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portraitofalinkonfyre · 2 months ago

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Through Your Eyes

Pairing: Sky x Reader

Warning(s): General weirdness and smut because LU makes me mentally unstable. This is crack so PLEASE don't flame me in the comments

Notes: This is definitely the weirdest thing I've written to date, other than the cow sans x reader fic from back in the day (should I link that account to here? Because when I tell you I was utterly rabid for that bag of bones), so enjoy my insanity! Inspired by the amazing @h4wari while also being half-dedicated to @sunflowersunnyl for their wonderfully wrinkled brain

Masterlist

You thought nothing of the Skyward Sword figurine on the shelf above your bed.

It was a decent size, situated in a canon-typical fighting pose that had become synonymous with both Link and Nintendo, and had the cutest rendition of the master sword you had seen in one plastic hand. You had bought it shortly after completing the game itself–a little memento to commemorate the blood-shot hours spent hunched over your controller like a madman–and on the shelf it had stayed. Watching. Waiting.

Until one fateful day.

"For the last time," you stressed, phone pressed so tightly to your ear that it nearly flattened it against your head. "I don't want to hear about my car's extended warranty!"

Then, without pausing to listen to whatever bullshit the telemarketer decided to roll with next, you hung up, slamming your phone down on the pillow beside your head and groaning to the sympathetic form of your roommate on the opposite edge of the bed: "Ugh, I think I get more calls about insurance than from my entire family."

Your roommate clicked their tongue sympathetically. The Skyward Sword figurine did not, but you weren't in the correct mental state to drool over a polyvinyl chloride rendition of what had to be the hottest man in modern media. Damn Nintendo for making a video game character so fuckable, because you'd clap those cheeks six ways from Sunday for free. "They're relentless, huh? I got one three days ago about my offshore bank account in Switzerland."

"Do you have an offshore rupee account in Switzerland?"

"Not yet."

"Based," you sighed, flopping down to rest against the headboard. Your roommate did the same, flopping horizontally against the end of your bed. Together, you stared at the ceiling, though your view was a bit obstructed by the pointed tip of the plastic Master Sword and– dear lord, why did it look like the figurine was watching you? "Hey, do you remember when we talked about whether stuffed animals are actually the physical and spiritual embodiments of dead people?"

Your roommate snorted. "I'm not high enough for this right now," then, after realizing just what you were staring at, amended with another, more judgy noise. "Oh no, he's got his bitchbreaker face on."

You barked a laugh. By god, they were right! "I think I'm being watched," you admitted, eyes raking over the molded dark-blonde hair and blue-bell-painted eyes. Fuck, those eyebrows, too. "Why's he angry?"

"Oh. Dude, we're too sober for this," said your roommate, throwing their hands up in mild, un-drugged exasperation. After a moment (and more than a few seconds of your puppy eyes), they huffed. "Probably because of that Ganon dude."

"No no no, it's Demise," you corrected, retrieving your phone to pull up a photo of said villain. You held the screen up.

A low whistle left your roommate. "Can I call him Daddy Demise or am I weird for that?"

"Not at all," you waved a hand in the Link figurine's direction, a sly smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. "What I wouldn't give for a ride on that Master Sword."

"Ew!" your roomate exclaimed despite being just as bad as you. A beat passed. "Dude, why do you have him like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like that," they made a vague gesture to the placement of the figurine. "He's literally just watching you. You don't think that's weird?"

You... you hadn't considered that. Still, you shook your head. "No? All I do is sleep and... oh, god," you slapped a hand over your face and tried not to think of all the times you had masturbated with the figurine in the room. Was that weird? Were you supposed to turn it around like people did with family photos and stuffed animals?? "Why are you like this?"

"Someone's gotta be," your roommate shrugged, nonplussed. "Plus, you've had him for, what, two years? Man's seen some shit."

"Okay, nope, ew," you continued to cover your face and pretend that you weren't into the idea of your Skyward Sword Link figurine being secretly sentient. "We're never bringing this up. Ever."

"But–"

"I swear on that one cat meme we look at when we're drunk, I will pay someone to punch you," you warned jokingly, glancing at them through the cracks in your fingers. "In the face."

"Pussy," was their response.

You promptly threw your pillow at your roommate's face.

Link awoke to the sound of moaning, or, he rather thought he awoke, because there was nothing dreamlike about the eggshell-shadows of his room in the Academy, nor the uncomfortable tightness of his sleep trousers.

With a groan that rattled his chest, he threw an arm over his eyes, willing that, for once, fate would cease it's attempts to make his life as outlandish as possible.

Starting with the dreams. And the voices.

Now, let it never be said that he wasn't accustomed to the strange, but there was a large difference in being instructed by a strict, discombobulated voice on the inner workings of his role as a hero and the far more intimate tone of someone engaging in the pleasures of the flesh. Though, as mercy would have it, both options seemed to be enjoyed solely by him, but he digresses.

Another moan filtered through his consciousness. Link felt himself throb, already embarrassingly half-hard. The thought that he was slowly going mad had crossed his mind many a time since the voices–and, of course, accompanying dreams, though those were a bit of a newer occurrence–began years ago, but this was on a whole other level.

For one, the second voice wasn't new, or, the tone of it. He remembered hearing it many times during his adventure; whispered hints and loud whoops against the pointed shell of his ear were commonplace, and Link would be a liar to say he hadn't grown attached to the person on the other side of... whatever madness his life had descended into. A guide– nay, his guide, he liked to think of them. Of you.

A keening wail, filed with an undercurrent of need that had his abdomen absolutely burning, and he was torn back to the dream that had started it all. Link remembered it vividly: a bedroom, not his–unless Groose had seen fit to spontaneously paint and re-arrange his living quarters for the night in some elaborate bid to test the fraying edges of his mind–and the distinct, urgent feeling of being unable to move. Not restrained, but held in place. Frozen.

Oh, and the dizzying realization that he felt no larger than several inches, judging from the relative size of everything else in the room.

Link swallowed, beginning to pant as he gave in and pressed a palm over the aching bulge of his cock.

The door creaked open, and a strangely-clothed figure stepped into the room. They were calling to someone, laughing, and wasted no time in flopping on the richly-embroidered bedspread. In an instant, they were staring at him, still grinning, and a hand roaming down the curious set of... were those shorts(?) they wore.

"Hi, Link," was the first thing he registered through the haze. Since when had dreams been this vivid? "Miss me?"

"Yes," Link breathed as he recalled the first dream. The one that had started it all. He didn't even know who you were, or where you came from, but you were everything he wanted.

You reached up, the pad of your finger brushing his nose, and the size difference had never felt so profound. "I wish you were real," said the temptress–you–before him. Link didn't know who or where he was, but he would have fought Demise a thousand times over to discover it. Hair spread around your face like a halo, hand slipping into those paltry little underthings in a rhythm that had him hotter than the fires of Death Mountain.

From there, the dreams had only gotten more frequent. Sometimes, it would be you and your 'roommate' talking, and sometimes, it would be only you, doing some mundane task that he watched with attention no less rapt than when you would touch yourself. But oh, when you touched yourself, he knew, be it from the noises lingering in the back of his consciousness or the shockingly vivid dreams playing his mind almost nightly.

Link didn't realize he had taken himself in hand until he was coming, eyes squeezed shut and unoccupied fingers digging into the scratchy fabric of his sheets. Your name panted from his lips, rolling off his tongue like silk while his palm and stomach were splattered with wetness. He threw his head back against the pillow, then twisted it so the flat of his cheek was pressed against the soft item. He lay, writhing lightly, still painfully hard, wondering just what the fuck was wrong with him.

"Fuck," you said, spread out on your bed like an adult film creator, one hand between your bare legs while the other adjusted the thick headphones covering your ears. "I'm so weird for this."

There was no denying it: you were a freak, but a freak unbothered as you tapped your phone screen, waiting patiently for the video to load. Typically, you'd pull up a little something from a few unmentionable sites to help, but this time was different. So very different, you thought as sound began to flood the headphones.

Ha hu hi ha hyah!

There was no going back from this, you knew. No going back from the hidden shame of using a video game character's soundboard to get off while maintaining unbroken eye contact with a figurine of said character. Maybe you were bored, or weird, or perhaps this was who you had been all along? Either way, there was no hiding how good it felt when you moved your fingers downward, dipping into the silky wetness threatening to spill past your folds, thumb finding the soft nub of your clit.

You could see him–Link–in your mind's eye. Above you, pressed in the cradle of your thighs, with the prettiest blue eyes your brain could conjure, shrouded only slightly by shaggy blonde hair. Those lips, full and pouty, pursed, then parted to let panting breaths escape. Hylia, you'd take him in a heartbeat. You'd let him split you in half with that sword of his; no questions, no refunds. You would die like a fanfiction writer, without shame and very slightly mentally unstable.

"Fuck," you hissed, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises. Sure, your roommate had just left, but you had already exposed them to enough insanity, so it was only fair to try and hold back the shamefulness that came with jacking off to a video game character.

The video played on, the sounds of clanging swords and orgasmic grunts–because, seriously, who decided that was a good idea?–blaring into your ears through the streamer-grade headset, and you were immensely glad they happened to be noise-cancelling, lest your roommate return early and discover your shame. Your hips rocked against your fingers as the cacophony rose in pitch, pulling a series of hitched, shaky breaths from your moist throat. Would he touch you like this? Or would he shove three fingers in your clenching hole just to hear you wail, uncaring of the noise such an action would create. Maybe he would go straight for the pussy like a wild animal or the equally-sexy Twilight Princess Link, or perhaps he would simply spear you on his holy blade and call it a diddly-darn-good day?

Whatever you thought he would do, it was lost in the frazzled mess of your brain when you came, all but screeching around the tightly-cupped palm of your hand. Your legs shook harshly--even kicking out, which elicited a half-noticed burst of pain--trembling with the onslaught of pleasure rushing through your system like a drug, coursing and pulsing in time to the frantic, staccato beat of your heart.

After a few glorious moments, you lay boneless on the mattress, chest heaving with the aftershocks of what had to be the best solo time you'd had in a while. The soundboard continued to blare, but you didn't dare silence it; you wanted to enjoy this, while the post-nut clarity still felt leagues away.

A sharp creak interrupted your reverie, and you hardly had any time to react before the shelf above you groaned, tipping just enough to send a very familiar figurine plummeting onto your stomach, drawing a startled gasp from your mouth when, instead of a dull ache and a hot flash of embarrassment over dislodging your shelf via very questionable methods, there was a blinding flash of light. You screeched, but it was drowned out by a weight pressing atop your stomach, and the impossible silhouette of a figure above you.

Terror shot through your being. The light cleared. You froze.

"...Link?!"

I have no excuse.

(An impromptu apology for utterly failing at the 2024 Christmas event LMAO)

#linked universe x reader #link x reader smut #lu x reader #lu sky x reader #crack fic #skyward sword link x reader #sometimes I scare myself

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babyzzai · 2 months ago

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‼️ tw // health anxiety/contamination ocd ‼️

baby with health anxiety/contamination ocd who just got a new piercing and their dada who takes care of them, is patient, and reassures them nothing bad will happen

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“dada… it hurts… s’it supposed to hurt?”

“sweetheart, its a new piercing. its natural to hurt, it doesnt mean anything bad.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ 🌕 ⋆⁺₊⋆

“i feel icky and weird… is it bad? am i gonna get sick?”

“its normal to feel a little yucky after a new piercing, baby, its an owie! it has to heal like all the other owies, so we have to be extra gentle with it, but i promise its nothing you need to worry about, hun.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ 🌖 ⋆⁺₊⋆

“it looks infected dada…”

“cmere, hun, let daddy take a look. no, honey, that doesnt look infected, its healing just like its supposed to! were cleaning it three times a day and not touching it, so im sure its gonna be perfectly fine.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ 🌗 ⋆⁺₊⋆

“the thoughts in your head are just that, sweetheart. theyre just thoughts. thoughts cant hurt you, yknow?”

“but what if theyre more than just thoughts dada? what if it comes true?”

“i know your thoughts are scary, honeybun, but the scariest thoughts are the ones that are least likely to come true.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ 🌘 ⋆⁺₊⋆

“honey… why are you staring in the mirror?”

“…m’just lookin…”

“baby, you know its not good for you to worry about your piercing that much… how about we watch your favorite show instead, hm? that would be much nicer, wouldnt it?”

⋆⁺₊⋆ 🌑 ⋆⁺₊⋆

hushing and rocking the baby to sleep “shhhhh sh shhh… i know youre worried baby, but i promise i wont let anything bad happen to you. i promise you youre safe, and youre not sick, and youre completely healthy, and nothing bad will happen. dadas got you baby.”

“you sure?” they mumble sleepily

“101 percent… now lets get that mind of yours quiet and get some rest huh?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

this can technically be applied to any ocd intrusive thoughts, but i specifically wanted to make it about new piercings because to me theyre very scary 😞

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