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screampied · 2 months ago

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❛ BED CHEM! ❜ t. fushiguro + k. nanami

☆ sum. being sandwiched between two of your co-stars during a séx scene sounds like a fever dream. the real fever dream is finding out who you have better bed chemistry with. the sweet blond who always talks you through it or the smug dark haired one who’s constantly stealing your panties.

wc. 5.9k

warnings. fem! reader, actor au, thréesomes, unprotected, semi-public, they eat you out at the same time, cervix mentions, premature ejac, size difference, dirty talk, pússy drunk men, praise, spít roasting, óral (f! & m! receiving), hair pulling, size kinks, bóob fondling, overstim.

“annnnd action.”

you mentally bite your lip, feeling every nerve through your body convulse from your co-stars touches. toji fushiguro and nanami kento—the most current hottest topic, you had this last scene to shoot for a movie you were the lead in. the scene in question was quite raunchy to say the least, both of them take turns to plant soft chaste kisses down both sides of your neck. both signature scents of their colognes were loud, a musk that forevermore wafts against your nose. your eyes flicker toward the camera every so often, trying to stay in character. this was probably the fifth take—you had a bit of a bad habit of missing your lines so there’d be a few retakes. emphasis on few.

“ken, look at her,” toji murmurs, and a gasp merely slips from you once his parted tongue creeps past his lips and onto your neck. his hand slowly trails toward your thigh and he squeezes it. “such a pretty thing. want more, do ya princess?”

you nod as a response but that’s when nanami’s hand gently cups underneath your chin. gingerly, a thumb ghosts by your bottom lip and he speaks sweetly. “ah, now sweetheart. we talked about that, we need a pretty answer from you, not a nod.”

“i- i want more,” you stammer, and as toji’s scarred hands continue to roam down your body, you suck in a keen sharp breath. the air felt substantially thick, mainly due to how all three of you were acting in a big spacey sauna. your hand grabs toji’s wrist and you slowly guide it down between the valley of your legs. the static of his plump shriveled fingertips brush up between the crevices of your thighs and it nearly makes you break character. “i want you both, please.”

“aw,” toji hums hoarsely, his pursed lips forming into a wry grin.

the more their hands ran down every inch of your body, the more your heart beat raced. its thumping quickened, and your thighs forcibly squeeze themselves together. the dark haired male softly creates circles around your thighs with a single digit before speaking breathlessly. “you want both of us, huh. not jus one? that’s bein’ pretty greedy, doll.”

“toji, she can be greedy if she wants,” nanami coos, and you make direct contact with him. .

the nanami kento, you’ve heard a lot about him. him and toji were both hot favored actors but him. actresses would kill to be in your role, kill to be in your shoes.

nanami kento was as smooth as they come.

suave, a gentleman, and of course, a smooth talker. your eyes gawk down his attire and he’s wearing nothing but casual—his sleeves were sexily rolled up and his usually parted blond hair was slightly ruffled and unkempt - most likely due to the growing humidity of the sauna.

tender brown eyes bore into you before he places a kiss near the twitching corner of your mouth. “relax, sweetheart. you’ll get what you want, promise. just be a good girl. can you do that?”

feeling as if your thighs were stuck together by imaginary adhesive glue, you let off a soft panting whine. “y- yes,” and you gasp, watching as toji’s head creeps lower. he’s being slow on purpose, teasing you—wanting for you to long for more, for him to hurry up.

a few bristles of his hair tickles and pokes against your leg before your chin’s softly being grabbed by nanami again.

“ah ah, eyes on me. don’t worry about him, focus just on me sweetheart,” and the two of you lock eyes. nanami’s dimples poke against the left side of his lips and he’s so pretty, he cups your cheek and you instantly lean into his touch. “good girl, get lost in my eyes.”

your mind’s running at such quick speed—it’s trying to remember the next parts of the script as they continue the foreplay. nothing could really be heard except for nanami’s gruff low voice and the faint whirring inside of the sauna.

the next scene, nanami would lean in for a kiss and toji would eat you out. you remember looking over the filthy script many months ago before you even landed the roll.

as your eyes would skim through every word, the explicit dialogue—the mannerisms they’d perform on you, a school of swarming butterflies would pour inside the pits of your stomach.

and now, it’s finally here.

it’s as if time stood still once nanami starts to lean in, closing the awkward distance between you two. once his lips gently crash onto yours, it’s as if your heart stopped for a minute. tender, passionate, and open-mouthed.

your head slightly tilts as you part your lips wider to give him access. nanami lowly groans in your mouth, tasting your syrupy saliva tangle against his own. “mhm,” and every few seconds, loud echoing smacks would slam against both lips. he tastes minty, but on his tongue you could also taste a bit of alcohol lingering on his breath. it’s sweet, and you wanted more. whilst his tongue’s being shoved down your throat, toji scoffs. he’s propped right up between your legs and you feel his big wide hands spread your thighs more.

a nonplus gasp leaves your lips at his roughly gentle touch — your body can’t help but grind against nanami, wrapping an arm and tossing it over his shoulder. “fuck,” you speak between sultry hot kisses, another one of your hands running down the bare slit part of his exposed chest. there, you’re met with a few curls of blond chest hair. you twirl it around with your finger and he groans in your mouth at your touch. back to toji, he starts slow. he creates sloppy wet licks and kisses that trail all down from your waist until he’s finally near your shorts.

“watch that mouth of yours,” toji utters, hot breath ghosting between your thighs.

he’d get closer and closer, closer until he’s just inches away from your the pretty fabric that sticks against your skin. verdant green eyes peer into the cloth that’s attached to your panties and he hums. “cute,” he rasps, pulling down the hem of your shorts for a quick inside peek. “looks like you remembered to wear panties this time after all. somebody’s learnin’, heh.”

“toji, stop teasing me,” your breath hitches, feeling nanami pull away to kiss near your neck once more. he was so gentle, curling his tongue around that sweet spot buried right near the inside of your neck and it makes you oh so weak.

toji just gives you a sly deadpans at you needy comment, slowly pulling down your denim bedazzled shorts.

with a scoff, he tugs on your panties with his teeth. “nah,” and with the fabric in his mouth, his words were a bit muffled. “dunno what’s the point of wearing these stupid things since ‘m jus gonna steal them again anyway.”

a breath gets lodged in your throat once nanami starts to suck against your neck, his teeth gingerly grazing against your skin. his breath was always so warm, every time it sets against your bare flesh you moan. as your glossy eyes ogle down back at nanami, you huff with a cute frustrated expression. your eyebrows knit and compress together and you merely whine. “just hurry the fuck up,” and your neck starts to lean back a bit. with both men having their hands on you—you weren’t sure how long you’d last.

constantly, you had to keep reminding yourself, it’s just a movie, it’s just another scene. .

or is it?

you’re entrapped inside of your thoughts, fully forgetting that you’re on film. as you’re in a temporary fantasm—you bite your lip before a clammy hand finds its way through toji’s shaggy ravened strands. instantaneously, black tresses entwine between your silvery fingers and you moan. he lays his tongue flat, teasingly lapping near the center part of your panties.

fuck, you’ve read over his parts specifically at least a dozen times and knew what he had to do during this scene but you didn’t expect it to feel this good.

toji’s breath was balmy, slow breaths whirl and fan against your clit that’s just barely being protected by the string of your panties.

nanami’s sloppy kisses trail down toward your chest and oh, you felt like you were floating. “poor baby’s fuckin’ soaked,” toji snickers as a fat thumb drags down your sopping cunt. he’s so quick that you don’t even realized he pulled down your panties—you don’t even know where they went. probably in his pocket, again. you feel a wave of heat flush over you as you can feel his feral gaze stare into your twitching muscle. “look at my girl’s nasty ‘lil pulse.” he hums, and his tongue does one single beginning lick near your folds. you whine, and his cold tongue as cold as ice. it’s a type of feeling you couldn’t put into words.

“toji, don’t hog her. i want a taste too,” nanami says in a gentle voice. speaking of, nanami could say the most nastiest things and it would still end up coming out like a compliment.

“s- shit,” you kiss your teeth, watching both of them with near half-lidded eyes once you see nanami’s head creep down also.

now, you’re being met with a chilling hungry yet feral gaze. you throbbed even more as you’re sprawled all out against the fragile bench of the sauna. tears of perspiration start to bubble against your skin as the heat gets a bit more thicker. it’s humid, and you don’t know if it was the temp of the sauna or them making you feel hot but you wanted more. your eyes meet them again, and you feel yourself getting more aroused once you realize. . they were both down on their knees for you.

to your left—there’s toji, he’s got the must smug expression. already near the left side of his lip, there’s a few droplets of your honeyed slick coating against his mouth. all from a single lick, you felt embarrassed at how wet you were. it was actually in the script that they would use lube to help you but clearly, you didn’t need it in the slightest. toji’s wearing a burgundy tank top that nearly sticks against his hard toned pecs. he’s so toned, a burly beefy body that looks almost chiseled, stoned. he looks like he’s been literally carved and sculptured from top to bottom. your eyes stare at his broad shoulders, his thick pecs, and even how a few of his black chest hairs pokes out from his shirt.

and then to your right, there’s nanami. a thumb of his slowly makes its way down your drooling salivating cunt and he’s almost in awe.

his pink glossy lips press up towards your entrance before he gives it a soft welcoming kiss. you moan at how delicate he was, and the longing tender stare he constantly gave you merely made your knees buckle. as the humidity rises in the sauna, strands of his hair continue to swelter against his forehead with the help of slimy sweat.

“my, my,” he purrs in a low voice, and they’re both right between your thighs. you couldn’t help but feel a palpitating sensation brew up between your legs. “we’ve got ourselves a wet one, toji.”

“yeah,” the dark haired murmurs, and his eyes narrow. but toji wasn’t fond of sharing - not one bit.

with a piqued eye roll, he leans in to lap his tongue against your pussy once more before nanami follows.

you release a sweet elongated moan you were holding in for the longest - but you remembered you had to be dramatic for the scene — fake.

that was kind of hard considering the blatant fact that yhey were actually making you feel good. but alas, you lazily slouch back against the wooden bench, letting off your best exaggerated moan.

nanami and toji both look at you at the same time and toji refrains himself from bursting out laughing. staying in character, he clears his throat, spanking your cunt. you moan, and your grip against his hair becomes more rough. he feels you yanks forward with a solid tug, grunting, and that’s when you feel nanami’s soft tongue present itself too.

slow, his tongue slowly runs itself against your pulsing clit and your eyes gradually roll themselves back. it’s now to where they’re both lapping up your dripping taste at the exact same time—both sloppy tongues flicking and slithering against your cunt oh, and you were an entire mess. it’s as if they were competing against each other. as they both bury their heads between your thighs, you start to shake, dragging their heads back and forth into your sopping pussy.

with your toes curling and your chest heaving, you mewl out a sweet whine. “oh my g-god,” your voice squeaks out, swallowing your own sheer arousing embarrassment.

their breaths collide against each other and land right on your pussy. so pretty, nanami’s eyes were closed whilst toji’s were wide open. he’s giving you a smug cheeky grin the entire time, using a thumb to occasionally glissade down against your twitching pussy. “damn, taste so sweet,” toji grunts, and you can hear the salacious timbre in his voice. a voice so deep that your thighs vibrate together. fuck, your hands end up delving through each of their strands of hair, tightly pulling them closer towards your pulsating heat.

both hairs curl within your fingers before you pull their faces even closer against your crying cunt, almost suffocating them. “mhm,” toji’s lips nearly glue against your pasty folds.

nanami’s tongue romantically swirls itself around until it reaches near your sweet nub.

that spot - your brain haphazardly haywires and short circuits right away and your knees almost collapse. “fuck, f- fuck ‘ken.” you gasp, dragging his head up. once you do, you’re met with a sleazy smile—he’s pussy drunk. it takes you a minute to realize maybe he’s not being in character anymore. nanami’s dimple still prods against both sides of his cheeks before he leans down, spitting right against your cunt.

“go on, ‘toj. lick it up since you wanna be greedy,” nanami playfully titters, running a hand through his hair just so he could touch your fingers.

toji’s shooting vexed daggers toward the blond before he’s almost nose deep against your pussy.

once he’s actually nose deep, he sniffs your cunt, spitting on it before lapping it right up. he does it all while staring at you too. “hmph,” he grouses, his long tongue moving toward nanami’s area, now slurping up nanami’s own sheeny trickling saliva.

you couldn’t lie, watching the entire risqué scene of both men fighting over eating you out right before you, right between your legs made you throb even more.

toji’s raven arched brows tweak inward before a hand of his pries your left thigh further apart. “don’t fuckin’ tell me what ‘ta do.”

nanami chuckles, pressing kisses near the warm crevices of your thighs. fawn sparkling irises flicker toward you before he whispers. “you doin’ okay, sweetheart. ‘s alright?”

“y- yeah,” your voice grows more shaky as toji continues. as if it had a mind of its own, a hand of yours tugs on nanami’s hair, guiding his head back toward between your thighs. nanami shakes his head with a cunning smile, going back to lapping at your tasty treat stored right between your plush thighs. swallowing a circled lump that resides at the back of your throat, your legs start to jolt. “f- fuuuuck,” your voice strains, and toji and nanami’s just making out with your pussy.

you watch the entire time—occasionally glancing up at the large propped up canon camera that’s a few feet away from you. oh right, it’s just a scene.

you were practically using your bottom lip as chewing gum with how they were vigorously eating out your starved cunt as if it was their last meal. they both used their crimpy long tongues to create such filthy circles and shapes on and around your pussy, maneuvering their fingers inside your cunt and all.

your breath starts to grow more and more irregular — changing its speed to being a lot more quicker the more they remain sat between your thighs.

“she’s gettin’ close,” toji murmurs between sloshes of smacks with his lips. each lewd ‘pop’ he makes with his lips leaves you dizzy and begging for more. the edge of his scar that runs down the right side of his mouth smears and rubs all up against your clit and it feels so good. it tickles, but in a more raunchy kind of way.

with nanami occasionally blowing and whistling against your folds, you were surely about to lose it. your mind’s spiraling—and as your fingers remain tangled in both ruffled strands and curls of hair, their chins start to glimmer and stream down with your candied slick. “look at me, girl.” toji pats your cunt, although it’s more of a wet slap. you whimper, moist doused droplets coming from your own pussy wetting his palm right away.

your eyes meet toji and the laps of his tongue grow faster. he’s munching against your pussy, swerving his head from back and forth before he grunts, playfully biting down on your clit. not hard, but enough to where it makes you let off a cute shriek. “cum, cum on my tongue, baby.”

“ah, i think you mean cum on mine,” nanami corrects him, giving your sensitive twitching clitoral hood a single kiss.

your eyes go back and forth between the two of them, but you can’t even reply because within seconds, you’re cumming, hard.

your mouth slightly drops whilst your jaw dramatically hangs open—pathetically dangling open as they’re still lapping you clean. both scorching hot tips of your ears were stuffed with imaginary fuzz. you couldn’t hear for a few long seconds—not to mention, your body was being invaded by a plethora of tingles that shot through your body.

“f-fuuuckk,” you whine, and you’re uncontrollably shaking. it’s a rush, a crazed rush that you do don’t want to stop. as you’re spasming, you glance down at the two of them.

“mphm,” toji’s still slurping at your dewy slick juices that stream from you before nanami’s tongue gets tangled with his. he blinks thrice, and their lips abruptly meet. panting and heaving, you watch—not really remembering if that was on script but neither exactly pulls away.

they’re focusing their sloppy slick tongues on your spasming convulsing cunt while mashing glossed lips together. you throbbed at the lewd sight of your two co-stars, seeing toji grow flustered and nanami being a bit more dominant.

that was rare, as stoic as of a man that he was, you’d last expect to see toji this way. you moan, still felling their sloshing wet tongues twirl around the insides of your sobbing pussy all whilst they’re making out. at contact, they’re both tasting nothing but you on their tongues the entire time, a concoction of saliva entangles with each other as they relish in savoring your sweet taste on their tastebuds.

“maybe you’re the one who needed attention,” nanami gradually pulls away, stands of shimmery saliva dragging away from both pursed lips.

“tch. shut up,” toji grumbles, and he focuses back toward you. he slides a tongue across and over crooked his lips.

the next thing you knew—you were being lifted up, tossed right over toji’s burly shoulder.

you gasp, feeling nanami’s gentle eyes bore into your curves before he positions you, using a single hand to spread your shivering thighs apart. you were still a bit shaky and sensitive from your most recent release—your teeth still shattered and saw how their jaws locked, especially toji’s.

you felt every nerve jolt through your body, coursing through your veins.

but once the actual scene came, you were screwed.

it wasn’t fake anymore, your orgasms and moans were very much real now. and that was perfect, you were perfect, because behind the lens—it not only felt real but it looked real too.

your pretty expressions, your flat pink tongue lolling out of your mouth and the way you’re panting. toji’s fucking you from behind and he’s just mean. hard thorough strokes that makes his hips snap right into you, crash into you at full speed to where he’s creating a fatal collision.

“ah, open,” nanami whispers, and your eyelids that were practically droopy glance up. you’re met with nanami. the blond’s got a hand resting on top of the crown of your head before he taps a thumb against your cheek. “let me see that pretty mouth some more, my love,” and you lean into his touch. toji’s hips however were so rude—your sweet incoherent babbles soon starts to grow a bit more quavery due to how rickety he made your body. the olden wood of the sauna nearly splits and you can hear the blaring cracks after each rocky thrust. your lips part open and your eyes go straight toward his cock. his boxers were halfway on with the cerulean blue hem of it just hanging and protecting his sharp carvend v-line.

so pretty, you just wanted to run your tongue up and down and across every line and spot that decorates his soft skin.

“ngh, a-atta girl,” the blond’s brows reluctantly twist together, watching your warm mouth slowly take him in fully.

god, your eyes were so mesmerizing to look at. he delicately cups underneath your chin, feeling the minuscule amounts of saliva drip from your lips. your jaw remains to hang open, dangling like an earring—and that’s when he’s slowly inching himself inside your tight warm throat.

immediately, you see a bit of his blond curly pubes through your blurred peripherals. nanami’s abs clench and tighten at the feeling of your hot mouth and he groans. “my good . . girl, ugh. pretty girl with an even prettier throat.”

toji’s still propped up behind you, two broad hands attached to your waist—practically glued on. you whine, your sweet noises becoming muffled as his hips plummet into you raw.

you feel your toes curl up within each sloppy degrading thrust he makes. as you’re taking nanami’s cock, you swirl your tongue around his mushroom tip that’s got a faint splash of pink painting near the very top. he’s bittersweet, your lashes flutter as your pretty plump lips envelope around his hefty length. a single prodding vein that runs down his cock twitches inside of your mouth and you moan at the feeling.

“fuck,” toji hisses, feeling your gummy insides squeeze and clamp around him. you’ve got your back arched as your hands cling onto the sauna’s ligneous bench.

the furniture’s woody and it continuously tottering by the second—loudly creaking as his pivotal strokes deepen. every few seconds, he’d swat a palm against your ass just to hear your cute whimpers. toji likes to gawk at the recoil, the way your ass cheek jolts back against his hand from the spank, it’s cute.

the concise twinges that follow from his hand makes your moans get louder, reverberating through the thin tapered walls of the sauna.

raspy pants leave from toji’s gruff vocal chords before his callous fingertips dig deep into the fat of your hips. his foot’s tapping against the floor as his head slightly cocks itself back. “mhm, shit. such a nasty girl, gettin’ stuffed from front ‘ta back. ‘s that what you really wanted, hm?”

since your mouth was currently occupied with nanami’s thick inches—you nod while starting to feel his bulbous tip repeatedly thwack back against the roof of your mouth. your eyes squeeze shut for a second as you’re twirling your tongue around his veiny length. steadily, nanami’s cock grows inside your mouth and you happily keep it warm. each twitching vein that runs down his shaft, you flick your tongue against it just to hear him moan out your name. you’re so aroused that you try to sneak a hand down between your trembly thighs, only to be swatted away by toji’s hand. you whine, a pout forming against your swollen lips as his pace quickens.

“no touchin’ my pussy,” he mumbles, and you felt yourself twitch. now that wasn’t in the script, but the more he smacked your cunt, the more you felt extra butterflies stir inside your stomach.

toji’s got such a good angle on you—he’s ferocious, ravaging through your pasty walls, feeling your sloppy slick run all down his cock.

your ass almost glues against his pelvis, and that’s when he leans right up against you. skin against skin, big hands reach near your chest, toying with your bouncy neglected tits. you moan, feeling his thumbs curl and squeeze against your perky nipples that poke through the blouse of your shirt. “such a pretty rack, yeah,” he lowly whispers, licking near your neck. his voice was so low up against your ear. so low, the playfulness in his voice was almost enough to make you cream on his cock right then. toji’s base was very full, and he’s now just smacking against your bare ass with. a few seconds later, he groans, feeling the brief pangs of electricity ripple near the undersides of his meaty calves. “ugh, god such a pretty view like this though. ‘ken fuckin’ wishes he had my spot.”

“oh, don’t flatter yourself, toji,” the blond hums, though as he’s speaking, you could tell he’s flustered.

your tongue has nanami stammering a bit, he’s patting your head, strumming a thumb against your pursed lips. once he meets your gaze, his breath nearly gets stolen away. “you’re doin’ so good, sweetheart. makin’ me feel so good,” and you watch his adam’s apple bobble. his praise warmed something in your heart.

it was something about being degraded from behind and praised near the front.

toji’s reeling your ass further back into his hips with ease whilst you’re focusing your eyes strictly on nanami. nanami’s heart races at the sight of you and now, he’s wondering if this really is just a scene anymore.

he found himself getting lost in your eyes—maybe it was a bit unprofessional, but you’ve had the gaze of an ethereal galaxy. the way your pupils would doe up and dilate as your head goes up and down against his length, he wanted more of you.

“that’s it,” he grunts, running a hand through his matted blond strands. nanami nearly loses his balance once your sucking turns into slurping. you’re a mess, your entire chin being damp because of your own saliva. he wipes some of it up with his thumb, only to taste it himself and he moans. your head continuing to bobble and he’s about to break, no, he is breaking. “slobber a- all on it, don’t be shy pretty girl. ‘s okay to be my messy girl. there we go.”

“tch.” toji’s eyes roll, and he’s still striking into you. your cunt was clingy, gripping around him tightly like a vice. the feeling makes his jaw tighten whilst your stomach seizes in rapture. he’s so deep, your limbs felt so flimsy as your pathetic breaths start to get more strained and breathy.

toji’s grip was angry, it’s french kissing right up against your cervix and you can’t help but let off a squeal. right there, he knows that’s your sweet spot and once he suddenly realizes it, his rude thrusts become purely maddened.

more souse streams of saliva drips down your chin as you’re slathering the entirety of nanami’s cock with your own filthy viscid spit. you look so pretty, cock drunk and on the verge of finishing yet again.

toji fucks like a madman—each stroke felt like your entire body was gonna snap in half. his body’s hovering over you and his warm completely radiates against your own. he’s so close that he’s merely humping you, sloppy greedy strokes becoming more feral as the seconds pass. his tip massaged your walls through and through, and your eyes were rolling way back until you saw nothing but pearly white at the back of your sockets.

by this point, this entire scene didn’t feel like you were filming for a movie anymore. it slipped your mind, you forgot this was literally your job.

“s- sweetheart, ‘m gonna cum,” a husky voice interrupts your thoughts, and your tongue still toys with his leaky slit. a hand of yours wraps around his full base, stroking him with a few good solid pumps and he’s so close. your touch made him shudder, the kind of shudder where he’s just addictive for more.

more of you.

“heh, that’s right. milk the pretty boy, babygirl. he’s all flustered because of y’er throat. that’s rich,” toji snickers, a rough cackle leaving his lips as his eyes meets his abashed co-star.

it was true, nanami was entirely flustered—he’s even avoiding eye contact now and sweating pinballs. toji’s hands were now sweating from the palms and he pulls your hips continuously back into him, each slam becoming more merciless.

but fuck, his cock was just insanely thick — it expanded through your walls as your cunt merrily constricts around his length.

it slides in and out, the squelches that your cunt makes because of it leaves you craving for more. your sopping wet, and he’s only making it ten times worse nanami narrows his eyes at toji’s teasing, lightly pulling your head down just a bit more to keep your attention back towards him. “hah, don’t listen to him, pretty. eyes on me, let me see that gorgeous face ‘m about to p-paint, fuck.”

nanami’s blushing tip reddens, and once he finally cums—it’s so much. it shoots out in stringy milky ropes, velvety and all.

it paints right onto your flat tongue and your eyes snap shut for two seconds at the bittersweet taste. your lips felt tepid, still having your mouth wrap around his cock as his dick now becomes soft and flaccid. “god,” he whines, multiple metallic fingers of his delving in your scalp.

nanami’s so pretty after he finishes, he’s got somewhat of a feverish glow to him and you see his veins pop out through each of his bulky muscles. it shows right through his shirt he wore, which was close enough to being see through.

“take it, swallow it f’ me sweetheart,” and he cups your chin, removing his dick from your dampened lips. his eyes were just as droopy as yours and he’s heavily panting. “ah, can you do that?”

with your cheeks all puffed up and stored full of cum, you’re completely dimwitted. you give him a nod, swallowing the hot seed before taking a second to breath. nanami doesn’t waste any time and he leans in, pulling you into a kiss. “i want a taste of myself too.” he murmurs breathlessly between kisses. as his head lowers to your level, you moan at the feeling of his lips pressing onto yours. it’s passionate, his tongue intertwines with your own and he then roves the tip of his tongue near the crevice of your mouth. there, he tastes a few remnants of his cum and it makes him groan.

toji’s still plowing into your sopping cunt that’s fully drenching down on him before he quips.

“hn. freaks,” and literally seconds after that, his cockiness fades away because he’s now cumming too. it’s quick, it hits him at full force like a speed of a semi-truck. toji’s ramming his cock up against that sweet spongey texture that’s making you whimper before he finishes himself. the build up was practically non existent. it was just sloppy, the hormone rush drives him insane and now he’s the one that’s short-circuiting. “oh s- shit,” he growls, feeling his dick starting to tighten and shrivel up whilst deeply buried inside of you. your grip was just so wet, it makes him suck his teeth in elation at how dripping wet you were.

from the waist down, he feels numb and his hips start to slow. it’s a buzz that even spreads toward his spine and he gruffs, spanking against your ass. “ngh, pussy’s fuckin’ dangerous,” his voice falters, it’s husky low pitch turning more high. it’s cute, and there’s a faint pout growing on toji’s lips.

nanami looks up at him with a flustered expression. “aw, too much for you toji?”

“shut up,” he groans, still feeling the after effects. toji came a lot too, masses of creamy hot cum fills up inside of you before it spurts toward your womb.

your thighs were on its final hinges as you were still arched and hunched over, desperate to see what you looked like from behind.

you were probably a mess, a mess with cum dribbling out of your fluttering hole. a saturated translucent ring forms around his base as he stops his thrusts completely, preparing to pull out. for once, hes speechless—at least for a few seconds anyway. “fuck me,” he groans, and his cock too, was now flaccid and idle.

your fingers run down towards your puffy clit to feel for yourself and oh, it’s even more stuffed than you even imagined.

sappy runny amounts trickle down your cunt, past your swollen lips and onto the sauna’s floor. you moan, squeezing two fingers inside to toy with yourself some more but that’s right when nanami swiftly grabs your wrist.

“ah, no sweetheart. no touching what’s ours,” he whispers, a thumb softly caressing near your palm. he sees the pout that mangles against your lips and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “i’ll think about letting you touch her after we shower.”

“and who says it’s up to you,” toji rolls his eyes, his voice still a bit shaky. he reaches near the glass cabinet for a dry towel before wrapping it around his slim waist. “i mean, i wouldn’t let her touch herself either but still.”

“but—”

“there there,” nanami shushes you, bringing a soft kiss to your lips. your face softens as you return the gesture, and you then gasp once he toji lifts you up. nanami wraps a towel around his waist also, and toji creeps up beside him. cool air wafts against your skin at the sudden movements as he then opens the glass sauna door. “c’mon, let’s at least shower on it.”

as you’re slung over toji’s broad shoulder, your eyes were met with the floor. all of you walk out of the scene set and toji’s big hand squeezes near your ass. “wonder if she can take us both at the same time.”

“she’s a good girl, i think she can,” nanami kisses your forehead as toji walks with you. “right, princess?”

you still felt hot all over your body, but you nod, wrapping your arms around toji’s neck. “y- yeah,” and your nose buries inside the depths of his collarbone. his strong brawny cologne scent again, you’re hit with it face first from each whiff. “i can take you both.”

“um excuse me? this isn’t in the fucking script!”

nanami and toji both glance at the director who’s got a vein popping out of his forehead. toji snickers and nanami grows sheepish.

“eh. it is now,” toji shrugs, and he gives your ass a teasing smack. “c’mon, doll,” and he snickers, turning his head to whisper to you. “we aren’t finished with ya just yet, heh,” and toji glances at the director, giving your ass a spank as you’re still thrown over his shoulder. “cut.”

8K notes · View notes

thewriteadviceforwriters · 5 months ago

Text

10 Ways to Add Sizzle to Your Boring Writing

Writing that sizzles captures the reader's attention and keeps them engaged from start to finish. Whether you're an experienced writer or just starting out, there are several techniques you can use to make your writing more exciting and dynamic. Here are ten detailed ways to add sizzle to your boring writing:

1. Use Vivid Descriptions

Vivid descriptions bring your writing to life by creating a rich, immersive experience for the reader. Instead of relying on generic or bland language, use specific details that appeal to the senses. Describe how things look, sound, smell, taste, and feel to paint a vivid picture.

In Detail:

Visual Descriptions: Use color, shape, and size to create a mental image. Instead of saying "The car was old," say "The rusty, olive-green car wheezed as it pulled into the driveway."

Sound Descriptions: Incorporate onomatopoeia and detailed sound descriptions. Instead of "The music was loud," say "The bass thumped, and the high notes pierced through the night air."

Smell and Taste Descriptions: Use sensory language. Instead of "The food was good," say "The aroma of roasted garlic and herbs filled the room, and the first bite was a burst of savory flavors."

2. Show, Don't Tell

"Show, don't tell" is a fundamental writing principle that means revealing information through actions, thoughts, dialogue, and sensory details rather than straightforward exposition. This approach makes your writing more engaging and allows readers to experience the story.

In Detail:

Actions Over Exposition: Instead of telling the reader "Jane was scared," show her fear through her actions: "Jane's hands trembled as she fumbled with the lock, her breath coming in shallow gasps."

Dialogue: Use conversations to reveal character traits and emotions. Instead of "John was angry," show his anger through his words and tone: "John's voice was a low growl as he said, 'I can't believe you did this.'"

Internal Thoughts: Reveal characters' inner worlds. Instead of "Emma felt relieved," show her relief: "Emma let out a long breath she didn't realize she was holding and sank into the chair, a smile tugging at her lips."

3. Create Relatable Characters

Relatable characters are crucial for keeping readers invested in your story. Characters should have depth, including strengths, weaknesses, desires, and fears. When readers see aspects of themselves in your characters, they're more likely to care about their journeys.

In Detail:

Character Flaws: Give your characters realistic flaws. A perfect character can be boring and unrelatable. Show how these flaws impact their decisions and relationships.

Character Arcs: Ensure your characters grow and change throughout the story. A well-crafted character arc can turn a good story into a great one.

Background and Motivations: Provide backstories and motivations. Why does your character act the way they do? What drives them? This adds depth and makes them more three-dimensional.

4. Add Dialogue

Dialogue can break up large blocks of text and make your writing more dynamic. It reveals character, advances the plot, and provides opportunities for conflict and resolution. Ensure your dialogue sounds natural and serves a purpose.

In Detail:

Natural Speech: Write dialogue that sounds like real conversation, complete with interruptions, pauses, and colloquial language. Avoid overly formal or stilted speech.

Purposeful Dialogue: Every line of dialogue should have a purpose, whether it's revealing character, advancing the plot, or building tension. Avoid filler conversations that don't add to the story.

Subtext: Use subtext to add depth. Characters might say one thing but mean another, revealing their true feelings through what they don't say directly.

5. Use Strong Verbs

Strong verbs make your writing more vivid and energetic. They convey action and emotion effectively, making your sentences more powerful and engaging.

In Detail:

Action Verbs: Choose verbs that show precise actions. Instead of "She went to the store," say "She dashed to the store."

Avoid Weak Verbs: Replace weak verbs and verb phrases with stronger alternatives. Instead of "He was walking," say "He strode."

Emotionally Charged Verbs: Use verbs that convey specific emotions. Instead of "She was sad," say "She wept."

6. Vary Sentence Structure

Varying sentence structure keeps your writing interesting and prevents it from becoming monotonous. Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, more complex ones to create a rhythm that engages readers.

In Detail:

Short Sentences for Impact: Use short sentences to create tension, urgency, or emphasize a point. "He stopped. Listened. Nothing."

Complex Sentences for Detail: Use longer sentences to provide detailed descriptions or explain complex ideas. "As the sun set behind the mountains, the sky transformed into a canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples, casting a warm glow over the serene landscape."

Combine Different Structures: Mix simple, compound, and complex sentences to maintain a natural flow. Avoid repetitive patterns that can make your writing feel flat.

7. Introduce Conflict

Conflict is the driving force of any story. It creates tension and keeps readers invested in the outcome. Without conflict, your story can become stagnant and uninteresting.

In Detail:

Internal Conflict: Characters should struggle with internal dilemmas, fears, and desires. This adds depth and relatability.

External Conflict: Introduce obstacles and challenges that characters must overcome. This can be other characters, societal pressures, or natural forces.

Resolution: Show how conflicts are resolved, leading to character growth and plot progression. Ensure resolutions feel earned and satisfying.

8. Use Metaphors and Similes

Metaphors and similes add creativity and depth to your writing. They help readers understand complex ideas and emotions by comparing them to familiar experiences.

In Detail:

Metaphors: Directly state that one thing is another to highlight similarities. "Time is a thief."

Similes: Use "like" or "as" to make comparisons. "Her smile was like sunshine on a rainy day."

Avoid Clichés: Create original comparisons rather than relying on overused phrases. Instead of "busy as a bee," find a fresh analogy.

9. Create Suspense

Suspense keeps readers on the edge of their seats, eager to find out what happens next. Use foreshadowing, cliffhangers, and unanswered questions to build tension and anticipation.

In Detail:

Foreshadowing: Drop subtle hints about future events. This creates anticipation and a sense of inevitability.

Cliffhangers: End chapters or sections with unresolved tension or unanswered questions to compel readers to keep going.

Pacing: Control the pace of your story to build suspense. Slow down for crucial moments and speed up during action scenes.

10. Edit Ruthlessly

Great writing often emerges during the editing process. Be willing to cut unnecessary words, tighten your prose, and refine your sentences. Editing improves clarity, pace, and overall readability.

In Detail:

Cut Redundancies: Remove unnecessary words and repetitive phrases. "In my opinion, I think" can be reduced to "I think."

Focus on Clarity: Ensure each sentence conveys its intended meaning clearly and concisely.

Proofread: Check for grammar, punctuation, and spelling errors. A polished manuscript reflects professionalism and attention to detail.

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celestemona · 2 months ago

Text

⋆˙⟡ — TANGLED FATES

pairing: kinich, kaedehara kazuha, wanderer x reader

cw: soulmates! au. characters may look ooc. approximately 3k words. no pronouns mentioned though "my lady" is said in kazuha's part. fluffy, angsty, lovely. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Kinich

Kinich had always felt a subtle pull toward something—or someone—just beyond his reach.

From the moment he was born, the thread that connected him to his soulmate had been a delicate shade of translucent red, often fading to the point of nearly vanishing. It was a constant reminder of the distance between them, a tangible sign that his soulmate was far away, perhaps even in another nation.

The people of Natlan revered the concept of soulmates, believing that every thread was woven by the hands of fate itself. Kinich, however, was not the type to wander beyond his homeland in search of this elusive connection. The rugged beauty of his tribe, the thrill of hunting, and the camaraderie of his people grounded him. He found comfort in the familiar rhythms of his life, though sometimes, during quiet moments beneath the canopy of the trees or while gazing at the stars, the thought of his soulmate would flutter in his mind like a restless bird.

Yet today was different.

As Kinich navigated the vibrant festival of the Scions of the Canopy, filled with laughter and the smell of roasted meats mingling with the sweetness of ripe fruit, he couldn’t shake a strange sensation. He glanced down at the red string on his finger, and to his surprise, it was brighter than he had ever seen—deep crimson, like the fiery sunsets that painted the sky at twilight. The sudden vibrancy sent a jolt of energy through him, and his heart raced with possibilities. For the very first time, it felt that his soulmate was closer than he had ever imagined.

The thought barely settled in his mind when a commotion broke out nearby. Kinich turned to see a crowd gathered around the bungee jumping platform, a popular attraction that had people leaping into the air with exhilarating abandon. The sight of the participants soaring through the sky brought a fainted smile to his face—until he noticed one figure preparing for a jump.

His heart seemed to stop as he caught sight of you, your hair whipping in the wind, laughter mingling with the cheers of the crowd. You appeared fearless, but as the countdown began, Kinich noticed something off: the rope seemed frayed, a dangerous instability in an otherwise thrilling endeavor. Panic surged through him as the countdown reached zero.

Before his mind could catch up to his body, he reacted. The faintest snapping sound echoed in his ears as the bungee cord gave way—a horrified gasp echoed from the crowd, but Kinich was already in motion. With a practiced flick of his grappling hook, he shot toward you, the hook catching a solid anchor just as you fell.

In the heartbeat between falling and impact, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, jerking you from the void. Time seemed to slow as the world spun and your eyes locked onto his—the man who had saved your life.

Kinich landed gracefully with you in his arms, his grip steady and reassuring as if it were second nature. As the adrenaline pulsed through you, your heart raced not just from the near-death experience, but from the realization that your strings—both of yours—were now glowing vividly, a striking red.

The connection between you was undeniable, even if the situation was surreal.

“That was... close,” you murmured, still catching your breath, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Kinich’s usual nonchalance wavered momentarily as his eyes lingered on yours. He gently set you down, his hand brushing against yours as the string on his pinky tightened, pulling you two together subtly but magnificently. “You’re either very brave or very reckless,” he said, his voice low but calm, the faintest trace of amusement playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but smile, even through the lingering adrenaline. “Maybe a little of both.”

He let out a quiet hum, stepping back slightly but not breaking eye contact. “Seems I’ll have to keep an eye on you, then.”

Before you could respond, a pitched voice cut through the air. “No! I though you’d finally gonna get yourself killed, Kinich. Shit! It seems I was wrong again.”

Kinich’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he muttered under his breath, “You wish.”

You blinked, wondering where the voice came from and noticing the sudden change in his demeanor, but before you could ask, Kinich’s focus returned to you. His intense gaze softened as he extended a hand, offering it to you with an unexpected formality. “It seems fate has brought us together in the most dramatic of ways.”

You laughed softly, the tension easing. “Seems that way. And here I thought I’d get a thrill from jumping, not falling.”

“There are safer thrills,” he answered, his hand still holding yours dearly. “One that doesn’t involve falling from cliffs.”

You bit your bottom lip in a failed attempt to hide a smirk, the soft flirtation in his voice making your heartbeats go faster. “Oh? Like what?”

He let his gaze linger on yours, his thumb gently tracing the back of your hand. “Perhaps we’ll find out together.”

The red string between you entwined, as if urging the two of you closer. For the first time in a long while, Kinich felt more than just duty or the thrill of a adventuring—he felt the warmth of something that had been distant for too long.

And for you, the world around you seemed to quiet as the only thing that mattered now was the connection between you and the man fate had quite literally sent to catch you.

Kaedehara Kazuha

From the moment of birth, the faintest whispers of your soulmate begin to form in your mind, weaving through your thoughts, and growing clearer with time. The voices aren’t constant, but they drift in and out, as if carried on a breeze, reminding you of the presence of someone far away yet intimately close. Sometimes, it's a word spoken aloud, a laugh shared with a friend. Other times, it’s a fleeting thought, as private as a breath. And from childhood, this voice becomes an indelible part of your life, a companion whose face you have never seen but whose soul you know deeply.

Kazuha was still a boy when he first heard the voice. He was playing alone in the gardens of his family’s estate, surrounded by the quiet rustle of leaves and the gentle murmur of the wind. And then, as soft as a whisper, he heard it—a voice that wasn’t his own.

It was delicate, like the sound of water trickling over smooth stones. A voice so pure it carried the sweetness of a lullaby. At first, he thought it was part of the wind, some trick of the breeze, but as the days went on, the voice returned. Sometimes it sang, sometimes it hummed a tune that was unfamiliar yet soothing. And when it spoke, Kazuha listened, enchanted by the rhythm of the words, even if they weren’t meant for him.

Years passed, and the voice became a familiar presence in his life. He learned to recognize its tones—the way it brightened when it was happy, or softened when the person behind it was lost in thought. Even when he left the security of his childhood home, embarking on his wandering journey, the voice followed him. It was a constant companion, a tether that connected him to something beyond the world he knew.

The voice belonged to an opera singer from Fontaine, though Kazuha would only come to know this much later. As children, you’d hear each other speak, often unaware of the impact your words were having on the other side of the world. You’ve been singing since you were small, your voice a bright light in the waterside streets of Fontaine, and Kazuha had come to love the sound of it—first as a soothing melody in the background of his thoughts, and later as a force that brought him comfort during his travels. He could sense your emotions through your voice—the joy you found in your craft, the occasional frustration in your rehearsals, and the quiet moments when you’d murmur your thoughts to yourself.

You, too, had been listening to him. From the first haikus he had whispered into the wind as a child, to the quiet contemplations of a young man growing into his own. Though Kazuha was never one to speak much, the moments when he’d recite poetry or talk to the wind were enough to fill your heart with a sense of companionship. His voice, calm and steady, was a comfort to you as you navigated your own world of art and performance.

Neither of you knew exactly who the other was, but your voices had become a part of each other. Even without a meeting, you had grown up together—two souls connected by the invisible threads of fate.

As Kazuha grew older, his understanding of the voice deepened. He’d often find himself drifting off to sleep, only to wake with the faint echoes of your songs still lingering in his ears. He marveled at how perfectly your voice blended with the world around him—the wind, the sea, and the rustling of leaves in the forests he wandered. Your voice had become a song in the symphony of his life, and he cherished it.

For you, his words were like the poetry he often whispered to himself—a gentle, constant reminder that somewhere out there was someone who understood the world the way you did. You often wondered what he looked like, what kind of person could speak so softly yet carry so much meaning in his words.

Years passed, and though your connection remained strong, you never rushed to meet. There was no urgency, no desperation. Just the quiet understanding that one day, you’d find each other.

It wasn’t until Kazuha’s travels led him to Fontaine that your worlds finally began to merge. The hydro nation was a place where the beauty of the arts and the depths of the sea intertwined. Kazuha had no intention of seeking you out immediately. He had learned patience long ago and trusted that the wind would guide him when the time was right.

But as he wandered the streets of Fontaine, drinking in the sights and sounds of the city, he heard your voice again—clearer than it had ever been. This time, it was no distant whisper but a melody that floated on the air, rich and vibrant. You were rehearsing for an upcoming performance, your voice filling the opera house with the same beauty that had once echoed in his dreams.

He stood at a distance, watching you from the shadows. You were every bit as graceful as your voice, your movements fluid and elegant. Your presence commanded the space around you, yet there was a softness to you that drew him in. You were speaking with one of the directors with enthusiasm as you discussed the details of the upcoming opera. And though you didn’t know it, the man you had shared your thoughts with for so many years was standing just a few feet away, watching with quiet reverence.

Kazuha’s heart swelled as he took a deep breath, allowing the wind to guide him forward. It was time.

With the same grace that had carried him through countless battles and journeys, he approached you, his steps light and unhurried. When you turned, eyes meeting, the recognition was instant. The voice that had been a constant presence in your lives was now matched with a face.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was as though the world had stopped, leaving only the two of you standing in the fading light of the afternoon. And then, with a soft smile, Kazuha spoke.

“My lady,” he said, his voice as gentle as the breeze that stirred the air around both of you. He took your hand in his own, bowing slightly as he lifted it to his lips. The soft kiss he placed on the back of your hand was filled with all the quiet emotion he had carried with him for so many years. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

Your smile widened, warmth rosing on your cheeks. “The honor is mine. I’ve heard your voice for so long… I almost thought I was dreaming when I heard you recite your poems for the first time.”

“As did I,” Kazuha replied, his crimson eyes soft as he gazed at you. “Your voice has been with me for as long as I can remember. Hearing you sing now… it feels as though I've been waiting for this moment my entire life.”

You laughed softly, the sound as musical as the voice he had come to love. “And I’ve been waiting for you. I always wondered when our paths would cross.”

“They were bound to,” Kazuha said, his tone warm. “The wind always carries us to where we are meant to be.”

With his and your hands still gently intertwined, you stood in the heart of Fontaine, the city alive with the murmur of art and life around them. But for the two of you, the rest of the world had faded, leaving only the echo of the voices that had connected you for so long.

In that moment, you knew that your journey—though long and winding—had led you both exactly where you were meant to be. Together.

Wanderer

In Teyvat, the concept of soulmates wasn’t something everyone discussed openly, but it was an unspoken truth understood by all. It was a tragic but beautiful reality for those people: no one ever dreamed—at least, not until they met their soulmate. The first and only dream a person would ever experience was a shared one, an intimate meeting with their destined one. This dream wasn’t bound by time or place, often filled with subtle moments, quiet connections, and profound understanding. But the dream itself didn’t mean immediate union. Many spent years after their dream searching, wondering when—or if—they’d ever cross paths with their other half in the waking world.

And not all believed they deserved a soulmate.

Wanderer had learned of the legend when he was still known as Kunikuzushi, back in the early days when he was newly formed and still discovering what it meant to exist. He hadn’t thought it applied to him, a puppet—a hollow being without a true heart, someone who was neither human nor divine. But one night, long ago, when he was still innocent and full of hope, he had a dream.

In that dream, he met you.

It wasn’t a vivid or wild vision. It was quiet, serene. You walked in a vast wheat field, your steps so rhythmic as if you were dancing between invisible trails that only you knew where it’d take you. Your back was turned to him but the sound of your laughter was a song that played like a lullaby in his head. When you looked up, your eyes meeting, something inside him stirred—a sense of calm, of being understood without words.

There were no grand gestures, no spoken promises. Just a glance, a soft smile, and a feeling that warmed him from the inside out. You were real, and for the first time in his short existence, he felt connected to something outside of himself.

When he woke, the memory of that dream stayed with him, lodged deep in his mind like a forgotten melody. He tried to dismiss it, thinking it was some strange byproduct of his flawed creation. How could he have a soulmate when he wasn’t truly human?

Years, centuries passed, and Kunikuzushi became Scaramouche, and Scaramouche became Wanderer. He fell deeper into darkness, fueled by bitterness and anger. Yet, despite the walls he built around himself, the memory of the dream never fully faded. It lingered in the back of his mind, sometimes emerging in his quietest moments, like a long-lost hope he didn’t want to admit to. He believed that dream was lost to time, and that he had been undeserving of it. He had resigned himself to solitude, pushing away any notion that he might still have a connection to someone out there.

But everything changed the night he wandered the streets of Sumeru.

The night was calm, and the air was thick with the fragrant scent of flowers. It was one of those evenings where the city was still alive, bustling with life even under the veil of darkness. The marketplace glowed softly in the distance, filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter. Wanderer had no purpose being there, only walking aimlessly, his mind drifting between thoughts.

Yet, for reasons he couldn’t explain, the memory of that dream began to surface. The image of you, twirling in a field, returned with startling clarity. He could almost see the light in your eyes, feel the quiet comfort of that moment. His steps slowed as a strange, almost magnetic pull tugged at his chest, drawing his attention toward the marketplace.

And then he saw you.

You stood at a vendor’s stall, your profile illuminated by the soft lantern light. His breath hitched. It was as if time stopped. You looked exactly as you had in the dream—your presence both familiar and startling. He blinked, convinced his mind was playing tricks on him. After all this time, how could you be here?

You turned slightly, inspecting some trinket on display, completely unaware of him. The world around him blurred, all the noise fading into a distant hum as his focus remained solely on you. He felt his heart—did he even have one?—thunder in his chest.

A storm of emotions raged inside him. He hadn’t prepared for this. Could this truly be real? After all he had done—his mistakes, his hatred, his isolation—was it possible that fate hadn’t given up on him? Was he still deserving of a soulmate?

He found himself rooted to the spot, too stunned to move. He couldn’t approach you, not yet. How could he, knowing what he had become? A part of him was relieved, though—relieved that you existed, that the dream hadn’t been a cruel joke. But the hesitation that lingered was undeniable. What if you saw him for who he truly was and walked away? What if, after all these years, he was no longer the person you had dreamed of?

You moved away from the stall, and at that moment, your eyes swept over the crowd, casually scanning the area—until they locked onto his.

The recognition was instant, like a spark between two halves of a long-separated whole. You blinked, clearly processing what you were feeling as if the dream had come flooding back to you all at once. The same quiet understanding he had felt in the dream now passed between you in reality. Your expression softened, and though you seemed uncertain, you didn’t look away.

You took a tentative step toward him, your curiosity was evident. His heart raced again, the walls he had built around himself suddenly feeling fragile as if a single word from you could shatter them entirely.

And then you spoke.

“I saw you once upon a dream,” you said, your voice gentle, filled with the same warmth and wonder from the dream. There was no accusation in your tone, no judgment—just simple truth.

He swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, yet none of them made sense. All he could manage was, “Did you?”

You nodded, your gaze unwavering. “I thought it was just a trick of my mind, but… seeing you now, I know it was real.”

He stood frozen, a mix of doubts, disbelief, and relief swirling inside him. The person he had dreamed of, who he thought was forever out of reach, was standing in front of him. And you remembered him.

His voice was quieter than he intended when he finally spoke again. “I never thought I’d find you.”

You stepped closer, a soft smile forming on your lips. “Neither did I. But… here we are.”

The warmth in your eyes was something he hadn’t felt in so long. It made the walls around his heart tremble, threatening to crumble. He wanted to say so much, to explain the years that had passed, to tell you how unworthy he felt—but none of it mattered in that moment. You were here, and you had dreamed of him, too.

Perhaps, despite everything, he still had a chance at something real. Something good. And for the first time in his long, fragmented existence, Kunikuzushi felt a flicker of hope.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #kinich #kinich x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #wanderer #wanderer x reader

2K notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 2 months ago

Note

may I please request Headcanon of the overblot gang + Adeuce when a reader that’s normally very sweet and shy goes absolutely apeshit and TEARS INTO some bully, absolutely roasting the hell out of them please? Thank you :3

of course anon!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ going apeshit!!!!

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

being the magicless newcomer makes you a favorite target for some of Night Raven College's less kindly students.

your loved ones know this, too, so when a group of brutish first years approach, they're ready to defend you. except...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Riddle had seen them coming towards you and already had his hand on his magical pen

how stupid of them to pick on you in his presence

a week or two without their heads would serve them well

but before he can even step between you and the ruffians (very gallantly, I might add; he had it all planned out in his head),

you just...

...oh

even he blushes at the profanity you spew

he didn't even get to scold them

...then you turn back to him with that same sweet smile as if nothing had happened

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ace had actually been the first student to get an earful from you

once at the beginning of the year, and never again

now, he takes great pleasure in watching you verbally eviscerate the other students

it's a... guilty pleasure, we'll say

and Deuce knows not to intervene

he tried... once

after all, he's been in your place before

nothing's better than the feeling of putting some snob in his place

BUT OF COURSE, that's the old Deuce

...he just lets you go on because he knows he can't stop you

...not because he's enjoying it. obviously

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

and here Leona was, thinking you were some helpless little herbivore...

but can you blame him?

you're always so... cute

skipping around Savanaclaw, all happy to be helping out Ruggie and Jack after practice...

you were bound to run into trouble, looking like an easy meal

he almost feels... bad for you...

but before he can step in and tell the freshies to buzz off, you...

damn, you've got a mouth on you

you switch up real quick on them, and they scamper off to go lick their wounds

color him impressed...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul was on his way back to the dorm when he heard you shout

you sounded... upset

and as much as he would like to, he can't just walk by and let you get bullied

damn sympathy...

so, he follows the sound of your voice, ready to intervene... on...

...nothing

a group of embarrassed freshman run past him, scattering in the opposite direction

he steps around the corner

and there you are, perfectly fine, if not a little winded

...of course

and he didn't even get to be your hero... tch

"Always full of surprises, aren't you? Just don't give Floyd any of those new words to use,"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

it's none of his business... it's none of his business...

until it is his business

Jamil wouldn't have come running to your rescue like some prince

but he is in the middle of a civil conversation with you!

how insulting! honestly!

those freshmen must take him for some kind of witless fool

just this once, he'll teach them not to disrespect him...

of course, he doesn't even get a word in

he's never seen anyone so...

so...

...brutal

your insults are poignant, your tone sharp and dangerous, your usage of puns perfect...

you're like a work of art

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil has no problem with putting others in their place

and he has a particular dislike of the brutish, arrogant students at NRC

he can actually sense their unwashed presence in the hall before he sees them

one little snide comment and...

...oh...

oh, my

you verbally tear them to shreds, insulting everything from their shoes to their posture, their cowardice, even their own insults

...goodness

he's going to have to have a talk with you about your language later

but, for now...

...he's enjoying this little performance of yours

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia starts the most heated discourse over his faves and biases online, but this is different

this is real life

and the second he can feel a shift in the atmosphere, he's hiding behind you

you can handle it yourself, right? you've done it before!

honestly, he has no clue how you deal with the normies at this school

delusion, probably

he'd die if anyone talked to him the way they talk to...

...NEVER MIND!

you're using words he hasn't even heard in real life

even he is freaked out

you can get real scary when you want to, huh?

...maybe he'll just stick with you for now...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Malleus

he actually kinda sorta wanted to defend your honor...

he could be your fairytale prince!!! he could!!

it's the gentlemanly thing to do, anyway

and, better yet, he wouldn't even have to say anything! just one glare from him and the perpetrators would run screaming

...the one benefit to his reputation

but, of course,

you are not as innocent and weak as you seem

and he can't help but feel... impressed? with your ability to defend yourself

after this is all over, he'll have to joke that you should join his guard

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader

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pascalispretty · 4 months ago

Text

each man's mad desire

General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Marcus Acacius is a conqueror. You invite him to conquer you.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: marcus fucks a nymph, predator/prey, knifeplay, blood, thigh riding, rough sex, sorta consensual-non-consent? Reader very explicitly wants him and invites him to hunt her down. Marcus has an unfashionably huge dick.

A/N: I swore I wasn't going to write for another character from an unreleased film, yet here we are. I loved studying Classics, so there are easter eggs within for those familiar with mythology. "Nymph" is more Greek than Roman, but it's also the better-known version of the word. Barcinus is a completely made-up cognomen for him (from the Latin name for Barcelona). Ichor is a Greek concept, but too delicious not to borrow here. Big dicks really were considered unattractive - it was a sign of barbarism to have a big penis. Title from Book IX of The Aeneid. Painting is 'The Charmer' by John William Waterhouse. (ao3)

The battle is won, the men are settled, and General Marcus Acacius is restless. He wears the efforts of the day in the blood and grime and sand coating his skin, the ache in his muscles. The city is retaken. The barbarians have been slaughtered or captured. He knows he should rest.

And yet, he wanders.

The camp is close by the beach. As he walks, the sound of the army behind him fades away, drowned out by the sound of the sea. The inviting aroma of the campfires and roasting meat is replaced by the smell of salt. There are sentries out here, somewhere in the night. He pays them no mind; he wishes to be alone. Grass turns to sand underfoot and still Acacius walks on. At the edge of the sea, he pauses briefly.

Across the Great Sea, to the east, stands Rome. It’s veiled by darkness and distance, but he turns to look for it anyway. He misses it the way a loyal son misses a beloved father. Word of a great victory will travel before him, the whispers moving faster than any army can.

When he returns home, he hopes he will be warmly welcomed. Those seeking to ride his skirts into Imperial favour will doubtless fall over themselves to praise him, at least. They will preen and flatter, and he will nod humbly and thank them.

“The Gods were with me.” It is always his answer, when asked of his victories. It is a clean answer. Men praise him for his piety; they do not imagine the lives he has sacrificed, the atrocities he has committed, the horrors of sacking a city. The Gods were with him; he does not have to speak of loosing his men like feral dogs upon innocents, of slaughtering barbarian sons so they cannot grow up to seek their vengeance on Rome.

Acacius turns and walks down the beach, leaving the camp behind him. The silvery light of the stars and moon light his path along the coast. He simply enjoys being away from all others, the crash of the waves and his own footsteps the only noise he can hear. The ground to his right begins to rise, soft grass yielding to rock. He has no sense of how long he has walked for when the beach before him suddenly ends. The shoreline curves sharply inward, creating a rocky inlet.

He has no desire to turn back now. Perhaps the path reemerges on the other side. He follows the curve of the stone inward. Ahead, he can see the path sloping down towards the waterline, leading towards the dark mouth of a cave. The tide is coming in; the water at the entrance to the grotto must be at least knee-deep.

Acacius is turning to leave when he notices her.

The inlet in the rock forms a pool at the entrance to the cave. Even in the silvery moonlight, the water looks beautiful and clear. It should not surprise him that a maiden might come to bathe there, away from prying eyes.

For it is a maiden that stops him in his tracks, fixes his boots to the stone. Her back is turned to him; she is perched atop a rock, her bare feet dangling in the saltwater of the pool. Now that he is aware of her, he thinks he hears her singing over the sounds of the waves, a melody he does not recognise.

An honourable man would depart. Acacius can only see her back, but she must be noble. Her dress is so white it is almost blinding, even in the starlight. Her feet are bare, but he spies a pair of finely-wrought sandals on the rocks beside her. Certainly a noble lady then.

His mind is made up to leave.

And at that very moment, she turns.

***

You had not expected to be discovered. Perhaps you might have toyed with him if you had. You could have disguised yourself as a maiden in need of assistance, a princess cast ashore by a shipwreck. There are endless amusements to be found among the mortals.

Yet he has stumbled upon your grotto quite by accident, and from your first glimpse, he intrigues you.

Marcus Acacius Barcinus.

Something whispers his name to you; you know it as soon as you see him, just as you know he has dark hair threaded with grey. You allow a smile to play on your lips.

To his credit, this man does not move. Confronted with something so nakedly celestial, other men have lost their minds. What is it for a man to look upon the face of the divine? They do not always survive it. This one seems strong. He may yet survive you.

“Hail, noble General,” you start, turning in your seat on the rock so you may face him more directly. He is a handsome one. His lovely dark eyes drink you in from head to toe.

“You know me?” He manages after a moment. Not mad then, not yet anyway. You laugh, and he seems startled by the sound.

“I do.” Sliding off the rock you step into the water, your stola clinging to your skin. “General Marcus Acacius Barcinus, son of Gaius Acacius. Your piety is known.” He is always attentive with his sacrifices. You can smell the burning flesh and spilled wine dedicated to the heavens from here, in honour of his latest victory.

You take a few steps towards him. He’s still atop the rocky crest, almost looking down on you. You near the base of the slope, your skirts drying the moment they leave the water, and halt again. The mouth of the grotto is to your back; you can hear the lap of the waves echoing against the rocky walls.

“And which noble goddess do I have the honour of addressing?” He asks. You have many names, too many to sift through. A mortal wrote you into a poem once; you give him the name the poet gave you.

“I had not thought ever to look upon a nymph before.” There is something in the way he says it; a tone of disbelief colouring his voice. It’s as though he expects to wake up in his tent at any moment. In the dark violet light of twilight, the blood on his skin looks brown and rusty. You can almost taste the iron on the air.

“Are you content merely to look?” You ask him, a sly smile on your lips. You already know he is not. This man is a conqueror, and he is looking at you with all the intensity and desire of a man set upon conquest. He does not speak for a long moment. Perhaps he is afraid of offending you, of saying the wrong thing and finding himself transformed into a pig or sea foam.

You walk a little closer to him, emerging from the water. Closer now, the smell of him drowning out the salt of the sea. He reeks of man, of blood and sweat and such pure vitality you nearly stagger. He’s so breathtakingly alive. If all mortal men are thus, you understand why your sisters seek them out and take them to bed, even bear their children.

“I admire a man who knows how to take what he desires. A conqueror in all things,” you continue, feeling the warmth of his gaze as he watches the sway of your hips. Once you are an arm’s length away from him, you reach out. You cannot help it. He’s such a marvellous specimen of manhood, the kind that ought to be honoured with a kingdom or a divine son or his form traced in the stars.

He does not stop you when you rest your palm against the leather of his cuirass. It’s warm to the touch, whether from the heat of his body or a day of the sun beating down upon it. The black leather has a gilded woman’s face across the front; Minerva perhaps. It gives you pause. If he values Minerva and her strategies above Mars and his frenzy, he may not enjoy your games.

Nevertheless, you will not let the tastes of mortal men unnerve you. He watches you as you undo the knot at one shoulder, and wordlessly reaches to help you. Together, the two of you free him from his heavy armour. As he sets it down gently against the rock, you nearly choke on him. You can hear the thrum of his heart, smell the salt of his sweat, the iron in his blood.

You have never starved. Yet this conqueror of men is like being blessed with a feast and realising for the first time that you have been dying of hunger all your life. Freed from his heavy leathers, you step so closely to him that your glimmering white dress brushes against his filthy red tunic. You reach out to cup his jaw, enjoying the way his skin feels to your touch.

He swallows thickly, his lovely eyes searching your face.

“I want you.” He says it simply, though you know it must have taken courage. Men have died for such insults before. You let a smile curl around your lips.

“Mars himself had my maidenhead. I do not submit easily to the advances of men.” Standing on tiptoe, you lean in until your lips nearly touch the shell of his ear. “If you want me, you will have to take me.”

It’s all the prompting you give him before you turn and run.

You run down the beach, back the way he came. You have more powerful kin who could outrun him with ease, if they chose. Minerva could be a continent away in moments, if she chose. You do not have their same powers; you might be fleeter of foot than a mortal woman, but you cannot transform yourself into a swan and fly back to the heavens.

Behind you, you hear Acacius’ feet pounding against the sand. The noise blurs with the roar of his heartbeat, thumping harder as he chases you. You run faster, pulling your skirts up with one hand so they cannot tangle around your legs. It has been far too long since you felt this exhilarated. Off in the distance, you can see the lights of his camp, the torches and bonfires burning brightly in the twilight.

You lose yourself to the chase, paying the distance no mind as you race down the beach. Sand flies up beneath your bare feet, gritty under your toes as you run. Something in you wants to turn around, to see if the handsome general is still close behind you. You can hear him well enough to know he is behind you, but not well enough to gauge the distance.

You don’t look. You only run.

Even though you had invited the hunt, desperately hoping to be caught, the hand that catches your waist surprises you. He seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the sand, pinning you beneath his muscular bulk. The feeling of being trapped sends a perverse thrill racing through you, something warm stirring in your belly.

Though he has caught you, you do not give in so easily.

You thrash underneath him, trying to throw him off you. Acacius is unyielding. His large hands grip your arms; his knees squeeze at your sides. You get one arm free and bring it up. You’re not sure what you intend to do; you don’t want to break him. Scratch him, perhaps? You never get the chance to find out.

Before you see him move, he seizes your arm and pins your wrist beneath his foot. One hand flies to your throat; the other draws a dagger from its sheath and holds the point against the swell of your breast.

For a long moment, you cannot breathe. The large hand at your throat squeezes just enough to threaten a loss of air. The foot on your wrist makes the delicate bones there grind together on just the right side of pleasure-pain. And oh, the blade at your heart. The tip pierces your skin and you don’t know whether to scream or cry or vomit from the shock.

You have never been so still in your life.

When has anything mortal ever pierced your skin? When has anything mortal managed to cut through the skin of your kith and kin? You have vague memories; bandaging Mars’ side after the great spearman Diomedes struck him outside Ilium. You watch in horror and awe as a bead of ichor seeps from the pinprick wound. Mars has made you bleed before, but you never thought a mortal might draw your glittering, golden blood.

You look up at him, your conqueror. He is panting hard, but his face shows no exhaustion; only determination. His eyes are nearly black with desire, and his lovely black and grey curls are damp with sweat. Gods, you want him. You want him to hunt you down as he would a deer, to throw you down and take you like some common mortal whore.

Watching you closely, Acacius eases his grip on your throat. A man used to gauging the weakness of his enemies has seen right through you in turn. He knows you do not need air to breathe. He knows he has done something astounding in the knife at your breast. He holds it steady as he reaches beneath the skirts of his tunic, pulling at the strings of his underthings. He pulls it free with a grunt and discards it beside you in the sand.

Free from its confinement, his manhood pushes against the skirt of his tunic. Something low in your belly twists in anticipation, slick coating the insides of your thighs. Your blood feels as though it’s boiling beneath your skin as Acacius grips the fine cloth of your stola in one filthy hand.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes upon,” he tells you, in all sincerity. You tremble underneath him as he pushes your skirts up around your waist, another bead of ichor welling up around the tip of the blade.

You gasp as the metal shifts, and his eyes flick to your face. Almost lovingly, his hand wraps around your throat again.

“Do you yield?” When no reply is immediately forthcoming, he presses his advantage. The hand at your throat and foot at your wrist push harder; more glittering blood beads at your breast. The surface tension finally breaks, sending the blood dripping down towards your neck.

“I yield.” In an instant, he relaxes his hold. The foot on your wrist disappears, as does the blade. The hand on your throat remains, tipping your head up so he can kiss you. He kisses like his master, Mars; hard and demanding. You return the kiss with bruising intensity, nipping at his lower lip. It seems only fair that you make him bleed a little, in turn.

His beard prickles against your skin, and you answer it by sliding your hand into his curls and pulling roughly. Acacius groans against your mouth, crushing himself closer to you and forcing your legs apart with his knee. His muscular thigh presses against your bare cunt, the pressure sending liquid fire dancing through your body. You rut up against his thigh eagerly, your slick smearing against his skin.

Acacius notices your movements, breaking off the kiss to stare at you. The raw lust in his eyes makes you keep going, rocking your hips desperately against him. His thigh flexes between your legs, and you groan loudly. Without taking his eyes off you, his hand drifts to cup your breast, tantalisingly close to the tiny wound on your unblemished skin.

“Are you going to stab me again, slayer of men?” You ask him, tauntingly. You wouldn’t mind if he did.

“No, dear mistress. I’ll watch you debase yourself on my thigh.” Oh, you want to keep him. Your sisters have kept mortals before; you remember well the fuss around sweet Hylas, cunning Ulysses. Your conqueror finds your nipple through the fine material of your dress, the flesh stiffening beneath his fingers as he toys with you.

Your hips roll easier, faster as you sink deeper into your pleasure. Every glide becomes slicker as you soak his skin. It’s been some time since you’ve so blatantly sought your own pleasure, and you welcome it back eagerly. That familiar tension is coiling tightly in your belly and sends you spiralling higher with every movement.

Acacius watches you with fascination. His own pleasure is forgotten for the moment, though you suppose he is enjoying this. Something divine rubbing against him like a cat in heat; no man alive would believe him if he told them. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps and you clutch at Acacius’ wrist to ground yourself. He’s so solid and warm to your touch; his vitality is unlike any aphrodisiac you have ever known.

It’s not long before you come with a cry, your nails digging into Acacius’ skin as you shudder against him. The fire in your belly burns through you, the heat of it radiating out to your fingertips. It leaves you boneless beneath your conqueror. He seizes the advantage, pulling your legs wider apart to slot his other leg between them.

You struggle. Why not? It amuses you to make him manhandle you into place. He pulls your legs wider with one hand. With the thumb of the hand at your breast, he presses just below the cut. The burst of pain makes you hiss. Cowed, you let him pull your legs apart, his eyes feasting on your cunt. You must look a mess, swollen and soaked.

Acacius lets go of your leg and pulls up the hem of his tunic. He’s big, unfashionably so for his countrymen. Beads of fluid leak from the reddened tip, and he swipes them away with his thumb. He settles himself between your thighs, and you gasp when he notches the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. Without warning or reprieve, he forces his cock inside you.

You throw your head back against the sand, stars exploding against your closed eyelids as you dance along the knife edge of pleasure and pain. A deep groan rumbles out of Acacius’ throat as he presses deeper, working against your tight muscles to seat himself within you. He’s unrelenting, his length thick and twitching as it fills you.

There’s no other word for it; you wail up at the star-strewn sky, pleasure flooding through you. Your body feels too small to contain the fire being stoked inside you, deep in your core. You pull at Acacius, nails clawing, dragging him down to kiss you. His lips meet yours in a messy crash, all tongues and teeth as he finally seats himself fully within you.

He barely allows you a moment to adjust. He retreats almost fully, his cock nearly leaving you completely, before sliding back in with one fluid stroke of his hips. You’re shaken by how willingly your body accepts him, colouring any pain with so much pleasure you barely notice the discomfort. His hand finds your throat again, squeezing just enough to make you feel lightheaded.

Acacius’ incursions become sharper, harder, as he finds his rhythm. Your hands slide under the hem of his tunic to clutch at his back, your nails leaving behind tiny red crescents in his skin. Every breath you take is shared by him, your mouths so close together you can taste the wine lingering on his tongue. The two of you move together, your moans melting into one another as you fuck like animals in the sand.

It doesn’t take him long to send you over the edge again. Bliss wipes all words from your mind; you can only lie there and let your release crash over you. The ichor in your veins feels like it’s singing. Acacius looks down on you in awe, and it only drives you higher. You want to keep him. The Heroic Age is too far past; the world is lacking for heroes. Perhaps you and Acacius can make a few; handsome, strong boys, half-god children who reflect their father’s divine favour.

“Would you give me sons, Acacius?” You ask, breathless at his onslaught. Your foreheads are pressed together still; you cannot see the look on his face. He groans sharply, his hands clutch tighter at you. Is that a yes? What greater blessing to a pious man than a son born to a goddess.

He certainly shows no signs of stopping. He fucks you with the same vigour he fights with. You feel like you’re floating, high above your own body, lost completely to pleasure. Jupiter himself could command you to stop, and you’d be unable to obey. You grow restless beneath him. His hand has slackened around your throat, so you lean down to lick a line across his neck. The taste of salt and iron explodes across your tongue, so delicious that you have to force yourself not to sink your teeth in.

Acacius grunts above you, forcing you back down against the sand. His hips are stuttering; a sign that he’s close to his own release. You want to cry, want to prolong this as much as possible, but you know he has limits. Your sisters have pushed mortal men too far before; you will not make the same mistake, not with so delicious a playmate.

Instead you spur him on. Your nails dig harder into his back, making him groan sharply. His short, desperate thrusts make your eyes roll back into your skull as he touches something deep and private within you, unknown to anyone else.

“I- I must-” He starts, words failing him as he chases his release. You pepper his face with kisses, nip at his kiss-swollen lips.

“You must,” you agree. “I want you to fill me up.” You’re both breathless, barely any air between your bodies to breathe. One of your hands slides into his curls, pulling at them. You guide his head down until your lips are at his ear again.

“I could give you a son,” you whisper. “But only if you finish inside me. Claim me; mark me as yours. Conquer me.”

He tips over the edge with a loud groan, his hips stuttering as he comes. You can feel his cock twitch inside you as he does, filling you with his seed. Perhaps something might catch; he seems virile enough. You cradle his head against the crook of your neck as he catches his breath, his body heavy as he relaxes on top of you.

“Noble Acacius,” you murmur fondly, stroking his curls. “Marcus. What do you make of your new conquest?” He is quiet for a long moment. The crash of the waves fills the silence, the tide drawing closer. Soon, the two of you will have to move.

“I shall never know another victory like it.”

Taglist:

Tagging some people who might be interested: @iamasaddie (per their request for Acacius filth) @avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots @its-nebuleuse

#general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #gladiator 2

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zephyrchama · 8 months ago

Text

It was dinnertime in the House of Lamentation. Conversation petered out as everyone focused on the hot food in front of them, leaving a quiet lull interrupted only by clinking silverware.

“I’ve always wanted a traditional church wedding,” you said, entirely unprompted.

The clinking came to a stop as the seven brothers processed what you had just said. They turned their eyes towards you.

Beelzebub was the first to break the silence despite his mouth full of food. “Huh?”

“I just always thought it would be nice. A quaint wedding in a nice little church. Maybe a chapel.”

Leviathan briefly choked on what he was chewing.

“Oh I totally get it!” Asmodeus empathized. “Rows of pews with white flowers, those high arched ceilings, the evening light of the human world sun shining on us through a beautiful stained glass window as we kiss? Oh!” He clutched his shoulders, “it gives me chills just imagining it!”

“Asmo, we can’t enter churches,” Satan stated matter-of-factly. The knife handle gripped in his fist started to bend.

“Hah!? What? Lucifer, is that true?” Mammon slammed his fork down and just about jumped out of his chair as he shouted at the oldest.

“Sit down, Mammon.” Lucifer rubbed his temple and tried to perform damage control before the inevitable headache set in. “What brought this on suddenly?” he asked you.

Keeping a straight face was immensely difficult but you pulled it off. “I was just thinking about weddings and stuff, y’know. It’d be nice. Ever since I was little I thought a church wed-”

Belphegor interjected with “You’re not even that religious.”

A flood of complaints washed over the table as everyone started loudly protesting.

“You… You’re not allowed to get married anywhere without me!” Leviathan shouted.

“Does it have to be a church? What about a restaurant instead?” Beel suggested, looking worried. “I know a lot of pretty ones.”

“We could build a mock church in a studio and get married there,” Asmo fantasized. “The stained glass could be you and me as cherubs, we can ask Luke to be the flower boy. He’d be so cute in a little tux!”

“You wouldn’t even need a ceremony with me,” Belphegor said. “If you really want one, we can have it outdoors under the stars.”

Satan’s knife was bent at a 90-degree angle. “What a stupid thing to say. Libraries are just as quiet and nice as churches. Probably. They sure suit you better than a church.”

“The restaurants also have in-house catering,” Beel continued.

“That ain’t gonna happen!” Mammon bounced his knee, shaking the entire table as he lamented, “I ain’t lettin’ my human get married in some church! We can go anywhere you want! Anywhere else!”

”There’s a church in my game!” Leviathan gasped. He thought an in-game wedding would be just as good as a real one. “I can show you! We can go now! Lets make you a character!”

Lucifer cleared his throat once. Then twice. The third time was a warning that got lost amid all of the whining. “Enough,” he finally growled. The room went silent for him. “You’re not getting married in a church. End of discussion.”

“Oh.” Weird of him to decide that on his own, but you were at your limit. A wide grin had already spread across your face. “Yeah, ok. By the way this roast you made is delicious.”

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persicipen · 3 months ago

Text

three of cups ノ jiaoqiu . moze

₊ ˙ ⊹ . as one of feixiao’s advisors, you’re involved in the recent military campaign, which takes a toll on everyone’s mood. thankfully, two of your colleagues know exactly what you need to ease the tension at the encampment.

ৎ୭ — · · 2.4k ノ fem reader — petnames — dear . darling one ノ threesome . sprit roasted between two rascals ノ oral . position switching . doggy ノ cumming inside . sloppy messy ノ unspecified polyamorous relationship . flirty bantering between the characters ノ barely edited, so forgive any mistakes :’3

The meeting ends with a murmur of approval and the shuffling of heavy robes. You watch General Feixiao’s hand as it closes over the map, her fingers brushing against the well-worn parchment. The assembled officers bow and file out of the tent, leaving behind the lingering scent of ink and incense.

As you turn to leave, Moze and Jiaoqiu fall into step beside you. Moze’s fuchsia-sharp eyes, framed by greyish features, meet yours briefly before he averts his gaze, his presence like a silent shadow. Jiaoqiu hides behind his scarlet fan, lashes down in a relaxed expression, his lambent hair catching the dim light that filters through the tent’s fabric.

Outside, the afternoon sky is pale, casting a dull glow over the encampment. The air is thick with the promise of rain, a cool breeze ruffling the edges of your cloak. You walk together along the path, the soft sounds of your footsteps blending with the distant clatter of soldiers and the howl of the waves.

“You know, Moze,” the Foxian begins, his voice a note provoking, “I think you’ve spent more time sharpening your knives than actually using them during this campaign.”

The called-out companion’s lips twitch, a rare hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “And I think you’ve spent more time talking than healing.”

Jiaoqiu laughs, a melodious sound that seems to lift the mood. “Ah, but my words can heal as well, can’t they? Or do they simply annoy you?”

Despite their differences, there is a camaraderie between the two men that is undeniable. It’s impossible not to smile at their banter. One with his gloomy demeanour and secretive nature, and the other with his cunning voice and playful spirit — complementing each other in a way that is both surprising and endearing.

As you approach the next tent, a smaller and more secluded one where secrets of the higher-ups are to be discussed, you feel a sense of anticipation. The matters at hand are of the utmost importance, and the trust between the three of you will be crucial. Moze holds the flap of the tent open for you, his neon gaze scanning the surroundings with practiced vigilance. Jiaoqiu follows, his usual whimsical look replaced with seriousness. Inside, there’s an aura of herbs and candles filling the cosy space.

As you settle in, the atmosphere shifts. The light-hearted mockery gives way to a tense silence, and the weight of the dialogue you are about to discuss hangs in the air.

To remain calm is no easy task, a warning getting stuck in your throat, but before you speak up, you’re suddenly grabbed below your armpits with steady hands and brought closer to the Foxian man who has settled comfortably in the corner.

Now, awestruck and stuck between your partners, you just have to stammer out, “What are you doing?”

“Already caught off guard,” Moze smiles under his breath, leaning forward from behind you to nip at your neck, a feather-light kiss on your pulse point. “Ought to be better prepared, dear adjudicator.”

You’re swept away by the ebb and flow of their movements. There’s something feral in the way they’re touching you, starved and on edge from the stressful smell of the gunpowder in the breeze and lack of restful sleep. They seek comfort in the softness of your body, fingers and lips, searching for tenderness as they smooth over your flesh and slide under the fabric.

“Present yourself to us. You’re too pretty to be hiding.” The crow-like man urges you with a whisper into your ear, his voice not rushed, although commanding. A prickle dashes through your nerves and you obey, letting them settle you down on the mattress and have your legs spread open by their persistent arms, working in unison to cage between their statures.

The Foxian man looks at you from under his lashes, his eyes melted honey. He moves closer, hands trailing over your curves, until his face sinks between your thighs, his purrs hot on your skin and fingers nimble in sliding the garments from the way.

Simultaneously, Moze brings his palms higher, groping and fondling your nipples until the uniform blouse unfolds like the petals of a flower in bloom, baring your chest naked. There’s a bruise there, purple and deep, from one of the encounters with the enemy sneaking into the camp a few days before. It will heal, but now it adds to the stimulating sensation, a pain mirroring a pinch of spice added to the meal. Or, at least, that how the military healer would compare this feeling, fascinated by the fragrances and tastes of cuisine.

Jiaoqiu relishes the opportunity to map your body with his lips, his clever tongue pressing flat against your folds. The man behind you makes quick work of your remaining clothes, bunching them in his hands. Even better, he ensures that you cannot escape by pushing you into the Foxian’s face — eagerly licking you up and drinking down all the dew already gathered on your folds, in harmony with the moans that you can’t muffle no matter the tries.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you’re flipped on your back by Moze’s firm grip. It’s hard to keep track of things when the pleasure is making you lightheaded. There are only three of you here, a space to calm from the constant trepidation of conflict and politics — two men hovering over your body and three shadows dancing on the maroon walls of the tent.

The sound of the silver-haired man fumbling with his belt is crystal clear compared to other muffled noises, though, and so is just as striking the sight of his cock, hanging thick and heavy between his legs. Jiaoqiu hums, nuzzling against your inner thigh and drawing a sharp gasp from your lips when he bites down gently.

“Our favourite assistant is ready for you,” he whispers against your skin, directing his approval to his companion. “All wet and soft.”

Your vision swims, then focuses on the uncovered knife, sharp and held so casually in his hand. You watch with bated breath as he plays with the weapon, this time only killing time, not enemies — it’s difficult for him to part from his blade, but otherwise he won’t get to hold you properly.

“You’re so generous, medic,” he mumbles, partially not wanting to give in to Jiaoqiu’s teasing. But the vision of claiming your body is too strong, making him yearn and follow the other man’s suggestion.

They adjust you so that you can watch them comfortably. One places a pillow under your head and neck to keep you at an angle, allowing both of them access to your mouth and pussy. Moze folds your legs over his broad shoulders. Then, after a moment of appreciating your curled silhouette, beaming with excitement and cheek pressed to Jiaoqiu’s flushed shaft, he aligns his own cock with your already slick hole and slowly pushes in, watching as you melt into the touch.

Your body arches into the source of pleasure, following the rhythm of Moze’s thrusts, swallowing and lapping around the other girth with wanton desire, trying your best to satisfy both at the same time. The Foxian’s hands are cupping your head, steadying you in place while he fucks your lips with a sloppy sound as you suckle with each drag inside your throat. The other one hits your sweet spot with calculated movements, pulling out almost fully only to fill you up with his entire length until his hips touch yours.

You don’t know whether your muddled mind is playing tricks on you or if they really look that ravenous for you, with their slitted pupils like stars shimmering in the dark and hands leaving behind burning imprints of desire.

“I’ll get you something for your throat, ah— in the morning,” Jiaoqiu huffs from above, guiding your head in rhythm. “You’re too sweet, I cannot imagine slowing down, you know?”

“Too sweet, indeed. Clenching on me like that, our darling one…” Moze trails off, but the soothing tone of his praise continues to linger over your skin, a sensation that only adds to the feeling of being adored, passed like a reward they think of every evening when it’s impossible to meet together.

When he finally pulls out, you let out a sound that feels broken, whining for more and finding it almost instantly when Moze decides to adjust you so that your pussy is bared even more. Then, he looks up to Jiaoqiu — suddenly assertive and haughty, smirking.

“Care to have our lovely advisor the other way now?”

“Aren’t you the generous one, Moze? Offering the dessert that is just up your alley? But no, not yet, at least.”

You’re spun on your front, knees tucked beneath and ass lifted. Jiaoqiu lies in front of you, on his back with legs spread so that you can settle comfortably between them. There’s a thin string of spit connecting your swollen lips to his wet cockhead. Despite the salacious comments, the colouring of his skin is in shades of pink like blossoming flowers in spring. He holds your head and starts pushing himself inside you slowly, revelling in the sounds of your strangled sobs muffled by the length and your thighs trembling.

The way they speak about you makes you burn even harder. The heat crawls from your fave to your neck and back. You feel drunk on their attention, lightheaded with pleasure, and lost in the feelings of safety and belonging.

With a shift in angle, Moze positions himself behind you and sinks into your dripping hole in one swift motion. The stimulation from both ends overwhelms you instantly. You melt under the touch, allowing them to fuck you as they please.

Jiaoqiu releases your head and allows you to just slump there and take it, muffling your moans into his pelvis as you drool all over his balls, making them wetter and slicker while the tip twitches each time Moze takes you so hard you almost lose balance and collapse on top of the Foxian. He takes advantage of the moment to look over your shoulder at the other man and grin that sly, knowing smile of his.

“You’re so lucky to have a place between our legs,” he murmurs, glancing back down at you with hooded eyes. “No wonder you love it so much. You’re the only one capable of getting our moody counsellor to whimper, hehe…”

“Fuck… C-can’t you just enjoy the moment?” Complains a low voice behind you.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can barely keep the high at bay. With breaths ragged, all three of you align your gasps into one, inhales and exhales moving your bodies against each other gently like the waves greeting the sandy beach, drawing you in the ocean delirious.

With a few more thrusts, you finally reach your climax with a wanton sobbing. Thighs trembling as the man inside you stiffens as well, gripping your hips to keep you snugly pressed so he can pump you full of his cum.

The moment you slip into the utmost pleasure, Jiaoqiu takes control, clutching your hips and guiding your exhausted body from his companion’s hold to lay you down. His hands run along your sides, coaxing another quiet moan from your lips, working like little needles on your ribs as your silhouette still ripples with afterglow. A goldfish caught between the claws of a curious fox.

No matter what he says beforehand, there’s always something riling him up about finishing in your overly sensitive cunt, already dripping with someone’s spend. Especially if it’s the Feixiao’s other advisor, too. perhaps he likes the feeling claiming you over, just when you have thought no one else will welcome themselves in the slippery warmth of your insides.

with your legs still quivering, he picks them up so that they rest on his hips. in one smooth motion, he sheathes himself till the base of his cock. you whimper at the sensation of being filled up again, your pussy still aching from the previous orgasm. your whole body feels like it’s on fire — mayhaps the medic’s flame sorcery itself — and every touch sends a jolt of pleasure through your veins.

Jiaoqiu thrusts in slowly at first, drawing out each movement to ensure you feel every inch of him, himself barely conscious to endure a few moments more before releasing too.

He runs his hands along your body, caressing your skin and kissing your neck. Busy murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how good you feel around him, how beautiful you look like this, all fucked out thanks to Moze — who’s catching his breath right next to you two, glancing with reddened cheeks at the lustful spectacle.

The Foxian man holds onto you for dear life, his hands gripping your thighs tightly and nails digging into your flesh as he nears his own climax. His hips snap against yours in a frantic rhythm, obscenely squelching plap after plap as he pistons through the mixed essences.

You let out a helpless whine when he pushes in particularly deep, hitting an already battered spot that makes you mewl in a high pitch, too overstimulated to bear the thrill. Then, you hear him choke as his whole body shudders, and he comes inside you with a staggered sigh, flooding you with another splash of cum.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing circling the room.

“You’ve done so well, dear,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He pulls out slowly, careful not to hurt you further, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. He gives you a soft smile, brushing away the teensy tears from your cheeks. Moze looks at you in awe, gently running his fingers through your hair as he whispers soothing words of praise into your ear.

“Next time I want to be the one who finishes inside you last. If you have me…”

“Yes…” is all you can answer in one exhale.

#—writing.#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr smut #jiaoqiu x reader #jiaoqiu x you #jiaoqiu smut #moze x reader #moze x you #moze smut

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caxycreations · 1 year ago

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Okay, I've been nerd sniped, I'm sorry

NOTE: If you're going to reblog just to say "not reading that" or some other rude shit, DON'T. I've seen so many notifications of people just saying they couldn't be bothered to read it. I don't know if it's just that they don't see how incredibly rude and disheartening that is or if they know and don't care, but either way it really hurts to see, so please don't reblog if it's just to tell me you won't read it.

So let's go through the canonical likelihood they could each beat Goku. For the sake of keeping canon, we'll keep groups/pairs together if they would never reasonably be apart for something like this. Long post below the cut.

So first up are the ones I see that would, without a doubt, beat Goku.

Saiki K

Saiki is an omnipotent psychic/psionic with quite literally every single possible power out there. Now, this on its own isn't enough to beat Goku. Versatility doesn't mean everything, but Saiki is also powerful enough to rewrite the genetics and reality of everything within range, and his range is, so far, "Earth".

So this, on its own, would allow him to rewrite Goku's biology to make him Human. Bye bye zenkai boosts, bye bye Saiyan transformations. And Saiki, with his powers, has no trouble beating a Human of any caliber if he truly wanted to. And for those who ask "Why would he ever fight Goku?"

One simple reason: Goku would sense his immense power, and be excited for a fight. Goku is respectful enough to not force one if he's refused, but he's persistent enough to badger Saiki until he's given a chance. And Saiki, being Saiki, would simply take off one of his limiters, or both, and rewrite reality as such: "Being an alien isn't possible", thereby making it effective immediately that Goku must be lying/insane, and he is, in fact, Human. Easy win for Saiki.

And for those who would argue against this, bear in mind, the funniest way to beat Goku in this instance would be to simply make him weaker than Saiki, and Saiki is a gag character from a gag series, and it's already been shown in the world of Dragon Ball, and again in Dragon Ball Super, that Goku is incapable of defeating a gag character regardless of that characters canonical ability.

Saiki could win without gag character status, but even in the instance of Goku "beating" him, the gag would turn out to be that Saiki only pretended to get beaten, and is actually entirely unharmed because it was the easiest way to get Goku to leave him alone. Followed by a reveal that Goku will still show up now and then to ask for sparring matches, to drive the point home.

Popeye

Gag character. Would get beaten handily, crawl his way to spinach, and then be exactly as strong as he needs to be to take Goku down in however many hits is funniest.

Bugs Bunny

The gag character to end all gag characters. Someone on this hellsite once described Bugs as a "Trickster God who traps us in our own societal expectations" or some such. Like convincing Thanos to remove the Infinity Gauntlet by establishing a security checkpoint with a metal detector and shaming him into cooperating by telling him there's others waiting.

He could beat Goku in a billion ways, and each and every one of them would involve some shenanigan like Goku throwing a spirit bomb, Bugs showing up behind him holding it, saying "Ehhh, can you hold this for a second?" and as soon as Goku takes it and Bugs is off-screen, it would explode and Goku would be a pile of ashes with blinking eyes. Bugs would win because Bugs' gag is that...well, he simply can't be beaten.

The Warner Trio

Gag trio. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot would snark, sass, and sarcastic-joke their way into the scene, and they would spend the entire time poking fun at him, roasting his look, being unfazed by his attacks because "Nice laser show but we didn't bring our glowsticks." and just being too unbothered to care.

They would undoubtedly annoy Goku into admitting defeat simply to get away from them.

Road Runner

Gag character. Would force Goku to chase him, Goku would fire some blasts, chase him around, and inevitably be led right into the path of a blast he fired earlier to be disintegrated by it.

Pop Team Epic

I know nothing about this series except that it is a gag series. They are gag characters. That means Goku is inherently incapable of beating them.

ASDF Guy

Gag character. Could beat Goku with a simple "Hello, Mine-Turtle!" or "I like Trains."

Heart Diagram

Goku was literally killed by a heart virus in Future Trunks' timeline. This is one that has actually canonically already killed Goku.

Chowder

Gag character. Would likely be after S-Cells for some recipe and need to take Goku's as he's "The only Saiyan in this episode!" or some such, thereby ending the fight with a shot of Chowder wearing Goku's Gi for comedic effect while Dahl stirs raw Super Saiyan aura in a pot to hint that Chowder killed Goku for his S-Cells.

Force Ghost Trio

Gag versions of serious characters, and also ghosts. Goku is canonically unable to beat ghosts or gag characters, and these guys are both.

Those are the ones that would, without a doubt, beat Goku.

Now, let's go over the ones that could, potentially, be it likely or unlikely.

Kirby

Kirby is often considered a gag character, but he isn't. He has a very specific level of power, even if that level of power is "fuck you" levels of power. Kirby has beaten Gods, but so has Goku, even more often and with greater ease. However, Kirby has absorption and power-theft. Kirby could, potentially, absorb Goku (he isn't the brightest and Kirby has his unassuming appearance on his side) and take on his strongest form, including its powerup, and given Kirby in base form is likely more powerful than Goku in base form (Goku needed SSJ to scare Supreme Kai, Kirby beats Gods in base), it's possible Kirby would be more powerful than Goku with the same power up.

Kevin McCallister

Okay, hear me out.

Kevin is technically a gag character, BUT. He is not TRULY a gag character. He just happens to be a comedy character.

So he isn't guaranteed to win, but he could still possibly do so. How you ask?

Goku has been somewhat injured or lightly shaken by the following: planet-shattering attacks. Punches that rock the universe. Energy blasts so potent they would destroy entire galaxies.

Goku has been rendered inconsolable from the pain of the following: chest pain and a half-heartedly, boredly tossed pebble.

It is canon that when Goku and the other fighters in the series are expecting an attack or primed for battle, they are protected by their ki, like armor. It's how they're able to knock away attacks that would destroy planets, or put their "bare" hands on plasma energy that would normally burn the skin off you from a mile away let alone touching it.

This is why when Krillin threw the rock at Goku, it left him in agony and bruised him despite Goku being in Super Saiyan form at the time. This is why Chi-Chi is able to injure Goku regardless of how strong he gets.

So, how does this relate to Kevin being able to beat him? It's everything. It's critical information.

Kevin McCallister's entire M.O. is unexpected attacks. You open a door, you see a bucket fall, think it's over, turns out no, second bucket pulled by the first, second bucket is full of paint and open, you're blinded, you get your bearings, you take a step and feel cars, you smirk and step over them only to find marbles, you slip, you land on the cars which turn out to have been rigged to break easier to let loose a single thumbtack which is now firmly stuck in your back or butt. You bolt upright only to slam your head on a 2x4 that was rigged to hang down from a rope when you fell because your impact shook things enough to make it fall from a precarious perch above.

You get the idea. Every time you think it's safe to let your guard down, that's when the next wave hits. So you say "well he would stop letting his guard down" right? You fool. You know nothing of Goku. He would never put his guard UP. This is a human child, Goku can sense his pitiful power level. His strength? His speed? His ki? Weak. Pathetic. Nothing. A scouter wouldn't even register his power it's so low.

Goku never raises his guard to Chi-Chi, or to Bulma, or to Hercule. He does not raise his defense against normal, powerless, non-combative humans.

"BUT KEVIN IS COMBATIVE" No. He isn't. Goku can sense intent, power, and location. But Kevin isn't actively intending to hurt Goku. He's intending to protect himself and his home. He's not actively wanting to hurt Goku, he's just wanting Goku to leave. He doesn't have power to threaten Goku with, so Goku won't pick up on any threatening aura. And while Goku could simply instant transmission to Kevin and do what he will, we're not talking about how Goku could win, we're going over the fact Kevin could POSSIBLY win.

Enough injury and Goku is down for the count. Otherwise, Goku leaves to avoid further injury, and thereby admits defeat. Both cases, Kevin wins.

Shedinja

This one took me...quite a while. I had to do a lot of extra research for this. So, my immediate thought was Shedinja is a Ghost type, so ghost rules, right? Nah. Bug and Ghost type, and they are the physical shell left behind that has been reanimated. So they very much are physical beings, and given their ability to faint in the games and show they are capable of being physically damaged.

But There's a real case to be made for Shedinja beating Goku.

It can learn Ghost type moves, which operate on ghost-logic, and therefore are a canon weakness Goku is known to have. So things like Shadow Ball, Hex, Curse, and the like would all effect Goku regardless of Ki or form.

It also has access to Wonder Guard, which renders it "immune to all damage types that are not Super-Effective". For those unaware, we can actually attribute Typings to Goku's moves based on attributes and traits they share with Pokemon moves. His melee is, by nature, Fighting type, which Shedinja is immune to. In fact, Shedinja is immune to ALL attack types except Flying, Rock, Ghost, Dark, and Fire type moves, which are all Super Effective.

Goku's most common methods would actually fall under Fighting and Normal type attacks. "But his Ki blasts-" would be Normal type moves. You want proof?

Focus Energy is Normal Type. Quick Attack is Normal Type. Self Destruct is Normal Type. Techno Blast is Normal Type. Tera Blast is Normal Type. These are all energy based moves similar to ki blasts. Know what other energy based move is Normal Type? Hyperbeam. Which is almost identical to the Kamehameha and every other beam attack in DBZ.

Those few attacks Goku has that aren't going to be Normal Type will be Fighting Type.

Shedinja is Immune to all Normal and Fighting Type moves. Goku literally can not damage Shedinja, but Shedinja can damage Goku through Ghost Type moves. Shedinja can beat Goku. But why is it not "absolutely will" beat him? Because Goku can also transform his Ki and if he finds out Shedinja is vulnerable to fire, he can and will use that to his advantage.

That's who could potentially beat Goku. Here's who absolutely could not.

Saitama

I forgot to go over Saitama originally so here's the edit that features that analysis. Bear in mind I am saying this as someone who has seen Seasons 1 and 2 of the show AND is aware of some of the events of the manga.

A lot of reblogs over Saitama claim he is a gag character. But there is a case to be made that he is NOT. What is that case you ask? Well, for the sake of fairness, here is how I am handling gag characters: if their gag is in effect in 100% of all cases (such as looney tunes like Bugs or Road Runner) or if the gag is triggered in 100% of all cases (such as Saiki K or Chowder) then they are a True Gag Character and will insta-win.

However, if their gag has failed (such as Wario, or, yes, even Saitama) in ANY case, then it CAN fail again, and the fairest fight is one against two non-gag characters, so we can safely apply non-gag Saitama here since his gag has failed and Goku meets the conditions to cause it to fail again, which I'll explain.

So, first off, how does his gag fail? Well, his gag is that he kills everything instantly in one hit, unless he actively chooses not to. So we can safely say his gag fails if any of the following are true: he fails to instantly kill an enemy with a single hit while intending to do so, OR if he fails to kill an enemy with a serious hit intended to kill.

He meets both of these conditions. Boros survived for several seconds AFTER Saitama hit him with a Serious Punch. It was a single hit that intended to kill...But he didn't kill Boros INSTANTLY with it. Another example of his gag failing, if that doesn't satisfy, is Garou. Garou, in the manga, has survived MULTIPLE Serious Punches with intent to kill. This, on its own, is proof Saitama's Serious Punch does in fact have a limit to its output. It also proves his gag can, and does, fail against certain opponents.

So the next thing we need to look at is similarities between Garou and Boros to identify what they share that could possibly allow them to get around Saitama's gag, or to nullify it entirely. First similarity is that both are determined to have a good, satisfying fight. Boros crossed the stars seeking one, and Garou sought to become a true Monster powerful enough to force every hero, every do-gooder, to unite under one banner just to take him down. They both seek a battle to end all battles, even if Garou's intention is to end it in his favor, not simply enjoy the fight.

The second similarity is that they have incredibly unique circumstances, even by OPM standards. Garou is a man who has always felt love for the bad guy, he looks to the monsters as inspirations, as the misunderstood and the victimized by those claiming to be heroes. He's trained by an S-Class hero, and has developed into a being of unimaginable power in the pursuit of his dream. Very much a true foil to Saitama, who looked to heroes in comics as inspirations, as the righteous and unshakably moral, self-taught through and through and developed into a being of unimaginable power in the pursuit of HIS dream. Garou is, in this way, a reflection of Saitama, the Tails to Saitama's Heads, the dark to his light.

Boros on the other hand is an alien, forced to become strong by his homeworld's unforgiving conditions, developing a level of power necessary to survive and then some, and on realizing he was far too powerful for his own good, he sought purpose, meaning, and when he heard he may find a worthy opponent, he did everything he could to achieve that future, to realize his dream of facing a foe that would give him a true challenge.

So what are the similarities we can identify? Notably unique circumstances even by OPM standards, sharing strong similarities to Saitama's desires or dreams (Garou dreaming of becoming the greatest Monster vs Saitama dreaming of becoming the greatest Hero, Boros feeling lost in life and seeking a worthy foe vs Saitama feeling bored with living and wishing for the sensation of a real fight again), and the desire for a serious and ultimate battle.

Goku fits ALL of these conditions. He is an alien sent to Earth for his protection, grew up in hostile conditions (surviving on his own for most of his childhood, constant battles with Nation-level threats throughout his teen years, constant battles with world or universe-level threats throughout his adulthood), trained extensively until he was the best of the best, has the ultimate dream of a truly satisfying battle (a dream he routinely seeks out by facing down powerful foes), and being entirely bored with mundane life because there's absolutely no challenge to it, not to mention the fact he has the ultimate dream of becoming the strongest, something he shares with Saitama's pre-OPM self.

Since Goku fits ALL the conditions needed to make this battle exempt from the gag, we will NOT be considering it, as Saitama is not a True Gag Character, and Goku fitting conditions for nullifying it means we can assume actual power limits and such.

So let's look at feats of power. Saitama's Serious Side Hop technique allowed him to create AT LEAST 60 after-images (based on the manga panel) which, when compared with Sonic's 4, means Saitama was moving 15x faster than Sonic in that moment (bare minimum). An afterimage like that is created by moving at least 572mph, stopping in each position for at least 1/255th of a second (any less and the human eye can't pick up on it), so by moving from position A to B for 1/255th of a second and back to A, going 572mph between the two, you create the afterimage.

Sonic creates 4 simultaneously, meaning he needs to move to 3 positions and then back to starting position, or go from A to B, B to A, A to C, C to A, A to D, and repeat.

This means Sonic, to move into each of these positions in less than 1/255th of a second, would need to be moving ~4x faster than the speed for one afterimage. That puts him as moving at 2,228mph while creating those 4 afterimages. Given he is capable of Mach 5 speeds (he's said to be hypersonic) this feat is easy for him, as Mach 5 is 3,805mph. I assume, just as it's easier to move at top speed in a straight line than at sharp turns for a normal person, it's likely more difficult to create such consistent afterimages and so the difficulty that makes it his best attack is from the technique and reaction involved, not the speed itself.

In any case, if Saitama made at least 60 afterimages, putting him at 15x faster than Sonic's speed while creating 4, that puts Saitama's speed at 33,420mph just to account for the 60 we can count in the manga panel. This means 33,420 is the MINIMUM speed we can assume for Saitama's max ability. To be generous, given he wasn't winded after doing that and given he was able to react incredibly easily to the near-instant directional changes, I'll be kind and put his maximum speed at 10,000x this number.

That puts Saitama's speed at 334,200,000mph, or 49.8% the speed of light. We'll be kind again and say 50% the speed of light, round up that last .2%

So we have a speed value for Saitama. Now what about Goku? Well, let's look at Goku on Namek, for a moment. Base form Goku, at the start of his fight against Freeza. Goku, BEFORE his super saiyan transformation, was moving at 3.26 (we'll round down to 3) times the speed of light. How do I get this number? Buckle up, it's involved.

The Namekian ship Bulma, Krillin, and Gohan took to get to Namek made it from Earth to Jupiter in "seconds". That means less than a minute, so we'll say it took them 1 minute just to lowball it and to have a solid starting number. Jupiter, when the two planets are at their closest to each other (assuming shorter distance for slower speed, another lowball), is 365,000,000 miles from Earth. This means the Namekian ship moved 365mil miles in 1 minute.

That puts the Namekian ship at a speed of 21.9 billion miles per hour. They made it to Namek in 30 days of travel. The ship Goku took to Namek made the trip in 5 days. That means Goku's ship is 6 times faster than the Namekian ship. Don't worry, the ship speed DOES matter in this, I promise you.

So Goku's ship moves at 131,400,000,000mph. That's 131 billion, 400 million miles per hour. Or 195x the speed of light.

Why does the ship speed matter so much, you might ask?

Because King Kai could visually keep up with the ship. He was able to track Goku's progress with ease, and could see his ships movements without problems. This means King Kai's eyes and brain are capable of perceiving and processing things that move at 195x the speed of light.

Why does that matter? Because Super Saiyan is canonically a 50x multiplier to ALL base ability. Strength, speed, durability, etc.

And Goku, in Super Saiyan, was moving so fast King Kai stated he could no longer keep up. King Kai, capable of seeing and processing the input of vision on a ship moving 195x the speed of light, could not see or process the input of vision on Super Saiyan Goku.

We'll lowball it, and say Goku only needed to move 1 mph faster than 195x the speed of light for King Kai to lose track of him. So whatever value we get, we'll add 1mph to for Goku's base form speed.

So 195x the speed of light +1mph. 195/50=3.9x the speed of light. That's 2,616,900,000mph, adding in the extra mph makes it 2,616,900,001mph. So Base Form Goku moves at ~3.9x the speed of light, ON NAMEK. Super Saiyan is a 50x multiplier, putting him at ~195x the speed of light. Super Saiyan 2 is a 100x multiplier to Base, so 390x the speed of light. Super Saiyan 3 is a 400x multiplier, so 1,560x the speed of light. Super Saiyan God is a 20,000 multiplier so 78,000x the speed of light. Super Saiyan Blue is a 1 million times multiplier, so 3,900,000x the speed of light. And lastly, Mastered Ultra Instinct is a 300 billion times multipler, so 1.17 trillion times the speed of light.

Why did I bother going through all those multipliers? He wins in Base as of Namek saga lol. Anyway, continuing on to strength now that we've established Base Goku on Namek could move 3.9x faster than the Speed of Light while Saitama could only move at 0.5x the Speed of Light.

Strength. Okay. This one is harder to gauge, but we CAN gauge it. We'll go in terms of level of damage, so human level (would be on-par or less than peak human ability), town level (small towns), city level (large cities), nation level (an entire nation, less than a continent), continent level (one or more nations that span an entire continent), world-surface level (the surface of an Earth-sized planet), Planetary (capable of destroying an entire Earth-sized planet), Solar (capable of destroying a solar system), Galactic (capable of destroying a galaxy), multi-galactic (capable of destroying many galaxies), Universal (capable of destroying an entire universe), Multiversal (capable of destroying multiple universes).

We'll start with Goku this time. Goku's punches are, as of the Battle of Gods arc, strong enough to match Beerus perfectly to nullify the shockwaves of Beerus' attacks. Mind you, the mere shockwave of Beerus' attacks are enough to rip and tear the fabric of the universe itself, as stated by Elder Kai. This puts Goku's punches as being powerful enough to tear the fabric of the universe in when he first obtained Super Saiyan God. Why does this matter for Base Goku? Because Base Goku retained his SSJG power, as stated by Beerus.

So Goku in Base, post-battle of gods, is physically capable of punches that can tear apart the universe from the aftershocks alone. This is important to note because Elder Kai could physically feel the shockwaves from the World of the Kais. This makes Goku Universe-level in strength. This means Goku, post-BoG, in Super Saiyan is 50x stronger than what's needed for Universal, while Goku, as of current manga canon (assuming he didn't actually get any stronger since BoG and is simply more powerful due to new transformations) is capable of a form (Mastered Ultra Instinct) that puts him 300 billion times stronger than minimum Universe level strength.

And Saitama? Where does he fit here? Well, I thought this gap would be bigger honestly? But after researching, it seems the gap isn't all that big. Saitama has, canonically, with a Serious Punch, snuffed out an entire cylinder of stars and presumably every planet, moon, asteroid, and more, at a distance surpassing that of our solar system, and with a diameter surpassing it as well. This puts Saitama's power (if we lowball it MASSIVELY) at Solar. He could, in a single punch, destroy our entire solar system, and he wouldn't even need to be serious to do it. It's worth noting this is coupled with Garou's own Saitama-level Serious Punch, so we can assume this level of power is double Saitama's own.

So how do we determine the specifics? Well, he cleared an area large enough to cover, presumably, half the area of stars destroyed in the path of his and Garou's serious punches.

Through future revelations in the series we learn they didn't "destroy" every star in that path, but likely only several were destroyed, and possibly a galaxy, while the remainder of the void left behind was from the shockwave forcing every other star within range into a new position, creating a void in space that all stars had been moved from, save the few that were in the DIRECT path of their attack.

Another theory is that the Serious Punch^2 simply distorted the photons in the area, resulting in the appearance of a massive void, and this theory is based on the angles in the manga and comments made by other characters that paint Earth as the only thing in real danger from the power of the attack.

To be fair to Saitama, where we would lowball Goku, we'll highball Saitama, and say the Serious Punch^2 outright destroyed every star in the area. That level of power would, naturally, have shockwaves that push nearby stars out of the way AND distort photons in the area, resulting in a massive cone of destruction surrounded by a large cylinder of force.

This puts Saitama at, quite easily, multi-galactic level of strength.

But why did I say this gap isn't as big as I expected? One simple thing. Saitama has canonically punched his way into a different dimension in the manga. That means he's capable of brute-forcing his way out of the bounds of his universe. He is capable of physically destroying the fabric of the universe.

Meaning Saitama's strength is, bare minimum, Universal in close proximity. That puts him, strength-wise, on par with Goku, who through training has become stronger than Super Buu (who was so strong he could shout his way out of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, a dimension separate from our own), meaning Goku is also Universal in close proximity.

So...while I expected Saitama to be ~Planetary, MAYBE he'd be Solar at most...Research indicates he's actually Universal, or near-Universal, meaning the fight may not be too far a gap after all.

Goku may have Saitama beat on speed (given recent manga events in OPM, I'm willing to allow that Saitama is faster than light speed, but Goku having as many forms as he does (Kaioken, which he can combine with other forms and can hit a multiplier of x100 on top of whatever power he currently has, SSJ1-3, SSJG, SSJB, MUI) means even if Saitama matches Base Goku, he's likely not going to stand up to his stronger forms).

But on strength, I'd wager they're close enough for this fight to be one hell of a battle.

What about Durability? After all, all the strength in the world won't save you if you're as easy to kill as a simple bullet to the head, right?

Goku has withstood universe-ripping punches (from Beerus, the God of Destruction, and based on comments in the manga he's one of the stronger Gods of Destruction too), dimension-tearing attacks (from Goku Black, pre-Fusion), energy blasts that even the Gods of Destruction were nervous of (from Jiren during the Tournament of Power), and he survived multiple blasts from Granolah post-wish buff, who was renowned for his sniping power pre-wish, and post-wish was as powerful as he would be if he had spent every single second of the next 147 years training non-stop with the absolute healthiest amount of rest and physical care, making him, presently, as powerful as he would be at the END of that time, with the price paid being that he only had 3 years to live as he lost 1 year of his lifespan for each power boost.

It was also clear that Granolah was the strongest in the universe...at the time of his wish. Goku and Vegeta, who were already on their way, were not as powerful as Granolah even with their transformations. They became stronger during their fight with him, and stronger still during their fight with Gas (who was more powerful than Granolah after Gas transformed and mastered his transformation).

So we can safely assume Goku is Multiversal in Durability, as he himself was able to output Universal damage with each punch, and he was able to survive hits from beings drastically stronger than himself.

What about Saitama? Well, Saitama was able to survive the force of the Serious Punch^2 and he was able to casually bust his way into another dimension. So his Serious Punch, if he wanted it to, could easily destroy the barrier between universes or dimensions.

And given he survived the force of two of them impacting each other, I would put Saitama at, bare minimum, Universe-level durability. But given he was able to survive prolonged battle against Garou, who is a Power Mimic and has shown Saitama-level strength, we can safely assume Saitama is BEYOND Universal-level durability, and so we can put him right there with Goku at Multiversal durability.

So what do we have so far?

Goku has speed equal to, in Base Form, 3.9x lightspeed, and 1.17 trillion times lightspeed in his most powerful form.

Goku has Universal level strength in Base Form, 300 billion times that in his most powerful form.

Goku has Universal durability in Base Form, Multiversal durability in his most powerful form (300 billion times his Base Form's durability).

Saitama has speed equal to, at minimum, 0.5x lightspeed, and at maximum, if we highball it, 2x lightspeed.

Saitama has Universal strength.

Saitama has Universal durability at minimum, and Multiversal durability at maximum.

At this point, I'm convinced the speed difference between Base Goku and Saitama means nothing. Saitama's durability means even with Base Goku moving at his top speed, his impacts won't be enough to beat Saitama. At top speed Base Goku may be putting out Universal damage, but he's not putting out enough to actually BEAT Saitama. Only injure.

Making me rethink my "Goku wins in Base lol" claim earlier, how dare you!

Anyway, at this point, Goku would HAVE to transform to beat Saitama. His ability to sense power and Saitama's evident inability to suppress it (as evidenced by multiple characters sensing his ungodly power even while Saitama is completely relaxed) would mean Goku would know, right away, he needs to transform for the fight.

Saitama's durability means Goku would likely need Super Saiyan 2 or 3, or, more likely, SSJG. Super Saiyan God's multiplier to Granolah-arc Goku, after all of his training with Whis and Vegeta, would most likely be enough to beat Saitama. And given SSJG is enough to "most likely" beat him, then Super Saiyan Blue (aka Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan, the form above SSJG) is surely enough, and Mastered Ultra Instinct (a form drastically more powerful than SSJB) is absolutely more than enough to beat Saitama.

And given Goku's mastery over the Kaioken technique, and he's been shown to enter Kaioken x 20 while in Super Saiyan Blue for fair amounts of time as of the Moro saga, meaning even if SSB wasn't enough, given MUI is overkill, it's possible SSB x10 or x20 would be.

The point being, Goku wins this fight due to a combination of technique, experience, and power from his transformations. Given Goku is faster than Saitama and would sense his power as Saitama doesn't know how to suppress it, nothing Saitama could do would be a surprise attack to Goku, meaning Goku would have ample opportunity to react to everything Saitama does.

And given the relatively similar strengths the two bear, Goku would recognize he needs to transform to beat Saitama's output.

And given Saitama's greater durability than Base Goku, and greater durability than even what Saitama himself can put out, Goku would see he needs to transform to have enough of his own output to beat Saitama's durability.

Conclusion: Goku would absolutely win this fight, BUT...I'll give Saitama credit where it's due.

Out of everyone on the entire list, Saitama is the fairest matchup here, and the one most likely to give Goku a truly satisfying fight, given it would be a battle on par with those Goku has enjoyed most.

Kingdom Hearts Mickey

K.H. Mickey has a clear power limit and ability set. He is not strong enough, fast enough, smart enough, or durable enough to beat Goku, but he is just enough of a threat for Goku to actually put his guard up, which is why K.H. Mickey would lose; Goku would see it as a fight, unlike with Kevin.

Crash Bandicoot

Crash isn't nearly powerful enough to be a threat to Goku, but he IS insane enough to push Goku to hostility. Goku would feel the need to put effort into getting him away and that is his downfall.

Hatsune Miku

Goku would assume she is a Red Ribbon android and fight her on assumption she's trying to kill him or bring harm to Earth. He would hit her full force expecting her to tank it and she would keel over dead instantly.

Wario

Everything he could possibly do, the Red Ribbon Army has tried and done better, and they've never beaten Goku. Neither would he.

Sans

Lost to a child with slightly above average human determination, and standard human strength and speed. He does not beat Goku.

And just because you specifically told me not to @ you, have this :)

@that-one-enby-onyx

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contact-guy · 9 months ago

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lol THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG but it's such a cute story opening that I had to draw Watson roasting Holmes's messiness for the newspaper and Holmes skillfully maneuvering his way out of having to do chores. It's all canon, even the indoor sharpshooting, except for the bit about the cold bath.

canon text under the cut:

An anomaly which often struck me in the character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was the neatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected a certain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction. Not that I am in the least conventional in that respect myself. The rough-and-tumble work in Afghanistan, coming on the top of a natural Bohemianism of disposition, has made me rather more lax than befits a medical man. But with me there is a limit, and when I find a man who keeps his cigars in the coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of a Persian slipper, and his unanswered correspondence transfixed by a jack-knife into the very centre of his wooden mantelpiece, then I begin to give myself virtuous airs. I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humors, would sit in an arm-chair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.

Our chambers were always full of chemicals and of criminal relics which had a way of wandering into unlikely positions, and of turning up in the butter-dish or in even less desirable places. But his papers were my great crux. He had a horror of destroying documents, especially those which were connected with his past cases, and yet it was only once in every year or two that he would muster energy to docket and arrange them; for, as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkable feats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions of lethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books, hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. Thus month after month his papers accumulated, until every corner of the room was stacked with bundles of manuscript which were on no account to be burned, and which could not be put away save by their owner. One winter’s night, as we sat together by the fire, I ventured to suggest to him that, as he had finished pasting extracts into his common-place book, he might employ the next two hours in making our room a little more habitable. He could not deny the justice of my request, so with a rather rueful face he went off to his bedroom, from which he returned presently pulling a large tin box behind him. This he placed in the middle of the floor and, squatting down upon a stool in front of it, he threw back the lid. I could see that it was already a third full of bundles of paper tied up with red tape into separate packages.

“There are cases enough here, Watson,” said he, looking at me with mischievous eyes. “I think that if you knew all that I had in this box you would ask me to pull some out instead of putting others in.”

“These are the records of your early work, then?” I asked. “I have often wished that I had notes of those cases.”

“Yes, my boy, these were all done prematurely before my biographer had come to glorify me.” He lifted bundle after bundle in a tender, caressing sort of way. “They are not all successes, Watson,” said he. “But there are some pretty little problems among them. Here’s the record of the Tarleton murders, and the case of Vamberry, the wine merchant, and the adventure of the old Russian woman, and the singular affair of the aluminium crutch, as well as a full account of Ricoletti of the club-foot, and his abominable wife. And here—ah, now, this really is something a little recherchè.”

He dived his arm down to the bottom of the chest, and brought up a small wooden box with a sliding lid, such as children’s toys are kept in. From within he produced a crumpled piece of paper, and old-fashioned brass key, a peg of wood with a ball of string attached to it, and three rusty old disks of metal.

“Well, my boy, what do you make of this lot?” he asked, smiling at my expression.

“It is a curious collection.”

“Very curious, and the story that hangs round it will strike you as being more curious still.”

“These relics have a history then?”

“So much so that they are history.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sherlock Holmes picked them up one by one, and laid them along the edge of the table. Then he reseated himself in his chair and looked them over with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

“These,” said he, “are all that I have left to remind me of the adventure of the Musgrave Ritual.”

I had heard him mention the case more than once, though I had never been able to gather the details. “I should be so glad,” said I, “if you would give me an account of it.”

“And leave the litter as it is?” he cried, mischievously. “Your tidiness won’t bear much strain after all, Watson. But I should be glad that you should add this case to your annals, for there are points in it which make it quite unique in the criminal records of this or, I believe, of any other country. A collection of my trifling achievements would certainly be incomplete which contained no account of this very singular business.

-The Memories of Sherlock Holmes: The Musgrave Ritual

#they are so married #also watson describing himself as bohemian #i know what you are #sherlock holmes #acd holmes #acd canon #john watson #my art #musgrave ritual

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ty-bayonet-betteridge · 10 months ago

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gabriel ultrakill the character of all time. he spends all his time roasting you and trying to kick you out of hell while seemingly not caring about any of the other robots there. he stops whatever hes doing in the middle of a fight every time he wants to deliver a little quip. he gets his ass handed to him so hard that when he goes home all his friends put him on a little stage and take turns calling him a loser. theres a recording of him on the ferrymans boat telling everybody to please remember to practice selfcare. he's done thousands of murders. he keeps people trapped in limbo forever even after theyve recognized heaven. he falls in gay love with a literal war machine. he's so repressed that he thinks that said love is hate. the second time he gets beaten nearly to death he realizes that his biggest problem this whole time was that he was winning too much. he then realizes after this that all of his friends suck and immediately leaves to go murder them. he had hours left to live and spent a not insignificant amount of that time playing the organ and monologuing. he maybe has a blood kink and definitely has the most erotic way of describing killing a robot that ive ever heard

#ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill

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shorthaltsjester · 3 months ago

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doing questionable things like rewatching a bard’s lament for “fun” and scanlan and vex you will always be famous. the fact that scanlan brings up that they’ve travelled across planes to fix vex’s daddy issues but then it’s vex’s daddy issues that ground her rebuttal to scanlan when she tells him to stop treating kaylie like an object. and god. vex’s “fuck him! fuck him for not saying anything sooner. and fuck us for not asking.” in the immediate aftermath, and then once she has time to put her walls back up, vex’s “my take-away from scanlan is that we all talk too much.”

the fact that vex was the one who made that comment that without his magic scanlan is just some guy but he’s also the some guy that vex spends the campaign looking up to (even if she does it through barbs and snark), the fact that when vex was fighting against saundor hearing things like “unproven ally” scanlan was all jokes until he realized how much vex believed what was being said to her. the fact that when scanlan comes back, it’s vex who literally sees through his disguise.

what do you mean scanlan was a deadbeat father who discovered a daughter that he did love but loved only as an object until vex called him out on it? what do you mean vex was a woman who struggled to forgive in part due to her crapshoot father and she was the first to forgive scanlan when he came back?

vex and scanlan also have such interesting interactions in terms of the balance of snark, silliness, and sincerity. it’s not uncommon from any characters of sam or laura’s since they are both silly little guys who also love drama and roasting each other especially when it comes to character rp, but as always it’s so dynamic when it’s the two of them bouncing off each other, especially when they’re doing so through scanlan and vex who are already bitchy characters (affectionate) with humour as a deflection method. but it’s a silly and deeply sincere moment when vex finally puts the witch hat scanlan gave her back on with his promise that he won’t run away from the final battle. it is one of my favourite laughable moments in c1 but it also reeks of sincerity when scanlan asks vex if she prefers planetar scanlan or normal scanlan and vex tells him he is fucking hot as a planetar, but she loves him like he was and he’s her favourite when he’s just himself.

like. they’re insane do you understand. the dawnfather asks vex to prove herself and scanlan turns her into a dragon to help her succeed, pelor asks vox machina what vex means to them and scanlan says she’s greedy and mean and the most perfect of them all. the knowing mistress asks scanlan to prove himself and vex escorts him on a broom he unlocked for her and then she picks an impossible lock for him, ioun tries to remind scanlan that his strength is the joy he provides to his friends and he makes a deflective quip that he’s really powerful and vex undercuts his deflection with a sincere assertion that he is. scanlan cast his last wish spell letting her see her brother on her wedding day. vex sent herself across the continent alone with her worry and grief while scanlan’s corpse lay awaiting resurrection to ensure that his daughter could be there to either bring him back or say goodbye.

they are the platonic chosen soulmates of all time to me. i make a post like this like once a year minimum and it’s because they Haunt me. both sam and laura said what if we made high charisma characters using their charisma as a shield and humour as a weapon and they saw through each other’s masks but they never explicitly talked about it to one another. good riddance to talks machina but i will never forget the episode post bard’s lament with laura and sam where sam revealed that vex was the only one who said anything that actually got through to scanlan and another episode where laura revealed that the reason vex was so angry and sad when scanlan left was that vex felt like her and scanlan had a unique bond where they were the only two who really saw one another’s masks for what they were. also laura providing the insight that while vex was actively working on being more forgiving, another reason she was so open and happy with scanlan when he came back was that vex didn’t want to scare him away again.

what am i supposed to do with all that? be normal about scanlan and vex? literally impossible

#laura and sam will see a dynamic that is riddled with many of my favourite tropes #ask ‘is anyone else gonna portray this?’ and not wait for an answer #in the words of marisha ray circa c2 when they were spending insane amounts of time Bothering each other n being whisper buddies #they are the third row in the van. hella far back. and they are scheming to ruin my life with every character combination they present #vex’ahlia #scanlan shorthalt #scanlan & vex #critical role #tlovm spoilers #to be safe #cr1 #critical role campaign 1 #laura bailey #sam riegel

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harmonysanreads · 7 months ago

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When you cry during a movie...

Aventurine makes jokes. So many jokes that you're momentarily distracted by how rich his dossier of them is. And somehow, they all fit the scenes that were threatening to convert you back to a toddler seconds ago. Although it's uncertain whether he's cracking jokes to distract you or himself, you indulge him nonetheless. It the end, what was supposed to be a tear-jerking experience turned into you two roasting it together.

Dr Ratio completely ruins the experience by critiquing either the actors, the poor choice of props and lightening or the sound design. If it's a scene where a character is dying after a thrilling battle, he'll nitpick every injury and conclude that that character should've died thirty minutes ago. Don't even get him started on the action scenes with little consideration for Physics. You've not viewed movies the same after watching one with him.

Sunday becomes so focused on comforting you that he forgets about the movie. Which is a shame because he was as invested in it as you were. Watching movies with him is fairly relaxing, he provides input where necessary, makes sure you have snacks to accompany you beforehand and if he doesn't like something personally, he stays quiet for the sake of your enjoyment. Ah well, looks like you'll have to cry together in the next movie now.

#why do all my thoughts circle back to these three specifically #i shall name them BIT (brainrot inducing triad)#aventurine #sunday #dr ratio #aventurine brainrot #dr ratio brainrot #sunday brainrot #aventurine x reader #sunday x reader #dr ratio x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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ambrosiagourmet · 5 months ago

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Hey, Kabru and Mithrun spend some interesting time together, don't they?

With Mithrun having just officially premiered in the anime, and a lot of discussions swirling around about him, I've been thinking a lot about that section of the story quite a bit. These chapters - Roasted Walking Mushroom and 6 Days - are some of my favorites. For a lot of reasons, really. Not only are they are a huge turning point for the story as a whole, but they have some excellent character work, and represent an important shift in Kabru and Mithrun's individual arcs and relationship to each other.

The chapters are also kind of a fully contained story arc just on their own, which is an impressive bit of writing, and makes them super fun to analyze. So that's exactly what I'm going to do!

This will be structured as a close reading of chapters 61 & 62, with some asides for additional important context. I'm going to talk a little bit about a reading that I disagree with, but for the most part I just want to focus on how Kabru and Mithrun's relationship progresses during these two chapters. In particular, the ways they both grow from the time they spend together.

Also I just want to quickly note that this isn't written as Ship Content. It's meant to be an analysis of their relationship as presented in the text - layer whatever additional meanings and filters on top of that as you'd like, but please respect that my intent is not to talk about or champion a ship, or frame any of this content as romantic.

So, with that all being said:

How do Kabru and Mithrun help each other?

First of all, I think there are two important pieces of context that inform the Kabru & Mithrun Dungeon Adventure chapters. Both are related to Kabru's state of mind, and both are set up before or during the chapters in question.

The first is the context of what happened just before Kabru and Mithrun fell into the dungeon. Specifically, the events that led Kabru to make them fall.

Kabru, essentially, gives up his life at the end of chapter 55. When he stops Mithrun, and when they both plummet with the collapse of the first floor, he is okay with dying. Mithrun warns him that they will both die if Kabru doesn't let him go, and Kabru accepts this as a worthwhile exchange.

Why?

Well, because he doesn't want the elves to take over the dungeon. Throughout the last 3 chapters, the Canaries have been effective, but they have also been cruel in their efficiency, and they have made it clear that they don't care about collateral damage. They lured people into the dungeon specifically to provoke a violent reaction from it, without regard for who might get hurt by the violence.

What's more, they are keeping important information from Kabru, and he knows it.

He's not just looking for a solution, he's looking for the truth - a truth that he believes that he will only find through conquering the dungeon. With good reason, to be fair! The elves make it very clear that they aren't there to treat the other races on the Island as equals.

So Kabru uses the only tool he has available to him - his own life. It won't get him the truth, but it at least gives a chance for another person from a short-life species (namely, Laios) to earn it in his place.

This dovetails nicely with the more thematic context that's introduced in at the start of chapter 61: the room where he could eat all the cake he wanted.

This place, a place that Kabru never wants to go back to, is a place where he is safe, and a place where he is ignorant. A place where he is sheltered from danger, but also from the truth. The same place the Island would become, if the Canaries had their way. He doesn't just want to be safe, and he doesn't even just want the world to be safe, though he does want to be able to protect people from what happened in Utaya.

But he doesn't just want to entrust that safety to the paternalism of the elves (especially since he is all too aware of the ways they can fail, or the people they are willing to sacrifice in the name of that "safety"). He wants to be given the agency to seek safety and peace for himself.

He wants to understand. And he wants the chance to act.

This is the context we have, going into the arc of 61 & 62. But before I talk about how the chapters build on this context, I want to take a step back and look at what else the chapters establish early on, before delving into their exploration of Kabru's agency.

First of all, I kind of want to challenge the framing of Kabru and Mithrun's relationship as solely that of a caretaker and his charge.

Obviously, Kabru is forced into a caretaker position - at the threat of his friend's safety, no less. (Okay, it's actually Toshiro and Namari that are being held, but still. There are hostages involved in this) But I do think it's important that Mithrun isn't the one who puts Kabru in this position - Cithis is.

Before this conversation, Kabru and Mithrun are already exploring the dungeon together. Mithrun doesn't threaten Kabru, or force his hand. He kind of just assumes that Kabru will join him. It's rude, and not particularly respectful, but given the dangers of navigating a dungeon alone, I don't think that's really an unreasonable assumption. And it certainly isn't the same as Cithis' approach.

If they were left alone with no intervention, they probably would have ended up in a similar position to the one that Cithis leveraged them into. Kabru is smart, and he could have figured out the things that Mithrun needed help with. And, to be clear, those are things that Mithrun needs help with not because he is selfish or thinks they are owed to him, but because he is disabled. It's not unreasonable for him to need that help, and it's not unreasonable for Kabru to provide it, under the circumstances.

Besides, they both need each other down there. Kabru wouldn't have survived without Mithrun - he doesn't know enough about monsters, and isn't familiar with the deeper dungeon's layout. And Mithrun wouldn't survive without Kabru - he isn't able to notice his basic needs and would burn himself out without food or rest, making him an easy target for the monsters he could otherwise take care of on his own.

Aside from both needing each other, another interesting layer to their relationship, which is established right away, is that Kabru doesn't have to - and literally cannot - put on a mask of social niceties around Mithrun. He can't suck up. It doesn't work.

So Kabru, who spends so much of his time concerned with how others perceive him, and who compromises his own comfort in order to become the most appealing version of himself at any given time, has that tool taken away. He has to help Mithrun, but notably, he can only help Mithrun to a certain point. He cannot compromise his open and honest feelings to help maintain someone else's view of the world - or at very least, it doesn't benefit him at all to do so.

Instead, they sit together, in the same position, share the same shitty mushroom dinner, because they both have to:

And that's notable, too. They both have to. Cithis' demand is most specific about the need to eat. Three meals a day! But this is something they both need, not just Mithrun.

Still, their relationship at this point still isn't exactly supportive, or even respectful. Kabru may have realized that he didn't need to keep up an act around Mithrun, but ya know, he still turns around an immediately try to, with that shitty mushroom dinner.

(The 'badly drawn shapeshift Kabru' gag here isn't just funny, imo, it's also a reminder of the thing he JUST LEARNED. Mithrun is immune to the Kabru smile anime sparkles filter.)

Mithrun also doesn't tell Kabru any helpful information at this point, and doesn't really put much effort into helping him at all. He slaps him awake out of a Nightmare, and treats him with the same disregard he did at the start of the chapter, focused entirely on moving ahead.

But then Mithrun collapses, and the current structure of their relationship collapses with him.

I think it's interesting here that the shift in their dynamic also includes Mithrun explicitly noticing Kabru's desires. Obviously it's not actually like some kind of I truly see you and recognize your humanity moment shared between them, but I do still like the way that it pulls Kabru's internal wants to the surface. Kabru not voicing his desires doesn't mean they don't exist, and Mithrun recognizes that the same way the dungeon does.

And then Mithrun does, in fact, grant one of Kabru's deepest desires. He tells Kabru the truth.

Just like how they are working together in the first place, this truth is as much a necessary concession to survival as anything. But that doesn't mean it's not impactful for Kabru. This is the thing that every other elf in his life has kept from him. A secret foundational to his core belief that long-life and short-life species can never come to mutual understanding.

And Mithrun isn't just giving him the bare minimum information here. What he shares isn't just a truth, it's his truth. It's a level of complete and total vulnerability that few people share with each other. And again - some of this may just be coincidence and necessity. I imagine Mithrun is so open, at least in part, because he doesn't have the same barriers that other people do when it comes to sharing these things.

But, then again... we see Mithrun at his most vulnerable and empathetic when he is talking to dungeon lords & potential dungeon lords, and trying to convey to them the truth of the trap they are walking into.

This face:

Is very similar to this face:

These are some of the few instances that we see Mithrun emote in this way, and his story does come just after he notices the dungeon responding to Kabru's desires.

But, no matter if Mithrun's openness is in response to Kabru being tangled in the dungeon's hunger, or just part of his nature (or, maybe, a little of both), his story changes things for Kabru. It gives him the chance to make actual choices, now that he understands the truth. It gives him a chance at agency in the story.

And he immediately turns around and uses some of that agency in an interesting way:

When asked about why he can't sleep, Mithrun says he needs to be magically compelled. Being magicked to sleep is simple, and it is efficient, but he doesn't even just say it's the best option. He seems to believe it is the only option.

So much in Mithrun's recovery has been framed through how it will let him fight the demon. Recover so that you can return to the dungeon. Sleep so that you can return to the dungeon. Eat so that you can return to the dungeon.

But rest, much like eating, isn't just about achieving the bare minimum required for efficiency. And as Senshi would probably say, the easiest path isn't always the best.

I don't think that the Canaries are intentionally running Mithrun ragged or anything, but as I mentioned earlier, they are very focused on efficiency, with little thought spared to what is lost or hurt in the process.

And there is something different about Mithrun's time with Kabru in the dungeon. Lycion even notes it, when they finally connect back up.

I don't think it's a huge leap to say that how Mithrun falls asleep here is emblematic of that difference. When Kabru helps Mithrun to sleep by massaging his feet, rather then using magic, he is explicitly taking a step beyond the minimum. He is providing comfort to a body that has been given only necessities for a long, long time.

These two events - Mithrun sharing the truth of the dungeon with Kabru, and Kabru choosing to help Mithrun to sleep through a foot massage - shift their relationship. There's a clear difference in how we see them treat each other, and especially in how Mithrun treats Kabru.

Before, Kabru provides food that he has gathered himself (okay, it was a mushroom he put his foot through on floor one, but the point still stands that Mithrun offered no help at all with getting food).

Afterwards, they gather food together.

Before, Mithrun teleports Kabru towards a monster, using him as a weapon when he can't find anything else.

Afterwards, he helps Kabru escape monsters, and fights them directly.

Before, he slaps Kabru awake after 5 hours of uncomfortable, Nightmare-filled sleep. A rest which, notably, Kabru didn't even intend to take for himself.

Afterwards, we see Mithrun keeping watch while Kabru sleeps in a bedroll.

I don't necessarily think that all of these things are choices that Mithrun consciously makes. Like, after 6 days, Kabru would have to get some actual sleep eventually, and Mithrun would pretty obviously have to keep watching during that time.

Nonetheless, there's still a difference in how these scenes are framed, and the fact that it is these things that are used to portray their journey together. Kabru is not the sole person providing food and sleep and safety - they provide these things for each other. Kabru eats alongside Mithrun, hunts alongside Mithrun, and he sleeps in the same way we see Mithrun sleep, laying down and resting deeply enough to be groggy when woken up.

What's more, during their time together, there are even a couple of instances of Kabru being more willing to care for himself and accept care. The sleeping is one example - note how he is surprised at having slept "that long" when told he was asleep for less than even the minimum recommended amount of nightly sleep - but I think the pattern of his eating is even clearer. In making sure that Mithrun eats regularly, he is forced to eat regularly too.

And I especially like the progression with the Barometz meal. After Mithrun has fallen asleep, Kabru thinks about wanting to "give [Mithrun] something nice to eat," but also notes that Mithrun's lack of desire "means there isn't even anything he wants to eat." So what does Kabru do?

He makes Mithrun something that he wants to eat.

I've already talked a bit about the ways that Dungeon Meshi depicts people finding support through "borrowing" the desires of the people who care for them, and I think this scene is a great example of that idea. Especially in the way that it pulls an expression of desire from Kabru, who is so prone to ignore his own hunger and needs. The meal may not end up anywhere close to the flavor intended, but it's still a far cry from the roasted walking mushroom.

All of these pieces come together at the end of chapter 62, resulting in a pivotal choice that could only happen because of the ways Kabru and Mithrun have, at least a little bit, grown closer to each other.

As they are preparing to leave, Kabru hears a bell ringing in the dungeon, just as he hears Toshiro's matching bell on the other side of the portal. Realizing Laios is nearby, Kabru hesitates. He knows the truth about the demon, and how he has a chance to act on it.

Cithis, the person who extorted Kabru into taking care of Mithrun in the first place, pushes for Mithrun to follow along with the plan.

(okay a quick aside here I just want to say I do love Cithis and I'm not trying to bash on her here. I just think it's interesting that she is the one to establish the terms of Mithrun & Kabru's cooperation, as well as the one who tells Mithrun to leave the dungeon at the end of the chapter)

But Mithrun doesn't go along with her command. Instead, he does something unexpected:

He asks what Kabru wants to do.

In contrast to Milsiril's smothering comfort,

and in contrast to his Mithrun's own assumption that Kabru will follow him, when they first wake up in the dungeon,

Mithrun follows Kabru's lead.

This, right here, is the change between them. Not only that, but it's a shift in the entire balance of agency in the dungeon. For what might be the first time in a very long time, Kabru - a tall-man - knows the truth, and is acting on it. He makes a huge decision purely on his own judgement. He is not trying to appease or coerce anyone, and he doesn't win Mithrun over by hiding his true intentions.

Rather, it's the honesty between them that builds to this moment. Mithrun's honesty earns Kabru's trust, and Kabru's honesty earns Mithrun's respect. They bond not because they are forced to spend time together, but because they choose to spend that time giving each other more than the bare minimum - even when they are both people used to accepting the bare minimum.

It echoes Laios' argument with Toshiro, in a way. They eat three square meals a day (Cithis mandated admittedly), they get plenty of sleep, and in doing these things, they take each other seriously. They treat each other as more than just a means to an end.

I don't necessarily think it's a flawless, unbreakable bond that's built during this time - hell, they both kind of revert back to their old behavior, once reunited with the rest of the Canaries. People don't completely change their habits overnight, after all.

But it is a shift. It's a shift that gives Kabru the chance to steer the story towards the ending he has fought for all his life, and it's a shift that helps Mithrun find a way to move forward after he loses his own reason for living. They reach their goals, and then they step past them - facing life beyond the moments they thought defined their reasons for living. Facing life beyond the bare minimum.

And that is how they help each other.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #kabru of utaya #mithrun of the house of kerensil #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi analysis

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