One thing I love about Iron Lung and its commentary about how we as a society treat convicts is that it never really explicitly reveals Simonâs crimes. We donât know fully what he as an individual did at Filament Station, and it isnât until much later in the film we hear him called âSimon the Butcher.â No clear reason is given for this title, but we can assume. None of that matters. What matters is that here and now he is welded into a shoddy submarine, at the bottom of a blood ocean, slowly losing oxygen, unknowingly exposing himself to heavy doses of radiation, and being terrorized by an unknown creature with the small hope he might be released. Instead of presenting information to get the viewer to question if Simon himself deserves this based on whatever he did, instead it confronts you with the question of whether or not a human being is deserving of this treatment. And the answer is quite clear.
Story Idea: A minion for a an evil Overlord from a High Fantasy Real and a Goon working for Prohibition-Era Mafia Gangster got transported into each other's worlds.
They quickly acclimated to their respective situations and started serving their new bosses with gutso!
Goon: 'ey boss, I notice dat de Hero of Light and Providence gets supplies in dem towns on da way to yer liar on the regular. You want me to go over dere to dem shops and uh *winks and clicks tongue* convince them to close up shop?
Overlord, embers gleaming inside his dark helm: ....make it so, Robert.
stoic genshin characters losing their virginity!
pairing: zhongli, albedo, kinich, clorinde (separate) x afab reader
zhongli â
you only realize somethingâs off when zhongli kisses you a little too slow, too controlled, too careful, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as if heâs scared youâll break. not shy⌠just intent. like heâs memorizing every sound you make.
and he keeps checking in.
âtell me if you need to stop.â
âyour breathingâare you alright?â
âi can slow down.â
yet heâs the one trembling.
when you pull him down onto the bed with you, he follows like gravityâs stronger tonight. he settles between your thighs with that perfect, unreadable expression⌠except his ears are dusted red and he refuses to look lower than your collarbones.
so you help him out of his layers, one by one, until heâs bare under the amber lamplight.
and then you see him.
your brain stalls.
two. two cocks.
the main one thick and heavy against his stomach, flushed darker than his lips, ridges spiraling subtly along the underside. and tucked just behind it, a slimmer, twitchier one, like itâs trying to hide in the warmth of his thigh.
he covers part of his face with his hand, voice low. âi understand this may be⌠unexpected.â
unexpected is to say the least. but not entirely unwelcome.
you reach for the larger one first, wrapping your hand around the heat of him, and the archon breaks. his breath stutters, pupils narrowing to slits as a deep, guttural sound rumbles from his chestâsomething ancient, instinctive. his hips jerk like the touch short-circuits him.
and then, softly, like confessing a sin:
ââŚthis is my first time.â
your heart does a whole gymnastics routine.
heâs trying to stay composed for your sake, but heâs shakingâshoulders tense, thighs tight, like pleasure is hitting him too fast for him to keep his perfect stoic mask in place. the second cock pulses against your wrist, needy, as if begging for attention he doesnât know how to ask for.
when you guide him over you, lining him up, he swallows hard.
âplease,â he whispers, forehead pressing to yours, breath warm and ragged. âteach me how to be good for you.â
and when he finally pushes inâslow, trembling, desperateâthe groan he lets out is almost reverent. like heâs worshipping the feeling. like heâs been waiting six millennias for this exact moment with you.
albedo â
you donât even get the chance to be nervousâalbedo looks at you like youâre a breakthrough waiting to happen. soft smile, calm eyes, hands already hovering as if heâs about to take notes on your skin.
âiâd like to observe your reactions closely,â he murmurs, brushing your hair aside. âtell me if anything feels⌠noteworthy.â
he touches you with the precision of someone handling a delicate reactionâslow strokes, light taps, changes in pressureâwatching every twitch, every breath, every shiver like heâs mapping out your nervous system.
and he talks. oh he talks the whole time.
âyour pulse jumped there. interesting.â
âthat soundâyou made it when i touched here, correct?â
âiâd like to test a different angle. allow me.â
you swear heâs going to implode from how hard heâs concentrating.
when you get his clothes off, his face goes the faintest shade of pinkâbut he doesnât hide. he just studies you studying him.
âis something the matter? âŚah. i suppose this is the moment you expected me to be embarrassed.â a tiny smile. âdonât worry. iâm simply inexperienced, not uninformed.â
but the second your hand wraps around him? oh he gasps.
like he didnât expect the theory to translate into something that feels this good. his brows knit, hips jerking just a fraction as he triesâand failsâto keep composed.
he mutters under his breath, half to you, half to whatever notebook he wishes he had.
âwarm⌠higher sensitivity than anticipatedâŚâ
âyour gripâplease donât stopâfascinatingââ
âi didnât realize⌠it would feel like this.â
when he settles over you, lining himself up, he steadies his breathing like heâs preparing for a delicate experiment.
âtell me if the depth is too much,â he says, sliding in inch by trembling inch. âi want accurate feedback.â
the moment he bottoms out, he exhales a shaky, almost awed breathâone hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up your waist as if trying to feel everything at once.
and then the scientist in him comes out.
he tries different angles, slow at firstâtilting your hips, adjusting his pace, listening for every sound you make.
âyou reacted strongly to that one,â he says, voice unsteady. âmay i⌠try it again?â
and when you moan âyes,â something in him snaps just a little. he kisses you hard, breath hot against your ear.
âgood. i want to learn everything that feels good to you.â
his thrusts grow sharper, more confidentâstill measured, but hungry underneath.
âtell me what you feel,â he breathes, hips rolling into you with perfect precision. âi want all of your data⌠every single bit.â
kinich â
you can tell somethingâs off the second his fingers twitch.
kinich sits there like a carved statue â shoulders tense, jaw locked, eyes fixed straight ahead like looking directly at you might make him combust. his usual calm, grounded presence feels⌠shakier. like youâve tilted his whole world by climbing into his lap.
âyou⌠want to be on top?â he asks, voice steady but a shade too low, too careful.
you nod, and thatâs when the flush creeps up his throat â faint but unmistakable, gold-tinted warmth flooding his cheeks. he swallows hard, like the movement physically pains him.
âright. thatâs⌠fine.â
(it is so not fine. he is dying.)
when you drag your hands down his chest, he exhales sharply â almost a gasp he tries to muffle. his eyes flick to yours, then away immediately. heâs not avoiding you because he doesnât want to lookâŚheâs avoiding because if he does look, itâs over for him.
âsorry,â he murmurs, fingers flexing uselessly against your thighs. âiâm not⌠really sure what i should be doing with my hands.â
you guide them to your hips, and his breath stutters.
he doesnât move them. doesnât squeeze. just holds you like youâre something rare and breakable â and heâs terrified of being too much.
when you sink down onto him, slow, inch by inch, you feel the moment his composure shatters.
his head drops forward, forehead brushing your collarbone, a low, barely audible sound slipping from his throat â half-groan, half-prayer to whatever dragon ancestor is watching.
âwaitâwaitâjustââ he mutters, voice breathless, hands gripping your hips with more force than he realizes. âi needâ give me a moment.â
heâs trembling. actually trembling under you.
you pause, grinding just a little, and he makes the quietest, most broken noise â the kind a man like him would rather die than let anyone hear.
his eyes flutter shut. lips parted. breath uneven.
âi didnât⌠i didnât know it would feel like this,â he whispers, almost embarrassed by the admission.
when you start moving â slow at first â he falls apart even faster.
his hands slip from disciplined grip to desperate clutch, fingers digging into your skin as his hips jerk up involuntarily, a soft, strangled gasp escaping him every time you take him deeper.
heâs quiet, but his body tells on him â thighs tensing, chest rising fast, head tilting back as though heâs overwhelmed by the intimacy, the heat, you.
âplease⌠slower,â he breathes, voice thin. then, a second later, ânoâdonât stopâi justâi canât⌠thinkââ
heâs trying so hard to stay composed, to stay kinich, but every roll of your hips knocks another piece of his restraint loose.
and when he gets close? you feel it â the way his grip tightens, the way his breath catches, the flicker of panic and want in his eyes.
âiâmââ he chokes on the word, embarrassed. âiâm going toââ
you ride him through it, and kinich crumples under you silently, shaking, arms wrapping around your waist like he needs you to anchor him through the rush and the heat and the raw vulnerability of it.
when itâs over, he hides his face in your shoulder for a long moment, breath warm against your skin.
ââŚthat was,â he murmurs, voice hoarse, âmore than i anticipated.â
and when he finally looks up at you?his cheeks are still pink.
his gaze is still shy.
and heâs still absolutely wrecked by the fact that you were the one to undo him.
clorinde â
she starts on top of you like sheâs staging a duelâone knee between your legs, one hand braced beside your head, eyes cool, calculating, like sheâs already planning how to âdefeatâ you.
âtry not to fall apart too quickly,â she murmurs, sliding her thigh between yours like sheâs issuing a challenge.
itâd be intimidating⌠except her breath hitches the moment your bare cunt brushes hers.
a single accidental grind and she freezesâthen inhales sharply through her teeth.
thatâs crack number one.
you tilt your hips up, brushing your slick against her thigh.
her whole composure jolts.
âiâ thatâsâ i wasnât ready,â she whispers, voice already thinner than before.
you smirk. âthought you said not to fall apart?â
her jaw flexes. she tries to recover her dominance by shifting higher, slotting her thigh between your legs properly this time, angling herself so her own cunt lines up perfectly with yours.
âjust⌠follow my lead,â she manages.
but the first real grindâslow, deliberate, everything pressing and sliding togetherârips a sound out of her she absolutely did not mean to make.
her hips twitch.
her fingers curl in the sheets.
she bites her lip so hard her whole body trembles from the effort of staying quiet.
crack number two.
you grab her waist and pull her down, sealing your bodies tight, both your cunts aligned just right.
her gasp is feral.
âwaitâwait, iââ
she tries to say more, but your next grind steals whatever sentence she thought she had.
her hips start moving without her permission, stuttering and messy, chasing friction like sheâs been waiting her whole life for this without realizing it. the roleplay is goneâsheâs breathing too fast, too shallow, every exhale a broken whimper muffled against your neck as she presses harder, rubbing her clit against yours with no restraint.
your lips slide, your slick mixing, heat building so fast itâs dizzying.
she tries to speakâsome poor attempt at commanding youâbut it comes out as a gasp and then:
âpleaseâ donâtâ stopââ
and just like that, the champion duelist of fontaine is grinding into you in desperate, helpless circles, her whole body shivering with every drag of your clit against hers.
you guide her hips, firm and slow, and she loses it, trembling, moaning straight into your throat, burying her face to hide how undone she is.
when you tighten your leg just slightly between hers, her thighs clamp around youâ
ââoh archonsââ
she falls apart first, hips jerking, voice cracked wide open as she ruts through her high against you, legs shaking, breath hot and frantic.
you follow right after, thighs locking around her, pulling her down into you as you both grind through it, trembling through the last messy waves together.
she slumps onto you, panting, cheeks hot, still twitching every time your skin brushes hers.
ââŚthat⌠was not how that was supposed to go,â she mumbles against your collarbone.
you kiss her hair. âi thought it went perfectly.â
she groans softly, burying her face deeperâcompletely melted, completely yours.
the first time you asked flins if you could give him a blowjob, he was a bit taken aback.
âif that is what you desire.â
he lay on the bed, half-sitting with his back against the headboard, and watched as you settled in between his legs. he kept himself composed when you undid his pants, tugging them off like it was incredulous he was even wearing them in the first place, and freed his already aching erection from his boxers.
well, he was a lot bigger than you expected.
flins does a good job at keeping his composure, from when your tongue drags from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, and even when he can feel your hot breath fanning over him and you look up at him with eyes screaming with desire.
but when he feels his cock sink into the waiting heat of your mouth, your lips tightening around his length, the way your throat so eagerly devours him, he canât help the way he shudders, a low moan falling from his lips.
he's unsure what to do with his hands, one of them covering his mouth to try and stop the sounds threatening to spill from his lips, while the other remains tightly balled in a fist at his side. you pull off his cock with a lewd pop, reaching up and grabbing his hand, showing him how to touch you.
it was then that he knew he was hooked on this feeling.
"so beautiful." he'd mumble out, his hand caressing your hair gently as he pushed your head down, silently urging you to take him further. he was committing your expressions to memory, how your throat tightened around him, how you looked up at him through your lashes, archons, it was driving him insane.
"ah- wait, i'm close, i-" he tries to raise you off of him so he can finish in his hand, but you push him deeper instead, his cock twitching in your mouth, filling your throat with his cum. he holds your head, slowly thrusting into your mouth as he rides out his high, watching you swallow every drop. finally, you raise off of him but he grabs your wrist, pulling you down again.
âallow me to get a taste of you now, sweetheart.â
He feeds the birds wherever heâs stationed. Many have learned to recognize him and get happy to see him coming with their food. He feels bad when he canât or is out of seed for them
Since Flins wonât name the dog, he has taken to calling it âMedvedâ (Bear in many slavic languages)
Incredible at telling scary stories, but he makes it a point to not involve the real life horrors they all deal with
When new lightkeepers are homesick, he offers to make their favorite meals and talk them through it
Tried to hide a pet cat from Nikita as a young teenager. Nikita knew but let him think he was getting away with it. The cat now lives with Paivio and Dragana
Since meeting Flins, he has a growing interest in myths and legends of Nod Krai
One of the few lightkeepers to pay attention in Aino and Ineffaâs streetlight repair classes
Would absolutely be a pokemon guy in our world
He, Paivio, and Dragana tried to start a band when they were younger. They gave performances for the lightkeepers who adored them, even if their musical abilities left much to be desired
Regularly visits the Lightkeeper grave sites to pay his respects. He talks to and updates those he knew about the current happenings
Collects cool rocks he finds. His coat pockets almost always have a rock or two in them
Gives Flins rocks he thinks are gems (They are penguins)
Nikita tried to encourage him to find a different career as a teen, but Illuga was adamant about becoming a lightkeeper and protecting Nod-Krai
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