#Emperor “Beautiful” over here knew what was doing when he choose that name

[maskednerd]

#Emperor “Beautiful” over here knew what was doing when he choose that name #toh #the owl house #textpost memes #emperor belos #honestly I dunno if I've posted this one yet- #but it fits so well

[sombredancer]

How to fight your doom (Pt. 3)

Episodes 9-13 From now on, Devil is interested in Girl not only because of the curse. Нe likes that Girl likes him and, as a result, he likes Girl back. And it changes his behavior, making his attitude more obvious. He could protect her just as before, by forcing her to stay always within his eyesight, but instead of it he secretly gives her an amulet so he could protect her from afar (because she didn`t want him to be here). This amulet is made of Blood of Devil`s Heart, that is very xianxia thing too (In c-dramas I have watched this is the most powerful magic of immortal beings, which is used to save and to protect the most important people. Extracting it out of one`s heart is very painful and destroys part of one`s cultivation. Maybe it doesn`t work this way in this story, but I like to think of it so). And then he says that he doesn`t want to disappoint her, so he would wait until the most important for her meeting is over to ask her again to fix the Destiny Book.

So, they like each other and they are equal for now: some ordinary fairy and some ordinary demon. But as we know, she thinks he is an ordinary demon only by accident (the power of accident in this story is HUGE): she sneezed while he was introducing himself so she didn`t hear his true name. And sooner or later she should face the truth and cope it somehow.

Btw, it`s funny, that in this story Heavenly Emperor says many times, that God of War is the only equal to Devil, but we repeatedly can see that he is not. Even with the help of his hypocritical friend he can`t beat Devil. The situation in Emperor`s Hall brings Devil`s and Girl`s relationships on the next level by revealing their misalliance: he is not just ordinary demon.

"So, you are Dongfang Qingcang".

She cries because this level of caring she saw only from her long gone Mistress. And he fights all the Fairy Realm forces including Heavenly Emperor himself to take her back! First of all, of course, he protects his life, but he doesn`t destroy Emperor`s Hall ONLY because Girl asks him not to do so. He does as she said because her opinion is important to him. He hopes to win her heart.

This scene is beautiful too: he doesn`t kill God of War because of Girl`s plea but also he tries to show her that people like GoW never choose her over their duty. Unlike Devil himself (and Devil will choose her over his duties plenty many of times). She is in love with GoW and Devil wants to win her heart over him, so he tries to show her what he can do for her everything that her dream beloved can`t. It`s the right way to impress the girl.

"Do you want to save her or your Shuiyuntian?"

But now their relationships change a lot. She knew him before like a caring criminal who is in love with her. And now she knows that he is also the most fearsome monster in the world, covered with blood of fairies as well as his own father`s, a man, who was hated by everyone in the Fairy Realm so much, that his death date has been celebrated each year for 30 000 years. She is afraid of him. She thought she knew him, but she understands now that she doesn`t know him at all.

And the great tragedy of this moment is that he can`t understand it. For him everything is left the same. He treats her as well as before and thinks that she likes him as before.

He shows her his power out of petty jealousy (Devil is obvious more powerful than GoW and any fairy in Fairy Realm, in the Demon Realm everyone respects power, so why is Girl not impressed and still dreams of GoW?). But he still wants to win her heart so he makes very romantic thing and rides with her a dragon (it`s Chinese romantic trope and I like it a lot).

This is my favorite visual moment in this drama: a young and beautiful goth prince holds his beloved girl while her emotions swing from horror to excitement.

When they are in his realm, he wants her to treat him like before and proceeds to do things to please her. He even proclaims his feelings (not «I love you», but very straightforward anyways): I`ll do everything for you and indulge everything to you. But she irrationally wants to go back, wants to see God of War and that pisses Devil off. He is used to take whatever he wants, to conquer everything he needs (and he says it directly when they talk about home), but human`s heart can`t be conquered. Angry Devil tells Girl he was pretending all the time and even orders Dragon boy to find a sword pieces to kill Girl safely off. It`s very understandable but it ruins their previous relationships to the ground: before Girl thought that he treated her well AND a monster, but now only monster in her eyes left.

But he is really fluffy and nice guy in his soul and the only way to show it to Girl is to force her to know more about him and his usual life. So here we have another body swap.

"I think Shangque is very loyal to you and would never betray you. You don`t know human heart so you don`t know about it".

Forced to spend her time with the monster and to be in his shoes for a couple of days, Girl learns a lot: spooky demons are not so spooky as fairies have said – they are just another immortal race; it`s hard to be the demon lord – everyone is afraid of you or hates you, you can`t trust anyone, even your relatives; Devil is really a jerk, although is more like human being jerk, not this faceless monster from the fairy legends.

He feels that she treats him in different way and even questions himself if it is because he is the legendary demon lord, but in his mind there can only be two options in girl`s heart: either she likes him (and not GoW at the same time)  or she doesn`t like him.

He knows he is already dead because she obviously likes GoW and wants to go with him.

So when Girl saves his life instead of going back with GoW he thinks she chooses him over GoW, so this is partly the reason why he kisses her for the second time (but mostly because he wants to mock GoW with her choice), but she rejects him again and leaves him not understanding anything.

Then he realizes that he really doesn`t understand human heart: he thinks about her words and actions (she likes GoW and wants to be with him in the Fairy Realm, she plead for GoW`s life so many times when Devil fought him, so why would she save Devil?) and even asks Dragon boy what`s going on (He has HUGE potential to know humans hearts in all of their subtlety and it was a real crime to take this potential away from him in his past). But the most important thing in Dragon boy`s life is loyalty, so he thinks it was it (and from now on he starts to like Girl). Was it something more than Girl`s merciful nature in that moment? I don`t think so. But it tells Devil that he is on the right path. So he proceeds to make nice things to her. He is very solid in his feelings towards her.

I like this moment not only because of his will to make her happy (because he knows she likes flower showers) but also because she looks for him too when it happens. As if she thinks that he did not tell her the truth when he said that there is no love between them.

#cang lan jue #love between fairy and devil #苍兰诀 #dong fang qing cang #xiao lan hua #cdrama #SDaboutLBFAD

[talesofmetalandmagic]

Taliyah at court

“I wish to speak to you, child. Do sit here, don’t be afraid. In the state I’m in, I couldn’t attack a worm.”

Taliyah drags a chair by Azir’s bedside and watches him as he wraps himself into layers of silk and linen, so much so she can barely see the wings Nasus had mentioned. There’s rocks, outside the tent, used to keep it in place: Azir says one wrong thing and gets clubbed.

“Do you find me a cruel man?” Azir asks.

Yes, and stupid and oppressive too, she wants to say, but the signs of his misery are too palpable and abundant. On a stool by his bed there’s the empty stained cup of the vitality drink he has to consume to feel strong once again, the now dusted brush for the feathers, and some towels damp in sweat.

“You need to understand…”, she says. Azir’s eyes widen. That’s neither a yes nor a no.

“Things aren’t the way they used to be, Azir.” He winces at being called by his birth name instead of my lord. Xerath made him hate that name with every mellifluous strike of the tongue. “Things that in your times would be seen as benevolent have now become cruelty. There’s more voices being heard, more perspectives coming to light. If you keep ignoring all those for your own sake… yes, that would make you cruel. But I don’t think you have to be. Now that you’re here, you have a chance to start anew.”

In such a state? Don’t make me laugh. If there’s anything he can do to make it right, to raise his beautiful city once more, it was lost after his entombment.

“Anyone can change, my lord. If you’ve found it in you to survive an ordeal such as yours, I’m sure you’ll find it in you to see things in a new light. It could bring you a joy you’ve never known.”

“I just know I want to heal, start over from my year-long suffering. And I want to do good.”

“Then come meet the Naasaj. If you treat them gently, they’ll welcome you.”

“No emperor has ever…”

“Then you’ll be the first.”

I respect your wisdom, Nasus, but it’s not in my interest to help a man such as Azir. Whatever disgrace befell him, he remains above requesting the help of lowly weavers.

He’s… he’s been tortured, Taliyah.

What?

He’s been taken by Xerath, he’s held him for more than a year. I adore him, but I cannot care for him on my own. I’ll repay you plentifully, and… make sure he doesn’t forget.

Azir curls up into a ball of sheets and sweaty feathers. His fever is receding, but it will take time.

“Listen, my lord. I feel bad for what happened to you. You didn’t deserve any of that. But don’t think I don’t know what your plans for the weavers are.”

“Then why are you here? Shouldn’t you be… weaving or something?”

She wants to slap him. “Because some people do things for good, Azir. Think about it, the next time you need help. And because Nasus cares for you, and he’s done me good in the past.”

Nasus cares for me? Oh, well. Of course he does, I’m his Emperor and he’s my tutor and advisor.

“We need to band together against Xerath. We includes you. There isn’t much to choose anyway.”

Don’t tell me what to do, Azir would yell. But who’s he to yell, after being disgraced in such a fashion.

What’s left of him.

This mellows Azir out. He wipes his sweat, takes a sip of diluted sleeping powders for the pain, and sits up.

“I started out wrong, child. My sickness mustn’t dominate on my senses. Stay here. I’ll have some drink made, if it pleases you. I want to know more of your… weavers.”

“Do you want me to talk to you?” She asks awkwardly.

“Xerath would read me books when I got sick. He’d never let me go. He smiled at me as if even me growing bored was a slight on his dignity.”

“Did you… care for Xerath?”

Yes, before I forgot myself and him.

“I did, and still I do. If he’s still a man, somewhere.”

That is unexpected for her. She never knew Xerath as anything more than an enemy.

Maybe there’s some good in him.

Maybe he’s just selfish and nostalgic.

“I’ll bring tea for both, alright? This will ease your pain. You’re going to love the weavers, I know.”

#league of legends #lol #azir #emperor azir #omah azir #taliyah #Shurima #azir’s new groove

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Impasse - A Vaderdala Oneshot

“You forget something, Lord Vader.”

Vader flinched, the voice as clear as a bell yet as foreign as the icy vacuum of space. He found himself frozen in place, the bulk of his hefty frame suddenly unbearable. Inside his chest, he felt the searing fingers of remorse and the scalding flames of rage warring for control. 

Against better judgment, he shifted to turn around. Against better judgment, he let down his guard and ignored unclipping his lightsaber. He knew the face he would find before he saw it, but he was still not prepared for the wave of emotion that spilled forth as he came face to face with his own ghosts. This one, he had expected long dead and buried.

“Padmé,” he gasped, but the voice that came out was blunt and deep and void of affection.

Still, the shock bled through. Padmé was as beautiful as the day he’d last seen her. Eyes fierce and determined, dark hair coming loose from her neatly tied bun. Her face was set in a scowl, blaster drawn and aiming straight for the chest panel on Vader’s chest as if it were a marked target meant for practice and precision fire. The air had shifted, the tension thick and heavy and oppressive as they stared each other down. No, more accurately Padmé’s intense, fiery glare was bearing down on Vader. Vader felt his anger dissipate the moment he met that stare; the ice cold regret and guilt crippling him inside out as it won the impasse.

“You said you had come to destroy the Rebellion. I am the last leader standing here. I alone. Will you destroy me now?” Padmé hissed through a clenched jaw, cheeks flushed but her hands steady.

Vader was familiar with the vow he had made, but now it seemed an impossible lie. Before his mind’s eye, he had envisioned old men and snot nosed kids. Politicians and traitors and cowards, incapable of accepting the Emperor’s grand design and his expert vision. The future was bright, the Sith had reclaimed their natural state in the circle of life - atop the ladder. Only fools and children would oppose such an evident supply of unlimited power. Yet, Padmé seemed to care for none of these things. Time had not slowed her down, it had not thawed the ice built in her heart - the ice Vader himself had put there.

“Well?” she pressed, voice tight, calm and collected.

The words escaped before Vader had any chance to rein himself in. Perhaps he never intended to.

“No.”

“No?” she repeated, as if mocking him but her expression revealed surprise and disbelief.

“Aren’t you here to execute your Rebel traitors?”

Vader said nothing, instead he reached for the saber strapped to his belt. He watched Padmé tense, watched her shoulder come up and the finger on the trigger twitch. In what might have been a gesture of surrender, he simply tossed his weapon between them. The gesture was barely a flick of his wrist, but it sent the hilt skidding across the smooth floors until it came to an premeditated gentle stop at Padmé’s feet. She glanced down to regard the token, an unreadable tinge of something somber gleaming in her eyes for a split second. When she looked back up, Vader had not moved. He stood with his hands at his sides, the bombardment outside the underground bunker shaking its hull; straining the already flickering lights.

“I will not fight you,” said Vader finally, as if that would be enough to soothe the woman’s stubborn spirits.

She furrowed her brow, the corner of her lips curling into a half sneer of disgust. It stung, and Vader might have recoiled from that alone had he not been the man he was. Changed, remolded and retooled. His heart had been ripped out once, and still Padmé’s presence willed its withered carcass to beat and blossom. At the same time, she tore it to shreds once more with the disdain her face held for him. He sensed it inside her, swirling and expanding into a palpable loathing. It cloaked her, surrounded her like a cloud. It reeked of pain, sorrow, and betrayal.

“You don’t know me. If you won’t fight, I will,” she said, every word calculated and sincere.

“‘Aggressive negotiations’.”

It was merely a statement, but its meaning rang true. Padmé straightened up, eyes suddenly wide as a ghost of horrified recognition filtered past her defenses. it was gone in the blink of an eye, but the colour that had drained from her already pale face was harder to conceal.

“Who told you?” she snarled, shifting the aim of her blaster towards Vader’s heart - knowing it would do no harm, but the gesture hit him like a slap across the face either way.

She was questioning how he had learned about her and The Jedi. Anakin Skywalker, her husband. Perhaps she had her sneaking suspicions, she must. But her aura betrayed none of it, it remained outraged and unsettled and adamant in her quest.

“You did.”

Padmé opened her mouth to deliver another scathing retort, but she snapped it close again. A tremor passed her slight frame, and it did not go unnoticed. Her resolve was faltering and waning, the lie she had convinced herself to believe no less a stretch of the imagination than the mental gymnastics Vader himself had been performing for the past four years. Ever since Mustafar, ever since he lost everything. Now, that very everything lost stood before him. Now, she was once more within his reach.

“I’m sorry. I tried,” he heard himself say, a feeble apology not nearly sufficient to excuse the heinous acts he had committed.

The voice was still not his own, but the words were earnest. Padmé lowered her blaster in slow, jerky motions but her eyes were transfixed on his. At the very least, Vader felt their gaze burn straight into his soul; into the furnace of his heart that had frozen over a million times. 

“You’re safe.”

It was a ridiculous profession, Padmé’s very existence as part of the Rebellion was a death sentence. But she was alive, she was well and healthy and stable and here. She had not died. He had failed her, but she had lived. He took one step towards her, feeling just as wary and insecure as she looked. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head in a tiny micromovement. She mouthed something, but there was no sound accompanying the motion. Vader understood her fear, yet it pained him to no end. He was unrecognizable, locked within this jettblack prison of durasteel, cybernetics and synth flesh. There was so little left of his physical body, and even less of the man Padmé had once loved.

“It can’t be…” she whispered, hoarse as the tendons at the sides of her neck strained.

Vader felt the urge to cry, an urge so overpowering. An urge that had not found him since Mustafar, since the fall of the Jedi and the Republic. He had no tears to cry, no measure to shed tears by. His retinas, his tear ducts were long since eaten away by flames and embers. Still, his eyes stung. A warmth pressed behind them, a heaviness bearing down on his chest like a fist squeezing the air out of his lungs. Lungs he no longer had.

“Do what you must. I am not afraid to die.”

Padmé’s eyes widened, mouth falling open as realization dawned upon her. She understood. Vader expected her to back away, expected her to cry, to yell, to fire. Anything. Instead, she stood stone faced. As frail as porcelain, yet as sturdy as the brightest star in the Galaxy. Now, she took a step towards him. Then another. Closing the gap, inch by inch, foot by foot. She tipped her head back, never once drawing her eyes from the opaque crimson lenses of Vader’s eyes that substituted eyes. They served for the damaged, half blind eyes hidden behind.

“What have they done to you?” Padmé’s resolute voice murmured; full of compassion and love, emotions that seemed to have sprung out of the ether.

Yet, what she really meant was; what have you done to yourself?

Vader did not falter as she stopped but a breath away. Her trembling, slender fingers reached for his face plate. Her tiny hand brushed over the mouthpiece, running over the sharp angles and the netted grill. A breath was forced through it, with a loud hiss and the smell of sanitizer and bacta fluids followed it. Padmé’s eyes were round, warm, and mournful. They were glassy, her cheeks flushed but it was Vader who wished more than ever that he might shed a tear. If she were to strike him down, he deserved it. He would allow it. He would let her.

“Anakin.”

It was not a question. She knew, it was evident in the pitiful, feeble smile of shock and relief alike that grazed her lips. It was gone in an instant, but it had said enough. So used to denouncing his name, denouncing himself and all he was and had been - Vader found himself unable to deflect her. She was right. He had been wrong for so long, choosing to live in darkness and denial. No more.

“Yes.”

Anakin meant it.

****

Have a short Vaderdala AU.

#anakin skywalker #darth vader #padmé amidala #star wars #sw #padmé lives #suited vader #anakin #skywalker #vader #lord vader #padmé #amidala #naberrie #padme #padmé naberrie #padmé skywalker #padme naberrie #padme amidala #padme skywalker #anidala #vaderdala #au #prequels #pt #prequel trilogy #tcw #the clone wars #swr #rebels

[sashi-ya]

Is it ok if I request a Law x Yonko reader? For once the reader is badass and strong 😎 has her own crew and is well respected yet she fell in love with Trafalgar Water D. Law

Hi!! Of course! I fell in love with the idea. I think Law deserves a strong woman on his side, and this type of dynamic is one of my favorites!! It was intended to be a OS but I got too invested on the story so I decided to part it in at least another part that I'll be posting in a few days. I hope you don't mind! Plus I included some NSFW too, because the tension between the Yonkou and Law was really high! I hope you enjoy it and stay tuned for the second part if you like it 💖 Thanks for reading and supporting my work!

NSFW - Trafalgar D. Water Law x FemYonkou! Reader - PART 1

TW: NSFW. 18+ Minors DNI. Rough and unprotected sex. Chocking.

WC: 4.1K

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31973146

Part 2

Part 3

Final/Part 4

“My dear captain, someone is on the coast!!”, your most loyal nakama comes running through the door of your huge castle with the news. “Mmm, I wonder who it could be…”, you tell her. “I’m afraid whoever we’ve been waiting for has arrived, Captain”, she says, looking at the ground. You have always hated how they are afraid to look directly to your eyes, even though you consider them your equals. But you guess it’s because of your powerful aura, or the respect they have for you.

“Let’s be a good host. His crew can come to the castle once we have talked. He would probably be staying the night, so tell the boys to prepare the royal guest room, ok?”, you order your first commander with a lovely smile.

You laugh, some say your laughter is something similar to a demon, but hey, that’s part of your identity as a yonkou, so… You wait for your guest sitting on your throne, admiring your brilliant rings. Suddenly the big door in front of you opens and there he is, the brat you’ve been waiting for.

You lick your lips, wondering when you will be tasting that sweet candy. No man or woman could ever resist your beauty, or your power.

The steps of that tattooed punk echoes all around the huge room. He is wearing a black coat that covers his whole body from his neck to his ankles, a funny looking white hat, and a big katana over his shoulder. “I hope this is not the only bigger thing he carries…” you think while smiling at him, trying to admire those grey eyes you saw on his wanted poster. But he does not show them, he walks slowly, covering his gaze with the visor of his hat. “Oh, you are trying to look mysterious, I get it punk”, you say to yourself.

He is now in front of you, and finally looks at you. He is even hotter than what you thought. It surprised you when your den den mushi rang and it was him requesting an audience with you, but even though you know this brat is dangerous, you accepted it right away.

“So, Trafalgar D. Water Law, huh? what brings you here?”, you ask him, crossing your legs and bending over a little to see his face. Your throne is a little elevated from the floor, so you look down at him.

“I’m here to ask you for an alliance”, he tells you, fixing his cold eyes on yours. “Oh, I see… an alliance. But aren’t you in one with the Mugiwaras? Why would you want an alliance with a Yonkou? Didn’t you lose your Shichibukai title because of an alliance? ”, you inquire him.

“Heh, I see you have more information about me than I thought…”, he tells you with sneering contempt. That pisses you off, hard. Who do you think you are, little rookie?... You stand up, violently, solemnly. Your black feather coat over your shoulders makes a loud noise, your hair flows over your back. You start walking down the little stairs off your throne and stand up in front of Trafalgar Law. He backs up a little, even if he looks like a total badass, you are scary for him.

“Tell me Law, why do you think I am an emperor of the sea, huh? Do you think you are stronger? Do you think you can outsmart me?”, you tell him firmly, centimeters from his face. Law gasps, he is trying not to look scared, but he is, pretty much indeed. He remains silent.

“Do you think you can put me down as you did with my old friend Doffy? Ha! poor Doffy, he was pissed that his little ex retainer fucked his whole life… Well, I guess that’s what you get for not being incredibly strong and intelligent”, you smirk at him, and begin to walk. The sound of your hills resonates on Law’s head. But even if he might be a little scared, you know he is smarter and stronger than he looks, so you must be careful, especially because he is at your back.

“Why don’t we have dinner and discuss your offer?”, you tell him, this time a little more friendly. “Yeah…”, he tells you with that low voice he has, that makes you bite your lip. Of course you are curious about his proposal and his true intentions, but damn, you wish you were devouring him right now.

You turn your head to the side and tell him “Follow me”, over your shoulder. And keep walking to the dining room.

Once the two of you arrive at the dining room, a big table is waiting for you. Candles on each side of the table, several delicatessens served on silver platters. “Take a seat, please”, you invite Law to sit while you sit on yours.

Law and you are face to face on each side of the table. You bend a little over the table, with your elbows over it, and interlocking your fingers. You show yourself interested in him, smirking sexily. “So, I’m all ears. Tell me about your offering”, you say.

Law takes off his hat letting you see his disheveled black hair and adopts the same position as you. “Well, as I told you before, I want to form an alliance with you”. He is short and concise. You raise an eyebrow, what does he want from you?...

“Why? What do you want from me? and what do I get in return?”, you ask before sipping some red wine from a big crystal cup. “You will be able to defeat the other three yonkous, as long as I can see the red poneglyph you have in here”, he says straight to your face.

You widen your eyes, surprised that he knew you have such a treasure in your hands. “I’m surprised Mr. Trafalgar. You have indeed, more information than I thought… I wonder who told you about it. I’m a little concerned at this point, maybe you are some kind of undercover agent from the marines?”, you tell him, fixing your eyes on him.

Law gasps subtly, his lips part and for a moment he remains silent. He is also looking at you, and you can see a red spark in his eyes. “I’m not with the marines”, he tells you firmly. You begin to laugh and stab the bistec on your plate with the knife. “Of course you aren’t, if you were one you would have denied it instantly…”, you tell him and taste a piece of meat.

The tension floods the ambient, you want to show how dominant you can be, but at the same time you wish he were dominating you in your room.

“Fine, if I accept that means that you and the Mugiwaras will be my allies, right?”, you ask him, showing him you are sure, but deep inside wondering if you made the best decision, after all, pirates alliances are often marked with betrayal…

“That’s right”, Law tells you. “Listen to me closely, little brat. If you happen to show the slightest sign of betrayal, you will know exactly why I’m named “The Sadist”. Are we clear?”, you tell -threaten- him. “I know exactly what you are capable of. Don’t worry, I won't betray you”, he assures you, firmly.

“Let’s have a celebration, then”, you tell him and order your subordinates to bring the dessert. “I’m not a man of celebration, could you please show me my room? tomorrow morning I’ll be telling you all about my plan to take down the other yonkous”, he tells you denying your invitation to a little private party. You are upset, angry… but you won’t show it to him, so, you tell your crew members to show him his room with a big smile on your face.

Once he leaves the dining room, you walk to yours with strong steps, frustrated. "Nobody has ever refused my invitation…". A cold shower cools your annoyance a little but not enough. You snuggle into bed and fix your sight on the big ceiling of your room. "Damn brat, why is he so hot? And for what?"... you go to sleep planning the best way to catch your prey in your spiderweb. You are used to getting everything you want, and Law of course is no exception.

Morning comes and the sun outside shines more than ever. You’ve been planning the whole night on how to seduce your guest, so you order your subordinates to prepare a special breakfast next to the pool. You choose to wear a tight bikini, those who show more than what they can cover, and a white semi-transparent kimono over it… after all, he is a man. He shouldn’t be resisting the lure of your beauty.

When you get to the pool patio, he is already there having a cup of tea, with those lean long legs, wearing an unbuttoned black shirt that allows you to enjoy his tattooed chest. You contemplate the handsome man from the arcade that connects the patio with the castle. You took a finger to your lips planning the next step on your plan.

“Good morning my dear guest and ally!”, you greet him, while sitting next to him under the big umbrella. “Good morning”, he salutes you, looking at you with those intense grey eyes. You give him a side smirk and grab a slice of orange, for some reason none of you look down, and you keep staring at each other. Perhaps trying to fight for dominance, perhaps because he wanted to seduce you as much as you do.

You take the slice to your mouth, and a drop of the juice runs through the commissure of your lips. He follows the path the bead of citric trails on your mouth with his eyes. He approaches you with his hand and runs his inked thumb over your lips. The sensation of his soft surgeon fingertip over your lips feels so enticing. You wish you could suck his finger, yet, he is the one who should succumb first, not you.

The moment gets interrupted when one of your maids offers you coffee. The strong black coffee that keeps you going in the morning, sweet, caffeinated elixir that today isn’t necessary, something else keeps you energized. You gaze at the maid, with hate in your eyes for interrupting such an intense moment. You tell her with a false smile, “yes, please”. She serves you a cup and runs away, quickly, scared as hell.

Leaning on the backseat of the couch with the cup on your hand, you cross your legs, letting some skin peek through the opening of the kimono. “So, Law, tell me about your plan”, you tell him. “Right, so I’ll be staying here for a few weeks, if you don’t mind”, he informs you and keeps talking about the plan. You lick your teeth; you don’t even listen to anything about the plan. You are satisfied as you will be having your sweet candy with you for a long time…

“Perfect, so the plan is set. I’m glad we are allies, Law”, you tell him as you stand up, and walk up to him. You place your hand over his shoulder and look down at him with a smile. “Aren’t you hot? let’s enjoy the pool”, you invite him and keep walking to the edge of the pool. You untie your kimono letting it slide off to the floor. You can feel Law’s sight pinned to your back and even lower, yet he is not moving.

“Right, you are a devil fruit user” you tell him pouting, but either way you dip in the pool. When you emerge from underwater, you take your wet hair out of the face, and get out of the lido. Your bikini turns a little bit see thru and you see how Law looks directly to your now notorious erected nipples from the cold water. You have an evil grin on your face, and he seems to be enjoying every inch of your skin.

“Do you like what you see, huh?”, you tease him. He looks at you, with piercing eyes, stands up and walks up to you. “Huh?”, you say but before you could even continue with a cocky phrase, he is already grabbing you by your neck.

You gasp, ‘cause you got slightly scared, but your bossy attitude won’t let you show it. You begin to chuckle with that -demon- laughter you have. And suddenly stopping you tell him, “What do you think you are doing?”. Law squeezes your carotids even more tighter approaching his face to yours and tells you, “Don’t play with me, if you want me to fuck you just tell me”. “Let go of me”, you command him. He sets your neck free, but his nose still is almost touching yours. “Before I let you walk, you gotta show me how you crawl, brat”, you whisper to him. You celebrate internally how he has already fallen into your trap; he couldn’t resist you. Another victim, another candy to taste, this time a spicy rather than a sweet one.

Law and you keep looking at each other for several minutes more, perhaps playing a game of power, who is gonna be the first to cave in and kiss the other?... Your heart beats faster, the tension is in a way arousing, you hold yourself back while sometimes your gaze wanders over his lips… so enticing.

You were about to cave in when his den den mushi rings. He smiles at you, seductively, and turns around to pick up the transponder. You decide to leave the patio and go to your room, you are way hornier than you think, and falling into his arms that soon it’s not your style. Or so that’s what you think…

You spent the whole day in your room, thinking about your next move. Some of your commanders have come to visit you and asked you about the new alliance, but you seemed so invested in seducing Law that you forgot about your responsibilities.

The night comes, and you are getting ready for dinner. You are excited almost like a little girl, finally you are going to see that face that got your heart beating fast. You have chosen to wear a pretty, draped black dress, not so revealing yet not conservative at all. Your back is completely naked and has a slit on the side of the skirt. Your typical fine jewelry and heels that can kill if you happen to step on someone.

Law is always first in the dining room, this time accompanied by three of his most loyal nakamas. A polar bear dressed in a black suit, and two guys with hats that start drooling when they see you enter the room. The four of them stand up from their seats “Cap… captain…!”, says the one using an orca hat. “Shachi, shut up”, says the other with a hat that puts “PENGUIN” over it.

“Good night sirs, please take a seat”, you tell them. One of the menials runs to your place and moves the chair for you. “Thank you, darling. You can bring the food whenever it is ready”, you tell him, with a big smile. You usually aren’t so sweet with others, but tonight you are in a good mood for sure.

“So, you are the high officials of the Heart Pirates, huh? nice to meet you”, you tell them with your intense gaze placed on each one. The humans swallow, they are intimidated by your imposing presence. The polar bear stands up once again and shouts “AY AY, NICE TO MEET YOU! I’M BEPO!”. You are kind of overwhelmed by how noisy the Mink is, but you think it is kinda cute. Law tells Bepo to sit down and lower the voice, and the bear repeats several times how sorry he is. You giggle a little and tell him “It’s ok, Law! Bepo you are a cutie, nice to meet you”.

The food is served, and everyone starts to taste the wonderful creations of your chef team. You can’t help but peer at your prey while eating. He notices your persistent stare and fixes his eyes on yours. That piercing, grey, icy stare that makes a shiver run through your spine and you’re breathing subtly uncontrollably. No person has made you lose control before, you are known for being cruel and cold, you haven’t felt in love ever in your life, but this brat… this brat has something special.

“Guys get back to the Polar”, Law commands his nakamas. “They can stay in one of the rooms if they want, Law”, you tell him, and the guys start getting excited with red cheeks. “It’s an order, get back to the polar, please”, he orders his subordinates with a cold stare. You roll your eyes back, because you know he is protecting his crew from you, he respects your power and knows well how cruel you can be when you want something. “Fine, fine…”, Bepo, and the guys say and walk away.

“Do you want to have a drink in the garden, Law?”, you offer him after his nakamas have left the place. He looks at you and takes a few seconds to finally respond. “After you”, he tells you and you two start walking to the patio.

The blue night sky looks deep, the sound of the running water of the many fountains competes against the song of frogs and crickets. Some torches light up the path to the lawn chairs. As you walk on the deck, you ask him “Do you always carry your katana wherever you go, Law? Are you afraid of something? He responds from behind “I’m not, I simply take my precautions”. You try to sound strong and petty, but the truth is that the one who is scared is you.

When you finally take your seats on the couches, both of you cross your legs. Your dress allows some skin of your thighs to peek through, and Law can’t resist but scan your whole body with those grey eyes. You do the same, his tight jeans, seems to get even more tighter in between his legs. The unsolved sexual tension between the two of you it’s way too high to ignore, and at this point you are sure Law has on his mind the constant idea of fucking you, as much as you do.

You can’t take it anymore; you are just fed up. This is taking too damn long, you want him in between your legs, now. So, you suddenly and violently stand up, slapping the table with your hands. Law even though got a little scared, he remains still, acting swanky as always. You wait for him to say something, but he just stares. You are tired of this pestering feeling, a flame inside you burns even hotter. Law smiles at you with that cocky smirk and pats his lap. “Come here”, he tells you.

Even if you were dying to sit there, you are just too arrogant to do as a man says, and fighting against your true desires, walk away. “Damn brat”, you say to yourself while walking through the deck stepping strong so your heels sound louder in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, someone grabs you by the wrist and turns you around. You have the Surgeon of Death´s face in front of yours. You gasp, he is not smirking, but his eyes show pure desire, his breathing is accelerated as much as yours. Your hand is directed to his crotch by him. You can feel his hard bulge growing under your palm. You have a side grin. And after a few seconds, he kisses you so passionately, so lustfully, so needy. His inked hands grabbing your hair, pulling your head back, letting your neck exposed so he can dig in like a beast.

“Let’s go to my room, Law”, you gasp in between steamy kisses. “Fine… Room… Shambles”, he says and you two are teletransported to your bed. You land into your mattress while Law is standing up at the feet of your bed. You smile seductively at him, full of desire when he begins to take off his black shirt. The big heart tattooed on his chest that reaches almost to his belly button, his abs slightly defined, the V that his lower stomach muscles form over his pelvis, and a little happy trail that makes you wonder where it finishes, makes you squirm and recognize how needy for this man you are. “Come here, brat”, you tell him with a beckoning finger.

Law is over you in no time, cradling your face with his hand. Your fingers trail the inked lines on his chest. He begins to kiss your neck, lower and lower, his hand is now traveling under the slit of your dress, up through your thigh and even higher. His soft hand caresses the side of your waist, while the other slowly slides off the right strap of your dress, exposing to him your breast.

His tongue plays with your nipple, and you moan his name. A string of saliva forms when slowly relieves the nipple from his lips and looks at you with intense lust. Your hands that were lingering over his bulge are now at each side of his head, and in a simple but fast movement you are now over him, straddling your hips. You grind against his sex, touring your hands over his tattooed chest. You slowly bend over him, biting his neck, playing with your tongue with the little hoops he has hanging from his ears. Law’s hand on your butt, squeezing hard your flesh.

You slide off your other strap, so your dress falls off exposing your torso and beautiful breasts to him. The black dress gets stuck on your hips and you start softly jumping over his aching dick, still trapped in his jeans. Law is sweating, he is about to burst, and you haven’t even touched his sex yet. You don’t even care about the foreplay, you want him to flood your insides, and he wants it too.

He reaches for his zipper and lowers it. You help him by pulling down his jeans and his boxers, letting free his member. To your surprise the left side of his groin area is also inked with a little sword. At first it looked suspicious, but you are so horny that instantly jump over his sex.

Your already wet panties become even wetter when you rub your sex against his. Law closes his eyes, every time your core touches the tip of his cock, like a sweet torture. Until this is too much for him and pushes you to the mattress. You flop down on your back and Law violently tears off your panties. “I’m gonna fuck the hell out of you, bitch”, he tells you gasping, and penetrates you, rough and deep.

“Mh, Law”, you whine, invaded by the pleasure his cock against your walls makes you feel. He has his teeth clenched making his mandible even more sharp. Your bodies are covered in sweat as he pounds you with hard fast thrusts. Your moans would probably make everyone in the castle wake up, but you don’t really care.

Law passes his hand on your back, lifting you as you cross your legs around his waist. You are now seated over him. Your breasts pressed against his chest, face to face, while he keeps penetrating you. The both of you reach climax, you first and then Law. Your core feels how his pulsating member empties inside it. He gets you hugged tight, and you rest your head over his shoulder enjoying how full you feel, how satisfied you feel after relieving that sexual tension between the two of you. n

Even if you insist on this being all just sex, and haven't been in love before, something about being skin to skin with a man after having sex feels better than you thought. Never in your life have you experienced being hugged to someone, so closely, so intimate. His warm breath caresses the skin of your shoulder, and you close your eyes in hope this moment never ends.

Law slowly helps you lay on bed, and he does the same. You are lying on your side while Law is on his back looking at the ceiling. You worship how his inked chest goes up and down with every inspiration and you can't help but put your hand over it. He looks at you and pulls you next to him. Your face is now over his arm, and he caresses your naked back. He probably knows this is a whole new experience for you, as you are known to be heartless… but the truth is that you have always been lonely…

PART 2

#trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x oc #one piece #law one piece #law x y/n #law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x oc #law imagine #trafalgar law imagine #traffy #sashi-ya

[thewritetofreespeech]

hello! can you write scenario for akashi, aomine, kise, and kagami where their s/o is jealous of all the attention they're getting from other girls?

awwww. adorbs! certainly ^_^ 🖤

Jealous S/O

Akashi

It’s not a surprise that he was popular.

Akashi was smart, handsome, rich. Great at academics, and sports, and the youngest student council president in the history of Rakuzan. You didn’t believe in people being perfect, but if ever someone was going to get close it would be Akashi. He really lived up to the ‘Emperor’ nickname.

And what was an Emperor without his court.

“What’s wrong [Y/N]?” You look up from the pavement as you walked to class to see Akashi staring at you. His gaze focused, but soft & concerned. “You seem distracted.”

“Oh…it’s nothing.” You tuck your hair behind your ear. Prepared to let this go. Of course, Akashi wouldn’t let it though. He continued to stare at you until you finally broke down and told him. “It’s just them.”

The red head turned to look where you had jutted your chin towards the girls, huddled behind one of the pillars in the court yard whispering & staring, and your boyfriend let out a sigh. “Ah yes. Them.” He doesn’t seem surprised by their presence. Nor their borderline stalking. You should have guessed that he knew they were there. “I just choose to ignore them. However, if they are making you uncomfortable, I can order them to stop.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to cause trouble. And although it was annoying, you didn’t want to break another girl’s heart over their rejected feelings. “It’s not a big deal. It’s the burden of dating the ‘Emperor’ I guess.” His lips scrunch. Though the nickname stuck over time, you know he doesn’t actually care for that title. “I just feel a little bit like one of those women in a historical K-drama. You know, like someone is waiting in the wings to knock me off so they can take my place near the emperor.” Sometimes you kind of feel like I should start checking my lunch for poison or glass.

Akashi scoffed a little. Then leaned in to kiss your cheek. “That’s never going to happen.” He assured you. “My heart belongs to only you. And, if anyone were to hurt you, I’d gouge their eyes out.”

Perhaps it’s poor form to giggle at such a threat, but you do. He really was so protective of you. You really had no reason to be jealous, because no one was going to take Akashi away from you.

You continue on your way to class. The ‘court’ suspiciously hanging back more than usual after that day.

Aomine

The street ball court was a buzz as usual whenever Aomine played.

His ‘quick game’ with the challenges on the court had turned into a full basketball brawl that had lasted for hours. One-on-one after one after another.

Not that you minded. Watching Aomine play, and seeing him happy, was always thrilling. He always looked so cool when he played; giving his all, even against weaker players. You chuckle to yourself. He really was a terrible guy to take such joy in crushing people. But then what did that say about you when you were so turned on by it?

“That dark skin guy is so hot! Do you think he’s foreign?”

You turn away from the court to a gaggle of girls, some your age, some older, watching the game as well from the side lines. Some had noticed the game and come to watch. Others had come with their own boyfriends. You frown a little as they continue to whisper and gush over your boyfriend. Getting moodier by the second.

“Yo, what’s up?” You look up from glaring at the lines on the court; just in time to see Aomine place his ball he was holding in one hand against your head. “You look pissed. Are you not having fun?”

“Not really.” You confess, batting his hand away. You weren’t having fun now. He was talking to you, but those girls still couldn’t take their eyes off them. “Can we go now?”

“What?? But things are just getting started.” He lifted his shirt up as he whined to wipe the sweat from his brow and you could practically hear the siren like squeals from those thirsty ass bitches.

“I don’t like the crowd here.”

Aomine seemed to catch on, and looked to the side to see who was annoying you. You have to assume he expected to see some guy making you uncomfortable, based on his expression, but looked surprised when he saw it was just a bunch of girls; totally playing it off like they weren’t staring at him a moment ago. “What can I say babe? I can’t help it if girls think I’m super hot and junk.” His cockiness and smirk were not attractive at the moment.

You continue to pout, but just long enough for Aomine to lean in and give you a peck on said pout. “Let me kick this guys ass and then we can go. ‘Less you wanna stick around and make ‘em jealous back. We can do gross couple stuff until they get weirded out and leave.”

You chuckle again at the offer. Appreciating the gesture he was trying to make. “Go play your game and then we can go. If we’re going to do ‘gross couple stuff’, I’d rather do it in private where we can enjoy it.”

Aomine gave you a big grin, followed by a loud, “yes ma’m!”

Of course, he slaughtered the guy in the next game. Leaving him to sulk off back to his own girlfriend; who was indeed in the pack and not looking too happy about it. You both leave after that to finish your date. Aomine proud as a peacock for the rest of the afternoon from the ego boost.

Kise

It was hard, dating a model.

You knew of Kise’s profession before you started dating, of course, but you had no idea how hard it would be on your relationship.

Girls stopped him every chance they got to ask for his autograph, or gush over his new photobook. He of course was courteous and polite. Turning on that model charm. He always thanked them for their patronage of his work and they promised to always support him. It had been bad before, but ever since his game was televised this past season, it had grown into a circus. Not only was he the beautiful blonde-haired boy they all admired, but now he was also the super-hot jock they all drooled over. You could barely go out on a proper date anymore without being accosted by some female vying for his attention.

“[Y/N]-cchi, what’s wrong? You look upset.”

“This is ridiculous!” You told him, and you weren’t just talking about his huge sunglasses & stupid hat he was wearing to try and be ‘incognito’. It wasn’t working even a little bit, so now it was just doubly stupid. “Why can’t they leave you alone for 10 minutes?!”

“They’re my fans [Y/N]-cchi. I can’t disappoint them!”

“Right. Don’t disappoint them. Why don’t you hang out with them today then?” You mutter sullenly. Prepared to leave.

Kise seemed to realize what was going on, and just how upset you were, as he reached out to grab you hand. “I don’t want to hang out with them [Y/N].” You turn back around when he said your name like a real person. Not the cute little way he did it as part of his act. “I don’t want anyone else but you. They only like me because I’m handsome and a model.” Humble too, you think to yourself. “They don’t really care about me. You do! I don’t want to lose that. Please forgive me.”

He did genuinely look hurt, and you have to believe that he meant it. You sigh. It wasn’t totally Kise’s fault. “It’s alright Ryouta.” You tell him. He seemed to perk up a little at that. “If you could maybe not lay it on so thick for them in the future, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course [Y/N]-cchi!” He cheered with a beaming smile. Already back to his normal self. “I’d do anything for you!”

It doesn’t stop of course. But Kise kept true to his word and politely asked to be left in peace. Most respected that. Some weren’t as understanding of his needs. You just appreciated that he was trying to keep them at bay. Fangirls were weird.

Kagami

After practice, you and Kagami went to Maji Burger, as per usual. And, as per usual, people were staring at your table.

Most of the time they were staring at the loud, tall teen scarfing down his body weight in hamburgers. Amazed at his own personal eating contest. However, more recently, the people staring were girls from your school who had also come here. And they were staring at Kagami only.

He was completely oblivious to it, but Kagami was actually really popular; even before Serin started wining so much. He was tall, athletic, built. He’d come from America, which was so cool for a lot of the students around here. Plus, he had this whole ‘bad boy basketball star’ vibe going. If they only knew how much of a sweet heart he really was. Actually, scratch that. If they knew that would only make it worse.

“Hey, what’s up [Y/N]? You’re not eating. Do you not like your food?”

You look up from your own, normal portion on the tray, then back down as you play with your food. “It’s just hard to eat when people are staring.”

Kagami blinked. Then looked around to see what you were talking about. “I don’t see anybody.”

“Of course you don’t….” You mutter under your breath. He never did.

“What does it matter?” He asked. “It’s not like I can stop people from looking at me. They have eyeballs. It’s a free country.”

“That’s not the point Kagami. It’s not that they’re looking at you. It’s the fact that they’re looking at you.” You’re trying to be discrete here, but subtle or discretion never really got through to Kagami. “They wanna fuck you.”

Kagami choked on his burger halfway devoured in his mouth. “Don’t say that!” He scolded you. Once he’d recovered from his near-death experience.

“Well, it’s true. Maybe that’s a bit much, but they definitely look at you that way, and it’s annoying.”

“How can you even tell?”

“Because it’s how I look at you.” You muttered under our breath again. Fidgeting with our soda straw to avoid eye contact.

Kagami heard you again though and now you were both blushing in the booth. “Well…the only one I’m interested in looking at me that way is you.” He muttered back. “The only one I’m interested in looking at that way is you.” His leg moved forward under the table to touch yours. Simple, secret, intimate.

You smile softly as you realize it was stupid to be jealous. Kagami had no guile. He was honest to a fault, which was another of his amazing qualities. He genuinely didn’t see those other girls because he was only focused on you. So let them stare. There was no way they were going to take him away from you.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #;behind the veil (anon response) #kuroko no basket #kuroko no basket scenarios #kuroko no basket imagines #imagines #scenarios #seijuro akashi #aomine daiki #kise ryouta #kagami taiga #kagami taiga x reader #knb kagami taiga #knb aomine #knb aomine daiki #aomine daiki x reader #knb kise #kise ryota x reader #akashi seijuurou x reader #knb akashi #knb imagines #knb scenarios

[sunshinelikesstarwars]

Going Home

Din was quiet.

He held his helmet in his hands, unable to look away from it.

He’d been able to justify what happened with Mayfeld, the whole “technically they’re all dead now” situation.

He couldn’t justify this.

He wouldn’t.

His memory helpfully reminded him of the tiny hand that had rested on his cheek, of big brown trusting eyes, and he had to close his eyes for a moment.

He had to think of something else.

Cara had already been dropped off at home. Din hadn’t the heart to take some time to talk to Greef, so they had left pretty quickly.

Boba and Fennic seemed to be talking about Tatooine now, and as he didn’t much care for the sandy death-trap of a planet, he decided against joining the conversation.

Maybe he could clean his blasters or something. He reached into one of his pockets for a cloth—

—and his fingers instead hit a small ball he’d forgotten he had.

Oh.

What if—what if Grogu—

—would the Jedi, who Cara had clarified was basically the best Jedi, Luke Skywalker, who had defeated both the Emperor and his enforcer, Darth Vader (and that was good, he would protect the kid, Grogu would be safe), would the Jedi play with him? Din had to sudden desire to track them down and give the little ball—the last bit he had of the Razor Crest, his home for so long—

He let go of the shiny bit of metal and rubbed one of his eyes. This was...just...

His ship, his Creed, his people...his kid...did he have anything left?

His shook his head and pulled out the cloth from the right pocket, focusing with all he had (and it didn’t feel like much) on polishing his already spotless blaster, leaving his helmet on the floor by his feet.

Fennic walked over to him. He looked up at her—it was still so strange to just—see someone without any HUD—and saw that she wasn’t looking at his face, instead focusing on his hands.

He’d been...surprised, maybe, at how everyone had reacted to him taking his helmet off. No one brought attention to it and they mostly tried to act like nothing important (life-changing, life-ending) had happened. They spoke to him like normal. Besides Kryze (who he’d convinced to take the dark saber after she won a spar) and the other Mandalorian, they all avoided looking at his face when talking to him, which he guessed he appreciated.

He wasn’t sure what to feel about any of this.

“We’re about to come out of hyperspace,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want us to drop you off somewhere more...populated?”

“No,” he said, “Sorgan is where I want to be.”

—

He had them land a kilometer or so away from the village he’d stayed at before. Boba gave him a comm number and said, “If you ever need work, comm me. Least I can do.” Fennic just nodded, and then they were flying away.

He stood there for a long time, just staring out into the trees.

Okay. He was on Sorgan. He’d really just had a hope that—

Omera, the kind widow with deadly aim, had been sad to see him go. She’d asked him to stay. She...might still want him to stay.

He suddenly felt very foolish, having the others drop him off on a planet he wasn’t even sure he’d still be welcome on. Even though the cantina he’d visited before was hours away, he decided he’d go there and see if he could get passage somewhere else.

Before he could even so much as take a step, there was rustling from behind him, to his right. He turned, and it took a moment without a HUD to assist, but he could see a human child with dark hair and eyes peeking out behind a tree. “Winta,” he said, glad he could still remember Omera’s daughter’s name.

She gasped and stepped out of her hiding spot. “It is you,” she said, then she looked around at his feet. “Where—where’s the baby?”

He blinked. “He…”

Winta’s already big eyes grew bigger and shiny with tears. “No! No, he’s not—“

“No!” Din said, hand reaching out in a calming gesture. “No, he’s safe. He’s okay. He just…” How was he supposed to explain the whole situation? “He has to be with someone else for a while.”

Winta looked confused, but at least she wasn’t about to start crying. She still looked sad, though. “Oh. Okay. Um, do you...want to come back to the village?” She gave a shaky smile. “Everyone will be happy to see you.”

He nodded and she started off, checking behind her to see if he would follow.

They ran into a group of children trying to work their way through the underbrush who all stared when they saw him. “The Mandalorian is back!” Winta announced, and the kids started to smile. “He doesn’t have the baby right now, but the baby is safe. We’re going back to the village.”

He couldn’t help but feel a bit amused as she matter-of-factly directed their group to keep walking, answering questions like she was the expert on the situation. He’d been a bit worried about having to explain himself to everyone they came across, which seemed like a non-problem now.

At least, it seemed that way right up until he met Omera’s eyes  

She was working in a pond, knee-deep in water, and had just glanced over curiously when the children had broken through the tree-line. When she saw him, her eyes widened and she stood up straight, glancing at the helmet he held to his side. She dropped the basket on the ground and climbed out of the pond, walking over to them while scanning the ground around him and the children.

Looking for the kid.

Was it possible for a heart to keep shattering? His seemed dead set on it.

Winta hurried over and seemed to tell her mother the little she knew before moving on to the rest of the curious villagers.

Omera continued walking, stopping an arm’s reach away. Her eyes glanced over all of him, again catching on his helmet, before settling on his face.

Her eyes were full of questions. “You came back,” she said, and hearing her voice again soothed some part of his anxiety. She didn’t sound upset, just curious.

He nodded and tried to think of what to say. It suddenly occurred to him that she didn’t actually know his name, and that it hardly made sense for him to keep it a secret anymore, so he blurted out, “Din.”

She tilted her head, her confusion obvious.

He could feel the blush starting to spread across his face. “My—my name. Din. Din Djarin.”

Her eyes widened and she stepped forward. “Din?”

He nodded. He was breaking into a thousand pieces and nothing in the galaxy made sense, but she said his name and it seemed like things might be alright.

“Din,” she repeated, now standing quite close. One of her hands reached up, slowly, just as before, when she’d asked him to stay. He didn’t move, choosing instead to keep looking at her face. She was beautiful, yes, as always, but she seemed a bit sadder now, maybe.

He closed his eyes when her fingers, light as could be, brushed his cheek. She was the second person to touch his face in years, and it was still almost too much. When he didn’t move away, she rested her whole hand against his cheek, fingers combing into his hair and brushing his ear. Her thumb smoothed over his cheekbone, gentle, tender. Loving?

He opened his eyes to see her smile, and it was as grounding as it had ever been. Calming. Safe. “You came back,” she whispered.

“I’d...can I...stay, for a while?” he murmured.

“For as long as you like, you are welcome here,” she answered. “You will always be welcome here.”

He took a deep breath and leaned a little bit into the hand cradling his face. Okay. He could...he could work with this. It wasn’t the end of everything. Nothing was the same, not really, but for now...

For now, Sorgan would be his home.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #mandomera

[constellationmelody]

Beauty and the Guard AU

An AU on Beauty and the beast but there’s no beast unless you want to count belos as one but he’s not the focus character Hunter just refuses to take off his mask the whole time.  

Takes place when luz is trying to save Eda from petrification, Luz strikes a deal with Belos, Giving the portal but manages to destroy it. She’s instead taken captive and warned by Belos that if she escapes, He’ll send an army to capture not just Eda but everyone she ever met and befriended. 

- Has to stay in the Castle as to answer Belos’ questions about the human realm and any other information gathering.

- Hunter is assigned as her chaperone but not all the time. Not when he’s on missions. Steve fills in. 

- Luz agrees with Hunter to not ask about his mask. She says that she doesn’t have a desire to get to get to know him and Considering how the majority of citizens are under the monster category, she understands that he doesn’t want anyone to look. Hunter is not sure if he’s relieve that she will keep her promise not to look under his mask or feel insulted that she basically called him ugly. 

(Long post)

- When not 'helping’ Belos information gathering, She puts to work as a cleaning lady, Luz is furious about it. She can’t believe she has to clean more there than she does at home in a dusty castle. The other cleaning witches can do their job well with magic, meanwhile it’s all manual labor. Not to mention she shares quarters with them and they snore.

- Tries to convince Hunter to let her go out even if its around the castle grounds, of course, He says no and shuts down her attempts.

- While doing her cleaning duties, Luz wanders around the castle to look around any valuable information on Belos for any way to help eda/or whatever without the Golden Guard following her. She finds the forbidden library and is amazed by the goldmine of BI’s forbidden knowledge! She only gets to look through some books before she gets caught by Hunter which he angrily yells at her about being in a place where she’s not supposed to be in. Drags her out and locks the library.

- She tries to run away but often gets stopped by Hunter, the threat of going to the dungeon doesn’t scare her (”I escaped there like twice”). He relents and allows her to go on these ‘adventures’ when he’s not in a mission, He finds it to be fun but would not admit it.

- Luz manages to get the freedom to go back to school but is secretly spied on by Hunter, though he sometimes get caught by the monsters or students roaming around. Hunter picks her up after school. (weak sauce, idk what to put here to make it more interesting)

- When he’s not chaperoning her in the outside world, Hunter gets envious how much fun Steve is having with Luz when they go on an adventure. Detailing their bounty adventures, using the snails to shop and buy things. He can’t really do much about it but when he does go, Steve gets sad; Luz promises him that she’ll get him souvenirs.

- Somehow finds out that Hunter is a magicless witch and Luz shows him that she can do magic through glyphs. Hunter is amazed and they start geeking out about it until he stops himself since it’s a forbidden knowledge.

-  Luz had succeed running away from the castle but its to the beach to stare at the boiling waters. She tells Hunter that the castle life was suffocating her and needed to go out. Hunter stayed with her until they were ready to go back. 

- Hunter secretly takes her to the forbidden library to cheer her up so she can learn more and the boiling isles history. Hunter is happy to have someone with the same interests as him to talk to about wild magic. Gets more comfortable around her and talk in secret more about it. During their time together get bond over varies subjects, the library becoming their sanctuary when its not in use, which is most of the time. They share about each other’s realms constellations, history, what kind of magic is around, creatures and about the titan. Luz scolds him for this, referring back when he got angry at her for being curious when he basically did the same thing in secret.

- After some time getting comfortable and know each other through mutual interest and deep talks. Hunter gets bothered that since she doesn’t know his name, She has no choice but to call him by his title. When they are coming back from doing errands, He tells her his name and she’s allowed to call him by it when they are together/in private. His heart fluttered when he hears her say his name.

- Luz starts to grow feelings for him despite not knowing what he looks like. She had opportunities to see what he looks at the times when he’s asleep during their time in the library or when his mask gets knocked off during a temp job but kept her promise to not look at his face which leads to uncomfortable situation where she accidentally gropes him when she was looking for him to give him his mask back, luckily never below the belt. What she finds is his built felt normal. No hidden spikes, slime or what-have-you to suggests that he’s in the monster/demon category. Hunter obviously flustered. 

- (Following the plot of Hunting palisman w/ some changes to the plot cause obviously Eda)  At school Luz can’t find the palisman that suits her and is upset about it. Hunter, although he still hesitant about his feelings towards wild magic, tries to comfort her. (convo from the Hunting palisman) Luz  talks about What happened at the school, and questions Hunter about how he manages to know what he wanted for his future and How he came to the emperor’s coven, to help her get some guidance from him. He tells her about himself and lack of future and Although she isn’t sure about hers, at least she gets to choose. Luz feels sad for him and hugs him. Hunter melts in her embrace. 

- Just as he’s about to fall asleep in her arms, Rascal pops out of his hiding place and gives Hunter a heart attack. Rascal chooses Hunter to be his palisman. Obviously Luz feels a bit disappointed that hunter got his palisman when he doesn’t want it, the look of uncertainty he has with the palisman makes her determine to get him used to it. She can always be a teacher since she has experience with Owlbert.

- With his new staff that he’s still unsure of, Hunter decides to take Luz out somewhere out of the ordinary routine after school, somewhere special (think like events like the wailing stars but something else) but that turned romantic. At some point he slightly lifts his mask to kiss Luz’s hand. She’s obviously swooned. May have peeked and sees that he has loose strand of medium blond hair sticking out and that his Lips felt like normal. Starts to think he looks like more like human(or witch?) like some of her classmates.

- They become even more friendlier as it becomes a usual thing for them to be seen together in the castle when Luz is or isn’t working, even the coven members are noticing this, especially Kikimora. Coven leaders are just shocked that someone liked him enough to be his a friend. 

- Kikimora start planting seeds of doubts in Luz’s mind about whether Hunter really is being her friend or just fulling his duties as he was told by Belos. What if their talks where his manipulative ways to get her to tell him about her and other information gathering. Was he really talking to her as she clean because he’s really saw her as a friend or just keeping guard to make sure she doesn’t run away. Kiki does this to mess whatever good thing Hunter has since she can’t kill him.  Luz tries her best to ignore her, rationalizing that that’s quite an investment for Hunter to go through to manipulate her.

- Somewhere a long the line, Luz finds out the truth about day of unity and the truth of Kikimora’s words of Hunter’s actions that she assumed was just lies that Kiki told her. She’s hurt to think the guy she grown to love had any knowledge about it and betrayed her. “I though you were a good guy [mentions all the stuff they do together and such] I guess You’re not my friend, you’re just the golden guard.” It kills him when she said that.

- alternatively he finds out that she has the key to the partially fixed portal door. Is conflicted on whether to break their bond for belos or not especially after learning that she’s homesick and wants to see her mom again. Fought with Kikimora over it with lead to Luz finding out their fight and gets heartbroken that Hunter has it, assumes the worst that kikimora was right.  Again, “I though you were a good guy I guess I was wrong. You’re not my friend, you’re just the golden guard.” His feels his heart breaks. 

- Luz gets rescued by Eda, Lilith, king, hooty, her friends. Hunter doesn’t try to stop her but apologizes to her for everything and for what it’s worth, he’s happy to got to know her and that he loved her, whether she feels the same or not. Luz obviously shocked but couldn’t give a response because the gang were fleeing.

- Back in the owl house, Luz is a mess because of the mixed feelings she has for hunter. In one hand, she knew him as this cold person who was very dedicated to his job while the other as an intelligent, funny, (other more things) and is confused on which hunter is the one she grown to love. ( Feels devastated about it because she thinks that he faked his feelings for her to get knowledge on the key or whatever although hunter didn’t really know she had it.)

- Lilith is dumfounded that Luz has feelings for him because she known him to be a brat. Luz argues that He is but much more than that. As she explains why, she gets hits with the epiphany that she does indeed had fallen in love with him. Eda laughs, “Not sure If I approve catching feelings for your nanny, I thought you were being tortured or something but I see now what you have been really doing.” wagging her eyebrows. Luz: “They have me clean the castle from top to bottom! By hand!” “I don’t approve then.” Luz shares her knowledge of wild magic with the group that she learn from the castle’s library.

- Weeks later, Luz tries to sleep but hears small knocking on the window, She opens it and sees Rascal with the key with him and a note from Hunter apologizing again for what happened. Belos doesn’t know about the key. She sends a note back, telling him to meet her. 

- idk how they makeup. (Working on it) Luz walks up to Hunter and asks if she could take off his mask which he agrees to. Luz takes his mask off and smiles, “well look at that, Magenta eyes. You aren’t ugly as I thought to you were!” hunter frowns, “But you’re handsome as I imagined,” leans up and kisses him first. Hunter tosses the mask away for good and hugs her close to kiss her better. Luz pulls back,  “and... I love you too.” Hunter isn’t sure what his new future holds but knows for sure that Luz is a part of it. 

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

( Had an idea in an alternative story plot around the part where they went out to a ‘date’. They confessed their love and started to kiss lol imagine them having to use a blindfold to keep her eyes closed. But it was a bit too sensual? Or Sensuous? It just didn’t fit in the flow of the storyline. Why did this became a dabble? )

Hunter, for the first time, gets self conscious about his looks. He tries not look into mirrors, though hard when his mask reflects the face he tries hard to avoid looking at when putting it on, He doesn’t really thought much about his looks, except for the scar that’s plastered over his cheek. The ugly scar that he rather forget he has.

As Hunter looks down at Luz’s face, blindfolded to prevent her from accidently opening her eyes during their ‘make out session’, He’s starting to believe that Luz lied about being magicless. He can’t help but feel enchanted over how beautiful she looked by the way the moonlight cast a heavenly glow over her cute features. He can only imagine how her eyes would look like if she didn’t have the blindfold on. “I wish I can stare into your eyes,”

“Why can’t we?”

“You know why”

“Right, I’m not allowed to look under the mask.” she pouted.

“And... well,” Luz attentively waits for him to continue, “I may not look... pretty as you think I imagine. If that makes any sense.” He sheepishly confessed

As Luz wraps her arms around his shoulders, Hunter feels her hands feeling up up his neck, tenderly cradling his face. Hunter fails to resist the blush spreading across his cheeks and the warm pleasant feeling in his chest

“I have other senses to “see” you,” She says sliding her fingers along his jawline, “Strong jaw, ... No scales, or slime... just soft skin” 

She found one patch on the left of his face in particular that caught her interest but before she could take her time to feel it, Hunter quickly shook her hand away from it. Sensing its something he feels uncomfortable with, she decides to leave it alone. 

She continues, “I can hear your voice; sound hot,” He suddenly felt shy at the comment. He was always self-conscious as he has been told that it was annoying. He felt relieved that it wasn’t the case for her.  “Heh, Thanks”

“I can smell you, " She nuzzles against his neck and scrunches up her nose, “... you need a shower.” Hunter frowns, that was certainly killed the mood a little. She pulls back, “But I like that you smell like pine forest sometimes,” weak save.

 “And,” she hums as grazes her thumb over his lips, licking her own. Hunter subconsciously sucks in his breathe, feeling himself getting hotter by the second.

“I can taste you.” finishing off her sentence by pressing her lips against his; briefly misses his lips by kissing the corner of his mouth before correcting herself. 

Hunter smirks in amusement. 

Alright, He admits that was pretty smooth of her to end it the way she did, even though she fumbled at the end. 

He feels a bit confident on that fateful day where he feels brave enough to show her his face, He just hope it lives up to her expectations despite her reassurance to the contrary. 

Luz, on the other hand, is glad that he’s feels like a normal person underneath the mask, she can’t help but feel a bit disappointed that hunter possess no fangs. 

#toh #the owl house #lunter #goldenlight #goldenluz #hunter x luz #Luz x Hunter #biphobics need not interact #Had to edit the dabble a bit cause i missed a few things in the writing #Wrote a dabble here #it's romantic #i hope

[the-fae-folk]

How to Build a World?

Some time ago, I answered a writing question as Quoth the Raven that dealt with how to go about Worldbuilding for your story (Found Here). I’ve now rewritten the piece because I was struck with inspiration for a much more poetic form. I rather like it this way... ______________________________________________________________ Every story has to start somewhere. Some start with an endless void, a dark abyss where spirits drift over the waters, an egg which has not yet hatched to reveal the universe contained within. But in my opinion the best beginnings are found on a blank page.

Sing an ode to the whiteness of a screen, to the sterile form of an unfilled notebook amidst a pile of notebooks you keep buying but never write in. I call upon thee, oh Muses, let the divine speak into the shadows and let there be light. Fountains may spring up from the deeps and the oceans pay homage to the moon above. I am but a humble supplicant to the gods of paper and ink, where multiverses of verse and prose are crafted from words alone.

A world must be made through the number seven. Seven days, seven dwarfs, seven epochs, seven sins, seven virtues, seven founding principles of building a world.

The First is of Magic. All worlds begin with magic in a way. You can call it by any name you desire; Nature, physics, deity. First a word is spoken, a rule, a way of being. Whether the universe is filled with blinding empty light and shaded to sight by suns of shadow and fires that burn black enough to repel the light of night, or if the endless skies are oceans where planets drift in bubbles of air and stars keep the endless ice of the galactic abyss at bay with their warmth.

It is a question of how your world works, a list of rules that cannot be broken by even you as the rest of the pieces fall into place. A willing suspension of disbelief is a fragile thing. If it breaks, you are dashed to pieces beneath the weight of fallen expectations. A reader betrayed is rarely forgiving to those who have broken their own laws.

So write, write of the shifting of stars and the fundamental forces of love and duty. In your canon proclaim the laws of wind and gravity, atoms of justice, and the blessed radiation of whimsy and wonder.

But once you have finished, and the last law carved upon the last stone atop your own Sinai, you must heed them always. From gods to grains of sand on a distant shore, none can break these commandments.

When you speak a second time, it is of Place. Of mountains and mayhem, of vast oceans where secrets lie forgotten far beneath the waves.

Reach out your hand to carve canyons from the paragraphs on the page, riverbeds that flow swift and pure into great lakes and down into silent aquifers below the very earth itself. Whether one sun, or seven, or none at all, this world must be made known through careful descriptions and prose.

And as long as it does not contradict your rules, you can have islands that fly through the skies, glass rain, giant geodic structures that have never seen the light of a single day. What of glaciers that chill the whole land into an ice age? Or a supervolcano that belches molten glass from its summit?

Then, as your world is forming, think on the third principle of building a world. Life.

Deep down in the depths of the darkest seas you might form creatures so alien they defy the very mind, drifting on currents and living without sun or sky, only in eternal shadow and crushing pressure. Or you may begin on land instead, with green skinned goblin-like folk who live among the trees and speak in song and melody as they hunt the fire breathing dragonflies. Perhaps even the sky might be your dominion. Pods of whales that swim among the clouds, blowing geysers of wind high into the abyss of blue and white that turns to stars at the highest heights.

Each living thing lies in connection with one another. Eating, growing, changing, moving. Flowers make bioluminescence in forever darkened woods and caverns. Gas filled balloon-like pods could carry creatures high into the sky with them, letting them escape from predators.

Here and now your pen is the fountain that begets creation, your mind is the tree from which all life springs. This world is your garden to cultivate, your Eden cradled between life giving rivers.

Wherever you touch there will be life. In the most scorching of deserts, in the deepest caves and wells, in the furthest canyons, upon the coldest glaciers. And as long as you remain true to your rules of reality, your world can take even the most whimsical of forms. Trees whose roots tangle among the clouds and whose boughs hang down towards the distant earth below, people who can see colors that neither you nor I have ever heard of. Each new thing makes your world more complex, more real, more connected.

Perhaps you know what comes next? In truth it has already begun, for your fourth is of Cognition.

It may be that somewhere in your world there is a creature or plant, perhaps many, or even all, who have tasted that forbidden fruit and became more than they were, became aware that their eyes had been closed and for the first time knew that they could open them and look.

What might it be like? To look out at the world and for the first time see it anew? Before there was survival and safety, food and mating. There was no time for beauty, no time for dreaming, no time for such things when every moment was needed. Yet at some point, there was time, and someone stopped to look. And everything changed.

Most creators prefer the humanoid form when building cognizant peoples, though not all, some few might choose different shapes. Plant, reptile, insect, or even stranger forms the likes of which might not be found here in our world, but only in that world of their making.

But the shape isn’t the important thing. No, what is vitally important is the manner of cognizance. How is it that your people understand the world? What are they aware of? What things can they hear? Or touch? Taste? See? Smell? Or perhaps they have senses that can only be described in roundabout ways to readers who will never entirely understand what it is to perceive in such ways, like blind men who try to know what it is like to see.

Now it is time at last for your fifth. This is the culmination of all things thus far, the laws of reality, the geography, the life, the cognizant peoples… Your fifth is Culture.

Peoples gather together. They make laws to protect or to divide, to ensure and ensnare. They farm or hunt for food, creating new ways with new generations. And best of all they tell stories. Oh those stories. These are the things of which culture is made. Stories that are woven into tapestries or painted into murals, songs are composed to evoke the emotions of such stories, even food is cooked to be eaten as the stories are told.

But there are other things which can affect your peoples and persons. Where do they get their clothing? Animal hides or plant fibers? Perhaps wool or cotton? And how is it obtained? Technology? Magic? Labor? Do the people even wear clothing at all? For some might not find it necessary if they are perfect for the place they dwell in their world.

What foods can they eat? Would you or I even recognize it? Let alone be able to digest it without agonizing pains in our stomachs? A fruit that glows might transfer its glow to those who eat it, giving them light to see in the dark and energy to live another day. Certain beasts are only slaughtered on certain days of the star calendars, for festivals and holy feast days, for ceremonial reasons and never secular ones.

Here is the most dangerous part in your journey, for the building of culture can become a mire or a maze, a labyrinthine pit from whence you can never escape no matter how much you build. Every detail begets another, and cultures are more than any one person can make. World Builder though you are, you still have limitations of your own.

So you look to the sixth, which is history. From whence did they come? And where do their journeys go? And of course, what happened at every step in between? Kings and emperors to the feuds of petty farmers. Did the dragons lay claim to the seven clawed mountains in the forty ninth century or did the Arch Astronomer falsely claim they did so that he might turn his people’s thoughts to southern trade?

Culture takes time to move and once it begins it will not stop. From the grand world point of view to the shortsightedness of individuals, each and every step will be important. Religions and wars, cataclysmic events, heroes, and even plagues. Everything that arises when you add time to the world you have created is history. The world is a living breathing thing that will move on its own if you let it.

The seventh day arrives. Some deities might rest, seeing that all is good. But not you, for your world is made in slavish worship to the Story. A world built so that it might contain, for good or ill, a tale of your telling.

So write, prideful one. Your hubris has driven you to follow in the footsteps of the gods themselves, building a world where before was nothing. It is time to look closer, to follow a single strand of thread in this tapestry you have woven from dreams and shadows.

Now that you have crafted for us an entire world, tell us your tale. We are listening.

#quoth the raven #writing #worldbuilding #prose #worldbuilder #creation #worlds #7 #seven #rewrite #how to build a world

[pinkkunt-imagines]

Shao Kahn || Ego & WAP

Songs: Beyonce - Ego & Cardi B feat. Megan Thee Stallion - WAP

Synopsis: The Kahn has been pussymatized, and is need of his favorite good little concubine. 

A/N: Soo, I had to go with two songs for Shao. Ego because his attitude is big and well...you know... ;) And WAP because I can imagine he was pussymatized by Sindel. Soo here it is for reader. I’d also like to mention that I’m appauled about their is virtually almost no Shao Kahn x Reader on the internet? Like only one about him on Tumblr. Ya’ll gon give him respek!   It was supposed to be Light NSFW, but it got out of hand real fast into a full smut one-shot. So NSFW WARNING BELOW! Here is also Shao Kahn eating your vagina through a screen gif.

“[Name]! Where is my [Name]!?” That roar rippled throughout the palace, practically scaring anyone who heard. “I want her! Bring her to me now!”

He sure was needy today, or more like, everyday. The only one that could help him was [Name], his favorite concubine out of a cluster of various women. Something about her was pure in nature, and a natural beauty at that. It was something he had to have for himself, something he had to rip apart and destroy. He had to change her, make her see that conquering people and land was the only way to get stronger. But the opposite had been happening.

She was the saving grace of Outworld. While her Kahn was a cruel man, capable of many bad deeds, [Name] was not. While she wasn’t a big fan of his more brutal approach with imperialism, she believed that if he was going to take other realms that reforming the people would be a better approach. It was all nonsense to him at first, people didn’t need to be reformed to listen, they just needed to do it. But [Name] was pretty good at choosing the appropriate times to talk about such topics, usually during pillowtalk. And honestly, it was working, [Name] was changing the immortal little by little. Lately, he found himself taking prisoners rather than executing them at the spot, just like she wanted. Mentally he cursed her and himself while making such decisions.  Who would’ve thought that the man so obsessed with power would be influenced by some ordinary human. She was making him weak.

Shao also noticed a change in his mental thought when he was out conquering realms. Oftentimes thinking of something he could take from someone and give to [Name]. He needed to hold her at night, spoil her, listen to her concerns even when they were a bore. And unlike many of the other concubines who had to do chores like cook and clean, [Name] was not required to do such labor. Many of the girls became envious towards her and Shao’s favoritism. Was this some form of love? Vice versa for [Name]. There was something oddly attractive about his lust for power, and that big mean persona he put on. He took what he wanted like some thug, and most of all knew how to make her feel good. Being intimate so many times, she was bound to fall in love with him.

When walking into the large throne room, she noticed that Shao was already bare, rubbing his abnormal large cock in between his hands. Having sex was one of the only times he’d remove his helmet, as he did enjoy kissing more than he’d like to admit. She wore a black wool coat, fully buttoned and barefoot as she approached his throne. The distance between them was about six feet apart, and even then Shao was ready to pounce out of the chair and fuck her against the cold floor.

Fingers lightly tracing the buttons on the coat, [Name] teasingly ran her hand around her covered body, Shao’s eyes watching closely in anticipation, “So impatient today, Shaowie. I was already coming the first dozen times you called.”

Shaowie was the nickname she had given him after growing closer. It was okay to call him in private, but even she knew without warning to not call him that around others. But this only proved to her even more that he had a soft spot for her.

He grinned wildly, rubbing his cock with haste. He was ready and couldn’t wait any longer. “Ah! My [Name]! How ravishing you look today. Come now, and I will rip that piece of Earthrealm clothing off your skin and devour you.”

“Only if you can guess what I’m wearing underneath~”

“For your sake, it better be nothing.”

[Name] undid the buttons on her coat at a slow tantalizing pace. Her teasing gaze caught the eyes of the lustful man, and that's when he lost it.

“Come to me, now! I won’t wait any longer.”

-

He hoisted her naked body up, turning her around so that her back faced him, whilst he stayed seated. With both of his hands on her curved hips, he lined himself up with her already dripping hole before shoving himself inside. God, he was so big, so thick that he was splitting her in half. But she wouldn’t have it any other way. The initial burning sensation that she felt when he was ripping her apart was something that she loved. So full and so sudden, she could hardly breathe. All that left her mouth were strangled gasps. Shao on the other hand let out an animalistic growl, that echoed throughout the throne room walls. Her walls, with a short initial spasm, had clenched onto him tightly. Shao loved to take [Name] from behind, mostly for the show of watching his cock disappear inside her.

“Mmm, yes that’s it! Take all of my cock!”

He started his impatient and sloppy thrusts, using her tight soaked pussy as a cock sleeve with no care. Shao marveled at how good her cunt felt around him. She was no Sindel. No, she was tighter, younger, and was always on a mission to milk him dry. The fact that he was allowing himself to be controlled by her pussy was in proof in itself. What he admired most was her determination to take all of him (even though he was way too big for that), even when the head of his dick kissed against her cervix; yet, he always kept pushing forward, and she never objected. Shao Kahn’s ego matched what was going on below. He had every right to boast about himself, because he surely could back it up.

“H-Harder!”  She moaned, completely immersed in the pleasurable pain that was Shao Kahn’s cock.

His claws dug into her soft flesh with greed as to so seem as pure fury, while he pulled [Name]’s body back against his dick, somehow managing to go even harder than he already was. Shao’s head flew back against the throne, mouth hanging open still releasing those animalistic grunts that thundered from his chest. It was mere carnal pleasure taking over both of them. In his frantic race for release, he accidentally hit a precise spot in her, beyond pleasant: she cried out and her soaked walls pulsated around his cock, signalling her early release. [Name] was already a drooling, babbling mess, but this took the cake. She didn’t even get a chance to feel the orgasm build up, she just began squirting everywhere, as her orgasm washed over her. 

“Sh-Shao! Ah~ Keep fucking me, Emperor! Don’t stop!” Most of what she had said was slurred and incoherent, but it made Shao’s cock throb anyways.

In a demanding meanor, he asked ,“You naughty little thing. Who said you could cum just yet?”

There was never a need to hold back an orgasm when haing sex with [Name], he ALWAYS made her cum first, and that wasnt even by choice. However there was one occurrence where they came at together, and it was beyond breathtaking. He’d never felt that overwhelmed with pleasure unless he was killing an enemy. 

Getting up from his throne, he twisted [Name] around, never retreating his member from her slick. The turn stimulated the underside of her abused clit, sending another round of sybaritic pleasure, that all she could do was whimper. Shao grunted, wrapping his power arms around her body, bringing his hands in between her ass cheeks, and harpooning his claws into them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, looking into his glowing red eyes that were sinfully hungry for more.

 [Name] forcefully pushed herself in for a heated kiss, tongues and saliva exchanging, all without stopping to slam upward into her at brutal and merciless pace. Her pussy bubbled wet and obscene sounds, which only helped to push him to his release. He held her firmly and glued to his own body, and she could hear him panting and grunting desperately into the kiss, sounding like a true wild beast.

His rhythm doubled, he was close. The hand, more like a claw, that was holding tight to her bruised ass, dragged away from under her body to reach her head. He took a handful of her hair at the base of her scalp, and pulled with a quick tug. Her head was tilted in an uncomfortable arch, leaving exposed the slope between her neck and her shoulder, in which his face dove eagerly. His panting breath came out in hot puffs, his grunts roared louder and louder in her ear, while his hips continued frantically crashing into hers at an ungodly pace, the sounds of sweaty skins contact echoing with every impact.

Shao’s cock kept hitting that sweet spot inside her and she felt that familiar pressure dangerously building up. Her walls began clenching onto him again, she was so damn close, giving the man an additional, irresistible sense of blind pleasure. His pace began to wobble, his thrusts became more uneven and sloppy. He was close by now. 

Finally he gasped and froze. His grip on her ass intensified, making her fear to explode. Then, with a final, powerful push, he stiffened completely sunk into [Name]. His body pressed flush against her, his nails were like blades into her skin as he did punctuated thrusts to release streams of hot cum that flooded her squashed walls, while the excess was already spilling out of her and along your inner thigh. Simultaneously, the fire that was building up in [Name]’s abdomen finally exploded, coming in waves of lightning pleasure, that she couldn’t help but dissolve herself in it. He grunted trembling and deeply straight into her ear; then it followed his long and echoing sigh, similar to a profound relief.

Shao lifted the exhausted woman off of his still throbbing hard cock, setting himself down back on his chair and her across his large lap. Chuckling, he ran his fingers through her soft locks. “Mmm~ What a good little concubine you are.”

#shao kahn #shao kahn x reader #shao kahn imagines #shao kahn imagine #shao kahn headcanon #shao kahn headcanons #shao kahn scenario #shao kahn scenarios #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #mk11 #mortal kombat scenario #mortal kombat scenarios #mortal kombat headcanon #Mortal Kombat headcanons #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat imagines

[swtorpadawan]

Backup

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place a few weeks after the Rise of the Emperor expansion.

Jonas Balkar’s eyes scanned the south balcony of the Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa.

From the nearby Strategic Information Service observation post, the senior agent had multiple angles to choose from on his monitor displays, both inside and outside the venue. Years before, Jonas and the Republic SIS – with the assistance of Havoc Squad – had remotely sliced the establishment’s nigh-impregnable security system ever since, giving them a backdoor to the casino’s entire network. Say what you will about the Hutts, but they weren’t stingy on surveillance. They wanted every credit and every gaming chip accounted for, and they were committed to keeping (unsanctioned) violence away from their lucrative hotels and casinos. There were literally hundreds of security holo-recorders and sensors throughout the Star Cluster, and Jonas had access to all of it. What’s more, he could adjust what the Hutts and their goons saw at their end, meaning they wouldn’t get wise to what Jonas was up to.

This had all made the Star Cluster the ideal location for a discreet handoff between their contact – a rather gullible Rodian information broker named Rox, who had a nervous demeanor – and a Nikto working for a Black Sun arms dealer who was (allegedly) supplying off-the-books weaponry for the new Sith Intelligence and their covert operations on the Smuggler’s Moon and other Hutt-controlled worlds. (Why waste time smuggling in ordinance that can be traced back to your government when you can just as easily buy large quantities of untraceable weapons after you arrive, and all at a reasonable price?) The plan was for the Rodian to pass a large bribe to the Nikto for a data-disk on these (alleged) shipments to Imperial safehouses. In one swoop, the SIS would pick up the drop-off points of the network.

But the plan got even better. If things went well, then two days from now, Jonas – through a proxy –would approach the Nikto – the fellow was named Fhentar – with all the information the man had illicitly provided to the Rodian, along with a recording of the hand-off. Using that evidence as leverage, he would turn Fhentar into an SIS informant by threatening to share what the Nikto had done with his boss. The Nikto would then realize that his future lifespan could be measured in minutes if that happened. With Fhentar in Jonas’ pocket, the arms shipments could be disrupted at the Republic’s leisure, forcing the Imps to resort to smuggling their own weapons to the planet. That would further antagonize the Hutt Cartel, causing the Empire even more problems.

Within a few weeks, the Empire’s entire Nar Shaddaa network – so carefully reconstructed by Lana Beniko, the new Minister of Sith Intelligence – would be compromised.

A beautiful plan. All it relied on was this handoff going well over the next few minutes. Just in case, Jonas had an SIS security team – disguised of course – standing by just a few minutes away.

The balcony hadn’t been the obvious choice for the hand-off, but Jonas was convinced it would work. When the action was going hot inside, most of the people tended to ignore the balconies; everyone liked a party, after all. He’d spent weeks surveying the surrounding buildings. A sniper from a nearby high point – should the Exchange or Black Sun or even Sith Intelligence choose to intervene – would find no clear shot of the south balcony. Surveillance – aside from that of the SIS, of course – would be problematic with these acoustics. Rox was wired, but any other audio monitoring would be suppressed.

It worked.

To ensure relative quiet on the balcony, a simple ruse had been arranged to distract any potential witnesses. At the appointed moment, a million-credit jackpot would miraculously (and conveniently) hit on one of the Star Cluster’s Kingpin machines to get the crowd’s attention. An undercover SIS operative would then create a diversion on the floor of casino, feigning drunkenness and staging a fight with the gambler who’d won the jackpot. The altercation would draw the remaining bystanders, all but clearing the balcony of potential witnesses and making it an ideal exchange spot. In Jonas’s experience, nothing drew eyes like a fight on the floor of a casino.  

Still, the SIS agent found himself nervous about this operation for some reason he couldn’t quite place. That’s why he’d called in backup to help him observe everything from his post.  

“You know, of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the one with the anxious reputation.” said the voice from behind him.

Jonas turned, giving Theron Shan a rather haughty smile. One of the top agents in the SIS and (technically) still a division head, Theron handed Jonas a steaming cup of caff, which he accepted with genuine gratitude.

“Well, maybe you’ve been rubbing off on me.” Jonas quipped. “I’ve seen you fret on these things more than a few times. Besides, you were the one who needed to get off Coruscant, remember?”

“I know, I know.” Theron held up a free hand. “Everyone’s still upset with me over that mess I made on Ziost.” He sipped his own cup of caff with a shake of his head as he let out a sigh. For a moment, his normally care-free demeanor slipped away, and Jonas could see the guilt weighing heavily on him.  

“I tell you, Jonas, I honestly don’t blame anyone for being angry with me. I should have called in the cavalry the moment I heard from my contact that the Emperor was back. Instead, I got most of my team killed, and that was before Saresh even called in the invasion out from under me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What a mess.”

Jonas felt an upswell of sympathy for Theron and his troubles. He knew the SIS agent had only ever done what he thought was right, even if that was exactly what got him into trouble most of the time.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much.” Jonas patted Theron on the shoulder of his trademark red jacket, giving him a smirk. “At least I still like you.”

Theron wrinkled his nose affectionately at his fellow agent, then rolled his eyes.

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true.” Jonas shrugged, still grinning. “And anyway. I did owe you one from that one incident at the Dealer’s Den back on Coruscant.” Jonas attempted to imitate Theron’s reproachful tone. “‘Jonas’ you said to me, ‘Casino jobs are always tricky. You need to plan to the last detail.’ And hey – you were right.”

“Well, at least this time you actually told me what the operation was. That should make it a little easier.” Theron gave him a scrutinizing look. “So you had a funny feeling about this exchange, and decided to call me in for backup?”

“You are here to add ambiance to an otherwise dreary observation post. Even if it is in an unofficial capacity.” Jonas found himself smirking again. “And hopefully, to start the process of rehabilitating your image with the top brass, even if you aren’t actually here officially.”

Theron nodded in gratitude.

“I appreciate that. I know you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“Don’t mention it. Just help me make sure tonight goes down alright.” Seeing that Rox was in position, Jonas turned back to the bank of monitors, noting the chrono indicator.

It was almost time.

Theron silently gave Jonas a thumb’s up signal as the slice command went through the system. From inside the casino came a blast of celebratory music as the jackpot hit, followed by a series of cheers from the crowd. Most of the handful people still on the balcony started making their way inside. The casino was known to offer a round of complimentary drinks for such rare events. Mere seconds later, shouting could be heard, indicating the scuffle had begun. On one of the peripheral screens, Jonas could see Dionne – a junior agent who showed promise and could play the ‘drunken bruiser’ well – shoving the beleaguered and confused Mon Calamari who’d won the rigged jackpot. The Zabrak’s antics drew even more interest from the casino’s guests than the jackpot had, both inside and out on the balcony. Four or five stragglers made their way inside, eager to watch. Jonas smirked at their reaction as he checked the chrono once again. Perfect timing. Within seconds, Rox, their contact, was one of only three people left still standing on the balcony.

Jonas’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the remaining two individuals; a young human couple who were standing in the far corner, holding each other in an intimate embrace. Jonas watched the man and woman carefully; you couldn’t be too cautious in this business. Both were wearing the revealing attire that had become so popular among socialites on Corellia since the battle there had ended three years before; the ‘Euphoric Corellian’, this look was called. Their arms and shoulders were laid bare, though their hands were gloved. The cut of the tunic was provocative, leaving their flanks bared and showing plenty of skin. This duo wore the outfits well, the woman’s was a deep green while the man wore a royal blue.  

He focused on the woman first; a beautiful brunette with shoulder-length hair, fair skin and green eyes that seemed to match her dress. Jonas would place her in her twenties. The Corellian outfit hugged her impressive feminine curves, but Jonas noted the equally impressive lean, athletic muscle of her arms as well. She wore no jewelry; her only accessory was a green purse she wore over her shoulder, and like her outfit, it matched her eyes perfectly. She was beaming adoringly up at her lover, with a dazzling smile that could have made even a Trandoshan’s heart flutter.    

Damn. Lucky boy. Jonas marveled, turning his attention to her companion.

The man was tall and broad-chested; from what he could see, Jonas would normally assume that he worked out extensively. The scarring, however, across his arms suggested otherwise, telling the tale of injuries suffered over the years; this man – like his companion, only in his twenties by Jonas’s eye – was no doubt a veteran soldier. Probably he’d seen action on Corellia during the war. Based on his attire, maybe he hadn’t been regular Republic military but part of the planetary militia or maybe CorSec. His hair was as raven black as Jonas’s, though the SIS agent suspected the man’s might have been dyed. Regardless, he was a good looking fellow, Jonas couldn’t help but notice. He could easily imagine him on a recruitment poster for the military or for some holo-ad campaign, and his hazel eyes were completely enraptured with the beautiful woman in his arms.  

Huh. Lucky girl. Jonas reflected, chuckling to himself.

His initial anxiety about the couple quickly faded; these two were clearly in love and hardly looked like they could be carrying any concealed weapons. They both clearly enjoyed an active lifestyle. He couldn’t pick up any audio from here – the device Rox was wearing was designed for conversations near him – but they were obviously whispering ‘sweet nothings’ in each other’s ears, holding each other and occasionally leaning in for a teasing kiss. They certainly weren’t paying attention to anyone or anything else but to each other and probably hadn’t even heard the jackpot or the fight from inside. They were plainly just enjoying each other’s company until it was time to withdraw back to their room in the hotel for the evening.

Jonas sighed inwardly, trying to remember how long it had been since he had withdrawn to his room with someone special. Almost on reflex, he glanced over at Theron, who seemed distracted scrutinizing another monitor.

No. Jonas thought to himself. Theron Shan had been fun enough on that late night years ago after a mission when they’d each had far too much to drink, but they’d both agreed afterward that it was better that they remain friends. And honestly, Theron was a good friend, one of the best he had in the galaxy. He shook his head to clear it and then turned back to his own screens.  

Regardless of anything else, that young couple shouldn’t be a problem during a simple handoff.

Confirming once more that Rox was otherwise alone, and naturally that he was looking nervous, Jonas turned to the entry door to the balcony. The time was one minute past the agreed time for the exchange; not enough to call it off just yet. This was always a concern for intelligence agents, but it was the price of working with criminals.

There he is.

The Nikto finally walked in, eyes glancing around the balcony, briefly noting the intimate couple in the corner before dismissing them just as quickly, finally focusing on Rox and approaching the Rodian. A quick holo-scan confirmed that he was unarmed; Jonas was confident the Casino’s security was up to that task of keeping lowlifes like Fhentar from carrying weapons, as they’d had far too many incidents of violence here over the past few years. Fhentar himself was a strange story; supposedly he’d been part of a cult on Taris that had worshipped a fallen Jedi years ago. The SIS file on that situation was still sealed tightly, even from someone of Jonas’s rank. How Fhentar had wound up working for Black Sun after his ‘religion’ had collapsed was anyone’s guess.  

Rox folded his arms, trying to give the Nikto a hard look, but to Balkar, it merely came off as petulant.

“You’re late.” The Rodian said in Huttese.

“And you’re impatient.” Fhentar retorted. “Give me a break. Didn’t you hear the commotion? The casino is going crazy right now.”

Jonas couldn’t deny the validity of the excuse, even if he didn’t trust it. It came with the territory of being a spy.

“Whatever.” Rox shrugged dismissively. “You have the disk?”

“Depends. You got my credits?” the larger Nikto wasn’t giving up any ground. It was the normal underworld posturing, practically clichéd at this point.

“Of course.” The Rodian pulled out the high-denomination credit stick from his belt. Jonas hoped the credits would prove to be money well-spent. The SIS budget was not unlimited.  

The Nikto knew the game, producing a data disk from his jacket.

“So who’re you selling this to, anyway?”

As Rox’s ‘tough’ demeanor – such as it was – started to falter, Jonas could almost smell the Rodian’s nervousness from here.

“Come on. I’m an information broker. You know I can’t talk about that. Not when my clients are paying for discretion, anyway.”

Jonas suddenly noticed some distortion on his monitors. He checked the sensors, but they all seemed to be coming up blank… wait.

There. A series of vibrations against the side of the Star Cluster that weren’t accounted for anywhere else; four distinct series in fact. Rapidly heading down towards the balcony.

Theron Shan noticed it, too. Jonas watched as he urgently plugged into the sensor grid through his cybernetic implants. Jonas hit the ‘standby’ button for his backup team.  

Meanwhile, the conversation was still ongoing.

“Ah, well.” Fhentar shrugged, with a degree of smugness. He tapped the button on his chrono-wristband. “If you’d actually told me now, it would have saved us all some time.”

Jonas was hitting the alert button before the Nikto even finished speaking.

“Team two! Move in! Move in!”

He watched helplessly as the four series of vibrations converged on the balcony. A moment later, he saw the tell-tale shimmer of stealth field generators shutting down as four armed figures in sneak-suits had suddenly surrounded Rox and Fhentar, each one attached at their belt to a rope running up the wall. The SIS agent realized immediately that they had rappelled down the side of the building. The Star Cluster’s sensors should have normally picked up the anomaly well before this. Something had gone wrong.

Many somethings were obviously going wrong.  

“My bosses want to know who’s got their eyes on their business, Rox.” Fhentar chuckled. “So my friends here are gonna take you up to the shuttle pad on the roof. I hope you aren’t afraid of heights.”

Jonas’s communicator beeped as the Rodian started to look around, panicking.

“Chief!” Wynnefred’s voice came through. “The kriffing catering trucks have blocked us off! We have to go around!”  

“Dammit!” Jonas’s hand slammed against the table, checking the layout and realizing he’d been outplayed. “My backup team is more than a minute away!”  

Theron just looked up at the array of screens and smirked.

“Mine’s not.” He reached up and tapped the relay on his earpiece.

Even afterwards, even with the benefit of re-watching the recordings at reduced speed, Jonas could still barely comprehend what took place over the next two seconds.

One second, the Nikto and the Rodian were surrounded by four armed assailants, ready to restrain Rox and take him away the same way they had come, all while the young couple in the corner of the balcony continued to bask in each other’s company, completely oblivious to the abduction taking place behind them.

The next second, there was a veritable explosion of movement. The young couple were gone and Fhentar and all four of his accomplices had been knocked to the ground. As for Rox, the panicked Rodian had fallen to his knees and found himself flanked by a pair of bodyguards… each of them brandishing lightsabers.

Jedi. Jonas marveled to himself.

Other things registered to Jonas. The long dark wig had fallen from the brunette’s head - he now observed her short red hair - and was lying on the floor of the balcony, an obvious consequence of coming out of a Force leap. Her purse had likewise been discarded, and he realized that was likely where they had been hiding their weapons. He noted that the woman’s lightsaber was of the fluorescent green double-bladed variety, while the man brandished a pair of radiant blue sabers.

But these were all secondary observations to Jonas, as he watched all four assailants – apparently oblivious to the fact that they were completely outmatched – attempt to rise to their feet and to press the attack, only to be cut down in a flurry of brutally efficient lightsaber strikes.  

Apparently wiser than his fellows, Fhentar remained prone on the ground. Jonas could hear his lamentations through Rox’s audio device.  

“No! Not Jedi again!” he groaned, raising his hands in the air and plainly giving himself up.

Jonas was right about to turn to Theron in for an explanation when recognition dawned on him.

Wait.

Jonas’s eyes refocused on the man. The shade of his hair and eyes were off, and he was missing that distinctive scar going down his left cheek, but his physical build, the twin blue lightsabers and his red-headed companion…

Jonas’s jaw dropped in realization and he gaped.

“That’s the Hero of Tython!” he whirled on Theron.

Theron Shan was doing absolutely nothing to suppress his amusement.

“Yup. Colored contact lenses, some hair dye, and cosmetics. Plus a wig on Kira – his partner – obviously. No one in their right mind would ever expect to see a Jedi dressed like that.” Theron smiled. “I put a scan-blocker in Kira’s bag. Hutt security trains to look for blasters, knives and explosives, not for lightsabers.”

Jonas finally let out an exhale, realizing only then that he’d been holding his breath.

“I’d heard you’d been working with him.” He offered, turning back to his screens as the gears of his mind started to turn. “Not a perfect night, but its salvageable. Rox is still breathing and we took Fhentar alive. It shouldn’t be too hard to flip him, even without the recordings. Not ideal, but he should at least be able to give up some Imperial drop points.”

He nodded, turning back to Theron with a grateful smile.

“Well. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Theron chuckled. “Like you said, something about this exchange felt off. I might have waited too long to ‘call in the cavalry’ on Ziost, but I wasn’t going to make the same mistake here.”

“After all, everyone needs backup sometimes.”

“That we do. Please make sure to pass on my appreciation.” Jonas smiled back, then turned back to the monitoring station.

“So you had Halcyon and Carsen pose as a couple?”

Theron smirked boyishly, obviously pleased with himself at the deception.

“Clever, huh? I was worried they wouldn’t be able to pull it off, being Jedi and everything. But they were great out there. Hell, they could have fooled me.”

Jonas turned away from his fellow SIS agent, regarding the screens as Wynnefred and his team finally arrived to take Fhentar into custody and to deal with the bodies of the four fallen assailants. Despite the Nikto’s importance going forward, Jonas’s focus again zeroed in on the pair of young Jedi.

Halcyon was cautiously turning Fhentar over to the security team. Clearly, the Jedi Battlemaster wasn’t taking chances. Carsen was standing beside him, positioned protectively over Rox. But their postures were aligned towards each other; Halcyon turned just so his wide stance was open to Carsen, who likewise was turned towards him, her eyes gazing up at him affectionately as he conferred with Jonas’s backup team leader.

Theron Shan was one of the cleverest intelligence operatives Jonas knew, and he was nearly as good an analyst. But sometimes, he couldn’t see the forest from the trees.

For once though, Jonas decided to keep his observations to himself.

Well. At least somebody’s going to bed happy tonight. He suspected, with an envious look back at the couple.

 Author’s Notes: I just take it as a given that Theron and Jonas once had a brief thing.

Fhentar shows up on Taris during the Imperial Agent story, serving the memorable Ki Sazen. Obviously, in my legacy, he survived his encounter with Cipher Nine. Unfortunately for him, his new employers don’t appear to be much better than the old ones. Rox and Balkar’s subordinates are my own creation.

The mention of Havoc Squad’s trip to the Star Cluster Casino for the SIS is obviously a reference to the Trooper’s class mission to Nar Shaddaa.

The Euphoric Corellian armor set is a real thing. It’s probably illegal on some planets.

Rodians get shafted in this game and in the greater Star Wars universe in general. So I feel bad for piling on.

Tagging people who expressed interests - @swtorshipping​ , @swtor-writers-guild​ , @raven-of-domain-kwaad​ , @ask-an-andalite​ , @a-muirehen​ , @taraum​ , @theravenassassin95​ , @sleepswithvillains​ , @blueburds​ , @sunnysayshello​

[anthropwashere]

All That Describes a Joyful Heart

At last I can finally share this! \o/

This Trisha/Hohenheim fic was written for @fmacookbookzine which you should absolutely go follow because they’ll be announcing leftover sales soon! It’s perhaps the best quality physical zine I’ve ever gotten my hands on AND it comes with oodles of lovely art, oodles of lovely recipes, and three other fics besides mine!

Me being me I have research hole notes to share but I’ll stick them all at the end of the fic. I hope you enjoy!

=

Night fell hours ago, and with it came a cruel December wind that rattles the windows mercilessly in their painted frames. The old tree out front complains loudly, creaking and groaning its protests as it rakes its naked branches across the roof. But Hohenheim isn't worried. That tree had already been a proud specimen the year he bought the land he eventually built this house on. Its roots grow deep. It'll take a far more furious storm to bring it down than the one that threatens them on this, the longest night of the year.

There's still a part of him that falters over how the years are measured here in the West. Many, many parts of him, to be more accurate; many thousands of his friends who grew accustomed to how a year is measured in far-off Xing, while so many more still cling to the lost ways of Xerxes. Before, long decades ago now, he had no home to call his own. He'd slunk away from the unwanted fame and fortune at the then-Emperor's heel in order to find some semblance of peace amidst the ever-shifting sand dunes, and when that had only brought him renewed grief he'd traveled farther west, and farther still, all the while chasing....

Chasing dreams, he supposes. Dreams of peace and quiet, where half a million souls don't natter at him endlessly. Dreams where he's still human, still susceptible to the ravages of time as any other man. Bittersweet what-ifs and if-onlys.

But those dreams fell to dust, and less than dust, and eventually he came to a soot-blackened city of industry where people limped in on crutches and, after a time, strode out again on gleaming, impossible prosthetics. He met Pinako there in Rush Valley, some thirty-odd years ago now. Her raucous laughter and bawdy humor burrowed past all the walls he'd built around himself, and in the blink of an eye she'd grown dangerously dear to him. It came to pass that whatever she asked of him, he would do without question. It was in this way that she coaxed him time and time again to Resembool. For a funeral, for a wedding, for a birth, and once more to stay.

Well. He'd had no interest in returning to Xing, where they insisted on building ever-grander statues of him whenever he demonstrated an ounce of common sense. So why not buy a bit of land in the hometown of his friend, this mad inventor who dragged him over for a good meal and better drinks whenever she thought he'd been left to mope on his own for too long? Why not build a house there? Why not fill it with books, and shelves to organize them on? And even a monster like him would be wise to take care of himself, so why not fill the cupboards and pantry too while he was at it?

He'd never told Pinako the truth of himself. What he is, where he's really from. Any of it. It's not that he's ever thought such truths to be too heavy a burden for her; rather that he's always considered her a safe harbor away from such burdens. The Homunculus is out there, somewhere, and he's certain it has terrible plans for Amestris, but here in Resembool he can laugh loudly at the dark and feel brave for a few moments of his long, long life.

"Cenz for your thoughts?"

Hohenheim blinks, and finds himself stood stupidly in the middle of his kitchen. His friends titter and tease, directing his attention to the dining table where there sits nothing short of a miracle; a young woman of incomparable kindness, cleverness, and beauty. Stubbornness too, for all that she hides it behind a soft voice and bright eyes. She's refused time and again all his efforts to turn her away, to convince her to love anyone else but him. She's too stubborn by half, twice as determined as that in her efforts to know and understand him for all his faults, and forgive him for them too.

There's no other woman in the world like Trisha Elric. Of that, he's certain.

He meets her wry smile head on, feeling his heart melt anew. "Trisha," he says, enchanted by her very name. "I'm sorry—"

"How may times do I have to tell you to stop that?" She pats the table, drawing him over. "What are they saying?"

He's drawn to her helplessly, like iron filings to a magnet. Many of his friends suggest how he could tell her again all the ways he loves her; chastely, reverently, lustfully, and everything in-between. Many others scoff at him for being so besotted over a country girl without learning, reputation, or skill. He ignores all of them in favor of the few that tell him to mind the stockpot simmering gently on the stove. He prefers practicality to insults. It hasn't been long since he last stirred the pot, however; he can join Trisha at the table, for a little while.

He returns to the chair he'd been sitting in before he'd gone to check the stove and ended up lost in his thoughts. He reaches out to take her hand in his, and is charmed momentarily speechless when she reaches for him just as readily. The tangle of their fingers is a miracle he would never have dreamed of praying for.

"They're happy I'm doing this," he says, then hastily corrects himself. "That we are doing this."

Her smile gains a soft delight to its edges, her green eyes crinkling. "Me too. You were telling me about how tonight was practiced in Xerxes. Shab-e Chelleh?"

He has to pause in the wake of so many of his friends cheering to hear his native tongue spoken aloud by another. "شب چله," he corrects.

She pulls her hand from his long enough to pluck another almond from the bowl of mixed nuts on the table, unwilling to move her other hand from the full swell of her belly. "Well? Go on."

Hohenheim is certain he would have died of shock—if he were still capable of dying—the day she told him they were going to have a baby. A part of him—one all his own, and one that his friends all laugh readily at—can't help but think this is all a wonderful dream he's sure to wake from at any moment.

His friends clamor at him eagerly, shouting to be heard over each other, over suggestions of what he ought to say. Traditions kept, stories told, favorite dishes, and on, and on. He hums and chooses his own words. "We feared the darkness of winter, but we wanted to be stronger than it. So we came together on the last day of every autumn, most often in the homes of our elders. We stayed awake through the night, chasing away the dark and all its evils with fire and music, stories and laughter. We would eat the last of the summer fruits, though we prized watermelon and pomegranate most for the benefits we ascribed them. We knew the winter would be a little easier for our efforts."

"Watermelon? Pomegranate?"

It's still strange for him, to have someone wanting to learn his native tongue. But Trisha is an eager student, demanding translations at every turn. "Ah—هندوانه و انار."

She mouths the words carefully, testing their weight on her tongue with a sweet furrow to her brow. "Hendevâne? Anâr?"

"Yes. Well done."

"That's beautiful," she says. Sarcasm is a slippery thing, even harder to catch hold of in Amestrian. The loveliest thing about her is that he can trust her to mean exactly what she says. "And you?"

"Me?"

"How did you celebrate?"

He blinks. "Oh. Well. The royal family always held a grand feat, with attendees from as far east as—"

"Not the royal family," she interrupts. "Or the courtiers, or the foreign visitors. Not any of them. What did you do, Van?"

Not for the first time, he marvels to hear her call him that. Van, and only Van. Not even his friends address him so. It's still part of the name the Homunculus gave him, yes, but when she says it—with mischief in her eyes and an infectious smile on her lips—he likes it again. She makes his name sound like the gift it had been, so long ago.

"Ah," he says, stalling.

Memories are... difficult, sometimes, for him. The sheer number of years between Xerxes and here are daunting enough, but add to that all the stories his friends have shared with him of their own lives and he grows... confused. Easily so. It takes him a few moments to drum up a dusty etching of his youth to share with her.

"When I was a slave," he begins slowly, swallowing the natural flinch twined to those words. "Those of us who weren't needed would gather in the kitchens for our own celebration. I remember offering to help the cooks prepare ingredients so I could steal samples from the dishes on their way out to the feast."

"Naughty," she teases.

"Only if I'd been caught," he counters. He's had just enough wine—"You're drinking for two, after all," Trisha had joked earlier—to be brave enough to catch her hand as she reaches for another almond. He presses a triumphant kiss to the soft skin of her pale wrist. "And I was very quick."

Her laughter is a bright thing, warming him straight through.

He continues after that, telling her stories of the cusp of winter in long-ago Xerxes. He tells her all the patently untrue deeds he'd boasted of, his plans for mischief, his ploys to avoid work, his hopes a fine dish would turn out too ruined for the King's table so he could feast like a king instead. He tells her of the bards who would deign to sup with slaves, roughly translating their songs with help from his friends. He tells her some of the old superstitions; in believing that the natural coolness of a watermelon would preserve him from heatstroke all through the following summer, in going out to the stables to whisper a secret into a donkey's ear.

There are pauses in the telling, of course, to attend to the stove. His friends insist he do this right, or as right as he can in so small a village as Resembool. Half the needed ingredients are beyond his reach, so he had to get creative. Trisha's begun asking he cook the meals he'd enjoyed before coming to Amestris, and to teach her how to cook them in turn. There's a small but growing collection of recipe cards written in her neat hand, transliterated from Xerxesian, Xingese, and a half-dozen other languages as best as they can guess.

The centerpiece of tonight's meal is a hearty stew made with ground walnuts and pomegranate paste, accompanied by scorched rice flavored with sour cherries. Traditionally it was most commonly made with duck, but he can recall times when chicken or lamb were substituted well. But tonight is about tradition. Tradition, and memory. Only the good memories, if he has any say in it. Trisha only deserves to hear the good, now that she knows the very worst of him.

“How do you pronounce it again?” She asks. “Fesenjān?”

“فسنجون,” he corrects, and more slowly, “Fesenjoon. And the rice, prepared this way, is called ته دیگ.”

“Tahdig,” she echoes. “You’ve made that before, haven’t you? To go with the kabab koobideh you made for the fall sheep festival?”

He hums, thinking back. “Ah, so I did.”

“Good. I’m excited to have it again.” She eats another almond, covering her mouth as she chews. “If there’s any left we’ll have to bring it over to the Rockbells tomorrow. I think Yuriy just about cried, he liked it so much.”

“I’m not sure those were happy tears.”

“Oh, hush. No self-deprecating jokes in the house, remember?”

One of her many rules, enforced through rolled eyes and pointedly aggressive hugs. A lifeline cast across the chasm between then and now. Sometimes he forgets himself, but she is always there to coax him home again.

“Go on, then. I want to hear more.”

He stays by the stove, leaning against the counter with one eye on the simmering pot, as he continues his history. The scant collection of years after the Homunculus gave him the means and the tools to earn his freedom, when he was no longer a slave of the palace but an alchemist of the court. How each dish he had once seen crafted firsthand tasted all the richer for having earned his place at the table. How he'd marveled, quietly astonished, over how the nobles he had once envied could act as much the fool as any slave when they'd had too much to drink. How so much changed, yet how so much more remained the same.

He tells her of his very first شب چله as a free man, rubbing elbows with a merchant from Xing and an alchemist from Samskara. They'd both spoken Xerxesian atrociously, and only considered him their equal because he didn't share his past with them. One had spat at the eunuch boys serving at the King's table, while the other had leered hungrily at the slave girls as they'd danced. He remembers biting his tongue, afraid to cause upset, afraid his former master would change his mind if he caused a scene.

He sums up nearly 20 years in the time it takes to finish cooking, doling out two generous helpings of فسنجون و ته دیگ just as the clock on the mantel strikes eleven. 20 years. The same age Trisha is now. A mere slip of a woman with her whole life ahead of her. 20 years had been almost half his human lifetime, but it feels hardly more than a footnote compared to the centuries he's lived since. They don't have a thing in common, not really, but she's chosen him anyway.

As he rejoins her at the table, bowls in hand, he finds himself struck speechless for a second time tonight by the mere sight of her. He loves her. He loves her so much. He has cared for so many people in his life, but she is the first he has loved completely.

He has stood over so many graves. He doesn't want to outlive her too.

Her eyes light up with the first bite. It's the greatest compliment, the greatest achievement, to do something that makes her happy.

“Oh!” She exclaims, free hand jumping to her belly with a laugh. “I think he likes it too.”

He eyes the swell of her as if he might see the baby kicking from here. A father, he thinks wildly. He's going to be a father. His friends will never stop laughing at his first-time parenting jitters. Traitors, the lot of them.

“You’re sure it’s going to be a boy?” He asks, trying not to show his nervousness.

“I’m not certain,” she admits. “But it feels right. Does that make sense?”

He smiles helplessly. “Not at all. But I believe you.”

She'd said the same thing after he'd told her the truth of him. It feels right to say it to her in turn now.

"Are you sure you don't want to help pick a name?" She asks.

He shakes his head, adamant. “You’re the one doing all the work. It’s only right you get to choose.”

She hums, thoughtful.

Moments pass in that particular quality of silence found only in the wake of a good meal. He tries not to preen. It helps that a number of his friends are critiquing his cooking even as he tries to enjoy it. He should have added onions. He should have tried harder to find saffron. The rice isn't as caramelized as it could be. The duck is too tough. He didn't grind the walnuts fine enough. And on, and on.

Trisha's hand touches his wrist. He blinks at her, enamored and baffled equally. She smiles at him, enamored and exasperated equally.

“I asked what you were thinking,” she says.

It's not even midnight yet. Dawn is a long way off. For all that he's learned so much since he was a nameless slave, for all the centuries he's endured, there's still a part of him that doubts the sun will rise tomorrow. There's still a part of him, however small and smothered by his friends, that is the angry, empty-headed fool who willingly held out his arm when his master demanded he give up his blood. There is still a part of him that wishes desperately he recoiled from the knife, and in doing so saved his people. But there's no sense in wishing for what he cannot change.

“I’m thinking that I’m glad I’m here,” is what he tells her. “And that I love you.”

Outside the wind rages, surely full of devils with cruel fangs and crueler deeds in mind, but here in his home Hohenheim knows he's safe. Better still, the most wonderful woman in the world has chosen to take refuge with him here. More than that. She's chosen to forge a life with him here, to make and raise a family with him here. Out there, somewhere, the Homunculus is surely scheming. Inside him, over half a million souls roil restless, ceaselessly, and perhaps—God help him—even eternally.

But tonight? On this, the longest night of the year? Hohenheim chases jewel-bright pomegranate seeds with his spoon, warmed by just a hair too much wine, hand-in-hand with the love of his long, long life. Tonight, at least, Hohenheim finds himself content.

=

 And that’s the fic! I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you also enjoy me vomiting some THOUGHTS at you too.

I am in a constant state of being emotionally overwrought about my favorite square anime dad, so I was delighted to have a chance to write something truly syrupy sweet about him and Trisha and have the ready-made excuse to get lost down a research hole. Xerxes is secretly my FAVORITE research hole to get lost down because I actually studied Persian Farsi for a year once upon a forever ago. While I never got any kind of fluent in it, that time of fervent study certainly got me hooked on learning about Iran's rich and fascinating history. This fic is centered around a loose approximation of Yaldā Night, Iran's winter solstice festival, and Hohenheim sharing some of the traditions Xerxes once held with Trisha. I was intentionally vague and/or handwave-y in some parts, but if anything seems too egregiously inaccurate please let me know!

I called it Chelleh within the fic as, per my understanding at least, Yaldā was borrowed from Syriac-speaking Christians, and since Christianity doesn't exist in mangahood it seemed the "more accurate" thing to do.

A common tradition at Yaldā and Nowruz (the Persian New Year) is to read excerpts from the Divān of Hafez, perhaps the most famous of Iran's poets. The title of this fic comes from (per my copy of Elizabeth T. Gray Jr.'s collected translations, Wine & Prayer) ghazal 35. I'd share the full thing with y'all, but she only has the original Persian on her website and my copy of her book is in storage atm. :(

Fesenjoon/fesenjān, the dish they're making, is incredible and I highly recommend it. Tahdig, or scorched rice, is also fantastic.

Thank you again for reading! <3

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #my writing

[findswoman]

Fic Writer Review

Tagged by @fontainebleau22 ! Thank you so much—this is a really thought-provoking list of fic questions, and I really enjoyed reading your responses to them!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

69 at present.

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

252,460 as of the current writing. Not too shabby, I guess!

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

With the exception of very juvenile Star Trek: TOS juvenilia that never were posted publicly and are probably no longer accessible in any form (and that’s probably fine), it’s just been Star Wars—but various forms thereof, including the PT era, the OT era, Rebels, Rogue One, KOTOR, and small amounts of Legends EU and ST era.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Sixth Time’s the Charm (Rebels)—33 (probably no accident that this one is also currently my only fic centering on Kanera)

“I saw the wolf…” (Rebels)—19

Beautiful, Inexactly (PT era)—18

The Rains of Scarif (Rogue One)—14

Just Ask Dad; or, Talking Things Through on Taris (KOTOR)—12

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Oh yes, most certainly. I am sincerely grateful for each and every one that I get, and interaction is one of the best parts of fandom, as far as I’ve concerned.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Gosh, well… probably a toss-up between “There is no death!,” which ends with the Jedi OC committing suicide in full view of Darth Vader, in order to keep Vader from ripping a special Force talent of his from him (yes, that’s a factor in the story); and Opus Sixty-Six, where two OC musicians who are forced to perform before Emperor Palpatine perform the “wrong” piece in protest and are promptly killed for it. (Graceful as Water, in which a Tusken OC commits a violent murder, is pretty angsty and grim over all, but it ends with the murderer getting his just deserts, so the ending is not necessarily angsty per se.)

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t, mainly because I have been working in only one fandom.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, thank goodness.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Not currently. I’m still working out my feelings about smut, as it (or at least most instances of it) are just kind of a closed door to me. Even if it’s something I eventually end up experimenting with here and there (maybe? I don’t know), I don’t think it would ever be my main emphasis.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Gosh, no! I didn’t know that was a thing—I guess kind of the fic equivalent of an art repost? Never had anything like that happen, thank goodness.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Between the Porch and the Altar (a Gand OC one-shot) was translated into French by yahiko as Entre le portique et l’autel on Fanfictions.fr. The translation was a prize he offered for the Jedi Council Fanfic Forums awards in 2016.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! I’ve collaborated a few times on small-scale, just-for-fun projects with Ewok_Poet, and more recently I did a really fun collaboration with Chyntuck on a story featuring our two Hutt OCs on a romantic dinner out: Dinner at the Hungry Hutt (not on AO3 yet).

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Sorry, once again I’m going to have to give the same tiresome answer I always give for this and similar questions: the ones involving my OCs. 😛

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Oh gee… I hate to say “never” about anything, but the closest thing to this right now is The Book of Gand. I think I will at least finish its part three, but beyond that, who knows just yet, and that is because even back in the past when I was actively working on it, I didn’t know how I was going to end it. (Moral of the story: know how it’s going to end before you start writing it! 😛 )

15. What are your writing strengths?

Fanon/worldbuilding, descriptions of settings and characters, dialogue, introspection. I feel I’m pretty good at characterization in general.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Using too many long sentences; generally not varying my sentence types enough; writing action and fight/battle scenes; writing anything involving a lot of tech, vehicles, etc.; writing sibling relationships (as I’m an only child).

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

This is something I would feel very unsure of doing unless I knew the other language (whether real-life or created/fictional) very, very well. Individual words and phrases I could probably manage, but entire dialogue passages, not so much.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Simultaneously Star Wars and Star Trek: TOS (se #3 above).

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh, I hate this question. 😛 Yes, I know it’s totally cliché by now, but it really is like choosing a favorite child. But I will say I am particularly proud of my story series that involve lots of alien world building: The Book of Gand (and the associated Gand Series) and the Lasan Series.

Tagging: @jadelotusflower​ @independence1776​ @rendar-writes​ @sassygirl579​ @runrundoyourstuff​ @spacemomcreations​ @tarisilmarwen​ @gondalsqueen​ @jedi-valjean​ just to name some fanfic writers I know, but anyone who sees this is welcome to give it a go!

#fan fiction writing #finds writes #tag game

[ratedbangtann]

Kumiho | MYG

Most of the empire was terrified of him, and rightly so. Emperor Min was a vicious and violent man, one you would hear diabolical rumours of but dare not question the validity of them. His narcissism and arrogance ruled the entire kingdom; perhaps that would be his downfall?

Pairing: Yoongi x Yoongi [MxM] (Selfcest)

Word count: 1.9k

TW // Emperor Yoongi, thief Yoongi, kumiho legend, shapeshifters, selfcest, anal fingering, anal penetration, mentions of violence, vore/gore

***DO NOT READ IF SQUEAMISH OR EASILY DISTURBED. This is based off Korean folklore.***

Most of the empire was terrified of him, and rightly so. Emperor Min was a vicious and violent man, one you would hear diabolical rumours of but dare not question the validity of them. Perhaps out of disbelief, but mostly out of fear; fear that they were indeed correct.

The Emperor relished in it, bathed in the fear like it were a finely aged liquor. Fear gave him his throne, and fear will keep him on it.

Emperor Min sat atop his throne, leg crossed over and lip resting on his finger as he watched with intensely focussed eyes; two guards were dragging a man into his chambers, his head bowed and wrapped in a tatty blindfold. His bare feet dragged across the floor, not even bothering to try and steady himself. The Emperor may have thought the man were already dead, if it weren’t for the smirk on his face.

The guards threw him to the floor at the bottom of the steps leading to Emperor Min’s throne, taking place either side of the man and bowing to their king. Min nodded slightly, a signal to them both that they may speak.

“A common thief, your highness. He was found attempting to break into the maid’s quarters.”

The criminal sat himself up on his knees, in no rush to impress. That same smirk on his lips was infuriating Emperor Min.

He stood up suddenly, reaching beside him without a glance at all to pick up the sword his staff held out for him, swiping it out of its casing with a quick metallic twang. He stomped down the steps and lay the tip of the blade flat on the criminal’s shoulder.

“Why do you smirk at your predicament, thief? Are you unaware of your impending death? Do you not know whose palace you attempted to break into?” he spat. The criminal laughed but said nothing. Min’s blood boiled. How dare he…

“You think this amusing? You will lose your head. Guard, allow him his sight. Let him take one final look at his king before his head rolls down the palace steps.”

One of the guards stepped forward without hesitation, untying the knot and revealing the man’s face in full. He threaded his fingers through his black hair and snapped his head back; the criminal was no unable to hide

Emperor Min froze, his grip on his sword loosening enough for the heavy metal to clang to the floor. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, the sight before him surely witchcraft.

The man on his knees – the criminal – bore a startling resemblance to the Emperor. Those same lips as his, jawline, nose, eyes, right down to the long scar on his right eye; a wound he had acquired in battle. The only difference in them was their hair. Emperor Min’s was long, regal and almost white. And this man’s was short, black as midnight and messy.

But every other detail was exactly the same.

“What are you…?” he whispered below his breath, the criminal continuing to smirk as he held eye contact with the Emperor. He stayed silent, the quiet unnerving all of the palace staff in the room. Emperor Min crouched in front of him, studying the tiny details of his face over and over in his head.

He had never been frightened before, never been rattled but this… This chilled him to the bone.

“Get out,” he growled, staring into the eyes of his identical counterpart. The two guards leapt into action, hooking their arms under his and beginning to drag him away again for execution by another hand. But Min stopped them.

“NO!” They turned, shocked by the sound of the Emperor’s command. “I meant you. Guards, staff. Get out.”

The guards shared a look of uncertainty, silently exchanging a look that asked each other if they should really do as he had told them. But they were forgetting; you do not argue with Emperor Min.

“I said OUT. NOW.” His voice bellowed from the walls, echoing like ripples in a lily pond. The guards dropped the man again, bowing to their leader and hastily leaving the king’s chambers. Min turned to the staff surrounding his throne atop the steps. “ALL OF YOU.”

They scuttled off just as fast, bowing as they passed him and leaving him alone with the mysterious man, ropes still binding his wrists.

“Who are you?” the Emperor asked, picking his sword up and stepping in between the legs of the criminal.

“Yoongi,” he mumbled, in a voice the Emperor could only describe as /stolen/.

“No, that’s my name. Tell me who you are. /What/ you are.”

“Min Yoongi, petty thief,” the man scoffed, laughing again.

“Why do you look like me?” He was getting beyond frustrated, his fist twitching with his sword quaking in his grip.

“Because that’s the image I chose,” he smirked, staring up at the king. Min was confused. How does one choose an image to imitate?

“What sorcery is this? Why are you here?” His growl was back, emanating from him as he held the sharp of the blade to the thief’s neck as a threat. He laughed louder than he had before.

“You’re a fool, Emperor Min. Don’t you get it? The violent narcissist with the untamed blood lust doesn’t understand why a kumiho has shown up in his chambers? I’m no thief, my king.”

Emperor Min knew exactly who the kumiho were. The stories had been passed down from dynasty to dynasty; shapeshifters who took the form of beautiful women to seduce and devour.

“But… Your image is male. It is me…”

“I chose the form most likely to attract a man such as yourself. I may be male, but my king… that is what you like. You have no secrets from me, nothing to hide. The form you would find most attractive, Emperor Min, is yourself.”

Min was frozen on the spot. The man before him spoke so calmly, so seductively, that he found himself conflicted. Of course, the kumiho had been right. The king was indeed tempted by the idea, but temptation from a kumiho was a sure way to the grave.

As he thought, the creature stood from the floor, pushing the blade of the sword away from his neck with one finger, and staring deeply into the eyes of the king. Before he could react at all, the shapeshifter was pressing his lips to Min’s with a tenderness that quickly evolved into a deep hunger.

It ignited flames in his stomach at the very notion that he was in fact, kissing himself and not a creature of evil intent. It was as if he were instantly hypnotised.

The sword fell to the floor once again with a clatter, the king’s hands gripping onto the rags of the man before him, pulling their bodies together with such vigour. The creature had been able to seduce his prey perfectly, just as he had intended when he leapt over the palace walls earlier that day.

Emperor Min dragged Yoongi to his private dwelling, reconnecting their lips desperately when they reached the king’s bedroom. The creature took charge in a way that the King should have found offensive, even grotesquely humiliating but he allowed it without much thought. He was unaware of it, but he was completely under the spell of the shapeshifter.

The rags of the man before him found their way to the floor, along with the royal gonryongpo robes until both versions for the kid were nude and desperately fumbling for the other.

The creature pushed the king to the bed hovering over him as their lips reconnected. The king willingly spread his legs for the kumiho, grinding his hardened length against the other’s.

No words were exchanged, none at all. For now, the pair spoke in only actions, hands roaming wildly, exploring, teasing.

The creature spat globs of saliva into his palm over and over, smearing the liquid against the king’s fluttering hole, pushing in a single finger to hear the pretty moans of the evil Emperor beneath him. The emperor was entranced, completely lost in the glory that the shapeshifter had promised he would feel with nothing more than a look.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, my king,” the creature teased, slipping a second finger past the tight rim of the whimpering king.

“Give yourself to me. As your king, I demand it,” he commanded, heavy breathing softening his instruction.

“I would never deny you, your highness…” the creature smiled, and Emperor Min stared at his face with lust in his eyes as he felt the tip of his cock squeezing itself into him. It wasn’t long before Yoongi had pushed himself inside completely, filling his prey.

The king moaned, his hands gripping the wrists either side of his head that held up the shapeshifter. He rolled his hips up from where he lay, meeting the hips of his partner and rocking against him. The creature took it upon himself to begin his thrusts, and they were far from gentle.

After all, this was exactly what the kumiho desired. He had succeeded in his seduction and proceeded to claim his prize unceremoniously.

Skin slapped against skin, hips clashing and tongues wagging. The king moaned wantonly with each hit to his prostate, body being shunted up the bed with each harsh thrust.

“So good, my king. So good,” the creature repeated like a mantra, a chant as if it were part of some kind of ritual.

It was the King who lost his resolve the fastest, spilling a large load of semen onto his pale stomach, cock twitching and dripping. The creature refused to slow however, now fuelled by the image of the king coming unhinged. It drove the animal in him wide with lust, hips battering into the Emperor.

“You’ll taste so good, your highness. The most delicious meal. I’ve watched for so long, wanted you for so long. Your scent, the way it lingers in the air… Fuck, I need it. I need it so bad,” the creature was of course promising Min’s demise, and yet he was so fucked out below him he was unaware of the implication of those words.

As he began to regain control of his thoughts, trying to get back from the creature completely dominating every being of his presence, the monster came hard inside him, roaring like the demon he was. He threw his head back, deep resonance rolling from his tongue as his load filled the man below him.

And then in one quick hit, his fist punched through the chest of the king, fingers wrapping around the still beating heart and ripping it from his ribcage with a loud crack. The king could do nothing but scream and writhe until the blood in his body stopped pumping, the oxygen depleting from his brain all too fast.

And then the king was gone.

A reign of terror and fear was over.

The not so evil kumiho felt nothing but satisfaction for the work he had completed. Of course, he had his own selfish desires to satiate, but setting his sights on Emperor Min had been a service he wished to provide for the kingdom. And now he could hold his head high, return to his own form, and devour his meal.

Starting, of course, with the ruthless killer’s heart in his hand.

#BTS au #bts #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #au #smut #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan fic #bts fic #bts drabble #daechwita #agust d #d-2 #d-2 mixtape

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Invitations

Nasch’s attention flickered from the tiny girl seated on the throne to his left hand to the door, then over to the knight who stood to his right.

“Everything’s working fine,” Durbe told him, voice pitched low to avoid being heard by anyone who wasn’t the King. “All of the invitations were delivered properly.”

Nasch’s eyebrows narrowed ever so faintly. “Including the one to Vector?”

“Yes,” Durbe nodded. He’d been in charge of seeing to that particular invitation, while common heralds and messengers managed the others. The effects of their work showed here and now.

As did the effects of his – there wasn’t any sign of Vector anywhere, nor had any of the guards posted sent a warning of any sort. Perhaps the false celebrations they’d set up elsewhere would be enough to keep him distracted.

Tiny Princess Isis – a child Nasch and Merag found after a harsh battle in a distant land and brought back with them – sat on the finely carved throne, her hands resting on her lap, glancing nervously about. This party celebrated her official adoption by Nasch and Merag, bringing her into their family.

Neither of them were inclined to marriage or offspring. Merag had pledged herself to the God of the Ocean and while it wasn't forbidden for her to wed if she’d met someone, everyone knew that the odds of her meeting someone she’d choose were slim to non-existence. Nasch had other reasons for not wedding – reasons that Durbe knew very well indeed.

Almost all of the guests had arrived. Emperor Leonius arrived early, along with his favorite gladiator Alit. Rumors ran that Alit was far more to him than a mere gladiator – a common arena fighter wouldn’t be brought along on this sort of trip. Nasch didn’t question. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know the teasing allure of those who weren’t born to a royal title.

Someone new entered the chamber – two someones, in fact. Nasch glanced up to see who it was. Durbe knew them at once, of course.

“Mizael!” Durbe moved over, smiling. Nasch recognized the name as that of a famous dragon tamer who protected a land to the north and east. Someone he didn’t know stood next to Mizael, glancing around, a bit uncomfortable here. “Who is your friend?”

“This is Ryou,” Mizael said, nodding towards him. “We met a few months ago. I thought he would enjoy visiting here too.”

The stranger nodded politely. “It’s as lovely as I was told.”

After a few more words, Mizael and Ryou moved on, while Durbe returned to his position at Nasch’s right hand. He didn’t move away from it except to greet another famous guest, a general who’d won great acclaim on the battlefield and appeared here with his newly wed wife, an accomplished singer and musician. Not every guest deserved to be greeted by either the King or his Knight personally.

Nasch considered having a meal brought. It had been a very long day and his stomach rumbled. He started to gesture for one of the servants, when a noise came from the entryway, and Durbe stiffened at once.

“He wasn’t invited,” Durbe muttered. Nasch’s eyes narrowed as whoever it was moved closer.

“Who is it?” He demanded to know. Durbe glanced back at him.

“Do you remember the sorcerer Arclight?” the knight asked, his attention returning to the approaching figure. Nasch nodded; he’d heard many tales of the sorcerer and his three sons. “That’s Thomas, the middle son. I know no one invited him. But he’s here.”

Nasch’s lips thinned at that. It looked as if he wasn't going to be getting his dinner as soon as he hoped he would be. But he wasn’t going to allow anyone to ruin tonight’s celebration. He could see Merag also glaring at the approaching sorcerer – or whatever he was.

“Does he share his father's mage-talents?” Nasch asked. He’d heard a few things about how the youngest of the three was a skilled swordsman and the eldest took after his father in mage-craft, but not very much about what this middle child could do.

“He’s a fire-mage,” Durbe murmured. “Very talented with them, too.”

Fire-mages were rare and hadn’t appeared often in his realm, which was far more dedicated to the ways of water magic than anything else.

“What are you doing here, Thomas?” Merag asked, standing next to Iris and glowering with all the fury of the ocean at the newcomer.

The fire-mage laughed, tossing his mane of red and gold hair, sunlight glinting off of it. “Well, hello, there, Merag.” His eyes glittered hungrily. “I suppose I should have expected to see you here.”

“Considering this is my realm too, yes,” Merag snapped back. “No answer me. You weren’t invited.”

“What does that have to do with it?” Thomas crossed his arms over his chest. “You invited all of them.” He waved one hand to where Emperor Leonius and Alit, Mizael and Ryou, General Gilag and Sanagi, and everyone else. “So why can’t I show up if I want to?” He smirked. “Not enough golden plates to eat off of?”

“We don't’ eat off of gold,” Merag replied flatly. “You weren’t invited because no one wanted you here.”

Silence fell. Thomas’s lips thinned before he looked past her to where Nasch began to rise to his feet.

“Well, if it isn’t His Majesty.” Thomas smirked, waving one hand, tiny flames dancing on the tips of his fingers. Nasch tried to tell himself that the sight wasn’t attractive and failed rather miserably.

You have Durbe already. But there stood Thomas, blazing bright, with gleaming dark red eyes.

“What do you want here?” Nasch asked, fingers twitching. He knew his guards watched carefully; if Thomas made a move that he didn’t like, then he’d be a pincushion inside of a handful of seconds.

Thomas smiled. It was much like the smile of a shark. Normally Nasch liked those, but this gave off a different feeling.

“I’m here for the same reason as everyone else is.” Again he waved one flame-tipped hand. “This is a party. I even brought a gift for the new little princess there.”

Merag moved closer to Iris. It had been her idea to adopt the little girl, who now wrapped one hand around Merag’s, trembling. Nasch stood next to his sister, glaring sharply at him.

“What kind of gift are you talking about?”

“Why, just this.” Thomas twisted his hands and then held out a small gem to Iris. “This is a sunstone – a gemstone connected to the power of fire. It will always keep you warm, no matter how cold it is around you.”

“We don’t get cold weather here,” Merag said. “Why do you want to give her that?”

Nasch wondered the same thing. It never got that cold here. So what was he thinking about?

“She might not spend her entire life here,” Thomas pointed out, doing his level best to appear innocent, and not being very good at it. “But it also carries a powerful protective spell in general. You can throw it in the ocean if you don’t want it. But it’s hers – shouldn’t it be her decision if she takes it or not?”

Nasch glanced at Iris, whose attention focused on the sunstone. Thomas flicked his fingers again and now a silver chain hung from the gemstone. He offered it to her, and she reached for it slowly.

“Thank you, sir,” she murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

Thomas smiled. It was probably the most genuine expression that Nasch had ever seen on his face. “It’s yours, then. Slowly he moved forward. Nasch found himself tempted to alert the guards, but he didn’t. Maybe the fire-mage actually meant well. He was just an ass – it wasn’t as if Nasch himself wasn’t the same way sometimes.

He slid the chain over Iris’s neck, then stepped back, glancing at Nasch and Durbe. “I didn’t just bring presents for her.”

Again his hands flashed with fire that coalesced into two polished gemstones, both of them a reddish-brown, a great deal like Thomas's own eyes, along with flashes deep inside of red, orange, and gold. It reminded Nasch thoroughly of fire itself.

“I brought these for you two,” Thomas said. “They’re fire agate.” A twitch to his lips. “Would you like to know what these gems mean?”

Nasch started to open his mouth, but Durbe beat him to it. “They increase physical energy and stamina. Or so the stories say.” He rested one hand on Nasch’s shoulder, and Durbe suspected there was something more to those gems than just stamina.

“That they do,” Thomas agreed. “But I also added something else for them. When you want to see me, all you have to do is touch them and call my name.”

“Why would we want to see you?” Nasch wanted to know. None of the tension had faded since he’d entered the chamber.

“Oh, who knows. You might want to talk. Or something else.” Thomas smirked. “Now, I came all this way. I want something to eat. You do have refreshments, don’t you?”

Nasch crossed his arms. “I could use something myself.” And he would definitely want to make sure that Thomas still didn’t cause any trouble.

He wasn’t sure of where those gemstones vanished off to. Perhaps Thomas just made them disappear again. But perhaps it didn’t matter, as for the moment, the fire-mage seemed content to accept a plate of food and settle down to eat. Durbe and Nasch picked up their own food, while Merag had a couple of plates brought to her and Iris.

Thomas nibbled on one of the finger foods and sipped from his wine cup. “This is a very nice party,” he said. “Let me guess, you didn’t invite Vector either?”

Nasch didn’t question how Thomas knew Vector. Everyone knew Vector, whether they wanted to or not.

“Of course we sent him an invitation,” Durbe said, a quick smile over his lips. “It just didn’t invite him to this party.”

“Clever.” Thomas leaned backwards. “I’m surprised you didn’t try the same trick with me.”

“We didn’t know you’d even want to come,” Nasch admitted. The Arclight family had been considered for the guest list, but Merag hadn’t wanted to. Nasch suspected that she knew more about the scar on Thomas’s face than either of them were ever going to talk about.

Thomas rested one hand over his heart. “I should feel wounded. Why wouldn’t I want to come? Now, my brothers – Christopher is busy with Prince Kaito. I think they’re sending a present of their own. Michael is busy somewhere else. I couldn’t say where – he’s trying to collect some ancient treasure or something. His lips pursed. “I think he teamed up with the son of an adventurer. They’re probably going to be busy for a while.

He shrugged and nibbled more of his food. “But I wasn't doing anything and if you’d sent me the invitation I probably wouldn’t have bothered.” Again that fiery glint in his eyes and Nasch tried to avoid thinking about it. He knew very well he was doing a very bad job of it. “But you didn’t – so I did.”

Durbe took a deep drink of his own. “So you just showed up because you weren’t invited.”

“Yes.” Thomas admitted without a care. He tilted his head up. “I probably won’t stay long. Too wet around here.” He caught Nasch’s eye and grinned. “But you can always invite me back with those gemstones. They’ll only work if you both use them at the same time. I wouldn’t want to break the two of you – up.”

The pause between words had to have been deliberate. He licked his lips slowly, eyes still fastened on Nasch and burning with an intensity fit to evaporate the ocean. Nasch didn’t look away, not even when he felt Durbe’s hand closing around his.

He’s offering – is he? Nasch wanted to think he knew but this was the first time Thomas had ever stood face to face with him. Why would he make an offer like that? He couldn’t possibly mean it.

Durbe’s thoughts ran in the same direction. “You hardly know us. Why would you claim that?”

“Claim what?” Thomas needed a lot of practice if he were going to sound innocent but he certainly gave it a good attempt. “I said you could invite me back. What do you do with guests to your kingdom?” He waved both of his fire-tipped hands again. “Really.” He also tried to sound offended. He was much better at that.

Nasch refused to commit himself and concentrated on getting his dinner finished. The other party-goers ate as well, mingling and chatting amongst themselves. Nasch could hear a few whispers that seemed more or less wondering exactly what Thomas was up to. No one else dared challenge him, and Nasch wanted to believe they thought that he could handle the matter if necessary.

Once Thomas finished, he rose to his feet. “It’s time for me to go. But as I said, invite me back any time. Perhaps I could get used to your realm if I see it often enough.” He glanced to where Merag glowered towards him. “And a good day to you as well, Highness.”

In between one breath and the next, a column of fire erupted from his feet, and when it faded away, Thomas wasn’t there anymore. Nasch glanced at Durbe, who looked more than a little relieved at his departure.

“Later,” Durbe murmured. “After the party.”

Nasch agreed; this was something far better discussed behind closed doors. The party didn’t last much longer after that; everyone finished their food, bid Nasch, Merag, and Iris good night, and retired to their quarters. The celebrations would go on for another three days, and Nasch expected everyone would be exhausted by the end.

He hadn’t been in his room long before the expected quiet tapping came, and Durbe followed a breath afterward. He moved over to embrace his lover for a few seconds.

“Do you think he was serious?” Durbe wanted to know as they settled down on the bed. Nasch brushed his fingers through Durbe’s wind-roughened hair. He’d probably gone on a flight with Mach before coming over.

“I doubt it. But we can test him to find out if he is. He claimed he’d be a guest. Let’s show him what the real hospitality of the realm is.” Nasch smiled his own shark-like smile. “He’s a fire-mage. He should know it’s not wise to play with water or air either.”

Durbe regarded him for a few moments before he laughed. “You’re right.” He slid one arm around Nasch and pressed a kiss against the king’s lips. “But we can talk about that later, too.”

Nasch definitely agreed. Planning how to turn the tables on Thomas could wait until after he and Durbe relaxed enough to truly enjoy it.

On the table next to the bed, two fire agates gleamed.

The End

Notes: I couldn’t resist sneaking my new OTP in there (Ryou x Mizael) and I’m beginning to like the idea of Durbe/Nasch/Thomas as well. The sparks would fly in every direction!

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #YGO ZEXAL #durbe #nasch #Thomas Arclight #durbe x nasch x thomas #zexal10th

[sleepyfoxfanworks]

Got tagged by a bunch of people for this. Sorry it took so long!

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

20. It had been a pipe dream, anyway. She knows that. They’re at war, have been for years, and there is no time for anything so sentimental. -- The End of Everything, Naruto, a sort of prologue to a multi-chapter fic, to be published for KakaSaku Month.

19. Sakura was desperate. After two weeks of couch surfing at Sasuke and Naruto’s apartment, she had had enough. She loved her boys, but Naruto was terrible about personal space and Sasuke was just...Sasuke, and together they were a disaster and she was going to wring their necks. -- Shut Up and Dance, Naruto, ShiSaku modern AU multi-chapter to be published for ShiSaku weekend.

18. Sakura went into labor at an ungodly hour, her hands holding Kakashi’s in a death grip that made his bones crack. -- Beautiful With You, Naruto, KakaSaku oneshot in the Here’s To Us series, 400 follower giveaway prize.

17. The summons came right as Shisui sat down to eat dinner. He looked longingly at his plate and sighed, shoveling as much as he could in his mouth before the phone blinked angrily at him again. The screen lit for just a moment, but it was long enough for him to see a message from Hokage Tower with a crow emoji. ANBU then. -- And So We Burn, Naruto, KakaSakuShi multi-chapter in the Souls On Fire series.

16. “I’m gonna catch you, Uchiha Shisui!” 

Shisui paused on a tree branch and crouched down to look at the fuming academy student who glared up at him from the ground below. Her long pink hair was tangled with tiny sticks and leaves, and she had dirt smudges on her clothes and skin from her mad run through the training ground, but the fire in her jade green eyes was brighter than the sun. -- Catch Me If You Can, Naruto, ShiSaku one-shot for ShiSaku Day 2021.

15. The universe was determined to hate her. First, the Fourth Shinobi War, a homicidal goddess, reincarnated kages, and now… Now she couldn’t go home because it was gone. Crushed to rubble during the battle, her parents inside.

She stared at the wreckage, gaze focused on nothing and everything at once. She could see what had been, overlapping how it was now. The small family home with the cheerful blue shutters and the neat garden was now a pile of rubble. Some of the bricks were stained with blood, and she knew that it was probably from her parents but she couldn’t conceptualize it without breaking down. -- All That I Am Living For, Naruto, Team 7 gen fic with some NaruSaku oneshot in the Here’s To Us series.

14. The first time Haruno Sakura took his breath away was the day he made the mistake of letting her hit him during a friendly spar. -- Leave Me Breathless, Naruto, ShiSaku oneshot.

13. Haruno Sakura was grateful for coffee. And for clear skies and uneventful days and genin teams finally learning how not to fall out of trees. Right now though, she was most thankful for coffee. -- Familiar Taste of Poison, Naruto, KakaSaku multi-chapter in the Here’s To Us series.

12. “I want you to teach me the oiroke no jutsu.”

Wide blue eyes stared at her incredulously as Sakura threw back another shot of tequila and slammed the cup on the bar. When he stared at her open mouthed for too long, she leaned against the bar and poked his cheek. “I’m serious, Naruto. Teach me.”

Naruto blinked at her and then huffed a laugh. “Seriously?”

Her grin was lazy and just a bit tipsy, but she wasn’t drunk. Neither was he, and she was one hundred percent serious. “Seriously.” -- Bringing Sexy Back, Naruto, Team 7 gen fic in the Here’s To Us series.

11. “Sakura-chan, you’re a girl.”

Sakura turned her head and regarded Naruto with apprehension. He had matured over the years, but sometimes… Sometimes she wondered if he had actually grown up at all. -- Questions Redux, Naruto, KakaSaku oneshot.

10. Sakura tugged the blanket tighter over her shivering body, adjusting it further when she pulled her knees up to her chest in an attempt to trap even more body heat. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it offered warmth and that was her main concern. Not that it would help much. She was always cold at night and no matter what position she contorted her body into, or how tightly she pulled the blankets over her, she always awoke shivering and sore. -- Space Heater, Naruto, Team 7 gen oneshot.

9. “Can I put them in now?”

“Is the water boiling yet?”

“No…”

“Then not yet.” Sakura didn’t bother turning around as she finished chopping carrots for the salad brushing them into the bowl with a kunai. “Can you hand me the dressing?” -- How About Now, Naruto, KakaSaku oneshot.

8. Kakashi had always been an enigma. It was difficult to tell what the jounin was thinking, although if you got an answer out of him you knew it was the truth, because he never lied. His approach to questions was not to tell you the exact answer to your question. Rather, he would say something equally true and related enough to change the subject or provide an answer, just not quite the one you were looking for. -- Knowing You, Naruto, KakaSaku oneshot.

7. Naruto was thrilled when one of his best friends announced that her unborn child was craving ramen. Sakura had only mentioned it because she knew that if she didn’t and he found out that she had visited Ichiraku without him she would never hear the end of it, and she hadn’t spent time with him in several weeks because of their increasingly busy schedules. She missed him. Not that she would tell him that because he might crow it from the rooftops. -- The Making of a Legend, Naruto, Team 7 gen oneshot.

6. It was a very strange occurrence for Echizen Ryouma to be the first of the regulars to reach the locker room in the morning. Ryouma valued his sleep over most anything (save tennis, Ponta and Karupin), and getting him out of bed was a job in itself, but somehow he had managed. His mannerisms hadn’t changed much over the past three years, and he would still sleep in if it weren’t for a particular incentive that got him up earlier in the morning. -- Pre-game, Prince of Tennis, RyoFuji oneshot.

5. Haruno Sakura arched her back, smiling when she heard several pops from her spine. The boat ride home was relaxing with the gentle rocking on the waves, but the wooden plank she sat on was killing her back and hips. The mission had been long, but she couldn’t say she hadn’t enjoyed it. It had been years since Team Seven had all been together again. Now, all jounin – with Sasuke, Naruto and Kakashi occasionally working as Anbu – it became increasingly rare for them all to be paired together for a mission. -- Questions, Naruto, KakaSaku oneshot.

4. You had promised to live a mortal life and now, with your hair gray and brittle and your skin paper thin, you are dying. You led a healthy, peaceful life with your beloved and the other vampires in the mansion, working for most of it as a gardener and occasional errand runner, but it has been more than sixty years and you are tired. -- One Good Turn, Ikemen Vampire, oneshot.

3. Aella should have known Sebastian was up to something when he sent her to wake Napoleon Bonaparte. The tiny uptick of his lips, the gleam in his eyes, and the glances from the others when they saw her taking the stairs was enough of a clue. No one said a word, but she felt their eyes on her as she walked past. Intrigued, she didn’t say a word until she reached the ex-emperor’s door, knocking smartly and calling his name out of politeness. Sebastian had warned her that it was difficult to wake him, but she didn’t want to be rude. As she had been told, there was no reply, and so after a murmured “excuse me” she let herself in. -- Wake Up Service, Ikemen Vampire, Napoleon/OC, oneshot.

2. I’m nervous to start this interview. I’ve been a fan of Given since their first show, and now, 4 years later, they’re bigger than ever. Given had an explosive beginning, and their popularity has grown over the years to become one of the most popular bands in Japan. I’m honored to be interviewing them, both as a lover of music and also as a fan. -- Given Today, Given, RitsuMafu and KajiHaru oneshot.

1. It had only taken a few days for Captain Hook, dashing rapscallion that he was, to get sick of sleeping in a room at Granny's and begin searching for a ship. The stillness of a bed on dry land was strange, leading to many sleepless nights full of tossing and turning before he gave up and went hunting for a sea-faring vessel that would suit his needs. Unfortunately, Storybrooke was not the best place to look for such things. Boats were scarce, and none of them were up to his usual standards. -- Captain’s Log, Once Upon a Time, CaptainSwan oneshot collection.

In conclusion... I have no idea, omg.

Tagging whoever wants to do this. 💜💜

#tag you're it #sleepy fox talks #sleepy fox writes