, to fuck—and she will retreat to the night; strip down the shackles of her womanhood: a crumpled, silken corpse, discarded upon the stones; be reborn, rebound, in steel and linen, if for a moment.)

That time is yet to come. She cannot think properly of it, now.

"My lords." Her voice carries clear; her posture lifted, with poise. The long wings of her dress unspool from her seat in a glistening tide. "My ladies." A smile blossoms, demure. "We have, yet again, struck down the forces of our enemy." Cheers, stamping, ripples of applause. "We are richer." A scepter drums raucously. "We are stronger." A chorus of agreement. "We are Hyrule, again."

Such pretty little words, for such blood-hungered hounds. Even the guise of nobility could do little to hide their banquet's unashamed victory.

And yet—one wolf in the pack does not cheer. In a sea of rubied armor, he stands, still as a slab of valley rock: blue-fire in his eyes, blood on his cheek. His mouth does not turn at the graze of her stare.

(He, alone, is the very reason for their triumph; he, whose holy blade had cleaved the filthen head of a demon embodied from the loom of its shoulders: plunged into the cursed light of veins throbbing still, any final shreds of beating life stripped red in a feral slurry.

He had torn into their enemy like a mauling bear, and slipped away like a fox to the shadows. None had chorused his name for celebration. None would. He preferred it, that way.)

Her eyes skip across the mud-streaked wheat of his hair, a knot in her throat. She swallows it down. "Now," she presses on, and raises her hands in a bright flourish, "we celebrate!" The hall erupts to a violent symphony, gauntleted fists pounding glinting steel, great cups filled and cheered. A bard strikes up a rousing jig. The shimmer of a fiddle strings starlight through the laughter's glimmering.

She sinks back to her seat, to the rattle of her chains, and lets the smile fall, gently. It is caught, tender as a fallen bloom, by a single voyeur—as it always is.

(It is improper, for him to keep his eyes on her so. But the wildness of them is like a wash of ocean foam to a blistered wound.)

She dares to let her attention lift, if only for a moment. The bow of his head stirs a quiet warmth beneath the twist of her palms.

He turns in a flush of dark velvet, gold sweeping about the steel at his shoulders, and is swallowed by the crowd.

⚘

Behind the castle walls, she is royal-born; within them, he is a pawn of war. There are expectations for what can and can't be—consequences, explicitly penned, for any lines one may dare to cross in the presence of those whose forgiveness could not be earned, with even a lifetime spent atoning.

But beyond these cursed stones, she is infinite—and he, well...

Outside of the armor, she's never quite sure what to make of him.

He carries himself as though identity itself had failed to settle cleanly about him; as though any christening could not dream of capturing the soul strained against it; as though the wilds of the Green-Valley River and mountain hearths alone knew which name to speak, by the light of the blood moon.

He is the binding of a chain in a great line of prophecy. He is tethered to her. In these moments alone, that is all the clarity she demands.

The night strips their titles to frayed fragmentations; buries their divinity beneath the eaves of the palace's outer gates. He approaches her, always, with the stars held on his back: lays a kiss at the bend of her knuckles, the silk of his hair warm at her hand: leads her, with silent, knowing strides, about the forests' brush, to the great unknown of the world beyond.

There is something comforting, strange though it comes, about the grand insignificance of one's life, when faced with the beauty of it all—miles upon miles of wilderness untamed: the eyes of the great mountains and endless reach of the wide-glittered sea the only ones privy to a history time could not dare to contain.

It should be a damning weight, to a typical mind. But, for her, it is freeing, in a way nothing could have prepared her for.

In the dark, rough earth bruising against her legs, she can breathe—heaving lungfuls of damp, mist-chilled air, eyes closed to the night. Can let her hair fall, rain-wet about the cave of her shoulders, without the burden of its inherent femininity. Can drag muddied fingers about the firm, battle-hardened heat of his own, to be lifted upon the stones' rugged slopes, canopied beneath the valley pine and blessed unquestioning.

(Sometimes, fingers slipping free about the cracks of her shell, she will find herself sobbing; and sometimes, shivering with the cold of the lake's shallows, she will lay a pale hand about the water-beaded slope of his waist and find herself envious; and sometimes, she will pull the heat of his tunic upon her, and hold it to the flat of her sternum with an ache she cannot (will not) name—not yet.)

Most times, they find points of conversation in the quiet. But he is one of few words—and she is one of too many—and the lull that bubbles between the scrape of their heels on dark earth and the claiming of a space wholly theirs, for a time, drifts through touch as much as it is spoken.

Tasting his spirit is enough, in any of its forms. It is the one thing that grounds her, these days.

⚘

"Were you always sure this is what you wanted?" she murmurs, against the tide of his breath.

The night air is cool with a storm across the way. His fingers shift the drape of his cloak about her shoulder. "Hard to say," he says, after a long moment. The cluster of weeds that thistle and sigh about the cliff's edge are frowned upon, thoughtfully. Beyond them, valley settlements lost to the pitch flicker with fireflies of flamelight. "I'm not sure I ever had a choice."

She twists her fingers about the heavy cloth wrapped upon them. "Why do you say that?" She glances up to find the soft angle of his jaw, the sharp line of his nose: golden lashes turned blue to the night: the deep of his eyes—sodalite, in the sun—now a blackish sea: swallowing, and moonbeamed.

He lifts one brow, with an absent sort of smile. The crook of it dimples his cheek. "Well." The smirk loosens, and his stare shifts to steel: hardened, unforgiving, where it wanders through the valley's shadows. "I had to keep going." It is not spoken like an explanation. It is a living fact: present, as much as past. "You take whatever hand you're dealt."

Her eyes slip away, far beyond, steady on the roughened peaks of the cliff's edge. She forces liquid down her throat. Lets her lashes fall. "Did you ever regret it?"

His lungs fill beneath her cheek. "Living?" he breathes out. He turns his eyes to the stars. His fingers burn against her shoulder. "No."

⚘

They are not caught (wine-red eyes ensure of it, though she has yet to be made privy to the silent promise her shadow has made to her)—but wandering eyes stir suspicion, nonetheless.

(The court elders may presume, at the simplest of grievances, that she has found an unsuitable lover—and that, perhaps, could be contested. She will not be so brazen as to display her affections in plain sight. But the palace's inner walls knew the shivers of her pleasure: knew she cradled a carefully-wrapped memory of the taste of his mouth, with every instance the touch of his lips had been given.

That scandal, in itself, is such a simple one. There are far greater grievances to be held by men drunk off priest-magick and blood-rites—but those, she takes care to never shine a light towards, at all.)

In the moments closed off from the prowling of their palace's royals, he shares worn tunics with her, unasked; shows her how to thread shut their daggered weaves with a surgeon's stitch, in place of embroidery. His fingers are gentle, so gentle, through the strands of her hair: the long coils of it plaited and smooth. In a mirror that glistens with the flicker of a single flame, she stares at the bared hollows of her cheeks through her fringe, and fights to put a name to the soul she sees.

(She will not keep those beautiful fabrics, no matter how her heart longs to pull them close. Their evidence would be incriminating to scavenging elders yearning for proof of a sentence yet to be made.

Still—there are things she can keep hold of, in her own ways. She gathers them into the empty space of her palms, locks them away in the small boxes of her being, with as much affection she can muster; tries, fiercely as she can, to not let the gleam of their treasure dim with resentment.)

When he leaves, the scent of him lingers—oiled leather, and sweet hay, and the damp green of a forest path before the light.

She drags her fingers about the bared slope of her shoulder, and aches for that hollow warmth to be her own.

⚘

"Ride away with me." The offer is laid into her hair with utmost reverence: one fully aware of its futility. It is no different than asking a long-lost spirit to return to mortal land, once more.

She twists the pale petals of a gardenia within her fingers. "I can't," she whispers, after two breaths. "You know I can't."

He does—and the crease that slides within the sun-kissed hollow of his cheek is accepting of it. His eyes take her soul by the hand and lead it into the shallows of possibility, no matter. They are the sea's green and the blue of dusk wrapped into one: enchanting, and fierce, and quiet.

"You can't, forever," he affirms. He tilts his head, the line of his weight an easy shift upon his palms, pressed to the marble at the empty space beside her. The garden whistles with the tune of a roving nightingale. A breeze sweeps the dark honey of his hair about his cheek. "But—" (Always, this—and, always, she waits: dreading, longing, for where his reason will get the better of her) "—I don't think an hour or two will hurt you that much."

Damn him. "You're determined, again, aren't you?" she sighs.

The flash of his teeth is sly, and lovely.

⚘

Slowly, she begins to resent the dawn.

The sun's glow spiders a scalding hand about the twist of her sheets: snares about the linen that puddles upon her bones, speckled with long-faded stains of bloodspots and grime. It draws him away, like the tipping night pulls the constellations down with it.

Drowsily, she will let the heat of his clothes be reclaimed: sway into the roughened care of his touch, the kiss of his breath upon her breast.

He will dress with the morning light simmering through the fibers, golden through the long frays of his hair. His touch will haunt her: knuckles pressed warm to the back of her shoulder, brow brushed upon the loose curls of her plait.

The birds will chitter through the open window, long after he is gone. Sitting up in a bare, chilled slump, she will lift a weary hand: begin the slow process of unweaving the ties of her hair, a ripple of moon-yellow about the slope of her back.

Across the room, costumes of royalty will catch the sun's glimmer with lace-clotted teeth.

⚘

Eventually, Impa, reddish eyes downcast, reveals her actions to keep them hidden from prying councilmen—shared simply upon the steps of their chambers, a bottle of mead set between them—and there is little she can do, to wrap her heart around the countless things this woman has always been to her, whether bound by blood or not.

(Most of all, it is her shadow's very being—her strength, her rage, her power; it is beautiful, and it is unforgiving, and it is warmer than any flame.

It eases out confessions long sheltered from the daylight, like a poison drawn from a wound: small, shivering, horrid things. Once she has started, she can't find the will to stop.)

"I wish it wasn't like this." Her heart feels heavy—so heavy. "I wish another life could have some to me. That I wasn't spending—spending so much time, trapped between words—"

Impa's mouth is thin. Her eyes are kind. "Why?"

"Because I don't—" The words shake: incredulous, enraged. "I don't know why I feel like this—"

"Highness." And surely Impa, herself, knows—for she wears her authenticity upon her sleeve; carries her presence without any possibility of burying it. "I understand. I do." The bottle hangs over the great slope of her knee. "But you do not have to crawl through the pages of a life you were not present in, to a find a reason for why you feel the way you do."

If only it were that simple—oh, if only—

"Your story has not been predefined—Crown, or not," Impa continues firmly. It crumbles any scraps of denial to measly things, forgotten. "We are living; oral histories and songs—our existence transcends language." Vermillion eyes turn with gentle focus down a strong shoulder. "Our tales do not have to fit into the words of men."

⚘

Perhaps, indefinability in itself is the answer to it all—and what a freeing, terrifying thought that is.

It is what he has embraced. It is what she has yearned for.

(But it is not an explanation enough—and she is searching, searching still.)

⚘

The banquets arrive and depart in grand flourish, one after another after another, harkening the seasons like a vile overture.

They will never end, so long as a kingdom is here to lay claim to them. She is not so foolish as to forget that. Battles will still be fought, and lost, and won: blood will still be shed in her name: and, contained within the clamor of their noblefolk, they will appear in their assigned roles—allow their eyes to find each other, as they always do; one affirmation of countless unspoken others, no matter the wilds that surround them—and carry out their respective duties, in silence.

It is a routine time will not abandon; one she is unable to avoid.

But it will pass. It will always pass. That, she has not forgotten, either.

⚘

Dusk blooms violet and pink across a blue-blackened streak of rolling hills, her breath sharp and cool between the galloping—and for this moment alone: eyes sinking closed, pressed to his back, to the warm furs of his steed: they are flying.

She tightens her hands about the curve of his waist. Turns her eyes to the sky's settling dark, far beyond the horizon.

He turns over his shoulder, hair fluttering against her cheek. "Where to?"

It is an endless host of possibility—the chance to run across the farthest edges of the world and dip down to the lowest rocky points of the southern shoals—and she could let him ask her, for a lifetime. A smile curls across her mouth, absently, where she tips her chin into his shoulder.

"As far as you want to go," she murmurs. A grin creases through his cheek.

In this moment, she is winged, and golden, and glittering.

In this moment, she doesn't need a definition.

#zelda fanfic #loz #zelda #gilded and golden #link #zelink #so...like of 90% is coming from me just being a nonbinary kid growing up on zelda and projecting onto link *a lot*#(didn't we all)#blame this on me getting emotional listening to zelda piano covers #augh this series #also this is...sort of oot timeline?#not really sure #words just happened #writing #cw war mention #cw blood #cw violence

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aworldofyou · 2 years

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IMPORTANT HEADCANONS TO CONSIDER

CAN THEY USE CHOPSTICKS: Yes, John can. He loves to eat Chinese Takeout and he loves to go to restaurants to serve his lady love, lad love, or family. But most of all, when he was a bachelor in his own little apartment it was something quick that he could get when he was feeling particularly lazy. (He goes to the gym all the time, does he have to worry? not entirely)

WHAT DO THEY DO WHEN THEY CAN’T SLEEP: John is an early bird so times when he can’t sleep are far and in between, because if he doesn’t get to bed right away he’s about conked out and snoring anywhere he is sitting by ten or eleven. But in the rare times he does? He lays there and wishes to high heavens he could sleep, turns the light on and pulls out a porn - for the ‘articles’ - he swears it. If his partner is next to him, then he’s sticking things in places until he is tired. Who doesn’t like to be woken up with sex? But otherwise, he’ll turn on am movie, and worst case scenario? Grab a beer and sit in the living room until it’s time to make breakfast.

WHAT WOULD THEY IMPULSE BUY AT THE GROCERY STORE: An odd mix of whiskey, beer, and protein powder for protein shakes. Yes he’s that Dad that always has one of those BIG tubs of powder for protein shakes cause muscle growth is important. He’s the cook mostly and his favorite meal time is breakfast so there’s always a restock happening of some sort of breakfast material in the fridge.

WHAT ORDER DO THEY WASH THINGS IN THE SHOWER: John likes to start with washing his body, he’s always spending time at the gym, running, or ... other things if he’s with his partner. So cleanliness is always where his mind goes first. Then he goes to his hair, brushes his teeth cause he brushes them in the shower, and then considers if he should shave or not after.

WHAT’S THEIR COFFEE ORDER: Black with two or three sugars. If he’s feeling fancy he will add creamer - or ask for creamer. But on days he’s feeling frisky he goes for a latte or a ice latte. DO NOT ask him about the fancy shit he doesn’t understand any of it.

WHAT SORT OF APPS WOULD THEY HAVE ON THEIR SMARTPHONE: He has dumb little puzzle games that he likes to sort through on impulse when he can’t settle, Instagram of course, and Facebook. Toon Blast likely, and a few free shooter games. Youtube especially, and baby parent apps when he becomes a dad. He also posts thirst images and work out videos because he can’t help himself. When he gets a girlfriend she just get subjected to personal thirst images and dirty texts. (And those dirty texts and phone sex things are exactly why he won’t let you look at his phone)

HOW DO THEY ACT AROUND CHILDREN: John is a natural uncle. His sister has two children before he even has children of his own. And the children all love him. He knows how to be playful but careful, welcoming and protective. It comes natural, and it even works out more when he has children of his own. HE IS SO EAGER TO HAVE A LITTLE GIRL TO BE HIS LITTLE PRINCESS. All in all, he loves them and they love him.

WHAT WOULD THEY WATCH ON TV WHEN THEY’RE BORED AND NOTHING THEY REALLY LIKE IS ON: Cooking channels. John has always wanted to go to Culinary School. So if nothing is on he would just change it to a food network and leave it. And if he’s alone or it’s just him and his partner, he will entirely throw on some porno because he’s a typical guy. He loves his porn and he is unashamed of it, whether or not his partner approves of it or not depends on who it is. Food or Porn, that’s it.

tagged by: @twistedwit

tagging: @paddyfuck, @upsidowned , @exsanguinatedserenity , @cagedchoice , @thecodekeeper , @timesense , @manaborn and YOU. Steal it from me.

#[ wanahton ] what does it mean?#[ wanahton / ch. study ] this is closer to home than you know #[ wanahton / v: modern ] just a early morning baker making ends meet.

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bittersweetsweetheart · 2 years

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The fact that I post a picture of my face (with most of it hidden by sunglasses) and get followed by a bunch of men with porn blogs is really concerning.

But like, it's kinda funny too. They follow me probably hoping for titties and instead get posts featuring outfit inspo, an ongoing existential crisis and unashamed thirst for Al Pacino.

#it girl #dear diary #girlblogger #girlblogging #coquette

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l-e-g-i-o-n-losh · 2 years

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This is probably a result of skewed perspective or something its probably not as big an issue as i think but it really feels like tumblr had better resources for LGBTQ & questioning people when most users thought they were straight/cis. Like i love the positivity and all but now every gender/sexuality tag is flooded w aesthetic & thirst traps & pining yearning fantasy posts for #relatability where there used to be a ton of informational posts & resource networking. Most of the pronoun tester/aggregate blogs shut down in the MOGAI discourse so now theres nowhere to experiment and try things on. Everyone "already knows" and "we're all x here" so theres no room for uncertainty or ambiguity or review. Coming out is a Huge Deal and everyone has to live loud and proud and unashamed ESPECIALLY if they want to make or participate in art about queerness but you can't be TOO loud and proud and happy or you're sanitizing and theyfluencing and performative and taking up space to talk about pain and struggle meanwhile nobody's actually keeping resource networks active/acessible to help people who are struggling and in pain. Can we please give each other a little grace? A little room to be messy and confused and happy and sad and every complicated thing we are?

#idk im not setting this to dont rb but its just a personal vent kinda #songs that the hyades shall sing

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mish-tique · 2 years

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PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME UNSUPERVISED! What if Max's pregnant and as a joke gift, Lewis hot him a push-up bra and pants while saying "I hope to see you in them next time", not really thinking his bf would actually turn up to a formal event dressed in almost see through clothes wearing the bra and pants while grinning to Lewis. "You wanted me to wear them, future hubby?" Lewis would surely drag him out of the event and posting a small thirst thread on insta afterwards

Please omg this is so feral and wild I'm screaming.

Can you imagine though, Max already has that light pregnancy glow and looks amazing but this makes it go a step further. Maybe some kind of gala or music/personality thing? I can imagine max showing up in a suit but like with a see through blouse?

And halfway the night he just abandons the blouse and he looks so good in that seductive without even trying way while he's glowing. To outsiders it's obvious that Max is happy with Lewis and that they truly are in their prime.

Lewis can only handle the teasing for so long, whispering small promises in Max's ears about his plans for the night, for how he's repaying Max for showing up like this.

Fans go crazy about the pictures of Max that Lewis has taken personally, even more about the way he's covered in hickeys like they're some unashamed horny teenagers.

#nsft #mpreg #4433

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raibebe · 4 years

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Dive in deep to you

Genre: smut Words: 2.659 Prompt: Vampire Changkyun + “I’m no good for you but I can’t stay away” Warnings: blood, messy smut

A/N: This is not exactly the phrase you looked for but this is what I came up with one Saturday morning and wrote basically in one sitting. Big thank you to @min-inu for the moodboard! Let’s hope I fixed the post after tumblr ate all of it.

Vampire: A living corpse that drinks blood of the living by biting their necks with long, pointed canine teeth to quench their never ending thirst.

“Fuck, Changkyun,” you groaned when he picked you up beneath your thighs with superhuman strength, his fingers surely bruising your thighs, and crashed your lips together in a kiss that was more tongue and spit than anything else. Your back roughly collided with the door of your apartment that you had just unlocked, knocking the breath out of you. “Sorry,” your lover said, burying his face in your neck so he could suck dark bruises onto the skin. You could feel his fangs rake over your skin just where your blood pulsated through your veins, making you shiver. But he never bit down, not in all the weeks you had hooked up; instead he left purple bruises next to the ones that were already fading, tearing a moan from your throat.

“Get us to the bedroom at least,” you spoke breathlessly when he started rutting against you like a horny teenager. “I could take you right here, no problem with that,” he argued, “Think about how deep I’d fuck you.” “Changkyun you’re not fucking me in the hallway,” you groaned, twisting your hands in his bleached hair to pull him from your neck to connect your lips again. When you broke the kiss, you were panting hard and Changkyun’s crimson eyes were blown wide, a small string of spit connecting your lips. “Bedroom. Now,” you demanded, kicking your feet against his backside. “Be nice or I’ll drop you,” he grumbled but followed your orders. The way to your bedroom was familiar to him after you had walked it countless times in the past weeks ever since you first hooked up with him after a drunken night out with your friends.

That night you didn’t even notice what kind of creature he was until he had you spread out beneath him and his ice-cold fingers had made you shiver. He had asked if you were scared of him and until this day you didn’t know why you told him that you weren’t. It must have been the alcohol coursing through your system that night but even after you had started to hook up in a somewhat sober state you still weren’t scared of him. Even when he looked at you from his crimson eyes and with elongated fangs, his control to hide his vampiristic features slipping, like he wanted to devour you, you were never scared that he would actually harm you.

“Why do you always close all doors?” Changkyun groaned, his vampric nature making it impossible for him to pass the threshold like that. You just giggled, twisting your body to open the door to your bedroom for him. “It’s nice to see that such a strong man like you still has his weaknesses even if it’s something simple like a closed door.” “How about you shut that smart mouth of yours,” he growled. “Try me,” you challenged him and he forcefully connected your lips again, wasting no time to lick into your mouth. You couldn’t help but feel proud that his control already seemed to slip, his fangs already sharpening.

He broke the bruising kiss to unceremoniously throw you down on your mattress, making you jump up and down a few times. “Impatient aren’t we?” You giggled. “I can smell you feel the same,” the vampire smirked, unbuttoning his silk blouse button after button, revealing the perfectly pale skin of his chest and abdomen. Throwing the garment off of his strong shoulders, he quickly popped the button of his jeans, slipping out of them. “Like what you see?” He grinned, shamelessly palming himself over the dark fabric of his briefs. “Yeah, but I’d rather have it right here,” you admitted, letting your legs fall open to expose your glistening core to him, fighting back the heat that crept into your face. Going commando beneath your short dress might have not been the smartest idea you had ever had, but the way your lover stopped mid stroke and went completely still was worth it.

Changkyun growled deep in his chest, a dark and threatening sound, reminding you that he still was a dangerous creature. Within the blink of an eye, he had grabbed the neckline of your dress and the next thing you heard was the sound of the fabric tearing when he ripped your dress neatly down the front to expose your body for him. “I liked that dress,” you gasped when the cold air of the room met your heated skin, making your nipples perk up. “I’ll buy you a new one,” the vampire promised, his crimson eyes fixed to your exposed boobs, “You haven’t been wearing any underwear this entire time?” “No,” you breathed, shivering beneath his smoldering gaze. “You’re so naughty,” he said before attaching his lips to one of your breasts, sucking and gently biting on the sensitive nub. A curse left your lips and you threaded your fingers into his bleached hair, arching your back into his touch. While one hand was massaging your other boob, he let his other hand trail down your body, leaving goosebumps in its way, before he dragged his finger through your folds, spreading the wetness that had leaked from your core. “You’re already so wet for me baby,” he rasped, “Did you miss me?” “You wish,” you gasped, trying to labor your breathing. A wide grin spread over Changkyun’s lips, your heartbeat was betraying your words. “One day I’ll get you to admit it,” he promised before he slowly sank a finger into you, making you gasp. “Another one,” you demanded. “Someone is impatient today,” he chuckled but followed your command, his fingers stretching your inner walls when he began to move them; always just barely grazing your sweet spot and driving you crazy all while he continued to suck marks all over your torso. “Please,” you gasped, moving your hips to meet his lazy thrusts. “You’re desperate already?” He chuckled, withdrawing his fingers to draw circles around your clit instead. Your legs instinctively tried to close around where he kneeled between your legs but he forced them back open, slapping the inside of your thigh. “Be good,” he grumbled, leaning down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

You couldn’t help yourself to moan into his mouth when he finally began to finger you in earnest, crooking his long fingers to stimulate your sweet spot in a way that made you see stars. No other lover you ever had could make you feel this way. But Changkyun had the advantage of time on his side and must have already slept with more women than you could probably count. The thought made a pang of jealously shoot through you but it was washed away just as quick as it came when he flicked his wrist just right, making your thighs tremble. You cursed again, throwing your head back and moaning unashamed. You could feel your orgasm building in your stomach but this wasn’t how you wanted to cum and the feeling of Changkyun’s hard cock rutting against your body made you dizzy with want. “Need you inside of me,” you whined. “Yeah? Are my fingers not enough for you? Need my cock to cum?” He teased you, dragging his fingers through the mess that you had made of yourself, spreading your wetness even further.

“Please,” you begged and that seemed to do the trick. The vampire growled again, quickly getting rid of his underwear, pumping his flushed cock a couple of times before he slapped it onto your core a couple of times, letting the lewd sound fill the quiet of the room. “Don’t tease me,” you whined, trying to close your legs around him to pull him closer but he wasn’t budging a single bit, watching the way his cock was slipping through your folds with ease, the head rubbing against your sensitive clit. “Changkyun please,” you whined again when the head of his cock had briefly slipped into your core but the vampire had immediately pulled back to grind against you again. “I love it when you beg for me,” he confessed, leaning down to capture your lips in a quick kiss, “One day I’ll teach you some patience.” “Not all of us have eternity to wait for some dick,” you grumbled, making him chuckle. “Alright my little pillow princess,” he grinned, “I shall not make my dearest wait any longer.”

“Oh, I love it when you talk like you’re from-“ The words of mockery were punched out of you when your lover thrust into you, bottoming out in one smooth motion thanks to how ridiculously turned on you were. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite get what you were saying,” he chuckled, grinding his cock deep inside of you with smooth movements from his hips while keeping your thighs in an iron grip so you couldn’t shy away. “Changkyun, I, fuck,” you stuttered, gripping a fistful of sheets to ground yourself. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he whispered just like every time and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips that without fail made your heart skip a beat. You swore he must have heard it but chose to ignore it. “I can take it,” you promised, your gaze finding his dark crimson eyes.

“We’ll see about that,” he chuckled before pulling back his hips until only the head of his cock remained inside you before languidly sliding right back into you, letting you feel every inch of his length. “Fuck you’re so big,” you breathed when he repeated the motion, only barely picking up his pace. “You sure know how to flatter a man,” the vampire chuckled breathlessly, slowly rocking into you. “Please Changkyun, fuck me like you mean it,” you begged, hooking your legs behind his back to pull him closer. “Patience, dear,” he whispered, burying his cock inside you in one quick movement that punched all air from your lungs. “Is that what you want?” He asked, repeating the motion so your bodies collided in a lewd slapping noise. With every stroke you felt your brain cells leave your body, your world crumbling down until it only consisted of you and Changkyun. “I asked a question, sweetheart,” he repeated, snapping his hips to punctuate every word. “Please,” you whimpered, surprised by how wrecked you already sounded. “Oh baby, you’re too good for me,” he mused, tenderly cupping your face. You turned your head to kiss the inside of his wrist where his tattoo was fading yet again, his own body working to make the ink disappear. “Ruin me,” you whispered, looking straight into his crimson eyes. “With my greatest pleasure,” he replied, caging you against the mattress with his muscled body, your head bracketed between his arms.

This time when he pulled back his hips, he didn’t waste any time to thrust back right into you, setting a quick rhythm that had your head spinning. Moans after moans spilled from your lips that Changkyun eagerly swallowed with deep kisses. Only when he angled his hips differently and nailed your sweet spot, you had to part from his lips to get enough air into your lungs, your hands gripping his back tightly without your nails ever breaking the skin. But you knew he could feel them digging into his skin, tearing a growl from him. The pain only further spurred him on, pulling back further to fuck into you more vigorously, tearing broken mewls from your spit slicked lips and making you trash beneath him. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, not even a single bit out of breath before he nudged your head back again so mouth at your jaw and neck, pressing his tongue into the bruises he had left earlier, making sparks of pleasure shoot through you. When his fangs raked against your sensitive skin again, you swore you could feel the blood rushing just beneath the surface. “Please don’t stop, I’m so close” you moaned, desperately holding onto your lover, afraid you would just float away from all the pleasure clouding your mind. You felt his chuckle more than you could hear it and the way his fangs dragged across your skin made you lose your mind.

“Bite me,” you blurted out causing Changkyun to lose his rhythm. He stilled inside of you and you mewled in disappointment, your orgasm slipping out from beneath you. “Are you sure?” The vampire spoke into the skin of your neck. “Do it,” you panted, gripping his bleached strands of hair at the back of his neck, “I trust you.” A deep rumble resonated from his chest and he began to slowly move his hips again, dragging his length against your velvety walls and pressing it tightly against your sweet spot. “You’re too good for me,” he mumbled before dragging his teeth along the vein in your neck, “Relax.”

He ground down into you again, his public bone putting sweet pressure on your clit. Your moan of his name got stuck in your throat when you felt his teeth finally break your skin, the piercing pain shooting through your body. But as soon as you felt Changkyun swallow a mouthful of your blood, it seemed to vanish, being replaced by white, hot pleasure that seemed to course through you instead. It felt like he was exchanging your blood for the sweetest drug you had ever tasted. Your body was twisting and trashing beneath him, desperate to find your release. You didn’t even realize that he had stopped feeding from you when he started to almost erratically kicking his hips again, chasing his own high. “Come with me,” he groaned, fucking into you with abandon before his body went absolutely still and the most beautiful deep moan of your name spilled past his lips as he came deep inside you. That sight was enough to push you over the edge as well and you had to screw your eyes shut, millions of colors dancing behind your lids as your body shook through your orgasm, drenching the sheets beneath you in your release.

For a while both of you stayed still, coming down from your respective highs. While Changkyun was staring at you from blown eyes you had yours still shut, trying to take deep breaths to calm down your furiously beating heart and your shaking legs. “Careful,” he whispered when he pulled out his softening cock and you could feel how his release started to leak from your core. Without another word he pulled you into an embrace, lapping at the wound in your neck to coax it to stitch itself back together. “That was intense,” you laughed breathlessly when the vampire had pulled back again, trying to fix your messy mop of hair. “Thank you,” he spoke softly, pressing a kiss to the healed wound. “I feel like I should thank you,” you whispered, “That was the most intense orgasm I ever had in my entire life.”

Changkyun hummed and pulled you close to his unbeating heart. “Humans sometimes can feel great pleasure from letting a vampire feed on them.” “Why have you never done it before?” “You didn’t ask for it,” he simply said, “It doesn’t show good manners to just bite your lover.” You made an affirmative noise, cuddling closer to him, tangling your legs together, yet again noticing that he hadn’t even broken a sweat through all of this.

“We can’t keep hooking up like this, I’m not good for you,” he whispered into your hair after a while. “Stop saying that,” you murmured, “The heart wants what the heart wants.” “I don’t have a heart.” “You do, it’s just not beating anymore.” For a while the silence between you two stretched on, both of you lost in your own thoughts. “Hold me until I fall asleep?” You asked when you felt your eyes droop. “Sure,” Changkyun promised, tightening his strong arms around you, and somehow you didn’t even miss the warmth a body usually gave off.

#changkyun #im changkyun #monsta x #kafenetwork #monsta x smut #changkyun smut #monsta x i.m #i.m #changkyun vampire au #vampire au #monsta x vampire au #changkyun vampire #changkyun scenarios #changkyun imagine #monsta x imagines #monsta x scenarios

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kingkatsuki · 3 years

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Hello lovely! I've sent you a couple of thirst posts on anon in the past but it occurred to me I've never actually just let you know how dope I think your writing is... Like, you are my go to when it comes to Bakugou. You seem to get him on level very few writers do and it's 🤌🤌

I am also holding you responsible for my new found Kiri love. All your talk of giant, pro hero red riot who is an unashamed perv got me feeling some kinda way, I can't lie 😅

Ahhh thank you so much Aimee! I appreciate you sending in those posts to help me get through the day 😂

Please, everyone needs to hop on the Kirishima hype he deserves it so fucking much.💕

Currently convincing @/lookslikeleese to get on it too

#jo talks

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laurfilijames · 3 years

Text

Slow Burn- Part 1

Pairing: Modern AU Fili x female OC Prim

Words: 1,670 give or take

Warnings: It’s about to get smutty all up in here!!mentions of sex, swearing, alcohol and drug references

Summary: Fili and Prim are in love, but choose to tease each other rather than admit their feelings.

A/N: Part 1 of about 4. Or 5. I don’t know yet. It’s taken me WEEKS to post this, partly due to nerves and the fact that I make edits every time I re-read it before I think I’m going to post it. Please be patient with me! Thanks to @fizzyxcustard for giving me courage!

—————

It started the same way every time.

A night out for drinks with Kili and Tauriel. Dinner at Thorin and Bilbo’s house. Innocent and familiar gatherings with the family that has treated Prim as part of their own for the last four years.

But it also ended the same way every time.

Fíli’s lips brushing against hers ever so slightly as they said goodnight. His hand habitually clutching her waist and Prim silently willing this to be the time he finally gives in to the temptation that is her.

It happened every weekend regardless of the occasion or setting and it drove her mad with desire. She knew he felt it too, so why was he toying with her for so long? Teasing her like one would their prey before devouring them.

God, she longed to sink her teeth into the flesh on his neck. She watched now as it creased when he turned his head in her direction to look at her, his nose still crinkled from laughing at something Kili said.

Prim released the nail she had been nibbling on from between her teeth and slowly moved her finger down her bottom lip.

Fili noticed, no longer laughing, his pupils dilating as he watched.

Now that Prim had the attention of her preferred audience, she wrapped her arm around her head to clasp her thick, dark hair in her hand and draped it over her right shoulder, her left shoulder and neck exposed to the side where Fili sat.

From the corner of her eye she noticed his hand grip his thigh and his cheek flinch as he clenched his jaw.

As frustrating as it was to be taunted by him for this long, Prim relished in knowing she had the same effect on him.

He took a long sip of his beer and licked his lips once he swallowed, no amount of drink able to quench the thirst he always had for Prim.

Does she know that every move she makes drives him mad? It was getting near impossible to control his urges and the longing he had for her.

This couldn’t continue, he was a grown-ass man for fuck’s sake. He knew one day he would have to finally kiss her like she deserved and tell her how he felt about her, but at the same time it was too much fun, making her squirm as they continued to build the sexual tension between them.

He glared at her now, watching her move her long finger down her full lip before pulling her hair off her delicate neck. He fidgeted in his chair, resisting the urge to attach his lips to her neck and chest.

“Fili, pay attention!” Kili shouted at his brother, smacking his arm and pulling him from his thoughts.

“What?” He scoffed, annoyed for being interrupted.

“Tauriel has asked me to move in with her! I’m moving out!” He explained, excitedly.

It took Fili a moment to process the words, shocked at the news. He felt a slight pang of hurt knowing he would be all alone in his apartment, the absence of Kili creating a large void, but quickly tossed away the thought and decided he needed to be happy for his brother.

“That’s great, you two!” He smiled as he stood from his chair. “Let me get a bottle of champagne for the happy couple, we need to celebrate.”

Prim couldn’t help but notice a slight insincerity coming from Fili as he walked over to the bar. Kili and Tauriel were now lost in their own world together, kissing and whispering in each other’s ears, so Prim took the opportunity to check on Fili.

“Are you okay?” She asked, gently touching her hand to his shoulder, his body heat radiating through his t-shirt on to the tips of her fingers.

He sighed heavily before looking at her with a weak smile tugging at his lips,

“Yeah. I’m happy for them, I truly am. It’ll just be different without him. He’s been my little brother for thirty years and lived with me the entire time. He’s always just been there.”

The bartender placed the chilled bottle of champagne on the bar.

“Cheers.” Fili said, taking hold of the bottle and looking back at Prim.

“I’m fine, really,” he smiled at her fully this time, both dimples making an appearance. “And don’t think I forgot you prefer Prosecco over Champagne,” he beamed at her and held a second bottle up in his other hand.

Prim couldn’t help but grin, flattered how he always remembered the things she loved.

“I need to stop being so predictable,” she smiled.

She placed her hand on his forearm and looked into his piercingly blue eyes, serious now,

“I just want you to know that I’m always here for you. If you’re lonely or bored without Kili- and even if you’re fine- you know I always enjoy your company.”

“I know.” he said.

If you only knew how much I crave your company, how your hands and lips on my body could cure any loneliness, how boldly I will love you, was what he didn’t say.

Thoughts of the two of them alone in his apartment flooded his mind, picturing her naked and moaning against him in his kitchen, his living room, his bed.

Before he lost control of himself, he nodded in the direction of Kili and Tauriel, “We better get back to the table before their pash session gets us kicked out of here.”

Fili placed the bottles on the table and nudged his brother on the back once his hands were free.

“At least have the decency to drink this expensive champagne before you abandon us like you always do.” He requested.

It happened all too often that Kili and Tauriel would leave Fili and Prim on their own, anxious for privacy, but he never cared too much as it gave him the opportunity to be alone with her.

So long as Kili paid his portion of the bill.

“Yes, sorry! Thank you!” Kili grinned as Fili opened the bottles and filled their glasses.

Prim smiled as she held her flute in the air, listening to the toast Fili gave to Kili and Tauriel, wishing her luck in putting up with him and thanking her for taking his messy brother off his hands.

The night continued on as it typically did, all of them agreeing that it was cheaper to drink in the comforts of one of their homes, not having to pay for overpriced drinks.

Tonight they ended up at Prim’s apartment, and she was thankful she could fall asleep on the couch when she was ready to and not have to worry about getting a taxi to take her home late in the night.

She stood in the kitchen, leaning against the island with her chin in her palm, admiring Kili and Tauriel snuggling closely on her couch now, giggling at each other and completely unashamed to express their love.

“At least I won’t have to witness this anymore.” Fili said, topping up the wine in Prim’s glass.

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.” She sipped her drink and immediately took her words back as she watched Kili climb on top of Tauriel, their intensity increasing quickly.

“Never mind-.” Prim turned to face Fili and away from the couple dry humping on her couch.

“You have to admit though, Fi, that one day you would want that..” she trailed off when her eyes landed on the curly chest hairs peaking up through the neck of his t-shirt.

Yet another part of him she ached to touch.

He carded his fingers through his hair, slicking it back out of his face.

It was getting long, grown out now to just below his ears, curly and bleached even blonder from the sun. She loved it like this.

Honestly, she loved his hair any way, having seen it in every possible style through the years, from short, to short on the sides and long on the top, to just long and curly at his shoulders, but the way it was now allowed her to dream of tugging on it in bed.

Wetness pooled between her legs at the thought as it often did, and she knew she needed to think of something else before she threw herself at Fili and begged him to take her.

“I do want that,” he answered her in a low voice, his eyes telling it was her he wanted it with.

It was like ecstasy to her. No matter how many times she listened to him speak his voice made her melt each time. She bit her lip and closed her eyes when she felt him take a step closer to her, her pulse quickening as he leaned in to speak in her ear.

“I need to get those two home.”

Her head tipped back at the sensation of his breath tickling her skin, his hair brushing against her flushed cheek.

Prim clenched her teeth as he pulled away from her body, furious that he continued to do this to her.

“Okay,” was all she could manage to get out.

Please, don’t go, was what she wanted to say.

Just once she wanted him to stay the night, be in her bed with her.

Her breath caught in her throat when he placed his thumb on her chin, pulling it up so she looked into his eyes. Her hands gripped the counter for support as he took a step toward her again, making her lean her back against it.

“Goodnight,” he nearly whispered it as his lips pressed against the corner of hers, half on her cheek.

Prim inhaled sharply at his contact and tried to turn her mouth into his before he pulled away, missing him by a second.

She nearly growled when he winked at her and grinned, knowing he was fully aware of what he was doing to her.

“Goodnight, Fili.”

She glared at him with such want and she hoped he could feel the burn of it on his skin.

#dean o'gorman #fili x oc #the hobbit #modern au #fili durin #fili imagine #fili the hobbit

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itsevidentvery · 3 years

Text

Tagged by the fabulous @pianodoesterror Thank you so much!

1) how many works do you have on ao3?

49. They’ve crept up on me!

2) what is your total ao3 word count?

340,321. It’ll take a while before I hit the half-million mark but I’m working on it!

3) how many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

4: Silicon Valley, Good Omens (TV), The Terror and Hannibal (honestly Hannibal barely counts because I wrote one ficlet and got it out of my system).

4) what are your top 5 fics by Kudos.

Most of my top-kudosed fics are my Good Omens ones, and I don’t know if anyone follows me for those anymore. My top-kudosed in my current fandom (The Terror) are:

Two Houses, Alike in Indignity – aka my BritPol AU.

Da mi basia mille, deinde centum – kissing. Just… a lot of kissing.

A wounded deer leaps highest – an extended riff on the theme of Francis Crozier Submits to the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known. And also Being the Little Spoon.

Worthier than he knows – Mirror sex! Francis Crozier wriggling furiously under the weight of admiration and thirst! My apologies to TS Eliot, also.

An embarrassment of Jameses – Identity kink, James Fitzjames’s teetering pile of insecurities, and Francis Crozier’s altogether too many Jameses.

5) do you respond to comments?

I do! Not… well, or sensibly, because I love comments and they make me absolutely twitterpated, but I do respond.

6)what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Carnevale ends with unresolved heartbreak, insecurity and misdirected feeling. And this one’s not angsty, so much as grubby: a very nasty imagined interstitial between James Fitzjames and Francis Crozier after Cornelius Hickey’s flogging. And at least one of the possible endings of this Choose-your-own-Ending Fitzier is, er. Less than pleasant.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I’m an unashamed wuss, so I tend to write fics with happy endings, or at least happy-for-now endings. I’d say it’s a tossup between two fics. The first is my Good Omens human AU where Crowley is a determined bookstore customer, because Aziraphale and Crowley get together AND Crowley gets to have the book AND Aziraphale gets to not sell it. The second is my Terror BritPol AU, where Francis Crozier and James Fitzjames get to U-Haul AND Brexit is averted. Okay, that might actually be my happiest ending.

8) do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've ever written?

I don’t write crossovers per se, but I have written a Silicon Valley Regency AU which riffed on both the Twelve Dancing Princesses and has vibes of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. And I’ve written another Silicon Valley AU which loosely spins off Henry II and Thomas Becket, and my Terror BritPol AU takes a lot of its beats from the National Theatre’s This House.

9) have you ever received hate on a fic?

Lord, no, never written anything popular enough, I don’t think.

10)Do you write smut? What kind?

I do indeed! The … messy … kind, typically. As in ‘Just throw away those sheets, they’re beyond saving’.

11)have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so.

12) have you ever had a fic translated?

I haven’t! Open invitation, lads.

13) have you ever co-written a fic before.

I’m a rotten collaborator. I can barely bring myself to the sticking post, I wouldn’t wish my erratic writing habits on anyone else.

14) whats your favourite ship?

Fitzier and Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks will always have a very particular place in my heart.

15) whats a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

*looks guiltily* I don’t think, at this point, that I’ll ever finish my Good Omens fic where I trace Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship through the lens of the classic Seven Deadly Sins. Looking at it now, it should actually have been a series. But either way.

16) What are your writing strengths.

I think I’m good at dialogue and character observation. When I concentrate, I think I can pull off unexpected but illuminating word choices.

17) what are your writing weaknesses?

I think I should push myself more as a writer. For example, I’ve only ever written one reasonably plotty longfic – my Terror BritPol AU – and I’ve never written a puzzle-piece, or something that requires detailed worldbuilding. I also tend to default to a particular limited-perspective third-person present-tense style (with the exception of my dialogue-only Terror WIP), and I’d like to branch out more.

18) what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

I’ve only written scraps of dialogue in other languages in fic. If there were an easy way for readers to get the translation as they read, it’s something I’d love to see more. But in general I think the priority should always be the flow of the story. Writers can – and should – try to get across a change in language or idiom in a multitude of ways.

19) what was the first fandom you wrote for.

Silicon Valley! I unfortunately have a thing for Horrible Little Gremlins and Long Boys who Crave Validation.

20) what's your favourite fic you've ever written?

Ouf. This one’s hard to answer. My immediate instinct is to go with my Terror BritPol AU because it’s the first longfic I actually brought in for the landing, but I also have a soft spot for my Silicon Valley fairytale Regency AU and a Silicon Valley fic about emotional abuse told from the abuser’s perspective. The last one wasn’t an easy one to write but I think what’s on page is close to my conception of it, which is rare for me.

I suspect my Terror mutuals have already been tagged, but please do have a go if you fancy it! And I’ll tag @joycecarolnotes, @bitchardhendricks, @ladiesloveduranduran and @retrauxpunk if they fancy doing this.

#ouf writing #Pianodoesterror #fandom #the terror #good omens #silicon valley #about the author #thank you!

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