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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year

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YOU. I LOVE IT EVERY BIT OF IT. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE ITTTT ALSO IF CAN YOU MAKE A PART TWO IF YOU CAN??? ITS OKAY IF U DONT WANNA. MUAH MUAH TO YOU AND THAT ANON‼️‼️‼️‼️💗💗💗💗

THANK YOU SO MUCH, @raaaaaaahornetstinger! Here is the Part 2! I am so glad that you love Part 1! And, let's be honest, the oneshot would not have existed if not for the Anon and the headcanons XD Hope you enjoy this one!

Key Information: There is a time skip gape from Part 1 and Part 2. Part 2 is in Reader's POV, and it will begin with the Reader asleep, after the incident with Nahida and Venti. Reader does not know about Nahida and Venti's punishment given by the Imposter.

Click Me to Read Part 1!

𝐀 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞.

Warnings: Bad Grammar, Spelling Mistakes, Not Beta Read, OOC Characters, Implications of Violence, & Mind Control/Mind Manipulation.

Read if you are okay with these terms. Please also let me know if I missed a warning!

— — —

"MX. Y/N!!!" A child screams, running into my view. I don't remember the child's name, but I know who they are. They are familiar. They are someone from a village.

They grow up to be the next Blacksmith of the village, after their father.

They grow up and marry the whole-hearted, girl that would be a strong woman, working in their farm, selling their crops to make a living.

They become prosperous in their village, and make their friends and family proud.

It hasn't happened yet, but I know it would happen. Every child born in Teyvat, no matter who their parents are, I am their "Prime Parent," as the child would say as a joke. They are all my children-in-spirit.

I smile down at the child. "What is it, Little One?" I ask in a gentle tone, crouching down to get to their level. "What exciting adventure happened today?"

"Mx. Y/N! The Village Chief told me to bring you to our village!" the child replies happily, grasping one of my hands. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!" They bounce up and down from their excitement. I chuckle at the child's antics, but I relent. Who could deny a child as adorable as this, anyways?

The path to the village was a fast blur, and all of a sudden, I am swarmed around by villagers, happily greeting me and hugging me, smiling and offering me trinkets and goods they have prepared for my arrival. I smile and wave, kindly accepting one or two things from each villager.

It was amazing.

It was lively. It felt like home.

"Happy Birthday to our Honorable and Forever Humble Guest!" The Village Chief shouts, raising his glass.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

—

I wake up, gasping.

Oh. Another one of those dreams again. Past memories of me being this "creator." Hah, how bittersweet. It seems like nobody can tell the difference, not even this world—Teyvat! If Teyvat doesn't even recognize me, how the heck will I ever survive this hunt?

More importantly, how the heck does someone break the mind control the Imposter has over everyone?

I sigh, finally getting my breathing under control. These questions will have to wait for another day—I still don't know much about it. It's not everyday you read a sagau fanfic about the Imposter being a smartass. It's even more rare to hear about mind control! What was this, the Zombie Apocalypse?

I sigh again, sitting up from the grass I was laying down on. Like usual, my clothes were a mess. But there was not time to dwell on that. I get up from where I slept—under a big tree—and begin to walk cautiously through the area.

I need to find a way to enter Inazuma, to get to the Statue of Seven. Surprisingly, getting dendro was a whole lot faster than getting Electro. Mainly because Inazuma is an island.

While I could just use anemo to fly across the sea, there is only one issue: my anemo powers are much stronger if I stay in Mondstadt, and no where else.

Building a bridge made of geo to Inazuma? It'll probably die a quarter way there, honestly. And there's no way in the hell would dendro be of use in this situation—unless you count walking on kelp and seaweed to be an option (probably still unlikely though).

I sigh again, exhausted. This was going to be so difficult than I thought it would be.

If only I could just use waypoints like the Traveler!

As I continue to walk, I begin to wonder what real purpose there is for my existence here. Sure, I'm the creator and all, cool, amazing, but what am I suppose to do when literally everyone I ever care and love and simp for decides to throw me out the window, willing to rip my guts open because my Imposter called me the imposter?

At this rate, now knowing that the imposter is smart and can literally mind control people, I'm starting to lose hope. After all, how was I suppose to defeat a tyrant all by myself?

I sigh again, this time more frustrated. I kicked the dirt beneath my feet. So annoying—my hope leaving me, my courage turning into fear and leaving me begging for my life...

If only I could do something about it all...

Wait a minute.

The dream I had earlier. The village. Where was it? Where did it originate from? All the details I remember...the child, becoming a blacksmith, the child's wife...a birthday surprise, a banquet...

What did all of this add up to? There had to be a meaning behind it, just like all of the other ones I've been getting every time I get some shut eye.

I hide behind the nearest thing closest to me—a tree—as I hear footsteps. I continue to think. I closed my eyes, concentrating. Where was that village...

Oh. Oh, I am such an idiot. That village.

It was where Khaenri'ah used to stand, before Khaenri'ah even stood. I don't know how I know, but I do. I know where it is. I guess it's some sort of gut feeling.

Time to look through the Abyss, I guess..? But how do I even get there in the first place? And, more importantly, would the Abyss Order attack me on sight? (They probably will, I mean, who am I kidding? They probably loathe the Creator anyways for what they've become.)

Well, one way to find out, I guess. No hope left, but this was a lead onto something. And it's better to try than to give up, right? Besides, who else would if I didn't?

I wait for the rest of the footsteps to fade, before bolting to the location that I have engraved in my mind. I will not be dying today, nor ever. That much, I will bring with me.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒏𝒅.

Ghost Rebel Side Note: I don't think this one was as good as Part 1. To this, I apologize 😭 I am so sorry for making this a lower quality than the previous part! It honestly feels so rushed—I'm so sorry 😭 My motivation ran dry.

Will I make a Part 3 for this? Maybe, but it will take some time—motivation comes in sparks and it lights a fire before it disappears once it finds no more roots to burn :')

Also, since I'm at it...THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR a) 4000+ LIKES AND b) 100 FOLLOWERS! Y'all are great, I swear 😭

Check the Ghost Rebel's Blog Description to See if Their Mailbox is Open!

#yandere sagau #sagau genshin #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau angst #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #genshin self aware #platonic genshin x reader #genshin x reader

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hotluncheddie · 3 months

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sorry just one more thing 🫣 I've been obsessed with chubby but still athletic Steve.. like he's truly doughy and round and he still loves being outside and playing basketball and swimming and he likes it even more now in this powerful body that is so completely his ........ you are a repository for all my chubby Steve thoughts so please accept this humble offering.....

oh i am always obsessed with thick round buff chubby stocky strong steve!!!

[please i am so so happy to be your chubby steve repository! keep em comin! its so so fun to get so many chubby steve asks!!! also sorry this is just an series of ideas kinda lol]

i really like using hopper (s3 specifically barkbark) as like body inspo for steve. that strong solid build, broad shoulders, big arms, but always with a good layer of squish.

i think steves legs would be thicker though, and his belly a little bigger, a little rounder maybe. so imagine that for this post, for your lovely juicy anon prompt <3

very into him playing basketball and swimming again, especially if its with the other members of the party. i just love steve being happy, feeling strong and confident and in control of his body. and that vibe just making the people around him feel comfortable, feel safe. hes their big guy. still their protector but now it’s little things, normal life things, not like, monsters.

and eddie? oh eddie would love it.

[i was gonna use this scenario for a micro fic but i’m giving it to u bc i want him to be round and meaty :) ]

i just imagine steve turning his parents garage into a place to weight train. so when eddie comes over, sees the open garage door, music blasting, he’s treated to a sight.

steve in a t-shirt with the hem cut off like 3 inches and the sleeves gone. in gym shorts and tube socks and sneakers. belly hairy and round and out. arms pumping weights and eddie’s cant believe how fucking strong his boyfriend is, has gotten.

like steve on a workout bench, lifting the weights above his head. stomach muscles bunching, making the fat bounce. all of him a little sweaty, grunting with effort. eddie just stands and stares.

and then steve sits up from the workout bench, belly resting in his lap. smirking at eddie standing there frozen. steve stands and shakes out his arms, wiping a towel over his face and neck, down his chest and over his happy trail. then he says to give him a sec eddie ‘warm down stretches.’

and eddie has to watch his boyfriend lunge and bend. watch his ass jiggle and bunch. watch his belly do the same. eddie’s so red, he’s so hard in his jeans.

and then steve finally takes pity on him. closing the garage door and laying back down on the bench. letting eddie stand over him and finish because he can see eddie won’t take long, needs it. and it’s okay because steve knows they can go in and share a shower. and eddie can go again.

steve getting a second order of breakfast and slamming two milkshakes at the diner. talking about ‘bulking’ and how he ‘needs the protein. and like, eddie will agree that his muscles are bigger now. but so is his belly. not that eddie’s complaining, not at all, he honestly kind of thinks steve says those things just because it makes eddie blush. knowing how big he is, how strong, eddie likes seeing how much he can eat.

steve manhandling eddie’s in bed, like he can actually for real throw him around if he wanted. makes eddie’s kind of breathless to think about. they’ve tried so many different positions now that steve can hold eddie up. getting fucked against a wall, belly helping to hold him there. yeah, that was a good one.

but also the sweet lovely ability eddie still has, to just take steve apart. his big strong steve who he can still turn into a whining, writhing mess, just with a few words and soft touches. eddie loves it, it’s so so special.

kissing steves stretch marks. he has a few on his arms, his hips. one special one that stretches over his pec, that’s eddie favourite. steve was embarrassed about them but then eddie spent time cherishing them. and mentioned how steve already has scars, but he got these from being happy. so now sometimes robin has to beg steve to put a shirt on. and steve will, but he loves his new body. he’s proud of all his scars.

(sorry this took a while anon, but please believe me i love getting chubby steve asks)

@scoops-aboy86 u might enjoy :)

#hotlunch #anon #this was nothing and then there was suddenly kind of a lot #<3 #chubby steve harrington #steddie wg

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ten-cent-sleuth · 9 months

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A Galling Yoke, Part 8

<- Prev | Next ->

for the “You’re just in love with the idea of being in love” and “Do you want me to leave?” squares on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think.

With a mere half-dozen words, Sherlock had shattered the fragile dynamic you had so carefully pieced back together for you two. After fifteen years apart… Why would he—? How could he—?

“I am in love with you.”

The words echoed in your head, rippling from end to end of your skull as an earthquake rips through a city. Sherlock was still speaking, one hand on his waist and the other gesticulating, but those six words had submerged you in water—boiling, acidic water—and you heard nothing past them.

“I am in love with you.”

You had been completely, woefully caught off guard by Sherlock’s declaration. He had shown up at your doorstep two days after you had last seen each other—the day you had met Miss Algar together—which had been unexpected as well, though not shocking: Sherlock had taken to showing up whenever he wished, and even Mr Rogers was becoming inured to his abruptness. Having assumed the detective had made headway in hunting down the hitman, you had eagerly welcomed him into your sitting room; your excitement had wilted into worry as he had gotten up from his chair after only a few moments then begun pacing silently. You had only just thought of a tactful way to ask him what was the matter when he had blurted out—

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. We were separated for a decade and a half, I know, but I never stopped thinking—caring—about you, and I have recently understood that these feelings have been of a…have all these years been of a romantic nature. My lady, I am in love with you.”

Blast.

It was a good thing you were sitting.

In love with you…?

The last time you had heard those words, they had been out of the mouth of slimy, toadying Mr Sulyard, back when he had offered for your hand. He had been lying through his teeth. He had known it; you had known it; however, you had also known that your father would have given you no choice but to accept, so you had lied through your teeth right back with a humbly delighted yes. Edmund, “in love with you” as he was, had been good to you in public and anything but behind closed doors.

“I am in love with you.”

To this day, Edmund’s family happily remained ignorant of their son and brother’s blatant derision and cruelty, although they espoused how much they admired your personality and your accomplishments whenever you saw them. Your own father claimed to be pleased with how you turned out and to care about your wellbeing, yet he imposed his desires above all else.

“I am in love with you.”

Even William had never chosen you before his comfort. He had expressed his concern when he had heard of your and Edmund’s engagement, knowing a little of the man’s reputation from Harrow and a lot of your ill-matched disposition. Despite this worry for you, he had not stood up for you, not when it would mean fighting with Lord Coltidge, not when it mattered most to you.

And Sherlock—

“I am in love with you.”

Dearest, most beloved Sherlock—

“I am in love with you.”

How could he have forgotten what he had done to make you discredit love, or at least distrust that anybody loved you?

Through your agony, you closed your mouth from where it had been hanging open, then you clutched your hands in your lap to stay their trembling, then you lifted your eyes to finally meet Sherlock’s.

“My resolve to tell you these things hardened when I realised I was struggling to focus through your absence these last couple of…”

He paused his speech once your gazes locked, and when he smiled gently at you, you forgot you were supposed to be thinking of a response. Then he spoke: “Of course, we cannot do aught about it until this case is over.”

You blinked. The utter pragmatism of such a statement within a romantic spiel jarred on you. “What— What do you mean?”

“We must focus on the case, then we may settle all personal matters.” He waved a dismissive hand. “The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning; we must not let them get in the way.”

And suddenly, sharply, you remembered the pain he had caused you—was, apparently, still causing you—and laughed. It was a too-big, too-loud thing, with haphazard edges and a dangerous echo, and it brought tears to your eyes.

This time, Sherlock blinked at you. “Why do you laugh?”

“Sir, you need not worry about being too emotional during this investigation,” you said, “for I can settle this business matter for you straightaway. It would appear to me, Mr Holmes, that you are simply in love with the idea of being in love.”

At that, he actually scoffed. “That is ridiculous. Why would I want to be in love? It deludes the perfectly reasonable mind; it softens one’s senses, warps one’s thoughts. If I could avoid it, I would.”

You ground your teeth for a moment before speaking to make sure your voice remained even. “That is precisely the reason. Despite your attempts to void your heart of tender feelings, you know you long for a profound bond with the perfect companion—you know you could be happy in such a relationship. Above all, you know you are happy now that you think you have found it.”

“Perhaps you have the right of it,” he said. “Yet would you expect me to rejoice in a shallow bond with an imperfect companion?”

The icy exterior you had pulled around yourself cracked—was he speaking of you and Edmund? Was he truly critiquing you for accepting such a bond with such a companion?

He arched an eyebrow. “Ought I to congratulate myself on the hope of a relationship that would decidedly add wretched complexity to my life?”

The ice broke apart entirely. “Is that why you left me?” you demanded. “Coming to London for me would have been wretchedly complex?”

His countenance darkened. “You left me, my lady. I waited for your return to Ferndell for months—I counted the days, pathetic me!—and in your stead, I received notice of your engagement to another man.”

“I had little choice in that,” you exclaimed, “and I had no ability at all to go back to you. How could I, a young lady with no money and no chaperone, make it all the way down a London street, never mind onto a public conveyance to Shropshire? You, the gentleman, were the one with the power to come to me!”

Shaking his head, Sherlock moved away to stare out the window. Before you could decide whether to stand and follow him, he said, quietly but with a strong and sweeping undercurrent, “What power, petal? I promised you that I would not hold you back. I promised you that I was nothing short of glad that you would get a come-out ball and a curtsy before the queen like all the proper rich ladies do. I promised you that I would happily let you go if you found a proper rich gentleman at some party that suited you better than I. Those promises took all the power I had.”

With a shaky breath, you pressed a hand to your sternum, vain as the attempt was to keep your heart from falling apart. “You… You also promised me that you wanted to marry me, that you would protect and provide for me. You promised me that you loved me, Sherlock.”

He whirled around. “You promised me the same, my lady.”

“And I do!” Your hands flew to grip the armrests at your sides. “That is, I did— I…”

His gaze softening, he stepped towards you. “Petal…”

You pushed yourself to your feet and looked away from him. “What does it matter how I feel or felt? Though I did not need you to rescue me, I did want you to fight for me.” You met his eyes. “That you did not—that the love you felt for me was so easily given up on—is a fact, and fact comes before feelings, does it not, Mr Holmes?”

He frowned. “Do not throw my words back at—”

“They are not merely your words, sir, they are your core values and their consequences! You only commit as far as reason goes; once logic dictates the chances are uncertain, you become uncertain.”

His frown deepened, but he did not respond.

“I do not want someone to choose me when it is sensible, Sherlock,” you said, softly, desperately. “I want to be chosen when it is totally nonsense, through total nonsense. Was it not nonsensical of me to pray for you to show up before the wedding so you could tell my father I had another acceptable option? Was it not downright imbecilic of me to sit and stare out the window and wait for you after Edmund died? Still I did those very things, all the while you…you could not even accept the risk of visiting me to see if I was all right.”

“We…” His voice trembles, you noted with disbelief. “We have another chance now.”

You shook your head, straining on your neck, weighty on your shoulders. “Another chance to be friends, perhaps. But, Sherlock, you are still uncomfortable with coming to me if it means stepping beyond reason, and I… I ought not to ask more of you than you can give.”

“No,” he said, crossing the room in two strides. “No, my lady, ask— Demand everything you would of me, I—”

A knock came at the sitting room door.

You took a moment to consider Sherlock’s pleading look, then turned away and sighed, “Come in.”

Rogers opened the door but barely had time to announce, “Lord Coltidge for you, my lady,” before the earl himself was striding into the room.

“Daughter,” he said, “I care not that you have another visitor; I am your father and you shall speak with me. How could you have stained the Voss family name so recklessly, you—” He stopped short when he finally noticed Sherlock. “Holmes? What—?”

“My lord,” he greeted. “I apologise. It would appear I am her ladyship’s other visitor.”

Your father, brow furrowing, looked between you and Sherlock a few times. “You are here about the case?”

“No,” he replied.

“Yes,” you said at the same time.

Sherlock blinked. “Er, that is, yes, your lordship, I am here about Mr Sulyard’s death. I wished to inform my lady of developments of a…of an idea she gave me some days previous.”

“Is that so?” He turned cutting eyes onto you. “Would this idea be that your husband was seeking satisfaction in another woman’s bed?”

As you flushed hotly, Sherlock stepped in front of you, blocking your father’s view. “Lord Coltidge!” he cried. “Such vulgarity is hardly appropriate in a lady’s hearing, is it? Besides, I can scarcely credit that you would rather shame your own daughter rather than the gentleman who would dishonour his word by breaking his vows.”

You gulped—you had never seen your father turn that particular shade before.

“I think you best leave us now, sir,” snarled the earl.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” retorted Sherlock, sticking his finger in the air with all the confidence of someone who actually had authority to warn anybody here. “Officially, you have no say in this house; it has been her ladyship’s property for a decade.” Then, he turned around to give you his full attention. “Petal, do you want me to leave?”

He was so soft in that moment, in his voice and in his eyes, that you nearly shook your head. Indeed, your heart pleaded for him to remain, for the bubble of safety that came with his presence to not be burst. But he couldn’t remain. You couldn’t afford relying on him in such a vulnerable position—you simply weren’t ready to pick yourself off the floor if you leaned on him and he walked away once again.

“We have had a…trying conversation,” you whispered to him. “Perhaps you would like to go home and relax now.”

His eyes were stormy as he glanced at Lord Coltidge and muttered, “What I would like to do is…,” but they cleared when he focused on you and sighed, “…whatever you would prefer, my lady.”

You smiled your gratitude towards him, but you knew it was cold comfort as he stalked past the earl with an unhesitatingly aimed dark look. He paused at the door to say over his shoulder, “I shall keep you apprised of my progress.”

“Good man,” replied Lord Coltidge, though you knew Sherlock was speaking to you.

You held your breath, waiting to meet Sherlock’s gaze once more, but he quitted the room and closed the door with nary a glance back. Although you suddenly felt more brittle than you ever had, you squared your shoulders and turned towards your father.

“Good afternoon, sir. Please, take a seat. How is it that I have stained the family name this time?”

Thank you for reading. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter lmaooo. I hope y’all enjoyed the Jane Austen and Arthur Conan Doyle quotes? :P Feedback is always welcome!

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock x reader #enola holmes #a galling yoke #the dimensions of fandom

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 7 months

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Mini-muffin: Invitation - a Malevolent Fic

There is one person in the universe who might be able to solve Arthur's weird mark-resistance problem. Now, if only Hastur can find the invite…

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

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

Three Hundred Years Ago:

To the Unspeakable, Prince of the Great Old Ones, the illustrious King in Yellow, Hastur,

I, the Keeper, wish to formally announce the grand opening of my beloved Scriptorium, the foremost collection of texts both magical and mundane in the entirety of the known worlds, and growing by the day. It is with great pleasure I announce I am officially taking visitors, and I welcome you to my door with open arms and the promise of an evening of light refreshment and amusing diversions.

With warm regards,

The Keeper

------

Last Week (and six treasure rooms plundered, two hundred closets torn through, six hundred and fifty-eight trunks emptied, until Hastur found the invitation again):

To the great Keeper of Knowledge, the Soul of the Scriptorium, she who walks unseen in the thoughts of men and treasures all that is forgotten: Greetings.

I have heard such wonderful things about your magnificent library! During my latest travels through the Dreamlands, you have been praised, far and wide, recommended above all other sources of knowledge. I, too, praise you; you are known as fair, and truthful. A worthy god to seek for answers!

Thus it is, now that I find myself in a place of need for answers, that I at last (though late!) reach out to you. Great one, forgive my tardiness; as you no doubt know, my plate has overfilled with strangeness and miracles and secrets. You are known for your goodness and impartiality; so, in my hour of need, I dare to turn to you.

I say dare, for I know I have wronged you with silence in answer to your gracious invitation. I beg your forgiveness; as I come to trade, I swear to bring that which will, hopefully, make up for my egregious lack of decorum.

If you are willing to see me and hear my plea, I will come to you at your earliest convenience. I thank you for your time, great one, distinguished one, and pray for your mercy as well as your affirmative reply.

With humility and hope,

Hastur, the King in Yellow, Lord of Carcosa, Xastur, H'aaztre, Kaiwan, Poet of the Dreamlands proper.

------

The Next Day (left without ceremony at Hastur’s place setting at the breakfast table):

Warmest Greetings, Hastur, the King in Yellow,

Your missive has found me well, and I am pleased at your response; allow me to assure you that you find yourself still within my good favor. I am aware of the ever-mounting burdens being placed upon your shoulders, and I am humbled to offer an ear and, ideally, the knowledge you seek.

I have an appointment four days from now, when the blue star lies at its third zenith and the red trails behind it at sixty degrees. It is yours.

I look forward to our meeting, and the opportunity to assist you however I am able.

With delight,

The Keeper

-------

Written While Pacing, Muttering, and Rewritten a Dozen Times:

Greatest Keeper of Knowledge in the Prime Universe,

We thank you, I and my people both. We will accept your gracious offer, and shall be at your door at the appointed hour, prepared to do anything but waste your priceless time.

With utter gratitude and worship,

Hastur, the King in Yellow, Lord of Carcosa, Xastur, H'aaztre, Kaiwan, Poet of the Dreamlands proper.

------

And Hastur collapsed onto his enormous bed, face down, and stole five minutes from his precious schedule to desperately hope this went well.

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

NOTES:

Hastur’s font is called “Erotica.” I have no regrets.

#malevolent #malevolent fic #surrogate series #hastur malevolent #kiy malevolent #the keeper malevolent

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withlovefromolympus · 2 years

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Wow, I am behind as fuck on Dionysus x Ariadne week. However, I do come bearing my first contribution before midnight on the second day! Not by much, and it isn’t much, but I hope you’ll accept my humble offering <3

Prompt: "Can I help you, miss?" by @peggy-sue-reads-a-book !! Dedicated to the biggest Dio x Ari shipper on this app, @greekgurlluv, and to anyone else who loves this couple.

[please note that this is an attempt at a quick male x female smut, and because I’m a lesbian it may not be that good, and I wrote this kind of fast since I was busy today, but I hope you enjoy! (If you enjoy this kind of thing)]

Beyond Imagination

Ariadne didn’t hear the door open. All she was aware of was the panting of her breath, the cramping of her fingers, the ache from the prolonged arch in her back, and the even larger ache begging to be relieved coming from between her legs. Sweat clung to her back, and she was vaguely aware that she sheets would need washing, but she didn’t care. Too focused on bringing herself to completion, she tilted her head back, ignoring the uncomfortable dig into her head that the bump from her hair tie made, and tilted her hips up.

“Dio…oh Dio…” she managed to choke out as she massaged her engorged clit with her thumb faster.

“Can I help you, miss?”

Letting out a small shriek of surprise, her eyes flew open and she wrenched her two soaked fingers from her core. Scrambling into a half-sitting position, she stared with wide eyes at the intruder in the doorway and fumbled to tug the comforter above her breasts as if said intruder hadn’t seen them a million times.

“Dionysus, what the hell!?” she exclaimed, still a little breathless from her self-ministration, and if she was being honest, she was more annoyed that he’d interrupted her than she was surprised, especially when she’d been so close.

Her husband stood there, leaning against the doorway, insufferable smirk on his perfect, handsome face, eyes twinkling at the sight of her tangled up in their bed’s sheets. He wasn’t wearing anything that screamed sexy, but gods was she so turned on right now with just the sight of him. “Well?” he prompted, giving her a pointed look.

“‘Well’ what?” Ariadne shot back, but her annoyance was dwindling, for she could never stay mad at her big loving goofball husband for long.

“Can I help you out or not?”

Her blush returned with a vengeance, but the sultry smile of her own she gave him was all the invitation he needed to advance closer. They’d been married for so long that many of their conversations were held through their eyes only, their hearts two halves of a whole that just understood the other.

“Thought you were at a council meeting,” she commented as if she actually cared where he was. He was here with her now, and her heart felt like it was beating a million miles an hour and he hadn’t even done anything yet. He just had that influence over her.

“It got out before usual,” her husband shrugged, settling between her legs. He winked at her, tacked on, “Or maybe I just left early,” and without another word, dived underneath the covers. Ariadne couldn’t help but let out a gasp when he wasted no time in sticking his tongue between her swollen lips, and as he went to work, the hum of his delight vibrated from his throat and transferred to Ariadne in the form of a full body shiver.

He then wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked, causing Ariadne’s hips to jerk involuntarily and her to cry out with pleasure. When he stopped for a second, she wanted to scream in frustration, but the sound of his voice, made deep with his own arousal, saying “you taste sweeter than my finest wine,” caused her toes to curl and eyes to roll back, especially when he dove back and continued to do whatever the hell that was making her legs shake.

And then she was back at the brink of ecstasy faster than she realized, her husband’s beard tickling her smooth skin and setting her lower region on fire. It was when he crooked his fingers inside her, gently rubbing her G-spot back and forth while manipulating her clit, that she dared to open her eyes and saw him staring down at her ravenously as if he hadn’t just had his fill.

“Come,” he commanded, and that was all it took. She felt herself fall apart and grabbed onto the sheets for dear life as the love of her immortal life continued to pleasure her throughout her orgasm.

She was gasping and shaking and had barely let go of the bedding when he was laying next to her, smiling again, but not smugly this time. This time he was looking at her as if she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. As she regained full consciousness, he planted kisses all over her face, and she let out a shaky laugh.

“Oh gods,” she said sheepishly. “I’m a mess, don’t look at me.”

“Don’t look at you!?” Dionysus said incredulously. “I can’t stop looking at you, my flower.” She blushed. He didn’t call her that that often, but when he did, it left butterflies anew in her stomach. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, tracing her sweaty skin along the path where his kisses had graced her face. Although Ariadne loved her husband’s constant playful mood, she was thankful that when it came to complimenting her he was as serious as he got. “I never get tired of seeing you exactly like you are now.”

And with that she lifted her head up and kissed him deeply, tasting herself on his lips, and when he smiled, she knew he was distracted enough for what she wanted to do next. With minimal effort and the element of surprise on her side, she flipped them over so she was on top, straddling his waist.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, laughing up at her. She bent down and kissed him again and rolled her hips back, feeling his desire make itself known against her ass.

“Hey yourself,” she whispered and smiled. “Thank you for helping me out. Now, can I do the same for you?”

#Dionysus #Ariadne #dionysus x ariadne #ariasus week #I promise the lana prompt will be better #uh anyways #tw: smut #writing #greek mythology #Greek gods #Greek myth #greek myth fanfic #mine :)

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theprayerfulword · 1 month

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March 13

Ephesians 6:10 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might.

James 1:25 Whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues in it — not forgetting what they have heard, but doing it — they will be blessed in what they do.

2 Chronicles 7:14 if my people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

Isaiah 54:2-3 Enlarge the place of your tent, and let them stretch out the curtains of your dwellings; Do not spare; Lengthen your cords, and strengthen your stakes. 3 For you shall expand to the right and to the left, and your descendants will inherit the nations, and make the desolate cities inhabited.

1 Timothy 2:3-4 This is good, and pleases God our Savior, 4 who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.

Romans 1:18 For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who hold the truth in unrighteousness;

May you ever walk in the newness of the life of Christ Who, having suffered for your redemption, has sent the Spirit to abide with you, that you may be ever washed clean, though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Numbers 19

May you trust the Lord and honor Him as holy by obeying the word He has given you in answer to your earnest request. Numbers 20

May the word given from God in answer to your prayers be received in unquestioning belief and accepted in child-like faith, lest your testimony be hindered, for it will come true in its proper time. Luke 1

My child, know that you are a part of something larger than yourself. I have called you, and redeemed you, and grafted you into the True Vine, giving you to drink of the living water which springs from the one true Source. I have given My body to be living bread to be shared by each one who knows My touch upon their spirit and cherishes My truth within their heart. Look beyond your limits and see the larger scope, glance to the horizon and view the vast scale of My plan. Understand that you are connected to the innumerable hosts that not only span the globe and include every tongue, but extends through time and covers all ages. Then you will begin to see how broad is My grace, how wide is My mercy, how deep is My sea of forgetfulness, how abundant is My compassionate love. I know you in intimate detail, My dear one, not simply because I am God and know all things, but because you are precious to Me and I am filled with joy when I consider you, the one I have made, the one I knitted and formed in your mother's womb, assembling your parts and determining the color of your hair and your eyes, planning the path you would take and making preparation for what you would need at each point in your life. Understand that I am capable of meeting your need, and know that I am not short on resources. Rest in My love, trust in My care, know that I am with you today, and remember that I change not.

May God be merciful to you when others hotly pursue you, pressing their attack all day long, slandering you and attacking you in their pride. Psalm 56

May you trust in God, Whose Word is worthy of praise, for mortal man can do nothing to you that you need to fear; though they twist your words and plot to harm you, conspiring and watching your steps as they lurk, on no account will God let them escape. He will bring down the powers that motivate and influence the people, and give the individuals a chance for repentance to receive forgiveness. Psalm 56

May you know that God is for you when your enemies turn back as you call for help. Psalm 56

May you present your thank offerings to God for He has delivered you from death and your feet from stumbling that you may walk before God in the light of life. Psalm 56

May you be rescued from trouble by the Lord as the righteous are. Proverbs 11:8

#daily #blessings #prayers #scripture

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yhwhrulz · 9 months

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Today's Daily Encounter Friday, August 11, 2023

I'm Sorry

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.1

One of the hardest things in the world is admitting we are wrong, right along with asking for forgiveness. Being able to say, "I made a mistake", "I made the wrong choice", and "I'm sorry" can be so incredibly difficult. Pride is probably a big factor, but so is fear. Many times, it is easier to pretend we never messed up than it is to face the consequences of our wrongdoing. It is easier to avoid the person we've wronged than to face them and have to apologize. But we cannot dodge God so easily. He already knows all of the wrong we've done. That's a thought that might make us want to run and hide! The Good News, however, is that when we are followers of Jesus, we don't need to fear confessing or admitting our wrongs.

When my daughter was a child, she could not (or would not) say the words "I'm sorry". She knew there would be consequences if she did not ask for forgiveness and yet refused to say the words; words that would bring healing to her soul as well as the person she'd offended. She preferred the consequences, losing a privilege or other disciplinary action. Her pride, even as a child, was very great and something that kept her from enjoying many things. She, like us, was not condemned by her sin, though; Jesus took care of that. Just as a parent can forgive a child because their ways are childish and immature, so Jesus can forgive us, his children, for our immature and often childish actions. Jesus suffered a cruel death on the cross and His justice has been satisfied, so now the process of confession and asking forgiveness is about our humility and growth. It brings us closer to our Savior and allows us to experience His forgiveness, for when we wrong others we ultimately wrong Him. Being able to confess our wrongs and say "I'm sorry" strengthens our relationships with each other and builds the bond with our Lord.

If there is someone you've wronged, give it to God and he'll give you the strength to ask for their forgiveness, and say, "I'm Sorry". Our fair God has already forgiven you, all you need to do is confess!

Suggested Prayer: Dear God, you are so gracious to offer me forgiveness even when it was my sin that nailed you to that cross. Your love surpasses my understanding, and I am humbled by your mercy. I'm sorry for offending you with my unforgiving heart. Thank you for loving me and making a way for me to spend eternity with you. In Jesus' name, Amen.

1 John 1:9 (ESV).

Today's Encounter was written by: Veronica B.

NOTE: If you would like to accept God's forgiveness for all your sins and His invitation for a full pardon Click on: http://www.actsweb.org/invitation.php. Or if you would like to re-commit your life to Jesus Christ, please click on http://www.actsweb.org/decision.php to note this.

Daily Encounter is published at no charge by ACTS International, a non-profit organization, and made possible through the donations of interested friends. Donations can be sent at: http://www.actscom.com

ACTS International P.O. Box 73545 San Clemente, California 92673-0119 U.S.A.

Phone: 949-940-9050 http://www.actsweb.org

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honeykpop · 3 years

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nobody talk to me unless its about This Specific Jisung

#han jisung #stray kids #skz #mnet kingdom #kingdom #gifs #i also have a stationary png if anyone wants it because that gifmaker makes em SPEEDY #anyway mnet is evil and kingdom is toxic but they really blessed me with this #they said we're gonna make a jisung look so specifically for that girl that she's going to have to watch this #the undercut the slicked back hair THE EYEBROW PIERCING the cute lil paint splotches his precious happy face during the performance!!!!!#5racha in general is a damn gift and my baby did so well im so proud he looked like he was having so much fun ;~;#oscillating between wanting to say something nasty and lose whats left of my dignity OR looking at his perfect little face and crying #ive had so much time to collect myself since this stage and im still a mess #these tags are becoming a mess as well moral of the story im full of love #and please accept my humble offering i am not good at making things at all i have zero skills that can contribute to fandom content lmao #im just gay and funny thats it

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levi-ish · 2 years

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Red Watercolors | Jean

Summary: There wasn’t anything Jean couldn’t paint, but suddenly, there was.

Pairing: Jean X Reader

Genre: [+18] smut with plot

A/N: just drunk thoughts of dark academia Jean that became this piece. i just have a feeling our tall boy is artsy. hope you enjoy it!

Tags: @tacobellfreshavocado

Masterlist

“Oof” was the sound that fell from Jean’s lips as soon as his body collided against something.

He fell on his side, a hand soon falling to the newly formed bruise on his hip and he wondered why things like this happen to him only when he’s late to class. Looking to the other side, he checked on his art supplies that were safely stored in his bag, checking to see if anything was in order and sighed in relief.

“Oh my god!” a soft voice appeared and he instantly realized that he collided against someone, eyes shooting up to find this ethereal presence above, both hands covering her mouth to hide her shock and he observed how the sunlight formed a halo on top of her head. Am I dead? Is this heaven? “I’m so sorry, are you hurt?”

But each and every word from this girl was now muffled. There were ringing bells in his ear and white spots in his sight, and he swore that those few seconds felt like an eternity as he stared at this stranger who he’d just collided against. The lighting, the surroundings, all the composition perfectly placed so she could represent the new Birth of Venus, the delicacy of her skin with the strokes of a brush that would—

“Sir?” She questioned and he shook his head. How long had he been in his mind?

“Oh, sorry…” he turned around to gather the papers that fell from his bag and took the offering hand she held.

“No, no, it was my fault!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m running late and didn’t see where I was going.”

“I’m also late for something, must’ve been in my head ‘ya know?” He offered a gentle smile and she just nodded.

“Well… I gotta go” a shy smile formed on her lips as she hugged her own body. “Sorry again!”

He was a little sad to see you go. Something inside him urged for him to follow this stranger, tap her shoulder, wait for her to turn around and bless him with those enchanting eyes that stared into his, like foreign hands that were reaching for a grip on his soul.

But when life gets in the way, there’s not much you can do.

So he rushed his steps to cross the road and entered the huge building from the University of Fine Arts.

When you are young, your parents hover around you like flies, trying to catch a glimpse of what their offspring would be good at. Some people are born talented, some acquire talent, but everyone has something they can excel in their lives, and Jean’s has always been art.

From when he had chubby fingers and painted slobs on his feeding chairs with the colors left from fruits to crayons stamped on the walls, to which his mother finally realized that she would spend thousands on new paint if she didn’t give him something else to place his creativity at.

So for his 5th birthday, she gifted him with a humble but full art kit with non-toxic paint and a few brushes, and Jean took it as a challenge to finish his first sketchbook in a week. Let’s say his mother wasn’t pleased to buy another one.

It did pay off, though, because when he reached his teenage years he applied for a big academy with very low acceptance rates and got in. There he learned how to better his art and got to explore new materials and techniques, all too new and exciting for him, even though it was a little hard to balance that and high school, and his mother even considered making him take some time off when she found his bio notebook full of sketches from a girl that sat across from him — he couldn’t help himself, when he saw beauty, he had to draw it.

And with a mediocre GPA and very good scores on his art exams, he got into college with a scholarship. He was just that talented.

There wasn’t anything he couldn’t paint; landscapes, still life, portraits, self-portraits, abstract, charcoal, oil, acrylic, watercolor…

But then he looked up from his seat, everything set up in place as his professor stood on the other side of the room. He put his new canvas in place, observing the platform in the middle, wondering what the assignment of the day would be, ready for anything that was thrown in his way. He had his sharpened pencil in hand and leaned back on his stool, noticing a girl standing on the corner, talking to his professor, wearing a robe.

She turned over her shoulder, nodding as they talked, and he caught a glimpse of her face, suddenly, everything froze in place.

It was her, the girl from the street.

He felt a blush rush to his cheeks and his brain seemed to big to fit inside his head, body going cold in contrast to his whole face. The robe, oh no…

And she stepped on the platform, the words from his professor sounding muffled inside his mind as this girl took off the silky fabric, falling like a small waterfall on her shoulders as her naked body was revealed to everyone else.

There wasn’t anything Jean couldn’t paint, but suddenly, there was.

The professor stopped talking and he realized that it was time to start drawing the girl, this stranger he’d never seen before but already had a grip on his heart in ways he didn’t even comprehend himself. She stood still, one feet in front of the other as her shoulders were straight up, aligned with her back in what seemed to be a painful posture, but pretty to be in a canvas. He thanked God that she wasn’t facing him.

A sigh fell from his lips as he grabbed his sketchbook, opening on a clean page and raising his pencil to his eyes, trying to form shapes and figures, get any work done, even though his mind only wanted to focus on the beautiful sight that stood in front of him. From how her breasts stood, to where the lines of her muscles were marked under the skin, the moles and marks that her body carried, everything that made her, her.

He traced a line on his sketchbook, small strokes of graffiti on the textured page couldn’t describe the curves of her waist, how the fat was like a magnet to his fingertips, wildest thoughts running around his mind, wondering if it was soft to the touch, sweet to the taste and warm to the heart. He could draw shapes all day long, and none of them would transfer the angelical figure standing in front of him.

Just when he finally got to sketch the first part of his idea, his hazel eyes met those deep ones, soft watercolors painting his cheeks in redness as he tried to hide his face behind the canvas. His mind went abstract, almost traveling through art to cubism as his thoughts didn’t meet an end, and he tried his best to avoid her soft gaze, not knowing how a bunch of butterflies made a ball inside her stomach. Her pupils quickly looked away and it felt like there were only those two people present in the room, the whole class evaporated into thin air as the spread of orange tones from the sunset invaded the window, shadowing her every details, scars, beauty.

Jean was so in the moment he didn’t even notice how his professor stood from her desk and walked in front of the platform, offering the model her robe and letting them all know that the project would go on for two more days. He shook his head, sighing deeply a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. A quick look to the sketchbook on his lap and he also realized how screwed he was.

“You are a little behind” the voice of his professor came from behind his shoulder, startling him as he nodded slowly. “Is there anything wrong? This isn’t like you, Mr. Kirstein.”

“S-Sorry” he rubbed his neck awkwardly, raising his eyes to see the model gathering her things and heading to the door.

He had to hold every muscle of his to not act on their own and lead him to follow this stranger. His mind screamed for him to run after her, offer to pay for a coffee, talk shit, whatever, he just needed to know her.

“You also seem distracted” his professor kept going, anxiety grew inside his gut as the girl finally went out the door, and his chances were thrown out the window once more. “I should remind you that this assignment is 70% of your total grade, Mr. Kirstein.”

Jean looked up, eyes widening. He didn’t listen when she opened the class, so it was now a surprise for him to hear that. It was more than half of his grade and he only had a sketch of a torso and it was all out of proportion. He was fucked.

[…]

The next day Jean showed up to class early, his glasses on top of his nose and the soundtrack of Downtown Abbey playing on loop on his earbuds. He woke up so early he even had time to go for a walk, cook breakfast, grab an iced coffee and force his mind to find inspiration around. He spent the whole night working on sketches of the female body, finding no trouble at all as his graffiti lines ran smoothly across the surface of the thick paper, he even found time to play with coal, and made sure he was very much ready for the assignment.

But it all came crumbling down as the same model stepped on the platform, the silky white robe falling from her body and pooling around her feet, to which she kicked it off. His heart did the same dumb jumping around and failing his breaths, and suddenly, he forgot how to even draw a simple tree.

He didn’t know a single thing about this woman. Didn’t know her name, how old she was, what she enjoyed doing in her free time, how she liked her coffee or if she even liked coffee at all. It was childish and stupid of him to act so lost over a small crush, it didn’t make sense for him and nothing could wrap his mind around it.

And still, whenever he took a glance, he felt so drawn to her, to the point he started creating stories in his mind. How she got that small scar on her knee from falling from a tree when she was younger, how she applied a thin coat of nail polish on her toes before going to bed just to entertain herself, how she was always late to important things and waking up early wasn’t in her ideal plans.

He wanted to know her. He wanted her to become close enough so she wouldn’t be ‘her’ anymore, but ‘you’.

His hand slapped his forehead and he tapped his cheeks twice, attracting some attention over his station and he just looked at those curious eyes dismissingly, until his eyes met those same ones, and he could swear that the gaze accompanied a giggle.

That was inspiration enough for the evening.

A simple giggle, almost undetectable if it wasn’t for his eyes that were already fixated on hers. A small curve that adorned her luscious lips, nothing too exaggerated, he was sure no one else saw it, meaning it was only for him. Something of hers that he could call his too. Suddenly, this small curvature played part on his sketchbook, tracing around in fragments, drawing her whole torso, thighs, legs, all so it could form pure perfection.

It was funny how she was standing without a single piece of fabric to hide her body from the world, and Jean still felt like he hadn’t seen enough of her. She was on display, like a pretty decorated cake for people to feed on the idea of the sweet frosting, the foundation laying on top, fake pearls and flowers all over. And he only wanted a taste.

As soon as his inspiration begun, it put him into a state of trance so deep that he didn’t even notice when his glasses fell from his nose. His sketch was now done and he placed the idea in soft strokes of his pointy pencil on the canvas, applying a thin coat of white paint over to hold the other paints on top. The smell of acrylic, oil and gouache assaulted his nose and he felt a little dizzy. He made sure to make a mental note of bringing a mask the next day. He searched for his paint kit in his bag, but before he could grab it, his professor interrupted the class, signaling that it was over for the day, and he almost felt disappointed, knowing that that state of inspiration wasn’t a normal occurrence, however, he felt proud of himself.

Looking over his canvas, he nodded to himself and started to gather his stuff, taking his time and almost forgot to look for her, not seeing the stranger’s figure around, and a pang of disappointment reached his chest, but he wasn’t going to let anything ruin his productive day.

His professor looked at his sketchbook and gave him an approving nod, asking for him to close the door as she left the class.

Jean stood from the stool and threw his bag on his shoulder, glasses in their case as he headed to the door.

“Oh gosh, has everyone left already?” A sweet voice came from behind him, he turned around to see the model coming out of the private bathroom, now fully clothed and hair messily sitting on top of her head, as if she had changed in a rush.

He looked in almost a state of shock, hand on the doorknob as he looked around.

“Uhm… It seems like it” he said, eyes never leaving hers.

“At least you didn’t lock me in” she giggled and he just stared, too nervous to notice that she was joking around. “Sorry, I—”

He let out a small laugh and looked away from those captivating eyes, opening the door for her as she gave him a nod.

“You know any good coffee shops around here?” She turned around, asking as she grabbed the strap of her bag tighter.

Jean widened his eyes. So she likes coffee after all.

“There’s one across the street. I know the owner” he bit his lower lip as she tilted her head to the side.

“Do you wanna grab a coffee with me?”

And suddenly, ‘she’ became ‘you’.

He learned that you liked things simple; black coffee, a plain croissant, Caravaggio, Van Gogh, enjoyed 80’s songs and cheesy books. You had a normal life and were also a student, doing modeling gigs on the side to pay the rent. You’d been a nude model before and didn’t mind doing it. You told him funny stories and he listened to each and every one of them.

The next day, he came in with his heart full, he got a glimpse into your life, he got to learn your essence and now he felt more connected with his art than ever. You gave him a gentle smile as you stepped onto the platform and as soon as his professor gave the signal to start, Jean grabbed his palette and started working on mixing the paints, playing with the gentle strokes that made your body figure, tracing every shadow he captured in the light the days before, studying the whole room to find the contrast in between.

He added more white, added more black, made the soft colors become layers that texturized the canvas and gave it a depth that was unique to his style. He wanted you to be the highlight, he wanted everyone to see what he saw. He wanted everyone to fall in love with you — not that way, he felt kinda jealous — seeing what he was able to transcript into a mix of paint, oil and brushes. He felt like adding some shadows in forms of pointillism, much like Signac and Seurat. The optical illusion was pleasant to the eye.

Small beads of sweat started to form on the sides of his face and he dried them away with the sleeves of his white shirt, unbuttoning the first two buttons to have more space for breathing. All the concentration and work making his muscles tense. He didn’t even notice how you were glancing at him from the side, adoring the way his tongue poked out between his thin lips. He didn’t also notice when the professor threw daggers at you because you were too infatuated with the boy in front of you.

The clock marked now 6PM and the class was now over. Jean stared at his piece with shiny eyes, you can even say boyish, childish ones. It was a nice painting, he painted you in the center, light streaking from the window and creating a shiny halo through your whole body. It illuminated your form as he made you seem like an angel that blessed everyone with its presence. A few other students stopped to admire his job and congratulate him, making Jean feel like he has accomplished what he wanted; to capture your whole essence.

He stayed behind again, not because he needed to or anything, but because he wanted to spend time alone with you. He waited by the door when everyone left and you came from the private bathroom, hair messy again from putting your clothes back on and cellphone between your teeth as your hands searched for something inside your bag. You took a scarf from the inside and wrapped around your neck, eyes meeting his and a soft smile forming on top of your lips.

“Hey” you greeted him and he leaned more onto the wall, swearing he could melt into a puddle right then and there.

“Hey” he gave you a tight-lipped smile and fisted his hands into his pockets.

“Were you waiting for me?” You tightened your grip on the strap of your bag, a nervous habit he had noticed you had.

“Y-Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to go for a coffee…”

Your eyes lit up and your mouth was left parted. A second later you just nodded shyly.

Jean opened the door for you, but before you could pass through, you stopped, turning around instantly and fixating your gaze on him.

“Wait, I want to see your painting!” You said and he froze on his tracks.

“My… painting?” His hazel eyes widened and you gave him a firm nod.

“Yes! I saw how the other students were admiring it. I wanted to see it, too.”

It was her body there, after all. He did feel a little insecure, he wondered what your thoughts would be, if you would hate it, like it, love it, maybe throw it at him and make him rip it to shreds…

He sighed and walked to his finished product, covered by a thin piece of cloth to avoid dust falling over the semi-wet paint. You followed quietly as he gave you a side glance, just to find you waiting patiently with gentleness printed all over your face. He could feel his cheeks heating up once more.

“I hope you like it” he said as he uncovered it, waiting by your side as you took a step further, analyzing it carefully.

He watched nervously how you leaned forward, eyes tracing every shape, dot, color, trying to gather as much information as you could. He didn’t see it, but the shine that invaded your eyes was with pure adoration. You almost wanted to run your fingers on the texture and feel the layers of paint and noticing every stroke of his brush that marked the canvas and formed calculated shapes, all combining into the figure of your body.

You didn’t have a problem with your image — it was okay, but as you watched it from his point of view stamped on his project, it felt weird. It wasn’t something you saw on the mirror every day, but the combination of things around you and the way someone else would see you. You loved it. How he transcribed into art every detail of yours, your hair, skin, he made you look as if you were a porcelain doll, smooth and fragile, beautiful in a light no one else saw in yourself.

But he did. He saw you.

Mouth parted, you turned around, and he swore his heart dropped. Did you hate it? Oh god, was it that bad?

Your eyes teared up and you covered your mouth with your hands, looking in between him and the painting. “Is that how you see me?”

“W-What? Was it bad? Did I—” He started stuttering, his eyes avoiding yours and his chest barely containing his frenetic thumps.

“No!” You put your hands on his shoulders. “I love it! You made me look so… so pretty. How did you do it?!”

He frowned, confused. “I painted you exactly the way you are.”

“But I—I look so pretty” you turned away from his face, cheeks heating up quickly. “Holy fuck, Jean, I love it so, so, so much I could kiss you right now!”

He froze. His stomach flipped when you put your hands on his shoulders, but when you said it so nonchalantly, he almost felt like the butterflies were eating his insides. He not only felt the anxiety, but also the adrenaline that was now rushing inside his veins, running along his wild thoughts, and suddenly, his mouth acted before his brain could:

“You can do it” his eyes widened, not even him believing what came out of his own mouth.

But before he could even think, your lips landed on his, your fingers wrapping themselves in between his honey-glazed locks while he relaxed under your touch, hands falling to your hips and meeting with the naked skin from where your shirt was ridden up, quickly backing away, scared of being too disrespectful, but you grabbed his wrists and placed them back.

His arms wrapped around your figure, holding you tightly, afraid you might get away if he didn’t. Your lips were everything he had been dreaming of and the reality could be considered even better. He observed how soft they felt against his, how sweetly they slid between his own and how intense your touch burned on his skin. His hands sneaked under your shirt, feeling your back and fingertips tracing on your spine so delicately that you could feel every hair on your body standing.

You leaned back for a second, only to find his own eyes staring at you, the sight so blessed, the sunset painting half of his face while his mouth was parted and painted in your saliva. His hand went up, his knuckles caressing your cheek as you leaned into his touch, falling under his spell as he did the same.

He decided to do something riskier and started to graze his pointer finger along your plump lips, feeling the softness of the moist skin under his touch, only to trade places with his thumb, pressing a little until you leaned forward, letting it rest on your tongue as you did a slow movement around his digit, taking in every inch of his parted gaze on you. His heart stopped for a whole second, he could swear. You sucked on his finger and teased its tip with your tongue, not once breaking eye contact. All Jean could think was about your lips wrapped around other places, resting so pretty on his skin.

“Maybe you should close the door” you looked to his finger on your grip, slowly looking up to meet his reddened cheeks.

He just nodded and walked backwards, quickly closing and locking the door and placing his bag on top of a stool as you did the same, removing your coat.

Jean walked towards you again and watched as your hands invited him to their touch, and he raised your chin, burying his nose on your neck and taking in the scent of your perfume mixed with the scent of your skin, wanting to take notes on each and every detail of your body that he had watched for three whole days and only now was able to touch it. The feening, the craving, the wanting, he thought would stay inside his mind, the reality being an alternative space he never thought he would visit, not so soon, and now you were letting him in, wanting for him to feen over you, to crave you, to want you.

And he wanted. So bad.

His hands roamed to your head, giving the ones on your nape a little pull that incited a whine from your mouth. That only made him lose the last string of the thin thread that held his sanity that moment.

And he dived in, lips leaving marks on your neck as you moaned on the shell of his ear, letting him use your skin as a canvas to his mouth, painting it with passionate kisses, some open-mouthed, trying to take in as much as he could. He kissed until his mouth met your jaw and then he went back to your lips, missing the silkiness of them.

“Taste so good” he muttered against you. “Wanna’ taste more of you…”

Your eyes met his once more, finding the hazel mixing with a deep tone of lust and desire, both of which you wanted so bad. With your semi-open lids you nodded slowly, landing a quick peck on the corner of his mouth.

Jean took off his coat, hands going to your shirt as he removed the fabric to reveal the same skin he had been staring for far too long, but now under his touch. All his. Your hands shoot down your pants to unbutton them as quickly as you could as he placed a hand on the small of your back, leading you backwards until your lower body collided against the desk and he helped you sit on the surface, only making you jump to remove your pants, the traces of hazel never leaving you.

He kneeled and placed your legs on his shoulders, nose running along your thighs and taking soft gasps from you as your fingertips danced in between his dirty blonde strands, biting your lip teasingly. He ran his mouth across your skin, not daring to place them fully, wanting to savor your expressions, drinking you all in. One movement and his hot breath fanned on your covered cunt, making shivers run down your spine and you threw your head back.

Placing two fingers inside his mouth, he placed your panties to the side with the other hand, leading his now wet fingers to run a stripe along your entrance, teasing the outside walls as you kept on whining almost silently. He squeezed your thigh and made you dug the hell of your foot on his back, earning a dirty grin from him. Licking his own lips, he buried his face in your drooling pussy and placed a hot kiss on your clit.

You moaned. Loudly. And you felt a smirk form on his lips.

Leaning just a little back, he stared deep into your soul; the real devil waiting for you to sign his contract, sealing the deal with just the mark of your lips. Giving him another nod, he dove in, letting his tongue do the messy work around your bundle of nerves, playing with the little pearl hidden from the naked eye. While one of his hands held a firm grip on your thigh, the other one climbed up your abdomen and sneaked inside your bralette, squeezing the mounds and pinching your nipples. He did his job right, and got paid with the sweetest of moans that were now engraved in the back of his mind.

“Holy fuck, Jean… more” your voice echoed in the empty room, eyes never leaving his, since every time they roamed somewhere else, Jean pinched your nipple.

He wet his pointer and middle fingers in his mouth once more and teased around the entrance as you rode his face while holding to dear life on the edge of the old desk as he worked them inside you.

“Gonna—ah!—fuck… Imma’ cum!” you moaned from the new presence inside and he noticed how your chest was moving faster, breath now ragged and he suddenly stopped, leaning back and earning a frown from you.

His face glistened with your essence and his own saliva that trailed to his neck as he stuck his tongue out to collect what rested on his lips. Your cheeks felt heavy and hot on your face as you stared at him, a little disappointed he took away your climax.

“Sorry love, wan’you to cum on my cock” he said so simply as if it was just another regular for him and cleaned the remaining wetness with the back of his arm, now unbuttoning his white shirt.

You wanted to complain, at least say something, but as soon as the cotton slid off his shoulders, you found yourself speechless. His skin seemed so smooth, the light from the outside lamppost shone against his muscles, creating a contrast and building depth into the demigod in front of you. It was hard to believe that this man only studied art, he was art; every inch of his could be painted on the Sistine Chapel, be a sculpture made by Bernini himself, walking around in its human form. How was that fair?

His fingers hooked under your panties and he slid them off, following by your bralette and you lowered your hands to unbutton his tailored pants, he helped you by sliding them down, leaving him in only his boxers. Jean placed each of his hands on your sides on the desk, leaning down to place his lips softly against yours and you took them, you wanted to take all of him.

Your hands were dangerously wandering around the band of his boxers and he gasped against your lips when they reached his clothed cock, tracing along his print and quickly sneaking in to grab him from the base, giving it a slow tug, twisting your wrist as you did. Jean wasn’t shy to moan in your mouth, and you swallowed them all, wanting to hear more from the sonnet you had been wondering about for days.

It didn’t surprise you that he was thick, your hands traced along his dick only to find out that he was long, too, and the thought of him buried inside you only made more wetness pool under your thighs.

Raising a hand to your lips, you let spit fall on your palm as your eyes captured his and he slid his boxers down, kicking them to the side where the rest of his clothes were sitting. Your hand landed on his base once more and the movements felt easier from the drool enveloping his whole length. Jean couldn’t even keep kissing you anymore from how sensitive he felt under your touch, moans falling non-stopping from his rosy lips.

You found out you had a tight grip on him, figurative and literally.

But Jean didn’t want to wait more, his hands fell to your hips and a yelp escaped your mouth as he pulled you closer, his own hand substitute to yours, giving himself a few tugs before lining up to you and slowly burying himself in, swallowing each of your moans, gasps, whines now craved in his mind till the end of times.

Your hands found themselves tangling in his hair once more as he held onto dear life your thigh, squeezing it around his waist as his thrusts became consistent, filling you to the hitch and merging both moans in a form of a sacred song from above. Everything about your disheveled look made sense in his mind, how your hair stuck to your forehead and how your eyes were half-lidded and never left his, not even for a second, to how your thighs glued to his hips and the point where his body met yours, wanting to be as close as he could. You were art, he never had a doubt about it, but the way you looked right in that moment was a masterpiece. And he was the one who painted it.

You met his lips once more, the addictive taste of them leaving you dependent, the thought of not being able to kiss him scared you. You wanted everything he could offer you, you wanted and you would take it. His thrusts became harder and left you gasping against his mouth, each meeting a new mess of sloppiness with clashing teeth and tongues.

He went back to your neck, leaving marks that he could admire later and so could everyone else. Jean Kirstein’s works were made to be seen, and he wanted the world to know his lips had been there.

“Fffuck baby” his voice sounded muffled against your neck and he bit under your ear, enticing another moan from you. “Pussy feels so good, ‘wanna stay here forever.”

“I’m yours, Jean” your voice was weaker and weaker from each thrust of his hips. “Take me, however you want!”

His hips started to go harder and more erratic each move, you rolled your own against him, trying to reach the building feeling on your lower abdomen, tasting it on the tip of your tongue, it was right there, reaching for it, wanting so bad.

“You’re mine” he reminded you as your hand fell to his nape, holding his neck and leading your forehead against his while you both watched where your bodies met. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Yours” you moaned loudly. “Gonna cum, Jean.”

“Imma’ fill you up” he groaned, his thrusts so hard that you almost fell from the edge of the desk. “Gonna take it all, every last drop.”

Your response was a raspy moan that failed in your throat, he buried himself inside you to paint your walls in white, wanting to fill every inch of your walls, marking you as his and you took the closeness to rub your clit on his skin, trying to get your god-oh-so-wanted orgasm. The way his cock pumped you full made your head light and dizzy from the feeling, hotness warming your whole body and a sheer coat of sweat covering you both.

You two stayed in the embrace of each other, calming down both hearts together, feeling tired and hot from the whole act, not wanting to break contact. The closeness felt almost familiar, like it was meant to be, and the way both bodies held each other felt like a puzzle that fit perfectly.

After fully calming down, you two leaned back, your hands still in his hair and his never leaving your hips. Jean leaned in and placed a soft peck on your lips, trailing to your cheek and then your forehead, brushing the hairs away from the sweaty skin and you giggled as you did the same to his.

“You’re so beautiful” he let out accidentally, his thoughts falling from his mouth before he could even process his words. Red watercolors painting his cheeks.

“You too” you smiled at him and he laughed.

You placed your feet on the floor, ready to jump from the desk before he placed them back, legs open to reveal your stuffed pussy as cum dripped from it. His artwork.

“Didn’t think I was done, right, princess?”

#jean kirstein #jean smut #jean x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein smut #art student jean #shameless fucking

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bakuvantea · 3 years

Note

HEY BESTIE I HOPE YOUR HAVING AN AMAZING DAY

CAN I GET SOME GENERAL HEADCANONS WITH SUNG JIN-WOO WITH A FEMALE S/O

FEEL FREE TO IGNORE BUT REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF

>:)

general relationship headcanons of sung jin-woo with his beloved s/o

- warnings: none! just a tad bit of nsfw implications

- audience: I made this gender neutral, i do hope that’s okay!!

- a/n: hello >:) anonnn (may i call u that? lmao-) here’s your request love!! thank you for your kind words <33 stay heathy, stay hydrated, and always rest up okay? hope you have an amazing day ahead too!!

also idk who jacob is-

-•-

: pre-awakened jin-woo (before entering the carthenon temple)

> he was always cautious, he didn't want [you] to hear the whispers going around about how you could've chosen someone better, about how you could've loved someone that was not him. thus, he was very shy and timid, always on edge when he feels the piercing stares from his batchmates -most especially when you try to initiate physical contact with him in your school or in public, you'd see him uncomfortable and so you'd immediately stop (because you respect him, ily). behind closed doors though he would always go above and beyond in pleasing you and making you feel loved, although he always doubts himself so you always make sure to give him praises and assure him that he is the one you love (not that jerk jacob from the class next door).

> he always wears spare hair ties or hair pins around his wrists in case you forget or lose yours. in fact when its weekends -and when he's not out infiltrating dungeons and positively offering his life on a silver platter- he always tries to study new hairdos and hairstyles so he can have more variations and choices when he ties or pins your hair for you. he'd always kiss the top of your head after and you'd feel his smile as he nuzzles your hair, smelling your shampoo. since his hair is also long, you'd also return the favor and tie his hair for him. his favorite would have to be the classic apple look with a pointy lock of hair erect in the middle -he really looks like a shih tzu, adorable-

> he.blushes.so.easily !!! he is very weak to praises and your lil kisses that pepper his face. you can see him glow and you even see his smile evidently becoming wider despite him shying away from you, looking downwards to avoid your loving gaze.

> he may be sht but he is also very playful towards you, teasing you and throwing pillows at you when you’re in his room, what a baby.

> often during dates he'd always need to leave early because he really needs to earn money and g to the dungeons. although you try to offer him some of your savings or your help during the dungeon raids, he'd always reject your offer, thinking of how it may burden you or the dungeon raids may possibly hurt you. you don't listen to him though, you give some of your savings to his sister when you cross paths in your school, and you'd always register after him in raids or call up someone you know to have you join in.

"(name) why are you here?!"

"angel face, i can handle myself just fine. it's my choice to help you and whether you like it or not, i've also been called for this raid. come love, we're going in."

> you'd always take his blue hoodie and wear it. he gets so shy when you smell it.

he gets frantic when you take his hoodie and start sniffing it, exclaiming; "stop! i smell weird."

you raise an eyebrow at him, "woo, you smell fine. i like it."

he tries to stutter a remark but was silenced by your smile.

> you always try to visit his mother with him and his sister, jinah. you always talk to their mother out loud and you'd see jinah smile gently at you and jin-woo trying to stop sniffles from escaping his lips by biting them and covering his face with his hoodie.

jinah: u simp

jin-woo: shut it

> he loved cuddles! but he really likes kissing your cheeks. he loves how soft they are and he loves feeling your cheeks move when you smile or laugh at his cute antics.

> he loves you so so dear

: post-awakened jin-woo (after the events of the carthenon temple)

> oh, dear it's the monarch-

> you weren't with him when he raided the "d-rank" dungeon that then turned out to be,, well pretty much a bloodbath, so you were very worried when you heard word of the news. you and jinah basically ran to the hospital and when you caught sight of him you almost fell down from relief and pure shock in seeing the state he's in. well, not long after though suddenly he's all buff and you were really trying to make sense of what's happening.

you: hello there good sir, what in the name of fck are you doing in my boyfriend’s room all sweaty and half-naked😀

jin-woo: (name) it’s me

you: haha yes, sir ‘it’s me’ that’s a pretty weird name but i don't judge, anyways my baby boy is not here uhm haha please get out of my boyfriend’s room

jin-woo: (name) it’s really me!

you: no sir, my woo radiates baby energy, you on the other hand radiates big dilf energy, haha i do not like what i am sensing so please for the life of me leave-

(jinah had to convince you that it is indeed jin-woo, you had her stop you from trying to hold his tiddies)

> you were very happy in seeing how confident he’s become, and you were even more proud with how he still says so humble despite his new accomplishments and title.

> it was obvious that he has become distant with others and have set a boundary between him and other hunters, you accept that part of him though since you know just how much he has gone through. he may act aloof towards others but he’s still very playful and comfortable with you.

> you have also noticed another thing though, he has become a bit possessive or much protective over you and jinah. he’d always have you bring a shadow with you to guard you when he can’t be with you. also, when someone stares at you for far too long, he’d step in and go, “hey there pal” and oh gosh was that enough to get the guy running (pretty damn hot)

> you still visit his mom with him, he doesn’t cry now though.

> when he trains, you’d insist on lying down below him when he does push-ups. you’d kiss him every time he swoops down and you’d hear him laugh which then makes you giggle as you hold his cheeks between your hands

> jinah is sick of the two you, always screaming about how on earth did her brother get an s/o before her, the audacity!

> his shadows adore you, of they’d always try to impress you or get head pats when you tell jin-woo to summon them for you. you live them to bits and always thanks them for a job well done in helping jin-woo with his raids. on the first time you accompanied him for a raid -you had to bribe him with more cuddles- and you were shocked with how his sweet adorable shadows turned a full 180, becoming ruthless towards the enemies. quite a show you’d say. after though, they’re back to flocking over you, even dismissing jin-woo lmao

jin-woo, watching you give each shadows head pats: i hate it here

you: get in line then

> it may be due to his newly acquired talents and his current mental and physical prowess but he has become more perceptive towards you. he can always read you and know just what your mood is and he always tries to make you feel better by giving his whole attention to you.

> of but of course, since dear jin-woo has become quite the looker, you also notice how girls flock over to him. and especially miss hae-in (she’s very sweet yes, but hey that’s your man so like—). the moment you discovered that she left her guild to join jin-woo’s, and then confessed (well basically she did) to your man, well you were upset but really who could blame her? instead of taking your frustrations out on her and your boyfriend, you decided to just talk it out with jin-woo and ask him about how it went. the two of you cleared it out and you got kisses and maybe even more after that ;))

> you and jin-ho are menaces to society when you are together, he hates how endearing and annoying you two can be. i mean, does he really hate it? nope, he absolutely loves seeing you two interact, although his head always throbs when you two start screaming to britney, gaga, and doja.

> a tease, he has become the master of being a tease, you hate it and love it at the same time. he’d trail kisses down your neck to your thighs and leave some marks then he’d suddenly walk away while asking you what take-out you want. rude, that’s what he is. ofc he always finished what he starts tho oop-

> he always randomly bites you now, you don’t know why but it’s really cute when he starts nibbling so you let him be.

> so extra when he tells you that he loves you. he professes it in such weird but adorable ways. one time he had printed out ‘i love you so much’ on a big-ass tarpaulin and had his shadows hold it for him while he’s kneeling down smoldering at you. you hate him so much (you don’t-). or that one time he bought a bouquet basket and had a ring tied to one of the flowers, you had to take the bouquet apart since the damn ring fell to the very bottom.

> sometimes when he gets back to the agency after his dungeon raids you and jin-ho would see him all grumpy and you immediately know that either he wasn’t able to make the enemy his soldier or his coat got ruined.

jin-woo: *sad noises*

jin-ho: that’s okay, you can kill and slaughter the others and take their souls next time

you: jin-ho couldn’t you have worded that better-

over-all, he’s the bestest boyfriend, such a sweet and handsome pretty boy much strong and reliable we love him<333

-•-

- a/n: i can add more to this if you’d like!! just hit me up again lmao it’s too long now so-

#sung jin woo x reader #sung jin woo #solo leveling #solo leveling x reader #manhwa #jin woo #jinwoo #sung jinwoo #winamikobabbles #sung jinwoo x reader

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dat-bruv-person · 3 years

Note

How would Bakugou having his male crush come out as gay, and he thinks that he may have a shot at asking reader out? Sorry I wasted your time, my gay heart needs comfort 😔

Gay + Gay = Even More Gay - Bakusquad August Event!

Bakusquad August Masterlist

Pairing: Bakugou x Male!Reader

Genre: fluff

a/n: My heart lies with all the males who read my blog! There aren't a lot of male y/ns in the fanfiction world so I strive to make my content easier to read as a male or non-binary person, or as any gender really! Plus, I think gay people are cool! Yep, you heard me! @fanficfroggie, and any more gay tumblrs please correct me if there are things I should include because gay people deserve the world! (Apart from me I feel, because am I really classified as gay if I'm pansexual???) Anyway, I hope this soothes your gay heart!

Katsuki Bakugou is gay. There’s no sugarcoating it, and he doesn’t sugar coat it. He’s known for quite a while now, but unfortunately, no one has caught his eye. No one except for...

Him.

Him being (Y/n) (L/n). The supposed Class-1A heart throb. The strongest person in the class. He was that one person who looked like he got tons of love letters every day from tons of girls who just so happened to be in and around U.A. He was that one person who could flash anyone a smile and they’d drop to their knees, heart exploding in their chest. His quirk was flashy and powerful, in fact, he was the only guy even Endeavor, the number two hero, would let his son be around; even the cold-hearted Shouto Todoroki liked him. The second heart throb of the class, equipped with a powerful quirk and was totally loaded. But he was also Bakugou’s enemy.

Why did that stupid Icy-Hot have to be his friend? At the start of U.A, Bakugou was only focused on being the number one hero, the best, to crush Deku and any other rivals that crossed his path - Todoroki was one of those rivals. He didn’t care whether people fawned over him because of his looks, but then again complained to their friends about how he wasn’t here to make friends. And, to be fair, you were one of those rivals at first. He hated your attitude. How you were so powerful yet so kind to everyone. He hated how he had to watch Todoroki out of the corner of his eye ask what your quirk was and why you were so powerful. He hated the fact that you gave him well thought out answers and humbly accepted his offer to be his friend, because apparently you were the only one good enough to be associated with him out of the rest of the class. How you and him would make an unstoppable team. He hated Icy-Hot.

Mina would brag on about how you were so handsome, your face was like the sun, dangerously hot to look at but, at the same time, hard to look away from. Now, he was no poet, but that statement was true. The sun could blind you if you looked too long, the same way (Y/n) could probably make you fall for him if you looked too long. And, well, Bakugou looked too long. And now he had to suffer the consequences.

As the year progressed, Bakugou found himself falling deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of love. It wasn’t until today that he found himself becoming self aware of whether he was fit to be your boyfriend or not.

“S-so? Will you go out with me (L/n)-kun?” It wasn’t until he heard those words he found himself dashing around the corner to see what was going on. To see a girl from one of the Gen-Ed classes confessing to him. And it took was for (L/n)’s lips to form a smile on his handsome face for Bakugou to walk away, head down, eyes glossy, vision blurry and tears threatening to spill down his grief-stricken face.

Strong arms grabbed the blonde’s waist and pulled him into a tight hug, and a head was placed upon his own. Katsuki gasped in surprise.

“It’s just me blasty, whats wrong?” (L/n) asked and wiped a tear from Bakugou’s cheek. He kissed the wet area and nuzzled his head into the crook of Kaachan’s neck. “You really thought I was gonna accept her confession?” Bakugou shook his head frantically and grunted a yes underneath his breath. His love interest chuckled.

“Tough luck, I’m gay.” he said nonchalantly.

“So am I.” The two boys looked at each other.

“Better get going to class, eh babe?”

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu

Context: original post, chrono

(Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka) and have been officially adopted by Anakin.)

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

“You’re attached.”

“You’re just now noticing?”

Master Windu eyes him for a few long moments, and then joins him on the ground. Anakin can’t help but smirk. There’s something gratifying about having respect from the man, in this life.

“The other members of the council are concerned.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I am, but for other reasons,” Windu says.

Anakin doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t even respond for a long minute. He just looks out over the Room of a Thousand Fountains, spread out below them like hundreds of jungles pieced together in a jigsaw of flora. It’s been his favorite room in the Temple since he was a child, and it’s always overwhelming.

“Most of them have accepted that you adopted them because of Mandalorian customs, and that you stayed where you were due to the will of the Force,” Windu continues. “But they are… uncomfortable with how blatantly your attachments show.”

“Mandalorians are loud and refuse shame. It rubbed off.”

“You said you would kill for these children.”

“I’m their father. That’s kind of expected.”

Windu’s expression is tired. A little tired of stress, but mostly tired of Anakin’s shit. “You know what I’m trying to get at.”

“Do I?”

“Skywalker.”

“No, I’m serious. I need you to spell this out. I’ve had a million slightly-contradicting lectures on this topic, and I’ve been told pretty clearly that I misinterpreted a solid half of them. If you want a constructive conversation, you can’t be vague. I’m thirty-three years old and a father of two, Master Windu, so yes, I’m attached. What you mean by that word is going to change where this conversation goes.”

It’s gratifying to see the Master actually think it over.

“Ylliben’s tattoos have been causing the most recent stir,” Windu finally says. “They nearly all relate to family, whether new or old, and the symbolism is concerning to those who are already upset about the Mandalorian upbringing. They worry that he’ll remain too tied to people he grew up with, and unable to maintain neutrality in future diplomatic ventures, or at risk of a fall if one of the people he’s seen fit to memorialize is injured or killed. The assume a similar state of mind may be applicable to your daughter and yourself, especially given the off-color jokes about how possessive your children are about each other.”

“They’re worried about emotional immaturity,” Anakin summarizes. He offers a wan, unimpressed grin. “They do realize he’s fourteen, right? Nobody’s emotionally stable at fourteen. The hormones are out of whack.”

“I’m aware,” Windu grinds out. “And I’m aware that your histories, of war and all such things, make your ties much stronger, but you can see why the Council worries, especially those who are wary of the memories your children carry but won’t explain. I’m the only one you’ve told, Skywalker.”

“Plo and Depa know.”

“Plo and Depa aren’t on the council.”

“Yet.”

“Skywalker.”

He relents. “It’s not about Mandalore, Master Windu. It’s about Tatooine.”

Windu lets that sit for a few moments, and then sighs. “I don’t know enough about Tatooine to parse that.”

“Shmi and I are former slaves,” Anakin says, as bluntly as he can. “I was freed at nine, she at eleven, and for all that we are free, we’re not freeborn. We were born slaves, and raised slaves, and we were freed too late to forget that life. The way we think is always going to be affected by the way we grew up. That applies to all sentients, more or less, but it’s… the slave mentality is completely at odds with Jedi teachings, because Jedi teachings can only be taught in a safe environment.”

Windu nods slowly, and says, “That does make sense, but it’s… forgive me, but that’s why we don’t normally take children older than four.”

“From the perspective of teaching cultural values, that makes sense,” Anakin allows. “Teaching a Jedi child that’s cared for with communal resources that they do not need material things to be happy is fine; trying to convince a slave child of the same, someone who grew up being told they do not deserve material things, and that their owner can take anything at any time, including family? I lived that life, trying to adjust to ascetic Jedi values that coincided poorly with slave rules. I know exactly how poorly that transition can go when the person caring for the child doesn’t know how to handle the points of conflict.”

“Do you regret joining the Jedi?” Windu asks.

Anakin shakes his head. “My Jedi master, bless him, cared, and tried very hard, but he wasn’t ready to handle a kid like me and in hindsight, I know that. He needed grief counseling, and I needed therapy, and neither of us was getting it. I don’t… I don’t believe anyone in the Temple would have known how to handle a kid like me.”

“But you don’t regret it.”

“I was meant to be a Jedi,” Anakin says, as firmly as he can without getting unnecessarily bitchy about it. “My struggles with the Code aside, I was meant to be here. But the Temple doesn’t have any resources for children who come older, and I think… I think you do need that.”

“You just outlined why a child can’t follow the Code if they come from a different enough background,” Windu says.

Anakin shakes his head. “No, that’s not—I think a kid like me can learn to be a Jedi, if a little unconventional, if they’re taught correctly. The desperation to cling to anyone and anything you have can be unlearned. It takes time and effort, but it’s possible. Soka and Ben are good at balancing Tatooine care with Jedi control. If you talk to Ben, you get an entire philosophical breakdown about it, but I’m more concerned with the child psychology, because that’s what could have broken me.”

Windu frowns. “You’re building up to something.”

“I think the Jedi need programs for children found older who can’t become full Jedi,” Anakin asserts. “Even those who cannot reconcile what they absorbed growing up with the Code and Jedi tradition… they, we, need guidance. The Council tried to reject me for being too old, and now that I’m grown I understand why, but… Master Windu, what do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t had my Master to fight for me, and had been turned away?”

“We’d have looked into placing you back with your mother and, upon finding out that she was still enslaved, secured her freedom,” Master Windu says. “Qui-Gon Jinn had taken responsibility for you, and thus you were a ward of the Temple until such a time as you were safe again. It would have been cruel to keep you from your mother if we were not to raise you a Jedi, and crueler still to allow you to return to slavery.”

“And you think I’d have been safe with her?” Anakin asks. He needs Master Windu to understand this. “You think that would have ended well?”

“You don’t?”

“Ventress,” Anakin says. “Maul. Aurra Sing, even.”

Windu considers that. He looks across the grand, green room of the garden, and finally speaks. “You think you’d have been found and corrupted by a Sith.”

“I’d already helped Naboo win a battle. I was a powerful child with no support system in this respect, eager to please,” Anakin says. “Ventress and Maul both got twisted into Sith Apprentices. Aurra Sing was just a bounty hunter, but… even if the Jedi had never found me, and the Sith remained unaware, do you think I’d have ended up better than Sing? Or would the pressures of slavery have led to my Fall anyway, eventually slaughtering my owner, the Hutts, the entire system of Tatooine’s hells?”

Windu rubs a hand over his forehead. “I understand what you’re getting at.”

“It’s not just me,” Anakin says, as carefully as he can. “Even without the Sith, there are plenty of Force-Sensitive children in terrible situations that are liable to Fall just because of how power is wielded by those at the bottom. Refusing to take on students who are already at risk… the Jedi are meant to monitor Force users to prevent Sith and other dark-aligned people from harming the galaxy. It’s one of our primary duties. If the Jedi are allowing darksiders to rise just because of an age limit…”

“I get it,” Windu says, just a little aggressive. “I understand. Give me a minute.”

Anakin tries to wait. He’s older now, he can do that. He can be patient.

He tries to convince himself that it’s true.

“You have a point,” Master Windu finally allows. “And with the knowledge that the Sith are out there, still, it’s a more salient point than most would think. The EduCorps already has a subdivision for teaching meditative techniques to low-level force users who need to learn shielding but aren’t sensitive enough to be Jedi, or are just too old, but I see your point about encouraging a program for powerful Force-Sensitives that aren’t discovered early enough to integrate into the community in full.”

“And a more comprehensive Search pattern for the Outer Rim?” Anakin suggests. He shrugs at the look he gets. “What? You’ve seen my midicount. I was on Tatooine for almost a decade, and the only reason anyone found me was that Qui-Gon had to crash a ship in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure the Force led him to me, given all the coincidences, but that’s still a solid nine years that nobody did, despite how I apparently ‘shine like the sun’ or whatever.”

“Humble.”

“The last time I took a midichlorian test on a portable counter, it literally broke the device. That’s not arrogance, that’s just absurd.”

Windu looks exhausted by the comment. Anakin can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it.

“What about Jedha?” Anakin suggests instead. “Jedi find the kids, but if they’re too old to be Jedi, we could coordinate with one of the temples at Jedha to see about having them raised in the traditions of the Whills? They’re a little less orthodox, aren’t they?”

“In some respects,” Master Windu says. “More constrained in others, but… it’s a possibility. Most of the overlooked children, yourself included, are from parts of the Outer Rim that aren’t part of the Republic, Skywalker.”

Anakin shrugs. “And many of them would have been happy to be found and collected by a Jedi, even if they couldn’t become Jedi. Not the Dathomiri, since they’ve got their own thing going on, but… from what I know about Ventress, she actually did have a Jedi Master before the situation on Rattatak became… what’s the word… untenable? He died and she was left alone, and she’d been a slave already and it just… did not end well for her. But that was a planet overrun by pirates and warlords, and would have been approved as a planet the Jedi could help without it being a weird colonialism thing… if the Senate weren’t made up of cheapskates, at least.”

“Skywalker.”

“My name isn’t actually a reprimand, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to just say that,” Windu groans, running a hand over his face. “The Senate’s choice in funding is not optimal, but insulting them in that way, even in private—”

“They’re assholes,” Anakin says, and doesn’t let his humor show. “Except my late wife, but she’s not part of the Senate in this time, so I feel no shame in accusing the entire shitshow of being cheapskates.”

Windu looks about ready to push him off the ledge.

“You’re never allowed to go on diplomatic missions, are you?” Windu mutters.

“Unless it’s to Mandalore,” Anakin clarifies. “Also, never send me to Tatooine. Ever. Please. I kriffing hate that planet.”

“I’m going to assume you have plans to kill a Hutt if we ever send you to—”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Windu sighs. “I’ll discuss this with the Council, see how they feel about reaching out to Jedha for your suggestion regarding the Whills.”

“And you’ll tell them not to worry about my kids?”

“Skywalker, they are never going to stop worrying about your family,” Windu tells him.

“That’s fair.”

#Anakin Skywalker #Mace Windu #Obi Wan Kenobi #time travel #de aging #Jedha #Jedi #Phoenix Posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies

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lokiskitten · 3 years

Text

Request for @brat-blog-2 !!

Loki Laufeyson | dark obsession

Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

plot : after Loki takes over Asgard and becomes king, he is now finally able to tear you away from his brother’s grip, before deciding to make you pay for it.

warnings : cursing, degrading, physical abuse, mental abuse, biting, none/co, smut, unprotected sex, physical manipulation, lack of after care.

PLEASE, this imagine contains NONE/CO. Do not read it if it’s a subject that you’re uninterested/sensitive with. All irrelevant comments will be deleted. Now, to all the people that are willing to read, enjoy! :D

Groans exit your lips as you were forcefully dragged all the way up to Odin’s throne, which had now unfortunately become Loki’s- and that against everyone’s will. Most of the Asgardians had decided to submit to their new savior, however you decided not to take part in this petty move and remain faithful to the people you believe deserved it, such as Thor or Odin. Unfortunately, this attitude easily led you to get in trouble with the king and his surroundings, remaining unaware that Loki had been obsessing over you for a while now which allowed you to avoid great moments of anxiety. But now, you had just gotten caught, and escaping felt absolutely impossible.

The guards’ grip tightened around your fragile arms as they forced you on your knees before Loki’s sat silhouette, wishing to avoid accidentally letting you go which would’ve risked to annoy their king. The raven haired man’s green eyes looked down at you, smirk appearing onto his devilish lips as you progressively started to feel more and more uncomfortable about his intense stare. Thankfully, hatred managed to drag you out of this shame hole, giving you strength to stand up face to this man who claimed to be your king though he truly was nowhere near reaching this rank. “Ah, at last. You almost made me wait.” He spoke, raspy voice echoing through the large room. And as you continued to physically and mentally struggle, Loki carried on talking.

“You gave me a really hard time, in fact.” He explained, causing you to cringe as you truly did not look forward to discovering the double meaning hiding behind this creepy sentence. Getting up from where he had been sitting, the man accepted to remove his horns before taking a couple of steps down the luxurious throne which once belonged to his adoptive father. Watching him near you stroke another shockwave of hatred through your body, head looking up as you were no longer fighting the guards grip- or at least not physically. “Tell me... Why keep fighting it? All you have to do is give in. Forget about the past, and become my queen.” He purred, though you felt nowhere near softened by his devilish words.

“You are not king.” The words escaped your lips like the purest yet sneakiest venom. Hearing this sentence, Loki groaned and turned around in order to refrain from allowing his anger to take over his calm yet frustrated mindset. “I’m a better king than you’ve ever known.” Loki spoke lowly, hand forming a fist in anticipation of your next, surely offensive, answer. “You are nothing compared to your brother!” You dared to affirm, head dangerously moving closer to his silhouette through the words’ hatred. This sentence crossed a line which probably should’ve been kept intact, easily leading Loki to unleash his anger out on your left cheek. The back of his hand collided with your face as he turned around in a fast manner, your head and upper body propelled backwards due to the imminent shock you had just received.

A small wince escape your lips, Loki’s silhouette now hovering above yours as the guards took a step back in order to leave some space for their king to outburst. “I am ten times the king he will ever be, you little quim! And you’re just a fool for believing otherwise.” Progressively, his tone lowered, entire being calming down as his hand travelled to your bruised cheek. “I could show you a good time... and that only if you agree to give in.” The young man proposed, though the physical contact was soon broken by your strong attitude. Shaking your head in an attempt to make his hand back away from your face, a sigh escaping Loki’s lips as he seemingly agreed to take a step back and watch your pathetic self struggle helplessly.

“Alright. Have it your own way then.” He affirmed, green eyes drifting up to his guards, a move which was accompanied by a simple nod of his head. Instantly, your arms were trapped by their palms, body dragged away towards god knew where whilst Loki frustratedly made his way back to the throne. Screams exited your lips as you had completely gave up on any form of dignity, though it wasn’t as if Loki hadn’t proceeded to completely steal it from you barely a couple of seconds ago.

[...]

After spending the rest of your day locked away in the dungeons, body sitting down against the wall whilst trying to contain it’s need of food and water, an unexpected visit occurred. Before you could even tell, Loki turned out to be standing before your quivering frame, refraining from making physical contact with you as he simply waited for the moment where you would finally notice his presence. Barely looking up, you decided to offer him no form of attention as you knew that it was something that made his blood boil. “It would be foolish to ignore my presence.” Loki explained, kneeling before your folded self. Your face looked away, jaw clenching in an upset and painful manner.

Seeing how you seemingly weren’t willing to properly cooperate, the demigod rose from the floor and made his way towards your bed which had graciously been gifted by the dungeons services. He sat down, legs remaining spread as his bulge pressed against the elastic fabric of his suit. Finally agreeing to look up, a blush spread over your cheeks when you made eye contact with the man who was now your king. Gasping uncomfortably, your hands immediately decided to push down the fabric of your dress in order to hide the leftovers of flesh which weren’t covered by the thin piece of fabric. Even with the attitude your carried, your instincts forced you to go humble face to the threat of male gaze.

“If I may, I think you look alluring alluring.” Loki confessed, green eyes moving up from your body to your face. It didn’t take long for you to understand the man’s intention- like a doe being preyed by a dangerous cheetah in the mountains. Noticing that the door had been left unlocked since the king remained in your cell, you decided to attempt the impossible by getting up to your feet and rushing towards the exit. Unfortunately, and quite unexpectedly, Loki’s silhouette summoned before you could reach the see through wall, stopping you in your track. Thankfully, this vision was nothing but a clone yet which still successfully managed to make you back away in fear as your eyes stared straight into his smirking features.

Your feet bumped against the edge of the bed, making you fall back as the real Loki got up right in time to avoid your silhouette. The demigod joined his clone with a chuckle, both of them looking down at you in amusement as your troubled mind couldn’t manage to figure out who the real Loki was. The only object which turned out to be in your reach was a book, and your hand didn’t waste any time before taking a firm hold of it in order to throw it at your abuser. Unfortunately, you couldn’t seem to tell which one of them was real- and seeing how you had one chance out of two to miss, your brain took a decision rather quickly... but unfortunately, it didn’t turn out to be efficient. The book passed straight through the projected figure of Loki, landing onto the floor shortly before the clone faded away from your sight.

A disappointed sigh escaped Loki’s lips as your eyes stared at his face in fear. “That was audacious. It’s a shame that your instincts decided to lead you towards the wrong path.” The king affirmed before taking ahold of your ankles, easily managing to get on top of your fragile self. You squirmed, head tilting back as you wrists were now trapped by his strong hold. “Can’t you see that I want you. I need you, my dear.” Loki confessed roughly, face buried against your neck as he kept on kissing and licking your warm flesh. You exhaled loudly, refraining from moaning as this unwanted gesture would’ve only encouraged the madman through his acts.

Soon enough, your mind and body both agreed that it was time for you to stop fighting it, arms helplessly laying beside your head as the demigod continued to do whatever he wished of your body. Thankfully, emptying the rest of the cells had been one of the first things that Loki did shortly after becoming king- which offered you both complete privacy. His hand roamed your clothed waist, the other one taking a rough hold of your breast he’s seemingly been wishing to touch for a long time now. You could feel his teeth biting at your jawline, probably creating bruises which you wouldn’t get to see until the moment you’d be free from his grip and facing your own reflection in the mirror.

Almost carefully, Loki sat you up before pulling your dress over your body, naked silhouette now exposed to his sight as you had never felt more vulnerable in your whole entire life. Soon enough, he decided that it was your turn to return the gesture, limbs falling back besides his own body as a smile appeared on his face. “Undress me.” Loki demanded calmly, green orbs looking at your scared self as he admired the way you still found the strength to fight the situation. Carefully, his hand traveled up to your chest, index and middle finger pressing against your sternum as his facial expressions were now stern. “Undress me.” Loki repeated, green mist swirling around his fingers and magically penetrating through your skin.

Nearly instantly, your brain was intoxicated with the painful grip which was Loki’s magic. Forced to obey, your hands moved up to his shoulders as you started to remove his first layers of clothing. Surprisingly enough, and as difficult to figure out as his suit could be, you managed to remove the layers of clothes as if you’ve been doing this for your entire life. Though, even if you obeyed his orders and successfully managed to undress the demigod, your soul remained empty from any forms of emotions- which was soon to become a dislike for the unamused god of mischief.

The man now sat shirtless face to your naked self, magic exiting your body as he forcefully laid you back down against the rough sheets. It felt as if you had just awoken from a dream, eyes blinking curiously as you barely managed to understand what was going on around yourself nor properly get back into reality. All you could feel were Loki’s hand on you as his clothed crotch pressed against your bare one, happy grunts and hungry moans escaping his lips as he let his lust out on the skin of your neck. His boner was undeniable, and your scent penetrating through his nostrils only managed to make it swell even harder as it prepared for the upcoming penetration.

On another hand, you turned out to have a hard time getting any wet, as the thought of having to submit to his demands made you feel sick in your stomach. However, nature was soon to take over as the feeling of his crotch against yours uncontrollably caused your genitals to throb and moisten- preparing for intercourse just like Loki’s. His head moved down to your chest, lips easily wrapping around your nipple which he religiously suckled on. Your eyelids shut close in order to avoid paying too much attention to the multiple sensations going through your body at the moment, though it was becoming harder and harder seeing how Loki truly didn’t help.

Climbing back to your face, both of your crotches aligned again as his hand moved down in order to lazily pull his own pants down, and that just enough for his member to be set free. A wince escaped his lips due to the friction the movement managed to create for his cock to enjoy, warm tip colliding with your clit as Loki took a couple of seconds to blindly align his length with your slightly moist entrance. His lips pressed against yours as his warm member slid inside of your core, a loud yet deep and creepy moan escaping his lips as his bare stomach collided with your skin.

Never once you believed ending up having to submit to such an act in your life, and yet here you were : laying down in the arms of a man you were meant to despise. However, the intercourse technically remained none consensual. As soon as he had reached balls deep, the demigod took a couple of seconds to catch his breath as this first sexual contact was visibly sending him head over heels. At least, one of you was having fun. You adjusted the position of your legs against the bed, leading Loki to do same as you could feel his stomach bulge every time he breathed in. “Fuck, my darling... you know how to make your king happy.” The man praised with a grin before starting to thrust in and out of your entrance.

A gentle hiss exited your closed mouth as Loki allowed multiple winces to escape his parted lips, his head tilting back in pleasure whilst your breasts bounced generously every time his balls collided with your ass. Once in a while, you noticed that the god of mischief would stop and enjoy some cosy time inside of your warm and soaked self as he caught his breath, hand always pressed against your cheek as he either kissed you or stared right into your eyes. Then, he would begin to thrust again and allow more frustrated groans to escape his lips as his body took care of slowly building up it’s owner’s climax.

His mouvements were soon to become sloppier, betraying the undeniable fact that your partner was soon going to release his semen against your cervix. Of course, from where you patiently laid, you couldn’t help but apprehend this moment as your worst fear was for him to cum inside of you and cause a pregnancy you did not want to occur. Finally, a moan escaped the man’s lips as he paused inside of you, the lower part of his shaft moving in waves as his scrotum throbbed and twitched. Your greatest fear had just come to reality as you could sense the thick and warm liquid stain your walls, grin appearing on Loki’s seemingly satisfied face.

“Oh my lord.. that felt so nice. I’m afraid I couldn’t thank you enough.” He confessed whilst looking down at you, shortly after managing to wash away his orgasm. Pulling out of you and causing a sudden emptiness to take over your stretched pussy, a couple of more droplets of white semen leaked out of his tip which he made sure to wipe off against your sensitive clit. Your jaw clenched as you tried your best to remain calm though your heart was rushing due to your ovaries receiving the needed ingredient to produce a living being. “I can’t wait for you to give birth to my heir.” He affirmed, sat down on the edge of the bed as he lazily pulled his pants back up.

This sentence was enough to pull you out of your daytime nightmares only to dip you into a worse one, eyes filled with fear and hatred staring up at him in a determined manner. A dark chuckle escaped Loki’s lips as he seemed to appreciate your reaction, feeling amused by behaving as if he didn’t know that was something you wouldn’t enjoy. Mental torture was in fact his favorite. “But don’t you worry my darling, I will make sure to find time through my many duties in order to visit you often.” The demigod added, confirming the fact that you probably wouldn’t get to leave this cell until your pregnancy was led to term.

Sorry for being so inactive! Here’s an imagine I hope y’all can enjoy. Unfortunately, I think I’ve been shadowbanned. ( @delightfulheartdream )

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #marvel #marvel imagine #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston fluff #Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston smut

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt~ hoping you'll like it ♥️

Things between the Nie brothers are not always nice and happy, they fight, just like any other pair of brothers, and sometimes things are said, sometimes these things are heavy and painful. Sometimes they're said in the wrong moment (maybe at the eve of a battle? Sunshot campaign?) and huaisang doesn't know what to do with the broken look his brother gives him before leaving the unclean realm. Because what if he doesn't return? What if the last thing he said to him was how much he hated the man he became?

Labyrinth - ao3

“But I didn’t mean to wish him away!” Nie Huaisang cried out.

“That’s really too bad,” the goblin king said, looking pleasant and humble and charming the way he always did, even in his cape of glittering gold and high-browed hat. “I wish there was something I could do for you, but the rules are the rules. You wished him away, and I took him.”

“Aren’t you supposed to only take babies?” Nie Huaisang demanded.

“Your brother’s enough of a crybaby to count, it’s close enough.”

“It is not!” Nie Huaisang wrung his hands. “You don’t understand, the last thing I said to him was that I hated him! Meng Yao, please!”

“It’s Jin Guangyao,” the goblin king corrected. His smile looked a bit strained. “Listen, do you think I’m happy about this? He’s my sworn brother! I’m only doing what I have to –”

“Oh, save it for Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang growled. “Show me the labyrinth already.”

“You’re going to face the labyrinth,” the goblin king said. His voice was very polite, and yet still expressed significant doubt. “You.”

“Yeah, me!”

“You remember that it goes ‘through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered’, right? Not ‘through a nice teacher and a forgiving grading system’?”

“Yeah, well, your father is a fragging aardvark. Let me at the labyrinth already!”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

The life-sized animated puppet blinked at him. “You – don’t want my help?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“You haven’t even gotten into the labyrinth yet!”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t have a chance to get in,” Nie Huaisang said, patting around his sleeve and pulling out a fan. “So I’m just going to walk over and beat at the wall till something happens.”

The puppet followed him, staring blankly. Quite a change from his original apologetic ‘I’m sorry, I’m busy with my own things, I really can’t help you, also it’s too dangerous and you shouldn’t go’ response.

“You were blackmailing me to help you just a moment ago,” the puppet said after a little. “Don’t you need a guide?”

“Listen, I’m bad at memorizing things and I’m a little useless, but I’m not actually dumb,” Nie Huaisang said, fanning himself. “Jin Guangyao is a demon of the mind above all else, and the labyrinth is supposed to be ‘fair’ – which means, more than likely, that the labyrinth is a reflection of the subconscious, specially tailored to each person’s strengths and weaknesses. And that means that you, who sound exactly like Lan Xichen, are almost certainly a set-up sent by Jin Guangyao to ‘reluctantly’ aid me and then betray me.”

“Uh,” Lan Xichen-the-puppet said. “My name’s Hoggle, actually.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, er-ge…A-ha!” Nie Huaisang beamed at the gates that automatically opened. “Perfect!”

“Oh, don’t go that way,” the worm said. “Never go that way. And are you sure you don’t want to come in for a cup of tea?”

“No time,” Nie Huaisang said. “Thanks a lot – wait.”

The worm blinked at him.

“You’re a pretty attractive worm, in a slimy sort of way,” Nie Huaisang said, frowning at him.

The worm blinked again. “Why, thanks!”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Is your name Su She, by chance?”

“Definitely not!”

“Mm. Oddly vehement of you. Never mind. Just, quick, could you tell me exactly why do I not want to go that way?”

“I don’t suppose straight ahead is an option?”

The hands-faces stared at him.

“I’m just saying, I feel like most of my problems so far have come from the fact that I decided to accept the whole concept of turns. It seems like a mistake.”

“…it’s a labyrinth,” another set of the hands said. “You have to make turns!”

Nie Huaisang shook his head mournfully. “I should’ve brought Baxia or something and just – ZIP. Gone straight through. You know what I mean?”

“I’m dropping you in the oubliette regardless of your decision,” the first set of the hands said. It sounded a bit like Sect Leader Yao. “Just so you know.”

“My life is so hard,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “So hard! Do you know what it’s like to be overlooked by everyone? Do you know how hard I have to work at being this useless?”

“Drop him,” the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Ouyang said, and the set of hands that sounded like Sect Leader Yao said, “Yes. Now!”

Down Nie Huaisang went.

“I can take you back to the beginning of the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen offered.

“What, and waste all that time? I have a time limit, er-ge!”

“It’s better than being stuck in an oubliette. That’s where they put people to forget about them, you know.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes filled with tears. “You want to forget me, er-ge? You think I’m useless, don’t you? A good-for-nothing, who’ll never amount to anything –”

“Please don’t cry.”

“ER-GE! WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME!”

“Please stop crying!”

“So what’s the point of you?” Nie Huaisang asked the Wise Man with the Talking Hat.

“Not everyone exists to contribute to your storyline,” the Talking Hat snapped at him. “Some of us’ve got our own problems. Now hand over the candy!”

“Don’t be mean,” the Wise Man said. He had a white cloth over his eyes, and was smiling like he found the hat funny.

“Awww, but daozhang…!”

“Different plotline entirely, I guess,” Nie Huaisang decided. “Probably just here as a foil. Shall we keep going, er-ge?”

“I can’t believe you scammed me to get out of the oubliette,” Lan Xichen mumbled. “I can’t believe…”

“Oh, leave him alone, he’s just sensitive!” Nie Huaisang snapped.

“Am not!” the upside-down creature snarled, curled up on itself and trying to hide from all those that had been hitting him. Its fur was a vivid sort of purple. “Go away!”

“Don’t you have some sort of special power to help you here,” Nie Huaisang asked him as he tried to get him down before the goblins came back with weapons. “Rocks, maybe?”

“…lightning?”

“Well then get to it, will you?” Nie Huaisang frowned. “Wait. Lightning, constantly being tormented, terrible at communication, and purple? You’re Jiang Cheng, aren’t you?”

“…maybe.”

“Well then get down faster! I need to copy someone’s notes here!”

“Leave me aloooooooone!” Nie Huaisang howled, running away from the measuring snake.

“Wow,” Lan Xichen said, holding his cheek. “You kissed me.”

“You saved me from the snakes,” Nie Huaisang said. “Can we focus on how we’re in this awful stinking bog?”

“It’s not that bad!” a voice piped up. “I don’t smell anything!”

Nie Huaisang turned to stare, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you don’t,” he said. “I bet the total absence of a sense of smell helps when you eat spicy food, Wei-xiong.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spicy food!”

“You’re short,” Nie Huaisang informed the small goblin-like creature with the big grin and the red ribbon in its hair. It looked vaguely fox-like, or possibly like certain large breeds of rabbit.

“Why you..!” Wei Wuxian crossed his furry little paws over his chest. “Just for that, I’m not going to help you.”

“Uh-huh,” Nie Huaisang said. “Really. That’s awful…oh no! A dog!”

Wei Wuxian jumped high into the air. “A dog?! Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan! Save me!”

Much to Nie Huaisang’s surprise, a furry dog immediately darted out of nowhere – only Wei Wuxian didn’t seem afraid of it, but rather hid behind it, teeth chattering.

Truly, Nie Huaisang reflected, the eyes of love are blind.

“I think the ‘dog’ is gone now,” he said. “Your brave and noble Lan Wangji must’ve scared him away.”

Wei Wuxian’s head popped out from behind dog-Wangji. “Well, Lan Zhan is really cool…hey. Are you trying to manipulate me?”

“Is it working?”

“No!”

“So you won’t help me?”

“No!”

“Not even if it means you get to figure out a really tricky puzzle?”

“No – wait. A puzzle?”

“I can’t believe this is going to work,” Lan Xichen muttered from behind Nie Huaisang. “I mean, I can. But also…Wangji…I love you, but you could do so much better than this.”

“Ugh,” Nie Huaisang said. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Have some Emperor’s Smile,” Lan Xichen said, offering a jar.

“Amazing,” Nie Huaisang said, accepting it and taking a swing. “I had my doubts, you know, but you’re actually good for something after all, er-ge –”

The golden bird was Nie Huaisang’s favorite.

He’d worked so hard to bring it back to his aviary – it couldn’t be forced, he knew; it would play along at first but in the end it would turn on you and bite you. It had to be coaxed with gentleness and kindness, approached indirectly so as not to spook it, convince it that you really did mean well – that you were harmless, that it had no reason to fear you. It was arrogant, too, proud of its shining feathers and ashamed of the brown plumage of its chick days, which still remained visible on its tender underbelly. Ironically, that was Nie Huaisang’s favorite part of it, the soft and gentle part; it might not be as pretty as the gold, but it felt more genuine.

Nie Huaisang smiled as he brushed the beautiful feathers, and the golden bird allowed him. He felt cherished, treasured. So what if he had to hide all the sharp parts of himself to get this close?

It was fine. He didn’t like to be sharp.

He wanted to be soft. Soft and gentle, careless and free, relaxed and without effort, good for nothing –

Wait.

No!

“It’s all junk,” Nie Huaisang hissed at the pile of burning fans, tears in his eyes. “I want my da-ge!”

“You’re all right!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, helping pulled Nie Huaisang up.

“Huaisang-xiong,” Jiang Cheng said, looking relieved. “You’re back.”

“We have to go to the temple beyond the Goblin City,” Nie Huaisang said, teeth gritted together. “We have to. I won’t let that bastard…we’re going to go there and throw all his damned tricks right in his face!”

“Just us?” Wei Wuxian asked. “I mean, I’m awesome, Lan Zhan is fantastic, and of course Jiang Cheng is great, too, but…uh…there’s a lot of goblins in the city.”

“We’ll sneak in,” Nie Huaisang said. “He thinks he’s sidelined me entirely – he thinks I’m useless. He won’t be expecting me to get this far.”

“I can get help,” Jiang Cheng said. “I have friends.”

“…not to be rude, Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said. “But – really?”

“You know what,” Nie Huaisang said, eyeing the pile of rocks following Jiang Cheng around, each one painted with a name. One of the names was yellow. Two were in white, with forehead ribbons. “This is fine. I feel like it says something really rude about my empathy for and interest in our junior generation, or lack thereof, but you know what? I don’t care. It’s fine.”

“You saved me,” Nie Huaisang said blankly, looking at Lan Xichen, who shrugged, abashed. The remains of the mechanical temple guard were scattered all over. “Over – him?”

“Huaisang –”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said, holding up his hands. “Don’t. Don’t…I don’t want to hear you talk.”

Lan Xichen’s head dropped down and he looked at the ground. “You knew from the beginning what I was like,” he murmured. “I never tried to hide it –”

“I forgive you for being what you are,” Nie Huaisang told him, and Lan Xichen looked up at him, startled and pleased. “I forgive you for not having the backbone to stand up against Jin Guangyao for me – or for da-ge. For being willfully blind for so long, for needing someone else’s proof of his ill-intentions, for always picking him first, for never trusting me…I forgive you, even if you’d never forgive me for the same.”

He dashed away the angry tears in his eyes.

“I just wish this wasn’t a fucking metaphor.”

Nie Huaisang left the fighting to the people who knew what to do – Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng, even the rock-juniors – and went to the temple at the center of the city alone.

Some things, he knew, needed to be done alone, even if it was the type of alone when you were surrounded by other people. Even when those other people stood by his side and made him promise that if he needed them, he would only need to call. Some things…

“I want my da-ge back,” he said to the maze of stairs.

“Then go and find him,” Jin Guangyao replied, looking smug, and Nie Huaisang had to go up and down all those fucking stairs, because Jin Guangyao was nothing if not predictable with his trauma, looking all over, looking for –

Looking for pieces.

“It’s just a metaphor,” he whispered to himself, ignoring how tears were streaming down his face. “It’s just – I need to put him back together, it’s fine. I’m not too late – I’m not too late –”

Jin Guangyao held Nie Mingjue’s head in his hands, blinded and gagged and bound with talismans, pulled out of whatever oubliette he'd shoved it into to forget about what he'd done. “Beware, Huaisang,” he said, still smiling. Always smiling. “I’ve been generous up until now, but I can be cruel.”

Nie Huaisang laughed, scoffing. “Generous? What have you done for me that’s generous?”

“Everything! Everything you’ve wanted, I’ve done – I cared for you, I gave you attention, I got you out of work, doing your schoolwork for you and coming up with excuses to get you out of saber training. I gave you presents, fans and pretty clothing, and when that brute of a brother of yours tried to take them from you, I rescued you. And then I even managed your sect for you, answered all of your questions, any time you had – Huaisang, I’m exhausted trying to live up to your expectations of me. Isn’t that generous?”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth. “Half of those are burdens that only fell on me because of you. Why should it matter to me that cleaning up your own mess and satisfying your own guilt is hard? Why should I pay such a price when all I wanted was to be your friend? When all da-ge wanted was to be your friend? How dare you, Meng Yao!”

“Huaisang…” Jin Guangyao shook his head mournfully. “Huaisang, the last step here is to say the words to break the spell. But you were never good at memorization, were you?”

Nie Huaisang bit his lip until he drew blood.

“Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered,” he said. “I have fought my way here to the temple beyond the goblin city –”

“Huaisang, stop! Look at what you’re risking here. You know how everyone loves me – do you think anyone will forgive you for taking me down, for tricking them all? You’ll be all alone!”

I already am, Nie Huaisang thought.

“My will is as strong as yours,” he said. “And my kingdom is as great…”

His voice trailed off.

“I ask for so little,” Jin Guangyao said beseechingly, convincingly, looking just like he always did, like the man who'd been their friend. “Just let me fool you, and you can have anything you want. No responsibilities, no stress, a life of your own. You can even have Lan Xichen, if that’s what you want…”

What’s the last line, Nie Huaisang thought, hating himself for being such a poor student, for cramming things into his mind without any order, for never being able to retain a single drop of it no matter how hard he tried. What is it? Why can’t I ever remember?

“It’d be so easy,” Jin Guangyao crooned. “Much easier than this. Just fear me, love me, believe me, and I’ll be your slave.”

Sharp teeth in a false smile.

Nie Huaisang shook in terror. He couldn’t – his da-ge needed him – he couldn’t be afraid, couldn’t be a coward, couldn’t be good-for-nothing – couldn’t let Jin Guangyao win – couldn’t let him –

That was it.

Nie Huaisang raised his head until his eyes met his enemy’s.

Sensing something wrong, Jin Guangyao’s eternal smile dimmed, and he began to step forward, reaching out, but it was too late.

“You have no power over me,” Nie Huaisang declared, and the world within a world collapsed.

Nie Huaisang opened his eyes.

Nie Huaisang sat in his desk in the Unclean Realm, trying to amuse himself by trying to figure out what exactly he’d eaten the night before that had given him such bizarre dreams. It was not successful, on account of him being alone.

Alone, just as he had been every night, and every day as well, since the success of his scheme at the Guanyin Temple.

Just as the dream-Jin Guangyao had threatened.

It wasn’t that Nie Huaisang regretted what he had done – the dream was clear enough about that; he’d do it all again in a heartbeat if he had to. But in the dream he’d been working alongside his former friends, with Lan Xichen betraying but then returning to him, with Wei Wuxian dragging Lan Wangji around, with stone-faced Jiang Cheng and the rather interchangeable junior squad behind him…and in his dream, in the end, they’d let him go to take his revenge, telling him that if he needed them for any reason, he could just call.

Just call, and they’d come back to him. Instead of turning from him in disgust, they’d stand by his side…

“Stupid subconscious,” Nie Huaisang mumbled to himself. “What do you expect? That I'd write to them and say ‘for no real reason at all, I find that I rather need you’?”

Silence answered him.

“Well, I do,” he said with a sigh, putting his chin on his hands. “Does that make you happy? I do need you.”

“You do?” Wei Wuxian’s voice rang out, and Nie Huaisang jumped nearly out of his skin. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Nie Huaisang turned, staring: it was Wei Wuxian at the door, the human version of him, and of course there was Lan Wangji right before him, and Jiang Cheng, and the (still mostly interchangeable) juniors, and – and even Lan Xichen, who Nie Huaisang was sure had gone into seclusion with no intent to leave.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Huaisang squeaked. And why hadn’t any of his sect disciples warned him?

“We just bullied our way though the door before anyone could stop us,” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully, answering the unspoken question first. “As for the rest – it turns out that I had the strangest dream the other night, really, truly bizarre, and obviously I had to tell Lan Zhan all about it, except it turned out he had a strange dream too.”

Nie Huaisang’s jaw dropped. “But –”

“I felt da-ge’s qi woven into the labyrinth,” Lan Xichen said quietly. “I thought it’d have long ago dissipated or been locked away, but – it was there, in every stone, in every turn. Every obstacle that didn’t really hurt you, every goblin that was more silly than scary…he was there. It was unmistakable.”

Nie Huaisang swallowed. The story of the labyrinth, baby-stealing wish-granting goblin king and all, had been one that Nie Mingjue had told him as a bedtime story, when he'd been a child in need of comfort; he hadn’t thought of it in years before last night. “But…why…?”

“Because Chifeng-zun has a demented sense of humor?” Jiang Cheng suggested, looking irritated.

“Jiujiu means that he hasn’t had that much fun in years, and also that you should throw a party,” Jin Ling said. “You are hosting all three of the sect leaders of all the other Great Sects. Also, why were we rocks?”

“Uh, no idea,” Nie Huaisang said. “Da-ge’s weird sense of humor, no doubt! Anyway, did you say party? I can do a party!”

He rushed out of the room, calling for his servants, calling for them to bring food and wine and tea, and as he did, he looked out of the window – a golden bird was flying away, looking hunted as if something was chasing it, and even as he watched, it crossed the borders of the Unclean Realm and suddenly dissolved into a fizzle of golden dust.

Nie Huaisang put his hand on the stone wall, and felt a familiar echo.

A very familiar echo.

“Oh,” he said, to his servants, feeling somehow simultaneously sheepish and filled with joy. “And while you’re at it, can you bring me my saber? I seem to have – misplaced it…”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #lan wangji #su she #sect leader yao #sect leader ouyang #xiao xingchen #xue yang #my fic #my fics #labyrinth

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