#Warcraft fanfic

[catfirebrand]

Y'all.

I am so close to finishing The Lighthouse.

I'm so excited.

[eluviannaa]

As promised, each week I'll be posting a chapter from Umbral on AO3!

Every curse has a beginning.

Under the shadow of an infinite army, protecting the Light never seemed so daunting. Terror casts long shadows, eroding the very illusion of choice and sanity, posing the question: Is the Void Eluvianna’s destiny? Chaos is inevitable: paladins twisted in darkness, mages helm secret cults—artifacts of power vibrate with intention. With fates tangled and loyalties trialed, sometimes the greatest battles are fought within.

[deathbypixelz]

I've kept it under pretty heavy wraps for long enough, so I think it's time for me to actually talk about my fic The Smoke Still Lingers so people know what's coming. The finished thing is still probably a year off at least, but the end is in sight. And I'm sharing the first chapter now as a preview ;)

Taking place within my AU of course, it starts three years after the end of the Fourth War and five years after Teldrassil. Cathala and Tarinne have been living in Stormwind since then, making money where they can, unable to return to Kalimdor. And for those five long years it's been nothing but radio silence on Maiev and the High Priestess on their hunt for the Banshee Queen.

While on a trip to survey ruins in Hillsbrad, Cathala and Tarinne are blown off course by a bandit attack. Nothing too out of the ordinary for them, but it's what they find at the bandits' camp that turns this trip into a journey; they were hired by a sect of Sylvanas loyalists, somewhere on the continent, to collect materials for an unknown (but certainly sinister) purpose.

Vengeance, of some small kind, is finally within reach.

The trail goes a lot farther than they or the other two mercenaries who join them, Sairann the human mage and Nora the half-elf bounty hunter, expect. And it'll test them both as some of the worst moments in their lives come back like risen corpses to tear the wounds open again.

The dust of the war has settled, but the smoke still lingers.

...

If that piques your interest at all, well... here's the first chapter :)

((Logistics and content warnings below the cut))

It's definitely gonna break 100k words but not by too much. Probably in the 120-140k range if I had to guess. 35-40 chapters for sure, with alternating 3rd person POVs. Action-adventure type deal balanced with lots of emotion and a little established relationship F/F romance here and there.

Your major content warnings are: graphic violence, PTSD, a little fantasy racism, and drug and alcohol use. The violence is a given, trauma and grief are huge driving forces for both Cathala and Tarinne at this point in their lives, they both receive racial comments at a couple points (never more than that), and Cathala smokes fantasy weed and Tarinne drinks but it's only in an "atmospheric" sense. There will also be at least two fade-to-blacks during the body of the story and one full/mostly full sex scene towards the end.

Also, I will NOT be posting chapter-by-chapter, just the first one and maybe the second if I feel chapter 2 stands alone well enough. When the whole thing's done, I'll drop it all at once.

I am MORE THAN HAPPY to answer questions about this fic (well, I've actually started calling it a "book" at this point), of any sort, so please don't hesitate to send them in. It's my largest creative project ever, period, and I'm unbelievably excited for when it's done.

[meltingpenguins]

WoW Fanfic: Heroes and Other Scoundrels (SneakPeek)

There, I started writing that rebirth AU with Neltharion and Malygos. Canon Divergence/Semi-Canon-Compliable/Blizzard doesn't care about it's lore so why should I.

Below are the first 2500 words, please read and let me know if I ought to actually continue this endeavour. Thank you.

Story starts around the time of Dalaran going boom, for reference.

Warnings: Depression, Violence.

Heroes and other Scoundrels

Prologue: A Song for the Living

The rain was coming down hard.

There'd be flooding along the river to the south, and it wasn't unlikely that some bits or the cliffs north of Stormwind would get washed away.

Wind was howling and thunder was crashing, with no pause before it followed the myriads of lightning that illuminated the night.

There was a forest by the cliffs, it's trees bending and swaying violently in the raging storm, branches cracking and breaking.

One such branch the size of a horse's hindquarters broke jut as another lightning flashed, plunging to the ground.

Below, on the forest floor a large, stocky figure rolled out of the way just in time, that lightning outlining the falling mass having been a blessing in disguise.

Neltharion gasped and coughed, trying to push his human form off the muddy ground, just barely finding the strength to roll back onto his back, blinking blearily into the rain, his chest heaving with rattling breaths.

What was going on? Where was he? Why was he here?

Shouldn't he be dead?

Dead-dead at that? No take-backs, no try-agains, no second chances?

Yet here he was.

Most certainly alive, his heart beating in his throat, and the rain soaking through his clothes.

Everything hurt.

Not the familiar pain of his body falling apart, bloating and bursting at the seams. No. This was a new kind of pain, one that made his head spin and his stomach turn, yet…

He felt as if it was the pain of flesh and bones and muscles and scales knitting themselves back together the best they could, as if his body was genuinely healing for the first time in millennia.

What was going on?

He blinked again, a shudder running through his body, and, coughing, he tried once more to sit up, succeeding…

And immediately throwing up.

Pure stomach acid, his throat now sore from that and the coughing both.

Shaking and shivering he pulled his knees up, breathing as slowly as he could, trying to calm and focus.

His armor was gone, leaving him in his scaled shirt, pants and plain boots. His hair was more disheveled than ever, long strands caked with mud clinging to his face. He rose a hand, tucking them behind his ear, and frowned, running the hand over his mouth to wipe away bile.

And he paused, startled.

The metal jaw was gone. Not just the facsimile he was sporting in his Visage, but the actual one holding the sorry remains his jaw together. He could — or, well, couldn't — feel it.

With unsteady hands he reached back and felt under his shirt, along his spine.

The metal plates where still there. All of them even, it would seem.

What was going on?

He shook his head, hissing when the stinging pain of a migraine spread outward from his temples. Maybe he should —

"No. No, no, no! Not you. Not. You!" A voice, uncomfortably familiar, howled in rage, despair and agony. Neltharion didn't even manage to turn to look for the speaker when a blur of blue and white tackled him over, his assailant whaling on him with fists and claw-like nails.

He struggled— mostly to even just find the strength to fight back, to defend himself— the figure going to town on him screeching and cursing and damning his name.

A particular nasty punch and Neltharion felt his nose and cheekbone break, blood gushing out, its warmth mixing strangely with the cold rain.

He gasped, bringing up an arm finally to try and ward off the next blow, but the figure straddling his chest stopped, lowering their fist, their entire frame slumping with hiccuping sobs.

Another flash of lightning revealed the assailant's identity.

"Malygos?" the black dragon croaked, coughing out blood and spit.

Malygos glared, teeth bared, his frame still shaking.

"It should not have been you," he spat, staggering to his feet. "Had I known… It should not have been you. Never. I would not have allowed it."

"…what?" Neltharion managed, confused and disoriented.

Malygos turned to go, giving him a kick to the side for good measure.

"You should not be here," he snarled, heading deeper into the forest.

"Malygos… wait," the black dragon managed, voice cracking with anger, confusion and… guilt. Sorrow. Regret.

Malygos paused at a massive oak.

"Do everyone a favor, old friend," he hissed. "There's some cliffs nearby, go jump off them. Pull up some spiky rocks and make it count this time."

And he was gone, leaving Neltharion to his own thoughts and the elements.

~+~

Malygos stalked through the dark forest, furious and despairing.

That was not how it was meant to go. Sure, he had cast that blasted spell in a bit of a panic, but still, this was not how it was supposed to go.

Or maybe it was.

No, no, no, don't even think that. Because if the spell had worked as intended, no matter how haphazardly thrown together it may have been, that would mean that…

Malygos let out an aggravated roar, blasting a nearby tree into oblivion.

Promptly regretting it as the falling twigs and branches (thankfully no big ones) rained down on him. He sighed heavily, bravado and rage fading, and he looked around. He needed to find shelter and recover.

Stormwind was many miles to the south from here, but he doubted he'd actually be safe there. Not with other dragons frequenting the city. Fuck's sake, all things considered he'd have been safer in that city while Onyxia was pulling the strings there than now. Maybe if he'd don a different visage, but he didn't feel like he had the energy right now to mask anything but his eyes.

Pulling twigs from his air he took a deep breath, casting a small spell to guide him to a safe hearth.

The wisp-like light flickered and pulsed, flying off deeper into the forest. And away from the city.

Malygos followed.

The light dissipated at the edge of a clearing. There was a dirt road running through it, and beyond the path stood several large wooden structures: a stable, a building Malygos couldn't name what it was, and the two-storied main-building, which a wooden sign swinging nearby identified as 'Crowing Whelp Tavern & Inn'.

Well, this was in the middle of nowhere, but the building looked to be in good shape, and light was burning in the ground floor windows.

Though it didn't look as if the tavern was actually open.

But Malygos had to try at least.

Another deep breath, mask his eyes, and he hurried through the rain, slipping on the muddy ground twice.

Dirty and even more exhausted he knocked.

The door opened, and Malygos came face to face with a middle-aged, tall, well-built human with jet-black hair and a short beard, both streaked with white, dark tawny skin and several scars, a large one over his right eye.

Latter made Malygos hiss, reminding him a little too much of Neltharion right now.

But the man's eyes were of a warm, burnt amber color, looking at him very confused, but friendly and curious. And quite a bit worried.

"Gracious, man, you're soaked," the man said, pulling him into the building and navigating him into a chair by the roaring fireplace. "What happened? Are you alri-"

The man paused and looked Malygos over, gaze fixing on the blue one's hands. "You're injured, let me see to that."

Before Malygos could protest the man had ducked out of the room, and the dragon took the opportunity to actually look at himself and assess the situation.

His armor was gone, his robe caked with dirt and blood, and he was soaked and freezing. A sensation he hadn't felt in centuries. And his hand hurt. He reckoned he must have broken it when he was taking his rightful anger out on Deathwing.

"I can lend you some clothes, your's are in no state to be worn," the man noted, returning with a bowl of water, towels and bandages, kneeling down before Malygos. "May I see your hand?"

Malygos hemmed and hawed a little, figuring that this was the best choice. Not just to uphold the facade of being a harmless (though very foolish) traveler, it would also help conserve energy. Energy which he felt almost fully deprived of.

He held out his hand and the man gently took it, starting to carefully clean away the bloody. Malygos winced briefly. Apparently the hand wasn't just broken, but it wasn't just Deathwing's blood on it.

"Sorry," the man apologized.

"No… no need to. You did nothing wrong."

The man flashed him a brilliant smile which shifted into a bit of a cocky grin.

"You're a dragon, aren't you?"

Malygos blinked, alarmed. Had he failed to hide his eyes? Was his low energy revealing scales? Horns?

"…How?" he managed, blinking again.

The man carefully turned the dragon's hand around.

"You always forget the fingerprints," he chuckled, and Malygos cocked his head.

"Huh?" He raised his good hand and took a closer look. Oh.

"Huh," Malygos went again, murmuring a little sourly. "I… have to admit I was hitherto unaware my spell actually forwent that."

The man chuckled.

"And now you've given away who you are, Spell-Weaver."

Malygos sighed.

"Well, not anymore, I…"

"Oh, if you're going to start about that Kalecgos guy, don't." The man blew a raspberry. "You are you, and to my knowledge the lad is bending his knee to the Kirin Tor. What self-respecting mage does that?"

Malygos snorted a laugh.

"I should be angry at you for chiding one of my flight, but I do delight in your sentiment against those braggarts."

"I'll forward your words to my partner." The man gave a brilliant smile again, carefully wrapping up the injury.

"Oh? Why?"

"He's quite a skilled mage, and loves to ramble on about those thing, too. He wholehearted shares your sentiment regarding the Kirin Tor's Holier-Than-Thou-ness."

"I see. Though he does remember the whole bit about what I tried to…"

"He does, and he similarly loves to ramble about the math not mathing in that whole Nexus War mess."

Malygos blinked, falling silent.

There was that, yes. And it was weird. He knew what he had done, and why, but… it didn't add up, thinking about it now. Even if the Old Gods had gotten into his head there and everything, it felt… Something was off. Something felt… missing. Like a verse being omitted from a song you know by heart, yet everyone will insist the song's complete.

"Your partner seems like an formidable person," the blue dragon mumbled, carefully rubbing his injured hand.

"He is. He's one of the best things that ever happened to me," the man answered, blushing a little, before he held out his hand with a grin. "Henry Sullivan, by the way. Pleasure to meet you."

Malygos took the offered hand, a smirk flitting over his lips.

"You don't seem to be scared of me, Mr. Sullivan."

Henry waved him off. "I reckon that if you are back from the dead, looking like that, and you haven't burned my tavern to the ground yet I can trust you. One has to set simple standards and priorities, y'know."

Again Malygos snorted a laughed, and Henry rose to his feet.

"Can I offer you some tea?"

"That'd be very kind of you, thank you."

Henry nodded and ducked into the kitchen, and Malygos looked around.

It was your typical small tavern with rooms for rent upstairs, probably also some living quarters for Sullivan and his partner. Not that the blue dragon could sense anyone else in the building, which was probably the reason why the tavern wasn't open.

"Mr. Sullivan?" Malygos called.

"Yes?"

"I assume your partner is absent?"

"He is. Went up to Ironforge to do some research on things. Do you take sugar?"

"Yes, please."

There was a brief cackle, and Henry returned from the kitchen with a mug of steaming tea, handing it over.

"Here you go. It's too late to get you a bath ready, but that can wait till tomorrow. I think you need to rest."

Malygos nodded, sipping his tea, and looking out the window.

The storm seemed to be getting worse by the second, and would probably go well into the morning.

"Copper for your thoughts?" Henry said, pulling up a chair to sit opposite the blue dragon. "You look like there's something weighing heavy on your mind, and if I may take a guess it isn't wondering about how you are back amongst the living."

"Very astute, Mr. Sullivan."

"Thank you."

Malygos sighed softly.

"No it's… Well it has something to do with that though. I'm not certain you'd understand what happened."

"Well, I can guess that you know why and how you're back, I don't need to understand the rest. But if you think you shouldn't be back…"

With another sigh Malygos shook his head.

"It's not that. It's… I'm just very exhausted."

"I can see that. Guess coming back to life does that to one." Henry rose again, and patted Malygos's shoulder. "You finish your tea, warm up a bit and I get you a room ready."

A nod, and the blue one watched the human hurry up the nearby stairs.

Clutching the mug like a lifeline, Malygos stared into the flames.

Try as he may, he could only think of two options that would explain what happened: Either the spell he had cast all those years ago went wrong and brought back who Malygos had thought could help… Or the spell worked as intended, which would mean…

Thunder rattled the windows, and Malygos felt as if someone was kicking his behind to screw his head back on right.

This wasn't right. He didn't want this to be right. But for crying out loud, no matter what he told himself, he knew that spell had worked as intended. No matter how recently he had become the Aspect of Magic back then, no matter of thrown-together the spell was, he knew it worked exactly as intended.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

He groaned and downed his tea, drawing a deep breath and getting up.

"Mr. Sullivan?" he called, hurrying to the stairs. "Mr. Sullivan?"

"Yes?" Henry peered around the corned at the top of the stairs.

"Could I…" Malygos paused, mentally slapping himself both for doing what he was about to do, and for not just doing it. "Could I borrow a cloak and a lantern… There's… There's something I need to do. Posthaste."

Henry blinked baffled, but didn't ask.

"Alright? Are you sure? You don't look to be in a state to be out and about, dragon or not."

"I-I have to," Malygos pressed through gritted teeth, and Henry nodded, coming back down and waving him to follow to the kitchen.

"Here," he said, handing over a hooded oilskin cloak and taking a lantern off the hook. "Give me a moment to refill this."

While Henry rummaged through the cupboards, Malygos's gaze shifted to the hooks with the cloaks. There was another one hanging there, and Malygos drew a deep breath.

"Could I borrow that cloak as well?" he asked, words almost blurring together with how quickly he forced them out.

"Sure…?" Henry cocked his head, curiously. "I know I shouldn't ask but… Is this something that will require a second bed to be prepared?"

Malygos grumbled and stared off into the distance.

"Unfortunately."

Henry smirked, pressing the lantern into his hands.

"Then go. And hurry, the storm's getting worse and the tide's rolling in."

Malygos nodded, donned the cloak and hurried out into the night.

~+~

[tanadin]

Chromatic Light (Please Guide Me Home)

Chapters: 9/9 Fandom: World of Warcraft Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Khadgar (Warcraft) & Original Character(s) Characters: Khadgar (Warcraft), Original Characters, Varian Wrynn, Anduin Wrynn, Modera (Warcraft), Krasus | Korialstrasz, Tirion Fordring, Medivh (Warcraft), Kalecgos (Warcraft) Additional Tags: Found Family, Canon-Typical Violence, Chromatic Dragonflight, canon-typical child endangerment, Adoption, in which Dadghar adopts a chromatic whelpling, casual disregard for canon and the timeline, Medivh doesn't appear so much as he's an ever-present specter haunting the narrative Series: Part 1 of Chromatic Light & Ebon Wings Summary:

Khadgar is used to sudden upheavals in his life. He's always prepared for one--and while that doesn't make it easier to face when his life gets turned upside down, it does mean that he's not surprised anymore.

But when a chromatic whelpling shows up in Shattrath City wielding Atiesh, Greatstaff of the Guardian, Khadgar finds himself completely thrown and caught up in a whirlwind of events, new friends, and parental feelings he hadn't realized that he'd had the capacity for. He finds himself torn between his self-imposed duty to defend Azeroth and his newfound desire to protect Prima at all costs--and with her own notions of becoming a Guardian for Azeroth, he's in for more than he bargained for when he involved himself in her life.

--

I figured I should put a post out on Tumblr about one of my current projects--a fanfic series featuring Khadgar trying very hard to live a normal life and failing miserably and adopting a chromatic whelpling instead. You do need to be logged into AO3 to read it, because I want to reduce the risk of it getting scraped by a bot, so, sorry about that!

Chromatic Light is completely finished, but the series is ongoing. Part two is completely prewritten and I’m reaching the end of writing part three, so you can rest assured that it’s not going to get stuck in a WIP state forever. This fic can also be called “Khadgar Gets Adopted By Three Lizards,” but that didn’t quite have the same ring to it.

Not sure if you want to read it yet? What about now? (Art done by the wonderful @dragonheartftherpays​ and posted with their permission.)

As for Medivh, well... he doesn’t directly appear in Chromatic Light. But his haunting of the narrative becomes a little more direct in part two, On Ebon Wings (read: he crashes into the story and Khadgar has to ask himself, “Are you for fucking real right now?” at the stupid crush he develops in response).

[ladymischievous]

A Twist of Fate: An AU Khadgar and Medivh Fanfic

Not an update, will do so eventually just currently stuck. Just posting for some fun and comfort given some of the Khadgar stuff I've been seeing floating around. Title: A Twist of Fate Rating: PG-13 Pairing: RavenTrust (Eventually, don't like? Then don't read), Slowburn Type: Alternate Universe/Alternate Timeline, A version of the setting and characters based off of parts of the MMO, The book 'The Last Guardian', the Warcraft Movie, and Hearthstone's 'One Night in Karazhan', with some original ideas. Sounds like a mess, but this has honestly been a lot of fun. Warnings: Mentions of past abuse and manipulations from institutes of power and personal connections, eventual moments of horror/psychological horror. Medivh's moods. Medivh and Khadgar clash occasionally. Friendship and eventual romance is a slow burn.

A Twist of Fate can be found on AO3.

[uninspired--poet]

𝚅𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚢𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚖 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝙸:𝟽.

[sekhisadventures]

Battle at Bilgewater

Stormwind City, Late Evening

The pub was jumping, as it always was at that hour. The day’s work was over, now was the time to rest and make merry before the next day’s labors became a concern. This one wasn’t the Golden Keg frequented by the members of Avalon, but rather a smaller one in the Trade District. A pub that catered to the many travelers who came from across Azeroth to trade goods in the city. Dwarves of course, and the occasional Draenei, and even a few goblins though their papers identified them as Steamwheeldle rather than Bilgewater Cartel of course.

They were peddling iron and other raw materials mined and smelted by the Horde… but with them acting as a neutral go-between nobody grumbled TOO much.

Into this establishment came a young woman with long red hair and a devilish grin, dressed in a fine black gown with her companion, a young man with black hair wearing a red silk shirt and black leather trousers. Despite them entering together they did not appear to be a couple, the woman flirting with many of the young men in the tavern… and much to her irritation finding little in the way of interest among them.

After an hour of fruitless attempts she scowled, then stalked to her companion. “Bugger all…” she grumbled, “I don’t bleedin’ get it… normally I’m beatin’ th’ boys off with a feckin’ stick…”

Her companion shrugged, “Perhaps just foul luck? I mean, it is quite late. Even the most amorous mortals can be dissuaded by sheer exhaustion.” he suggested.

She shook her head, “No bloody way Cenoon… this lot should be slaverin’ fer a piece o’ me… but none of ‘em is bitin’. Couple of ‘em even looked feckin’ worried when they saw me…” she growled, a very literal growl infact… some of the nearby patrons glanced around and mumbled something about a dog in the pub.

The man shrugged, looking around, and then noticing a message board nearby. Not too surprising, most any sort of places in Alliance territory had the ‘Hero’s Call’ boards to notify any wandering travellers or sellswords of work in the area… but this one held something else, “Er…” he coughed, “’Cammy…’ he muttered, nudging her arm with his elbow, "I think you may want to take a look at the notices… one of them looks, well, worrying…”

She glanced at him and stalked over to the board, scanning the notices on it… then she stopped and her eyes bulged at one in particular. She tore it off and looked it over, seeing something extremely distressing for her.

Her own face staring back at her, in an incredibly lifelike pencil sketch, along with the following:

Wanted: For Murder and Soul Theft!

The woman in this picture is a rogue warlock known as Dissonantia. She may be using the alias ‘Cammy Theo.’ She has been murdering civilians across Azeroth and stealing their souls for her own purposes. If you see this woman do not interact with her at all and inform the City Guard immediately!

Should you have any information on her activities or whereabouts please contact Magus Nelen Fullmoon residing in Avalon House, Stormwind City Old Town near the Pig & Whistle Tavern.

The woman’s jaw dropped open as her mind raced. How the fel did that drawing get made?! Jaie was the only one who saw her in this form and she didn’t think that pandaren even knew how to draw anything but stick figures!

She re-read the notice again, then felt a chill. Glancing around the room she saw that a few of the patrons she’d tried to proposition were missing from their tables…

“Oh bugger…” she whispered, then suddenly there was a clatter of metal as the door opened and a young trader from Westfall walked in, flanked by two guardsmen.

“That’s her!” he hissed to them as the guards stepped forward.

“Cammy Theo?” asked a guard, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The woman glared at him, then took a step back as she stuffed the notice into her pouch, “Who wants ta know?” she snarled as her companion glanced around the room. Mostly traders with basic armaments, likely not many warriors among them...

“You are under arrest under suspicion of murder. Come quietly or we will subdue you.” said the guard, glaring at her through the slit on his helmet.

She looked around, then growled angrily, “Oh yez gonna subdue me eh?” she sneered, then from her pouch she drew a long sharp dagger with several runes inscribed into the metal of the balde, “… good luck with that boyo.” she cackled, then slashed the air behind her with the weapon!

From outside the tavern the windows suddenly erupted with a baleful green light and screams of alarm carried out through the open doorway! A guardsman fell backwards through the window with a tremendous crash, landing on his back on the cobbles as he tried to pry a swarm of small bat-like demons off him before, as one, they exploded in a spray of acid! He screamed in pain as it ate through his mail armor, then through his skin and muscle, flailing until the foul chemicals went deep enough to eat into heart, lungs, and brain.

There was another flash of felfire from inside, a furious roar, and a loud crash of metal on metal, then the other guardsman stumbled back out the door with his sword broken in half and a huge dent in his breastplate. His hand went to his belt to pull a silver whistle from it, “D-dammit! That dwarf wasn’t kidding!” he gasped, putting it to his lips and preparing to blow into it.

“AZZY! KILL TH’ BLOODY GIT!” snarled a voice from inside as the doorframe burst outwards, a massive Wrathguard stampeding through it and swinging his broadaxe home.

The guard managed to get out a short burst, a split-second of noise, before he landed on his knees on the cobbles… and his back against the wall of the store behind him. He looked down, as if unable to believe what had happened, then looked forward to see his legs fall onto the stones before the darkness took him. After all, being cut in half makes one bleed out very quickly.

Dissonantia stormed out of the tavern, her dress torn in back where her wings had erupted through it as she changed back into her more monstrous form, her eyes glowing crimson in fury as the light reflected off the curling horns on her forehead.

“Bloody feckin’ FEL!” she snarled, hearing the sound of running footsteps. A guardsman’s whistle would summon reinforcements, a guardsman’s whistle being blown, then suddenly getting cut off would tell them it was serious!

She narrowed her eyes as she saw the torchlight back up the street reflecting off steel armor… then ducked out of the doorway as Cenoon rushed out of the tavern after her and slashed the air again, ripping another hole to the Nether!

“TORCH THE BAR!” she commanded, pointing a finger towards the door as a swarm of wild imps burst free from the portal and ran into the tavern, giggling maliciously at the havoc they were about to cause.

A moment later cries of horror and pain came from inside as several loud explosions rocked the building, the remaining windows blowing out with flames as the imps blew themselves up inside, igniting anything flammable near their bodies with felfire!

Dissonantia nodded, THAT should keep the guard busy! “Right! Azzy! Cenoon! FECKIN’ LEG IT!” she barked as she raced towards the city gates, her demonic allies right on her heels!

Behind her she could hear the guard captain calling out orders. The nearby buildings had to be evacuated, they had to send a runner to the Cathedral of Light to get a priest to extinguish the felfire (water wouldn’t do it when demonic flames were used,) and above all else… they needed reinforcements!

Dissonantia snarled and picked up the pace, her worgen agility coming into play as she raced out of Stormwind. A few guards posted at the gates tried to waylay her, and it truly was horrible what Az’arad did to them, but after a harrowing flight she escaped into the gloom of Elwynn Forest.

She growled in fury, looking back at the walls of the city. That was that, she couldn’t risk returning to Stormwind after killing several guardsmen and setting a building ablaze! If everyone hadn’t known who she was before they sure would now!

She pulled out the notice and glared at it, holding up a finger and generating a candle-flame’s worth of felfire to look at the drawing. “… who th’ feck made this? Nelen can write sure, but the bloody git is as artistic as a kobold…” she growled.

Cenoon frowned, “I don’t know Mistress Dissonantia… but this is bad. If they have copies of it in other taverns…” he murmured, stroking his chin with his knuckle. The incubus’ fingernail shone like a dagger in the gloom and was still wet with blood where a couple of the more courageous traders had attempted to detain the warlock’s companion without knowing his true nature.

“Aye… there goes our bloody easy source of souls fer anima…” she growled, then balled the notice up and tossed it into the air, snapping her fingers. The paper erupted in felfire, burning to ash in seconds. “… first they get Azzy’s fang ‘n now THIS shite?! I was wantin’ ta wait until after that mess with Fyrakk was over… but wez gotta act…”

Az’arad grinned at that, licking his long, forked tongue at the hole in his jawline where his missing fang was. He was quite eager to do something about that… loudly and violently.

Cenoon however held up a finger, “Er… how exactly Mistress? Grimo is sequestered in Bilgewater Harbor, practically next door to Orgrimmar, and the others are all in Valdrakken right under the noses of the Aspects themselves…” he pointed out.

“Aye, yez right… still, I want that goblin’s threat sorted out now dammit.” she rumbled, flexing her claws as her gown vanished in a woosh of felfire, trading itself for her Revendreth-spun robes that she favored so highly (and had modified with holes in the back for her wings.)

She thought for a long moment, she couldn’t go herself of course… able to transform or not, a worgen or human in Horde territory would stick out like a sore thumb. It’d be suicide. You’d have to be completely mad to…

She paused, then grinned, “… hmm… well, worst case scenario she fecks it up ‘n dies, but it’ll scare th’ piss outta Blamstick either way.”

Bilgewater Harbor, the following day

Grimo held his arm infront of him, looking at a device strapped to his wrist. It was round, held on by two sturdy leather straps, and was not unlike a wristwatch in may respects. “Alright Zaziki, go fer it.” he nodded.

Across the room, in the lobby of the Savage United Office (currently closed,) was a goblin man with stringy white hair, wearing robes in a deep violet with some rather unpleasant looking runes inscribed on the sleeves. The robed goblin nodded, then gestured and said a word that made Grimo visibly wince… and a second later an imp appeared in woosh of felfire.

Grimo turned to face the imp and fiddled with a dial on the side of the device on his wrist, and a moment later it let out a beeping sound. “Okay… aaaaaaaaaaand… got it, fel signature secured!” he nodded, then turned to the other man in the room.

This one was taller than that goblin, but then he was human… or at least, he was human, once. Standing there was Edwood Vargas of the Forsaken, wearing the new garments he’d earned for showing uncommon valor and resourcefulness while helping to drive back a resurgence of the Scarlet Crusade in Silverpine Forest.

Gone were his old quilted red robes, favoring now a more utilitarian look of a dark tunic and trousers, a belt with several pouches and pockets, and a large backpack stylized as a coffin. He was idly rubbing some muck off the top of the shovel he used as a magician’s stave, the undead man’s eyes looking up towards Grimo.

“Okay, Zaziki… unsummon your imp, and Ed you summon your’s.” instructed Grimo, turning to face his fellow member of Savage United.

The goblin gestured and with a woosh of felfire his imp retreated back into the Nether, then Ed focused and snapped his fingers. There was a burst of felfire next to him and the familiar form of Guzzle the fel imp appeared in the room.

Grimo focused on him, looking at the watch, then grinned. “Bingo. Its picking up that he’s a demon, but its not going off. It can tell he’s a different imp! WE GOT IT!” he nodded, pumping his fist in the air in triumph!

Ed grinned, “So now ye gotta match it to th’ fang Jaie got outta Az’arad’s gob aye?” he asked as he knelt down, holding his arm out as Guzzle clambered up his sleeve and the imp took his usual place on his ‘captain’s’ shoulder.

“Yeup, then we’re ready to mass produce these bad boys! Hmm… Grimo’s Guaranteed Demon Detecting Device? Blamstick’s Monster Finder? Official Savage United Fanclub Membership Watch?” he mused, then glanced at Edwood’s smirk and shrugged, “Eh, we’ll workshop it. But yeah, next step is we attune this to that tooth ‘n make more of ‘em using the prototype here to…” he paused at a meaningful cough.

“Yeaaaaaaaah, so… we’re done here right Grimo?” asked Zaziki as he gestured meaningfully with one hand, “… ‘cause if we are there’s the matter of payment for services rendered…” he added, raising his eyebrow at the goblin.

Grimo frowned, then shrugged, “Yeaaaaah, fine… here.” he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out a large silver coin, flicking it to Zaziki. “Don’t spend it all in one place a’right?”

The goblin warlock snorted, “One fuckin’ silver? Nuh-uh Blamstick. My time is worth a LOT more than that.” he said pointedly.

Grimo turned to face him, “Yer fuckin’ time ain’t worth squat Darkcoil.” he retorted, “Be glad I spotted you enough to get a fried kodo skewer at our old premises.”

The goblin glared at him, stepping forward as he raised his hands, “You dare talk to me that way Grimo?! I am a MASTER of the dark arts buddy! I could drop an infernal on this crappy shack you call an office any time I wanted to and blast it to pieces!” he spat.

Grimo raised his eyebrow at him, then glanced at Edwood, “Well? Gonna just stand there Vargas?” he asked.

Edwood rolled his eyes at Grimo and reached into his own coinpurse, taking out ten gold and holding it out to Zaziki, “Yeah, sorry Grimo, ain’t gettin’ inta a scuffle over somethin’ this asanine. Here, hows this then?” he asked.

Zaziki took it, then shrugged, “I suppose that will do. Be glad your employee isn’t as stingy as you are Blamstick.” he smirked before heading to the door and out onto the docks. As Zaziki got outside he looked up curiously as his large ears twitched. The guards were shouting about something, and not the usual kind of shouting.

A moment later he fell to the ground, a dagger wreathed in felfire sticking out of his temple.

Inside the office however Grimo was walking back to his workshop. He’d already gotten Az’arad’s fang out of the bank and within a few moments he’d begun attuning his device to it, scanning the fang and registering it in the devices databanks.

Edwood was still in the lobby, the forsaken man ambling to the window as he heard a commotion outside, frowning as he did so. No Forsaken stayed ali-… well… stayed around long without developing a sort of sixth sense for danger, and he could feel something outside was off. Bilgewater could be pretty chaotic, but something didn’t feel right… and then he looked through the window and saw Zaziki’s body. “Tides below…” he whispered, then he looked up and what remained of his eyebrows rose as he gripped his shovel. “Grimo!” he called out.

“Hang on a minute Ed, almost done here!” the goblin called back from the workshop, the attunement nearly complete now.

“Matey I ain’t pissin’ about here!” he shouted as Guzzle leapt to the floor and began to channel felfire between his tiny claws, his undead master held his weapon in one hand, his free hand starting to swirl with flames.

“Gimme a fuckin’ minute Vargas! Geez!” barked Grimo in response as the display on the watch flickered, then suddenly it began to beep loudly as it showed the words ‘Demon Detected!’ “Eh? It shouldn’t get that big a fuckin’ readin’ from just a tooth… dammit did I make it too sensitive or somethin’?” he sighed, “For fuck’s sake I had better not have to start all over again!” he snapped, slamming his fist down on his workbench.

The moment his hand landed the front door of the office was sent crashing to the floor as it was knocked clear off its hinges!

Grimo’s head snapped up and he slapped his hands against the buttons on his bracer. Nearby his robotic hound, the Lupine User Protection Engine or L.U.P.E.  jerked up from it’s charging station and let out a synthesized bark of acknowledgement as he grabbed his gun, running into the lobby with his rifle at the ready… then stumbling to a halt as he saw what was there.

The device wasn’t too sensitive at all. It reacted because it was in perfect working order. Two people were outside the office... well, one person, and one that was a bundle of fury and muscle in a huge purple frame.

“HEY GUYS!” shouted the felsworn elf Gremori as she strode into the building, the blood of several Bilgewater Brusiers still wet on her weapons and hands as, behind her, the huge bulk of Az’arad shoved its way into the offices of Savage United. “Dis said ya got something that don’t belong to ya!” she smirked, “We’re here to take it back… and maybe a few trophies of our own. I mean, you don’t need BOTH hands, right?”

Edwood grimaced, they were in trouble. The rest of Savage United was back on the Dragon Isles. Even if they took a portal they’d still have to get there from Orgrimmar! Two of them against a rogue demon hunter and Dissonantia’s strongest demon… that was bad BAD news!

Grimo however, grinned widely. “Oh hey, perfect! Never got a chance to try this out! ED, GRAB YOUR IMP AND GO THROUGH THE WINDOW! NOW!” he shouted, smacking several keys on his bracer in quick succession.

Gremori and Az’arad looked at him, then Az’arad who was quicker on the uptake ran back to the door and squeezed through it as Edwood smashed the window out with his shovel, grabbed Guzzle, and leapt through the opening just in time for a hatch to open in the floor and a cage to pop out of the ground. It was made of reinforced voidsteel and inside of it was something Nitika would likely be very upset about if she knew it was there.

Caged there was a small, but very very VERY angry lightspawn! Grimo pushed another button on his wrist and ducked around the door to the backroom. There was a sharp snapping sound and the holy creature screamed in fury as it’s cage crackled with shadow energy, then it reacted the only way one of it’s kind could in such a situation.

Grimo called it the ‘Holy Flashbang,’ Gremori called it ‘MY EYES AREN’T THERE AND THEY STILL HURT! WHAT THE FUCK?!’ and several other much more colorful things as Grimo and his robot ran past the furious felsworn!

Gremori clawed at her empty sockets, the felfire suddenly glowing gold from the blast of holy light it took and searing her head from the inside out as the goblin followed Edwood outside into the streets of Bilgewater Harbor!

“Hah! Take that ya ugly bitch! You and that giant purple meathead!” he laughed as he looked back in at Gremori’s distress, then yelped and ducked as a massive fel-cursed battleaxe slammed into the wall above his head.

“… ah, Wrathguard got out. Shit.” he whimpered, then backpedaled as fast as his legs could carry him as Az’arad wrenched his axe free and Gremori stumbled out of the office, shaking her head frantically as her eye-flames returned to their usual fel-green.

“You ASS!” snarled the felsworn as she slid her hands into her knuckle dusters, the rune-covered metal erupting in felfire as she and Az’arad began to charge only to run headlong into an infernal as it crashed into the path infront of them.

“RUN DAMMIT! HE WON’T LAST FER MORE THAN A FEW MINUTES!” barked Edwood as he pointed toward the docks with his shovel.

“Aye! To the seas! Set sail for Orgrimmar!” shouted Guzzle, the imp flailing his gangly arms as, behind them, the Wrathguard and felsworn clashed with Edwood’s infernal. Infernals were the living siege weapons of the Burning Legion, but while Edwood could summon one he could only keep it animated for a short time… he was no summoner like Dissonantia was, his power lay in flames and destruction in short bursts!

Grimo needed no more suggestion than that, the group retreated with all haste as alarms sounded all around them. Behind them the infernal gave one last roar of fury before it’s flames sputtered out and it collapsed in on itself, reduced to lifeless stone as Gremori leapt over it’s empty shell and Az’arad scattered the rocks with his axe, bellowing wordlessly as he surged forwards.

The alarms alerted the Bilgewater guards that the city was in danger, but they didn’t exactly tell them where the problem was and in a city like Bilgewater Harbor it was hard to tell which explosions were the bad kind, so mostly it just caused a mob of panicked goblins to race through the streets as Ed and Grimo bolted for the coastline.

Three burly goblins with shotguns stumbled onto the path ahead of them and one of them pointed and called to the others, recognizing one of their pursuers as a night elf. “Hey! Lookit her! ITS CALLED A CEASE-FIRE YA CRAZY ELF! GET OUTTA OUR FUCKIN’ CITY!” he shouted, raising his gun with the other two as Grimo and Edwood raced past him.

Gremori sneered, then leapt into the air as her body erupted in felfire! The guard let out a terrified scream and pulled the trigger on his gun, a tremendous bang erupting through the area as a round of buckshot exploded towards the demon hunter.

The bullets melted before they ever reached her, and a moment later the other two guards turned and ran as Gremori landed atop their luckless buddy, crushing his spine and ribs under her weight as she entered her demonic form, spreading her wings as she hissed through long needle-like fangs.

“Griiiiiiiiiiimo… she just wants the thiiiiiiiiing… give it!” she snapped as she raced after him, clawing at the ground as she did. In her transformed state she was almost like a feral beast, tearing up the dirt with too-long arms and claws as she chased him down, her feet twisted into razor sharp talons as Az’arad rushed along next to her!

Edwood tried to keep ahead of them, but he was no physical fighter. Even alive he’d never been in the best of shape, and he began to stumble…

Grimo was pushed on by sheer terror, the captive lightspawn had been the most powerful defense he could have managed against a demon short of having Nitika herself there, and it had just succeeded in making Gremori angry!

“Matey! I… SHIT!” gasped Ed as his foot suddenly caught on a root, the forsaken going sprawling behind him as Gremori snarled and leapt.

“Ed?!” stammered Grimo as he looked behind him just in time to see Gremori pounce atop him like a giant winged nightsaber, drool seeping out between her fangs. “HEY! GET OFF HIM!” he shouted, aiming his rifle… but she was right ontop of Edwood! He had some rounds that he’d gotten Nitika to bless for him, but Edwood was a forsaken! They’d do just as much damage to him as Gremori!

“Don’t worry about me dammit! Take th’ feckin’ shot Grimo!” shouted Edwood as Gremori’s claws closed around his head.

“Dissonantia knows what you’re making goblin! Hand it over or I’ll tear his maggot-ridden head off and roast it!” she snarled. Normally she’d be overly excited for a fight, but that lightspawn explosion had HURT! She was angry now, wanting to go back to the Nether to lick her wounds… but she had a job to do.

Az’arad nodded and slammed his axe down, the blade perilously close to Edwood’s neck.

Grimo’s rifle wavered, hovering between the two demons. Next to Grimo’s ankle Guzzle whined, anxiously tossing a ball of felfire back and forth between his hands… but against a felsworn and a Wrathguard it may as well be a water balloon.

Finally, Grimo snarled and stomped his foot. “FINE! FUCKIN’ FINE! YOU WANT IT SO DAMN BAD?!” he snapped, reaching into his pack and pulling out a round object with leather straps attached to it. “GO GET IT THEN!” he shouted, tossing it towards the docks.

The demon and felsworn’s heads snapped towards it, then Gremori grinned and launched herself into the air with her wings as Az’arad snarled and ran off after the object of Dissonantia’s desire. As soon as they were off Grimo ran to Edwood and pulled him to his feet, “You good? We gotta get th’ fel outta here!” he snapped.

Edwood got to his feet as Guzzle ran up to him shouting ‘captain!’ in a high voice, the forsaken nodding, “Aye… but th’ device!” he insisted, pointing to where they’d gone.

“FORGET IT! HEARTHSTONE! NOW!” snapped Grimo, pulling his out and focusing on it.

Edwood looked back towards where Gremori had landed, but he knew it was pointless. Neither he nor Grimo were frontline fighters, and both Az’arad and Gremori had fought toe to toe with Galdia. In a direct fight they’d get torn limb from limb. He pulled his own hearthstone out and focused his will on it, the swirl on the stone lighting up a brilliant blue as the world seemed to distort around them… and with a sudden burp…

The Roasted Ram, Valdrakken, a second later…

There was a hiccup in the world as the group appeared next to the bar, Grimo collapsing with a woosh of breath as Ed sagged against the table.

“’ey! Ya be back boss mon!” came a voice as Mola’raum looked up from a bar table, seated with him were Nitika, Dareley, and Nelen.

“Finally finished the detection tool did you?” smirked the tauren, then she frowned as she saw their expressions… “Wait, whats wrong?” she asked, standing up as she drew her staff.

Edwood shook his head, scowling, “We got raided! Right in th’ bloody middle of Bilgewater Harbor! That demon hunter of Dissonantia’s came ‘n got us broadsides with Az’arad ‘n Grimo had to toss ‘em th’ detection tool to get rid of ‘em!” he spat.

Nelen looked thunderstruck at this news, jumping to his feet with Dareley, “WHAT?! Grimo, we need that thing! We have to go back after it before they can get back to the Twisting Nether!” he shouted.

Grimo staggered to his feet, then smirked, “Nah, no we don’t. Its right here.” he smirked, tapping his wrist. Wrapped securely around it was the demon detection prototype, the screen showing all clear.

Ed froze, then looked at him, “… wait, what?” he asked, looking at the goblin’s arm, “But… what did ye give ‘em?”

Grimo gave him a toothy grin, “Oh, just somethin’ I’ve been carryin’ around with me since th’ Blood War…” he replied, taking out a cigar and biting the tip off, then lighting it. “Kept meanin’ to throw it out but, yanno, never any time to clean my damn bags.”

Dissonantia’s Lair, the Twisting Nether

The portal flared as Gremori and Az’arad staggered in. Getting away from Bilgewater Harbor had been surprisingly hard once word had gotten around as to where they were in the city and the guard could mobilize properly… and had gotten word to Orgrimmar for reinforcements. They had to fight their way through the wilderness of Azshara to an abandoned warlock enclave hidden along the northern mountains to get back to the Nether and their bodies showed the marks of a battle, but they’d made it.

Dissonantia was seated on her throne, reading through one of Aartox’s old grimories with a bored expression. She looked up as she saw them come in, then stood up. “Well, yez get it?” she snapped.

Gremori grinned, rubbing at a bullet wound on her arm, “Yeah… had to crush a few skulls, but we got it!” she grinned, holding up the device.

“A belt? Huh… weird feckin’ thing ta use fer detectin’ demons… but Grimo always was a weird fecker…” she grumbled.

“Yeah, we had to threaten to kill his undead buddy… well… maybe not kill but…” started Gremori as Dissonantia walked up to her and snatched the belt away from her.

“Skip it, I’ve heard all th’ bloody jokes.” she grunted. She was a worgen, she had to pretend to be a good Gilnean soldier for years, she had heard every single joke that could be made at the expense of the forsaken during her tenure in the Alliance. “How th’ fel does this thing work? All I see is one button…” she grumbled, pressing it.

The belt buckle, a stylized horde symbol, lit up with red LED lights as she did, and a mechanical voice piped out a cheerful “I’m the greatest goblin warrior!” for the three of them.

Dissonantia didn’t stop cursing for a full ten minutes solid.

Next Story

Previous Story

[ink-and-flame]

Kinktober Day 1: The Violet Snail

Kinktober Day 1 Prompts: Cum Inflation (fantasy)~Gang-bang~Prostitution (actual)

Fandom: Warcraft

Tags: Prostitution, Gang Bang, Cum Inflation, Size Difference, weird dicks,  slight m/m, anal sex,

Pairing:  OrcM/GoblinM/DwarfF/WorgenM/NagaM

[Author's Note: I don’t really play Hearthstone anymore and do not have anything from the Mean Streets of Gadgetzan collection, but I like the idea of the premise. I see it as a sort of semi modernized noir sort of setting within Warcraft, so that is where this little story is going to be based. If I get anything wrong about the setting it is not intentional, I just haven’t read everything from the wiki on it yet.]

Nestled back on a dark street surrounded by bars and shops was a large almost unassuming building with a bright glowing purple sign. The Violet Snail was a popular tavern, mostly because it was also a brothel and had some of the best brews and entertainment to be had this side of Gadgetzan. The owners of the the tavern were a goblin and a dwarf. The goblin ran the brothel side of things, and the dwarf kept the tavern running and always stocked with brew.

Tonight's crowd was rowdy as always, but it was rare for fights to start here. There were strict rules and no one wanted to get banned, not even on a temporary basis. If they weren’t addicted to the entertainment, then it was the unique brews and snacks the bar offered. Tulvir, the dwarven owner, went out of his way to source unique brews from all over Azeroth, having many imported from far away isles. Standard dwarven brews were a staple on the menu, but the exotic brews were what kept people coming back. Always curious what would be new on the menu.

Tulvir did the same with food. Sourcing recipes from all over and working with the cooks to determine what would work and what wouldn’t. Not all food made good bar food and even some of the most delicious recipes didn’t make the cut just because they were too complicated to serve to drunk people. It also came down to ingredients, if it wasn’t something that could be reliably sourced, it wasn’t considered. 

Maggie, on the other hand, dealt with the entertainment and ran the brothel portion of the tavern. The whole upstairs was dedicated to it and she had her work cut out for her most nights. The set up was clever. A patron could put in their requests downstairs, pick from a book if they were inclined to something specific. Prices were negotiated, and when the room was available they were escorted up. No one got upstairs without an escort. This kept the talent and the patrons safe. 

Business was good, the crowd was a bit loud but joyful. They were being entertained by some dancers as booze was sold in bulk. The kitchen was not quite overwhelmed but working at a steady pace. It was nice to see, and Maggie knew it would be a profitable night. She eyed a couple of the tables, wondering which groups would end up looking to buy some company and head upstairs. If she were a betting woman she would be certain the table of orcs would be the first to ask for the book. To her surprise, it was the mixed table that requested it. An odd group to be sure, but there really wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen here in Gadgetzan. The naga was a little different, but he wasn’t the first she had seen in their tavern, it was just a rare occurrence. 

Stepping over to the table she addressed them “Finding anything you like, we are running a couple of specials this week. We have a deal where if you book two girls the second is half rate, and we have a 25% discount on group scenes. Let me know what you are interested in.” Maggie stepped away to let them converse amongst themselves. The specials never impacted the talent, anything taken off came from the house side and rarely did it affect profits. 

Glyx glanced sideways at Corbin while Vosh continued to flip through the book. "So, just wanna get two girls to double team?" he said to what was a near uncomfortably long silence. It was a stark contrast to how they were in the tavern a few hours prior.

"I'm fine with whatever. One gal, a couple, one for each." Corbin finally answered to break the pregnant pause, looking over to the orc who still thumbed through the pages. He went through it twice, and now was on his third. If there was ever a more selective person than Vosh, Corbin hadn't met them yet.

"It would be easier if I was paired with someone less… easy to unnerve." Nalzas said, his eyes sitting on Corbin with a not so subtle implication. "Will you be staying as a human, or shifting?" The naga asked curiously. Corbin was probably the most relaxed individual Zas had ever known. A very go with the flow type, but he was dangerous when his mood shifted, as rare as the situation was.

"Vosh. Vosh, pal, buddy, Vosh. Dude. Pick. Please. We don't have all night, I definitely don't got all night, and I'm pretty sure we don't have the coin for one of each." Glyx' large green ear flicked, annoyance clear on him as he was about ready to to swipe the book from their very picky friend, and pick at random.

The orc glared at the goblin, and as his hands lifted, the book was shoved over into the hands of Corbin. "Here, you can choose. We aren't exactly a normal group, and I doubt you could ask some gnome to take what we have going on."

Corbin just took it with little more than a hum, flipping pages faster than Vosh was doing. Unlike Vosh, he actually had considered their differences, and what would be exciting for them. It was easy enough to pass over several options, and with a few details to look through the profiles, it took him a great deal quicker to settle on a woman that looked interesting to him. "So." He finally said looking up. "How do you all feel about a dwarf?"

Glyx got a little gleam in his eye “Oh, I do like dwarves. They fit the whole ‘taller’n me’ thing without bein so tall that it’s a pain in the ass. She cute?” The goblin tugged the book away from Corbin and glanced at the picture. Oh yeah, she was cute. Just the kind of girl he would have hit on naturally. Clearly his friend knew what he liked. It was Vosh, the ever picky one, that needed to agree. 

“What say you Vosh, ya like?” Glyx pushed the book towards the orc and glanced over to Zas. “you good with a dwarf lady, not gonna be a problem fer, eh, yer junk?” Nalzas narrowed his slitted eyes at Glyx. “Oh honestly Glyx, so crass. I am fine as long as they are. Dwarvish women tend to be rather sturdy, so I haven’t really had any issues, though it was only the one time. I am sure we can all make it work as long as Vosh is interested.”

“Yeah, it works. She looks fun, profile fits our needs. Nothing popping out at me that could be an issue. I like her red hair.” Sometimes being picky paid off, and sometimes it caused situations like this. Vosh knew it drove his friends nuts, but it was just how he was. When it came to non orcish women, he was exceedingly picky and refused to apologize for it. 

Turning around he waved the goblin lady over, it would suck if they went through all this and she wasn’t even available. “Her, uh, Branwen? Yeah, her name shows as Branwen. She free? It would be all four of us.”

Maggie took the book back and nodded.  “Yes, Branwen is available. I will have security take you up to the room and she will be brought in after you read over the rules for the room. Enjoy your time gentlemen.” Maggie gestured for them to follow the large serious looking orcs standing near the stairs. 

Corbin picked up the little booklet with the rules and began reviewing them as the others got settled, reading aloud anything that he thought the others needed to know. It was standard stuff really. Mostly to protect the talent and to prevent harm to everyone involved. “Seems basic, I mean if I was looking for some of the more extreme stuff I certainly would not have come here. Glyx, that means you are going to have to reign it in a bit until we know how much this girl can handle your mouth.”

“I am hurt and offended Cor, that you would besmirch my very character with such slander.” Glyx stated in the most clear and enunciated speech they had ever heard, his accent completely gone for that moment. He was, of course, being sarcastic, but it did hit home as the others began laughing.

“Just, tone down the dirty talk until we know she is into it ok?” Corbin rolled his eyes and got comfortable with the others as they waited for the woman to arrive, which she did in short order, and she was far more beautiful than her picture had shown. 

“Well, look at this lot. I’m Branwen, looks like I have quite the selection tonight.” She smiled at the men and was intrigued to see such an unusual group. The orc and goblin she expected, but the human and naga were curious. Still, you got all types here and she wasn’t going to question it. As long as they followed the rules, this was going to be fun. “So, who’s first, or all at once?”

Corbin stepped up, wanting to take the lead to make sure everyone got what they wanted from the evening. “Whatever is going to be easier to start with for you. I know Glyx is quite excited, but Nalzas here is a little nervous.” He gestured to the goblin and naga in turn. “Also, full disclosure, but I am a worgen. I can stay in human form if that is less strange for you. I know not everyone is, well, into it.”

Branwen looked a bit confused. Worgen were rare in these parts. They showed up, but tended not to be seen much on this side of town, so this would be a first. She wasn’t sure what he was getting at until something tickled at her thoughts. “Strange? I, hmm, ye wouldn’t mean that somethin is different?” She had heard rumors that some worgen not only were incredibly hung, but had odd shaped or knotted dicks. When the man flushed she smirked and decided to test the waters with how playful she could get with this group. “Are ye insinuatin that yer a bit… knotty?”

At this, Corbin was bright red, his face in his hands, and both Vosh and Glyx were howling with laughter. “Oh, oh I like her, she is a keeper!” Glyx chimed in and sauntered up to the dwarf. “Sweetie, I promise we are gonna make yer night it ya let us. With humor like that, this was meant to be. So, who first?”

“Why don’t we start on the bed. All holes are available as long as yer willin to use lube. No slidin in the back door dry loves, we’ll have none of that.” Branwen stripped off her simple dress. She hadn’t worn anything underneath, she assumed with a group session they would want to get to it and not waste too much time.

Hopping up on the bed she waited for them to finish talking amongst themselves and was not shocked that the goblin crawled up on the bed first. He was quite handsome. Dark hair, bright eyes, light green skin, and more well hung than she was expecting. He winked at her as he grabbed the lube. “Hope ya don’t mind me knockin on the back door ta start?” 

“What position would make this easier?” Branwen paused as the orc slid onto the bed and lifted her in the air, turning her to face him and placing her on his lap. 

“Ride me? That way Glyx can stand up and we don’t have to worry about hurting you.” Vosh pushed some loose strands of hair from her face, stroking her cheek with a knuckle. “That, and I want to see your face. Condom or no?”

Branwen flushed at the attention, she was not expecting this. The orc was the one she was worried about. He looked so angry, but now, there was this tenderness in his eyes she had not expected and she found herself feeling some sort of way about it. She shook her head. Condoms would not be needed. She had taken her preventatives so pregnancy shouldn’t be an issue and they had a healer on staff just in case someone caught something. She had charms as well to help prevent anything unwanted getting into her system.

“Beautiful. We’ll start slow, but you never answered our friend Corbin over there. Human form or full worgen?” Vosh wanted to make sure that consent was clear before things started and the heat of the moment could change minds. He wanted her clear headed for this choice.

“I’m curious, so let's go worgen.” Branwen smiled over at Corbin who was still flushed. Though, she had not expected for him to shift right then, and oh was he quite large. Though his blue eyes still seemed so kind even if his face was now a little more frightening. 

Vosh ended up distracting her when she felt herself lifted into the air and something nudged at her entrance. She locked eyes with his as he pushed in, her’s closing first. The stretch was something, it burned just a bit, but in a good way. That good feeling just kept coming as she slowly took more and more of him in. She wasn’t sure it would fit at first, and now she was hoping to take all of him. That stretch started to feel a little too good and it was taking a lot of will power for her to sit still.

Branwen opened her eyes when she felt the bed move and saw that the worgen had joined them, off to the side a bit. It was a good thing all the furniture had been double reinforced last year. After a selection of furniture had broken, the bosses paid more to have better stuff built. Hopefully it would hold up with this group. “You ok there lovely?” Vosh asked in a deep rumbly voice, it was quiet, not quite a whisper, but close. He had turned her face to his and was looking at her with concern.

“Yes, just staying relaxed. You are bigger than I thought, trying not to get too excited. Wouldn’t want this to be over before it starts.” She smirked at the orc as she felt large hands on her hips and a warm slick nudge between her cheeks, glancing back over her shoulder she nodded at Glyx, letting him know he could go ahead. She wasn’t sure if he was hesitating for any particular reason, but sometimes reaffirming her consent helped.

“Ya got a great ass beautiful, just want ta make sure yer ready for it.” Glyx pushed his hips forward carefully, keeping the lube nearby to add more as needed. He wasn’t all that into causing pain. Yeah he was kinky, but this wasn’t really the time for it. Adding a bit more lube the goblin pushed just a bit more til he felt her relax a bit as was able to get a couple inches in. Biting back a groan and forcing himself to pause he just stood there for a moment to center himself and calm just a bit. 

Corbin and Nalzas watched as their friends found a nice rhythm. Zas slithered over to the bed pushing up on his coils to be taller. Both of his cocks were out, slick with arousal and he caught Branwens curious eyes. Smiling gently at her shocked expression. He wasn’t sure how this would work out for him, but even just watching was enough sometimes. 

Branwen glanced towards Corbin and saw that he too was erect and he indeed did have a rather large dick with a noticeable knot in it. It wasn’t too large one she was certain she could take if she tried, but she was curious how he tasted. “If’n ya lean up here, I could suck ye off.” She offered and caught the glances between the orc and worgen. If they were communicating she was unaware but something must have been agreed upon as she felt a gentle hand on the back of her head as he lifted up on his knees. 

“Only take as much as you feel safe doing. Trust me, it will feel good regardless.” Corbin teased her lips with the tip of his cock and sucked in a sharp breath as she eagerly took him into her mouth. He had anticipated that she would be nervous, hesitant even, but no, she was already almost to the knot and he was finding it difficult to keep control.

Nalzas watched as the group found their rhythm, moving as one. It was strange and beautiful at the same time. His friends knew his proclivities and had not expressed any problems with them in the past, so he helped himself. Leaning down he wiggled closer, his long tongue flicking out to tease Branwen’s clit. He tasted both her and Vosh, it was delightful. Snaking his tongue out farther he teased and flicked along her slit and back to her clit. Vosh didn’t indicate any discomfort so he continued, his tongue teasing both on occasion, but mostly focusing on Branwen. She tasted lovely and he considered paying for a private session with her if she would allow it.

Branwen was almost delirious with pleasure. She felt incredible. Every part of her body was tingling. She was almost overwhelmed with it all. The snake tongue had been a surprise, but a welcome one and she had all intentions of exploring that more later. For now she was getting close to that edge, the only thing helping her stave off an orgasm was her focus. The cock in her mouth was just a little too big and she had to concentrate on her breathing to make sure she didn’t get too light headed, oh it was glorious though. So thick and musky, she wanted to take that knot, but simply wasn’t able to. Not yet, maybe she could convince this group to become regulars. 

Glyx was the first to reach orgasm. Crying out sharply as he fought the urge to bite Branwen. She felt so good, so tight, and he continued to thrust through his orgasm, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could. They were going to go broke, he just knew it. She had enchanted the whole group, he was certain of it, and honestly wasn’t going to complain, at least not yet. 

Corbin followed with a sharp moan that started to transition into a howl. He pulled back, not wanting to accidentally choke or drown Branwen with his cum. He barely managed to miss her face and his friends, who would have been annoyed but most likely would have forgiven him. Stroking himself the rest of the way through his orgasm, squeezing his knot in a way that made his toes curl. If she was up for more, he very much wanted a ride. Panting he backed off a bit to give the others space. 

Branwen came hard, her core clenching around Vosh’s cock, as the orc followed close after. Nalzas pulled back allowing them to cum together. It was almost sweet, they looked like they belonged. He was a softy and a bit of a romantic at times, but there was something about this woman that seemed to have enchanted all of them. He helped brace her and pulled her gently off of Vosh, settling her safely in his coils to rest. 

It took Branwen a few minutes to come back to her senses and she found herself enjoying the feeling of scales against her skin. She looked up at the naga curiously. “Ye know, yer the only one that didn’t get a happy endin, it would be a damn shame ta leave it like that.”

Zas laughed, a slight hiss in his voice. “Only, if you are certain. One or both?”

“Oh, it had better be both ye sweet serpent. I got two holes.” She glanced at the bed, “Oi, be a sport and toss us the lube will ye?”

Glyx chuckled heartily and shrugged before tossing the lube. “A’ight. Lemme get my pants on, I’ll go pay fer another hour. Eh, lets make it two.”

[mothervvoid]

1/1ch | 2k wc

Tyrande is angry.

[theater-of-the-mind]

Prompt Fic: Rose Tinted Memories

Doing some writing practice with ficlets some prompts from this list.

AO3 Version can be found here.

 “Thank you for agreeing to help.”

 -o-o-o-o-o-

 “Thank you for agreeing to help.” Khadgar said, his voice was barely above a whisper. He could barely believe that his former master was standing at his side. That they would face Sargeras and the Legion together. 

 Fear rolled around in the Archmage’s stomach. Fear of failure, but also fear that this moment was just a dream. That, with a blink, Medivh wouldn’t be there and Khadgar would find himself alone.

 Alone. Such a simple word that held so much weight and terror for Khadgar. He had been alone before, many times. He had lost so much, so many people over the years. One would think that he’d have gotten used to it, numb to it. But it still hurt now, just as much as it did when he plunged a dagger into Medivh’s chest all those years ago.

 Medivh blinked. Khadgar’s words caught him a little off guard. He had been enjoying the relative silence with his former apprentice as they looked out at Azaroth from the Vindicaar. He had been so enamored with the breathtaking view of their world that he almost missed Khadgar’s words entirely.

 Medivh had originally planned to leave after the defeat of Viz’aduum in the upper reaches of his tower home. He was ready to do it but that look Khadgar gave as he asked him to stay. Seeing him standing there, having come so far but still being the Young Trust, he knew under it all. Medivh’s feet were suddenly lead. He couldn’t bring himself to leave.

 “I’m not sure how useful I’ll be. Your friend Turalyon says I’m a potential threat. He’s probably not wrong.” Medivh admitted.

 The mention of Turalyon and the fight Khadgar had with him over Medivh made his stomach twist. His hold on Atiesh tightened a little, as they had thrown harsh words back and forth between them.

 Lately, it had seemed like the universe had been giving some things back to Khadgar. Alleria and Turalyon were here. He had friends in his champions; he had Medivh back, of all things. Yet, everything was still ‘off’. Alleria and Turalyon, he cared about dearly, were very different from when they last saw each other. Both changed by void and light. Turalyon was much harsher, even allowing for his wife to be locked up by Xe’ra. Alleria was wrapped in the embrace of the void. She was colder, more venomous. Khadgar found himself worrying about her, for her sanity. She always had a mean streak. He remembered the times he used to butt heads with Alleria in the past. But this was different. This was much more dangerous.

 Khadgar quietly mourned his friends all over again. That small part of himself that hoped against all hope that they’d be together again finally died. Khadgar had to wonder if the fond memories he had of them were truly real. Being there in their presence, listening to them as they spoke, memories bubbled up. Both the good and bad. Every argument he had with Alleria, his crush on Turalyon, and the pained disappointment when they became a pair. Khadgar still loved them, he still cared about them, but the three of them were more flawed than he cared to admit. He held on to his rose-tinted memories to help him get through the toughest times. 

 Now, that was all peeled away. Khadgar found his ironclad resolve start to waver.

“I’ve been living as a hermit for a long time.” Medivh spoke up, breaking Khadgar away from his thoughts. “Going out now and then for supplies, doing tasks for people in Darkshire. I would tell myself that it was a self-imposed punishment.” Medivh gave Khadgar a moment to let it all sink in. “I wanted to see you when I heard you had returned from Draenor…Or, ‘Outland’, as it’s known now. I even traveled all the way to Dalaran…”

 The memory of that day was still fresh in Medivh’s mind. The feel of his hammering heart as he walked the streets of the mage city. The goosebumps that rose from his skin as he feared recognition, even with how unlikely it was. Disguise aside, his time was a good number of years ago. It was highly unlikely any civilian would have realized who he was, let alone a young student. Still, there may have been someone out there that could. The anxiety only grew with gradual over stimulation of everything Dalaran, from the magic flaunted about the markets to the crowds of civilians, students, and adventurers crept up on him.

 It all boiled over, the moment he caught sight of Khadgar. He was being shown around the city by some eager students. He looked far older then, having a beard that went down to his knees. His hair was all grey, save for a thick streak of pure, bright white that Medivh recognized as Khadgar's signature Mullen stripe. It was him. It really was Khadgar, there and alive. Medivh's feet moved on their own, marching towards him. It took a minute for his mind to catch up with his body's actions. One of the students noticed him, eyeing him, and suddenly it all became too much. Medivh ducked into an alleyway before Khadgar could turn around to see him.

 He couldn't do it. Medivh couldn't face him. So he fled.

 “Honestly, I was just hiding from the world, and the repercussions of my crimes.” Medivh admitted to himself more than anything. It was a truth that needed to be said, that he needed to accept. “I separated my study from the rest of the tower, never realizing what was happening within it. That Moroes and my friends are still there, cursed and having to put up with demons and adventurers. Even now, I’m terrified of facing Sargeras, of the idea that he might…that I might…” Medivh didn’t finish. He looked down at one of his hands and found it trembling. Turalyon had raised the idea that Sargeras might try to use Medivh against them. As much as the magus didn’t want to admit it, it was a very real possibility. “I’m just a coward, Khadgar.”

 “Then why did you stay?” Khadgar asked. There was no accusation in his voice.

 Medivh slowly closed his trembling hand into a fist. “...I...don’t know. I was going to leave, but I couldn’t.”

 “I’d like to think that if there’s one thing I understand, it’s you, Medivh.” Khadgar said with a weary smile. “You were never the type to simply do as you were told. Even back then, you fought Sargeras’ control as much as you could. I’m sure I would have been a pile of ashes if you hadn’t.” Khadgar’s smile grew more fond, he blinked and Medivh could see his eyes had begun to tear up. “I think the two of us standing here, together again, is proof of that.”

 Medivh felt his face heat up. He broke eye contact with Khadgar and returned his gaze to Azaroth. “It was because you asked me to, Khadgar. I saw you there and for a moment, I saw that awkward lad the Kirin Tor threw at me.” Medivh felt his own eyes sting as it was their turn to tear up. “You’ve changed so much but you’re still ‘Young Trust’. You wanted me here and I couldn’t bring myself to say ‘no’ to you.”

 Khadgar couldn’t help the blush that creeped its way into his face. He chewed lightly on his lower lip as he tried to pick out the words he wished to say. 

 “I’m afraid too, Medivh.” Khadgar admitted. “I’ve made so many mistakes as a leader and poor choices as a person. We’re both flawed and damaged people. But I can’t deny that I feel braver with you here, with me.” Khadgar took a chance, reached over, and took Medivh’s hand into his own. He threaded their fingers together. When Medivh gently squeezed back, he felt his heart flutter. “I don’t just want to defeat Sargeras, I want to come out of this alive with you.”

 Medivh couldn’t help but smile a little. “I…wouldn’t mind leaving the tower more after this. Maybe…we could…? Ah…I…”

 “I’d love to show you around Dalaran.” Khadgar said. “I know you never liked it, but there are excellent places to eat. There’s also a very famous bookshop there that has more of those steamy romance novels…”

 “Dear light, you saw all of those?!” Medivh laughed halfway through the sentence.

 “I’ve always known about your smut collection. I had to organize those too back when I was cleaning your library.”

 Medivh’s face grew so hot, so fast that he felt a little lightheaded. His free hand rose up to cover his face. Laughter bubbled up from his chest and broke free. It was light, warm, and almost melodic. It brought a warmth to the room that Khadgar knew so well. At that moment, Medivh was lighter, more vibrant.

 “Excuse me…” a familiar drawling voice spoke. Moroes had arrived, with broom and dustpan in hand. The ever loyal steward refused to let Khadgar and Medivh go off without him. Surprising them both in his ability to leave Karazhan’s tower. Moroes gestured both magi to step aside as he began to sweep up what Khadgar noticed were small, golden crystalline shards. “Honestly, you’d think people around here would know to sweep up random bits of glass. If this junk gets into their hooves, it’ll cause them all sorts of problems.”

 Medivh’s brow furrowed as he stared at the collection of shards that were in Moroes’ dustpan. “Huh, so that’s what that occasional ‘crunch’ under my boots was…”

 “Um, that’s…Khadgar paled as he realized quickly what Moroes was sweeping up. “...That’s not glass.”

 Medivh looked to Khadgar, and then the realization hit him. “Oh, that’s the naru your moody purple friend blew up, isn’t it?”

 “Y-yep…” Khadgar could hear tiny, disjointed tones coming from the shards.

 “I don’t care what it is!” Moroes huffed. “It’s a mess, and it’s everywhere! Do your mage thing and help me clean.”

 “Magic!? Oh no, I couldn’t! I’d never!” Medivh said as an impish smile spread across his face. “I seem to remember a certain someone telling me that magic didn’t belong with cleaning. That all you need is good old-fashioned elbow grease and--”

 “Medivh.” Moroes’ voice was firm. He crossed his arms and gave the magus a firm look. “Enough of your sass or I’ll box you on your ears.”

 “Yes, yes, Mother Hen…” Medivh said, his smile turning warmer. He had very much missed Moroes and was thankful to have him back. He raised both of his hands into the air and his fingers gave a loud, sharp ‘snap’.

 Arcane crackled as mana flowed from Medivh and swirled in the air before shaping itself into multiple brooms. They floated off and went about sweeping and cleaning around the Vindicaar.

 Khadgar would take whatever levity he could get. Being there with Moroes and Medivh was grounding. Something he needed for the trials to come, for when they finally faced Sargeras.

 They would defeat him and get out of it alive, together. Khadgar didn’t need to hold on to rose-tinted memories to push him forward. There was so much to look forward to in the future.

 -The End-

[catfirebrand]

The Lighthouse | Chapter 14

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26202385/chapters/152792740

Summary:

Jaina is annoyed, Sylvanas has another chat with her Minn'da. and slowly more breadcrumbs are revealed.

Notes:

Sorry guys, meant to post this sooner, I just got caught up in starting a million new BG3 characters with all the mods...

“Lirath, you’re being ridiculous—”

“I’m being ridiculous? I’m not the one my sister dragged in bleeding from the head and in the middle of an arcane seizure! That tower is bad news, I keep telling you all this, but no, don’t listen to the magister who’s more than ten times your age—”

“Tidemother’s tits, for the last time, it’s not haunted!”

“Just because you won’t admit to what’s in front of you—”

“Anar’alah, anari’a finel Lirath!”

Jaina spun, the words she’d been about to shout dying on her tongue as Sylvanas’ arm wrapped around her.

Lirath rolled his eyes and snorted. “Well then, will you please talk some sense into her, since you’re the only one she listens to? She’s insisting on going back to that Belore-damned tower already.”

“By the Tides, Lirath—”

“Elu’meniel mal alann, Jaina. He may have a point.”

Jaina groaned. “Sylvanas, not you too…”

[eluviannaa]

About a month ago I was talking favorite Brooklyn Nine-Nine quotes and was reminded of one I absolutely LOVE. The character Rosa Diaz has some of the best.

She's dark and detached, and the dialogue that came to mind was an amazing offhand comment:

“That lady has been buried alive three times. I've only been buried alive once."

Connecting the idea of Elu having unusual experiences, ones she never talks about. The quote sparked inspiration to explore, what if she had been buried alive.

How would that go? And with Thorne being the darker fic, it seemed a perfect place to stick the lore.

The larger setup isn't connected yet, but writing out a scene for the idea was so fun.

Also, in case you're wondering, she was buried in an unmarked grave in Barrowknoll Cemetery, Drustvar.

Eluvianna was shaking, detached, and approaching mental severence.

Her expression carried an unfamiliar distance, framed by once soft waves now heavy with dark, wet sediment, matting the strands. Ribbons of brown sludge pathed across her chest, a tar of the pallor.

Cormac sensed the schism, but his hand considered a rough strip of cloth—ripped from some long-forgotten thing.

His eyes followed a thick smear of grime along her cheek, blackening across her lips as though it had been spat out. He winced—a quiet spasm in the throat—the sight itself became a taste. The cloth hung useless in his hand, a gesture that felt entirely worthless.

She closed her eyes, fingers wavering as they touched the damp skin. Her breath attempting to steady. She tried to clear her throat, something lodged deep brought an obstructed scrag.

She coughed once, then harder, her body twisting over her knees as she forced the breath out, finally spitting a gritty mass of mud onto the rough wooden floor.

He guided shoulders back into the chair, giving a gentle squeeze before his hands disconnected. She leaned back heavily, eyes closing as she tilted her face upward. He watched, assessing the motion, almost unrecognizable in his concern.

“And this not be the first time.” He knew the words were unhelpful, but was trying to reach her. One day he might.

Eyes still closed, her brow lifted in resignation. “No—but never buried alive.” She forced a smile, attempting levity. Then a sharp jolt forward with another cough.

He scoffed, pulling a chair opposite her. Moving a hand to grasp at her arm both in a measure of comfort and caution.

His voice low. “One day we won't find you.”

Eyes squinting hard, her lips pursed in some deep purpose. The words came through a tense jaw. “Caution left me long ago. This is nothing.”

[vunblr]

Fangs and Spells

Pairing: Worgen!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Soft-dom!Bucky. Possessive!Bucky.

Summary: Bucky, a grumpy worgen warrior, and his sharp-tongued mage partner are sent on a relatively simple quest that quickly spirals into chaos.

Word Count: About 12k.

Notes: Ok, this one is... heated, I'm sorry beforehand (not).

Worgen=Werewolf. I’ve been playing World of Warcraft for 15 years, and even though life keeps me away, I’m always eager to return. That said, you don’t need to have played WoW to enjoy this story (though if you have, feel free to comment!).

The golden expanse of Westfall stretched endlessly beneath a bruised sky, and the faint scent of rain hung in the air. Rolling grain fields, left untended for far too long, waved like restless ghosts in the wind. To the south of Moonbrook, jagged cliffs met the turbulent sea, its waves crashing against the rocks with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic fury.

It wasn’t an inviting place, not anymore. The days of bountiful harvests and tight-knit farming communities were long gone, stolen by bandits, gnolls, and worse. The remaining folk clung stubbornly to their land, driven by defiance and desperation. And if you asked them, the worgen prowling over from Duskwood to raid the struggling riverside farms were on top of the offender's list.

Near the cliff's edge, a small clearing hosted a half-pitched tent flapping uselessly in the rising wind. A warrior with a scowl etched deep into his face knelt beside it, hammering a stake into the rocky ground with more force than was strictly necessary. Standing a few feet away, a mage held the sagging canvas taut, glaring daggers at him.

"You had one job, Buck," she bit out, exasperated as the wind tugged at her robes.

“The idiot deserved it, and you know it,” he muttered, not bothering to look up.

She let out a humorless laugh, sharp enough to cut through the whistling wind. “Oh, I know. But that doesn’t mean you had to snap in the middle of the inn. For Light’s sake, Bucky, all you had to do was keep your temper in check. We were finally about to get a decent night’s sleep. But no, you had to let your claws show.”

His lip curled, and hint of a snarl escaped his throat before he caught himself. “The bastard invited you to ‘polish his greatsword’ while groping himself under the table. What was I supposed to do?”

“Nothing! Nothing would’ve been perfect. I could’ve frozen his excuse of a dick and left him weeping into his ale. Then we could’ve stayed, and maybe even conned him into buying an overpriced healing potion for his bruised ego since there isn’t a decent merchant in this God-forgotten place. But no, you just had to make it personal.”

Bucky let out a huff, standing to stretch his shoulders. The motion pulled his vest taut, and her eyes flicked down for the briefest of moments before she caught herself and snapped her gaze back to the tent. He mumbled under his breath, “He had it coming.”

She didn’t let him off the hook. “Please. You just took the opportunity to vent because Steve sent us to kill nagas on the beach. And you hate the coast because when you shift, the sand gets into your fur and other places you don’t-”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, waving her off with a sharp motion and an uncharacteristic hint of color in his cheeks. “Maybe that had something to do with it. But still, the bastard deserved it.”

She smirked, pulling the canvas tighter over the flimsy frame of the tent. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy.”

He huffed again, crossing his arms, fixing his eyes on the distant horizon.

“Just... remember where we are,” she advised softly, "This isn’t Dalaran or some other cultivated place. These farmers deal with the Duskwood worgens six days a week lately. They don’t believe -or care- that there’s a way for your kind to regain their humanity."

He stiffened slightly at her words. She regretted saying them the moment they left her mouth, but he didn’t snap back. Instead, he shifted his weight, avoiding her gaze entirely.

"We got lucky you only half-shifted, and the owner just asked us to leave instead of raising some kind of alarm."

“Don’t fool yourself,” he muttered. “He didn’t call on us because he knows we’re here to deal with the nagas.”

“Maybe,” she allowed with a slight shrug. “But that’s not the point.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as the first fat drops of rain began to patter against the canvas.

Her voice softened slightly as she bent to secure the last corner of the tent, though her gaze stayed sharp. “Look, I appreciate what you did in some way, but you usually let me handle this kind of thing. The last couple of days, though… you’ve been broodier and grumpier than usual, and that’s saying something. This isn’t just about the beach, is it?”

He grunted, keeping his eyes on the stakes. “You’re imagining things. Maybe you’ve just forgotten my charming personality since it’s been a month since our last quest together.”

She quirked an unimpressed brow, crossing her arms as the rain dripped from the edge of her hood. “Thanks to your charming personality, almost no one in the guild wants to team up with you unless we’re raiding. And its why Steve pairs me with you, because apparently, I can ‘handle’ you.”

Bucky squinted up at her, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“Yeah,” she continued, folding her arms tighter as her voice took on a teasing lilt. “So believe me when I say you’re ‘Buckier’ than usual right now.”

He straightened, looming over her slightly, and let out a quiet huff. “Think what you want,” he muttered, brushing past her to retrieve his bedroll from their supplies.

She wasn’t wrong, and he hated how much her observation rattled him. Worse, he hated how easily she could unravel the mask he wore, the one that kept everyone else at arm’s length. But he couldn’t explain why, not without revealing more than he was willing to.

He should’ve seen it coming. Every Gilnean, given their worgen blood, knew what it felt like, that slow-burning tension building incrementally until it exploded into something primal and impossible to ignore. His rut came like clockwork every year, and when it did, he disappeared from the radar, holed up in some remote spot until it passed. Sometimes alone, sometimes not.

This time, though, Steve had insisted the naga situation couldn’t wait. The bounty was too big, the stakes too high, and Bucky, hadn’t argued. He’d thought he had more time before his hormones kicked in. He’d been so wrong. And now? Sharing a flimsy tent with her and her sharp tongue? It was like throwing oil on a fire.

He glanced at her, and his gaze lingered longer than it should have. She was bent over the supplies, muttering under her breath as she organized their gear. The damp fabric of her robes clung to her frame, outlining curves he’d tried not to notice since… well, he couldn’t remember when it started.

He’d been drawn to her for longer than he cared to admit, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had started. Maybe it was her sharp wit, the way she never backed down from him, or the way she smiled at him when he wasn’t ready for it. Maybe it was just the way she treated him, like he was more than just a worgen with a bad attitude.

Whatever it was, it didn’t help now. Not when every glance, every stray brush of her hand, set his nerves alight and his thoughts spiraling into dangerous territory.

“You’re quiet,” she said, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Nothing to say,” he muttered, unrolling his bedroll and laying it out on the ground.

“Uh-huh,” she replied with skepticism clear in her tone. She didn’t press further, though, for which he was grateful. Instead, she settled onto her own bedroll.

The rain drummed steadily against the canvas above them, a soothing rhythm that contrasted with the storm brewing inside him. He clenched his fists at his sides, willing the heat in his veins to subside.

He just had to get through this. The nagas wouldn’t take more than a day or two to deal with, and then he could disappear before she noticed anything was off.

He hoped.

------

Maybe pitching the tent near the treeline by the rift hadn’t been their most brilliant idea. Sure, on paper, it seemed logical, far enough from the coast to avoid naga and murloc patrols, gnoll bands, Defias stragglers, and those damn coyotes. But the coastline's wind and chill seeped through their tent's flimsy fabric, turning the night into a teeth-chattering endurance test.

It wasn’t a problem for him. His worgen nature granted him a resilience she could only envy, but she was clearly freezing. He could hear the faint clatter of her teeth every now and then, no matter how she tried to stifle it.

Both of them were awake, though for different reasons.

“Bucky,” she whispered, cutting through the steady rhythm of the rain.

He didn’t answer, hoping she’d think he was asleep and leave him alone. She knew how hard rest was for him, how much effort it took to him to conceal just a couple of hours of sleep.

“Bucky,” she tried again, her voice sharper this time. “I know you’re awake.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes in the dark. “You can’t see a thing. How do you know?”

“Pfft. Because if you were asleep, you’d be snoring.”

“I don’t-”

“Like a cute little pig,” she added, cutting him off with an audible smirk.

He pressed his tongue against his cheek, exhaling sharply through his nose. Maybe he did. How would he know? He didn’t exactly stick around for morning conversations after his usual flings, and no one had ever mentioned it before.

“Well, what is it?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m cold,” she admitted.

Oh, he knew where this was going.

“I didn’t pack for a quest in Northrend,” she continued, her tone edged with frustration, “and I’m freezing my ass off. Do your thing.”

He stiffened, dread settling low in his stomach. “It’s not that cold,” he dismissed, turning onto his side and hoping she’d drop it.

“Don’t be an ass,” she shot back, shifting to face him. “You know it is, and we could’ve been warm and cozy in the tavern right now if not for your macho display earlier.”

His lips twitched into a snarl before he smoothed his expression. “I’m not shifting.”

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, her breath puffing out visibly in the cold air. “You’ve done it before.”

“That was different, we were really in Northrend,” he grunted.

She rolled her eyes, but her voice softened a little. “I’m freezing, Buck. I wouldn’t be asking you if I did not. Please.”

Her tone made him pause, wavering his internal resistance. He sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t fair. Her scent was already messing with his focus enough, and now she wanted to press against him for warmth?

“Fine,” he ground out.

She hummed in approval as he shifted with practiced ease. He took off his vest and his bones cracked and muscles rippled, becoming larger, thick dark fur covered his body and deathly claws grew on his hands. He didn’t dare to meet her gaze as she scooted closer, curling her smaller frame into his side.

“See? Not so bad,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest while she poked at his snout. “Warm and cozy. You’re practically a luxury fur rug.”

His lips twitched, a reluctant smile threatening to break through the scowl he’d carefully crafted. “Glad I could be of service,” he muttered dryly.

She snorted softly, the sound more endearing than he’d ever admit. “Don’t act like you’re suffering. You’re just grumpy because I called you out.”

“I’m grumpy because I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with you,” he retorted, but the words lacked venom.

She didn’t reply immediately, and he thought she might’ve finally fallen asleep. But then, she spoke again, quieter this time.

“For what it’s worth, thanks, Buck.”

He didn’t answer, tightening his jaw as he tried not to focus on how perfectly she fit against him. Her scent -warm and familiar- filled his senses, sending a deep, instinctual thrum through his veins.

This was going to be a long night.

------

The night dragged on, and though she moved only a couple of times, it was enough to drive him mad. Normally, her restless shifting wouldn’t have been an issue. But now, with his traitorous body on high alert and her nestled against him, it was sheer torment.

At some point, she settled in just the wrong -or perhaps right- position. Her back molded to his chest, her softer form impossibly close. His body reacted before his brain could catch up, and before he knew it, his arm was slung possessively around her waist.

And she didn’t resist. If anything, she leaned into him, her unconscious search for warmth becoming his greatest torture. When her hips shifted slightly, her rear brushing against his growing arousal, Bucky clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.

His instincts roared, the part of him tied to his worgen blood demanding he take what was so temptingly close. His hand twitched against her waist, his claws threatening to pierce the fabric of her robe as he fought the overwhelming urge to act. He bit down on the snarl building in his throat, forcing himself to remain still.

He closed his eyes, his breath was shallow and uneven as the storm outside raged on. This wasn’t him. No matter what his instincts tried to tell him, he wasn't an animal. She trusted him, and saw him as more than the beast he sometimes feared he was. He wouldn’t betray that, no matter how much his body protested.

When the first hints of dawn painted the horizon, he couldn’t stand it any longer. Carefully, he disentangled himself from her, doing his best not to disturb her sleep. He draped his mantle over her before slipping out of the tent into the cold rain.

-----

When she woke, the patter of rain against the canvas was the first thing she noticed. Then the weight of his cloak over her shoulders. She blinked, groggy, and glanced around the empty tent.

“Figures,” she muttered to herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Shivering slightly, she wrapped herself tighter in the mantle. It smelled like him, a mix of forest, leather, and something she could only describe as uniquely Bucky. She smiled faintly, shaking her head, and began rummaging through their supplies. He might be gruff and impossible, but he always made sure she was taken care of, and she had to admit she liked it. It didn’t take much to guess where he’d gone, either scouting or standing under a tree somewhere, brooding and keeping watch.

Meanwhile, Bucky stood at the edge of the clearing, soaked to the bone. He barely noticed the cold, his mind was too preoccupied with wrestling his instincts back under control. His claws flexed against the damp bark of a nearby tree, and he exhaled slowly. Her scent still clung to his body, haunting and maddening. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tension to leave his body.

“She’s your teammate, not your mate,” he muttered under his breath, the words as much a reminder as a warning.

But no amount of logic could shake the truth he’d been denying for far too long. She wasn’t just a teammate, not to him. And the more time he spent near her, the harder it became to ignore the pull.

------

Four times.

Four times Bucky had to jerk off and relieve himself before he felt remotely human, or as human as someone like him could feel. By the time he returned to the tent, the rain had lessened, though his damp hair clung to his forehead and his shirtless torso glistened from the early morning mist.

Inside, she was sitting cross-legged with her bag open beside her. She barely looked up when he ducked inside, muttering a gruff, “Morning.”

Her eyes flickered to him, her lips twitching into a half-smile. “Morning. Glad you shifted back; otherwise, the wet dog smell would cling to everything.” She tossed him a magic-infused bun with a wink.

He caught it with ease, biting into it harder than necessary. The faint hum of magic in the pastry soothed his body slightly, though his mind was still frazzled.

She, meanwhile, was doing her best to keep her gaze fixed on his face. The early hour and her half-awake state didn’t help, and her eyes briefly betrayed her, wandering down the lines of his scarred torso. She caught herself quickly, clearing her throat as she focused on his stubbled jaw instead.

“Didn’t sleep last night?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied him.

He almost choked on the bite of the bun. “Why?”

She arched a brow. “Well, the shadows under your eyes and your miserable face give off a certain vibe.”

He scowled, finishing the bun in two quick bites. “If only someone had stayed on her side of the tent instead of tossing around all night,” he muttered.

“Oh, please,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “Next time, I’ll freeze myself in place so you can have a peaceful night.” She reached into her bag, pulling out a small green vial. “Here.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose, glaring at the potion like it had personally offended him. “Those taste like shit.”

“And you look like shit, so…” she replied, thrusting the vial toward him.

With a dramatic groan, he snatched it from her hand, muttering something under his breath about bossy mages.

She smirked, leaning back on her hands as she watched him grimace through the first sip. “You’re welcome,” she said sweetly.

Bucky shot her a withering look, but there was no real heat behind it. He downed the rest of the potion in one go, resisting the urge to spit it out.

“Better?” she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

“No,” he grumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. But the faint twitch of his lips gave him away.

-----

“Tell me again why I have to carry the bag with naga thumbs strapped to my waist?” she huffed, launching a frostbolt straight into the face of an approaching murloc.

“Because I don’t want them to rot and start reeking like shit,” Bucky replied, his tone edged with impatience. He swung his sword with brutal efficiency, sending a naga’s head flying in a clean arc. “Just keep them cold and keep moving.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting the grisly sack at her hip as she prepared another spell. “Yes, master. As you wish, master,” she mocked, her voice dripping with exaggerated deference.

“Shut it,” he snapped without looking back, slicing through another naga like it was nothing.

“What’s the matter, master?” she continued, undeterred. “Does your fluffy tummy hurt? Want me to rub it?”

His grip on his sword tightened. No. He wanted her to rub something else, and that was precisely the problem.

He growled low in his throat, shaking off the thought as he tore through another wave of enemies with grim focus. Every word out of her mouth made it harder to concentrate, and the sooner they finished this quest, the better.

For his sanity.

“Focus,” he barked, sending another naga crumpling to the ground.

She smirked but didn’t push further, summoning a frost nova to freeze the remaining enemies in place. “I am focused,” she replied with a smug tone. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Bucky muttered something under his breath -probably a curse- and powered forward, determined to reach the end of this hellish mission before she drove him completely mad.

-----

"I'm not carrying the head to Stormwind. I'm letting you know right now," she called over her shoulder, crouched in front of the naga commander's treasure chest.

Bucky, still looming near the mangled remains of the commander, huffed. "I figured. It's too heavy for you anyway."

With a sharp crack of bones and the sickening squelch of shifting tendons, he reverted to his human form, standing shorter and more composed but no less intimidating. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the familiar but always slightly uncomfortable sensation of transformation.

"Anything useful in there?" he asked, wiping blood and ichor off his blade with a rag.

“Actually, yes,” she replied, holding up two gleaming rings. “Looks like someone left us a caster and a melee ring. Lucky day.”

She tossed the melee ring to him without warning, and he caught it effortlessly with one hand, inspecting the intricate etching along the band.

“Aww, look,” she teased, holding up the caster ring. “They match.”

Bucky squinted at her, his lips twitching as if fighting back a smirk. “Great. Now we can get married and settle down in Kharanos.”

She snorted, slipping the caster ring onto her finger. “You’d last a week before murdering the drunken neighbors.”

He chuckled under his breath, sliding the melee ring onto his own finger. “More like a day. But, we’ll have enough ale even for our grandkids”

The banter lingered between them for a comfortable moment, despite the carnage surrounding them.

“Alright,” she stood and dusted off her hands. “Treasure’s looted, commander’s dead. Let’s get back to Stormwind before this starts to smell real bad, and you get extra cranky because of the sand in your ass.” He gave her a pointed look but didn’t talk back.

“Let’s see,” she muttered, already pulling a small portable mailbox from her enchanted bag to let Steve know that they had completed the quest. She tossed it to the ground, and with a flick of her fingers, it unfolded and hummed to life.

Bucky watched her intently, still coiled with tension from the fight. Every part of him was attuned to her movements, even when he didn’t want them to be.

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the glowing letter that appeared before her. “Well, that’s just perfect,” she said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“What now?” he growled.

She glanced at him, tossing the letter into the air where it dissolved into sparkling motes of light. “We’ve got another job. Steve wants us to go to Duskwood. The guild bank is low on silver ore, and considering it’s nearby...”

Bucky rolled his eyes, letting out a low growl of irritation. “Of course he does.”

“Hey, at least Duskwood has a proper inn,” she quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “And the people there know the difference between Alliance worgen and the monsters lurking in the woods.”

Bucky wasn’t amused. He should’ve been relieved that Duskwood would be less hostile than Westfall, but all he could think about was the proximity, the enclosed spaces, and how hard it was already becoming to keep his instincts in check.

“I’ll go,” he said gruffly, his tone leaving little room for argument. “You can handle turning in the quest in Stormwind. Those fingers are going to start rotting if we don’t deliver them soon.”

She straightened, quirking an unimpressed brow. “Forgive me, illustrious master, but our guildmaster specifically requested both of us.”

“I don’t need backup for something as simple as mining,” he shot back, irritated. “I can handle a few spiders and ghouls on my own. Just go.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her as she stood her ground. “What’s with you? You’ve been extra bossy today, and for the record, I don’t take orders from you.”

“It’s not an order,” he growled, though it sounded like one. “It’s common sense. I can get the ore faster on my own, and you won’t have to-”

“What? Slow you down?” she interrupted, sharper now.

“That’s not what I meant.” He objected tiredly.

“Really? Because it sure sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

He stiffened, looking away. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but he couldn’t exactly tell her the truth. How could he explain that every moment they spent together was a battle of willpower? That he could barely breathe the same air without the primal urge to claim her clawing at his insides?

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Look, I get it. You’re used to being the lone wolf -pun very much intended- but we’re a team in this one, and we’re going to Duskwood together. Got it?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, dropping his gaze to the ground. He wanted to argue, to push her away for her own good, but the look in her eyes stopped him, he know it very well. She wasn’t bending.

“Fine,” he ground out, strained. “But don’t slow me down.”

Her lips twitched into a smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they packed up their supplies and prepared for the journey, Bucky tried to focus on the task ahead, but the tension between them only grew thicker. It was going to be a long trip, and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive it with his sanity intact.

----

The woods were eerily alive tonight, the undergrowth teeming with movement that set her nerves on edge. It was impossible to traverse the area without skirmishing at nearly every turn, and the battered remnants of giant spider corpses littered the path behind them.

“Isn’t it good I came with you?” she asked, flicking a small flame spell at a particularly persistent arthropod. Its charred remains crumpled into ash as she adjusted her grip on her staff.

Bucky grunted in response, non-concomitantly, as he crouched by a silver deposit. He picked effortlessly loosening the ore, and the metal glowed faintly in the dim light filtering through the canopy.

“You’re welcome,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Did you say something?”

“Nope.” She smirked, but her amusement faded quickly as a chill ran down her spine. Her hand tightened on her staff, and she scanned the treeline, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “Uh, Buck…”

“What?” he asked, not bothering to look up. “You finally get tired of spiders?”

“Not exactly.”

Something in her voice made him pause. Straightening, he turned to follow her gaze, and his stomach dropped. Emerging from the shadows was a pack of worgens, their eyes were gleaming with a feral hunger that set his instincts ablaze.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his body shifting almost instinctively. Bones cracked, muscles bulged, and fur erupted as he transformed into his worgen form.

The pack hesitated. He was larger than any of them, and his presence was enough to make a few step back, flattening their ears in uncertainty. But they didn’t retreat. They circled, growling low in their throats, a guttural sound that echoed in the damp night air.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Both sides stood frozen, staring at each other down as if weighing the odds. Low growls and deep, guttural sounds passed between Bucky and the pack, an exchange she couldn’t interpret but that felt loaded with meaning.

She took a cautious step back, and her staff glowed faintly in her hand, though she doubted it would be much use if this went south. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath, “It’s kind of rude, you know. Everyone knows what’s happening but me.”

Bucky didn’t respond, his focus was locked on the pack. He deepened his growl, and the sound reverberated through his chest as his claws flexed at his sides. Whatever language they were speaking, it wasn’t friendly.

She tightened her grip on her staff. “If this is one of those ‘dominance’ things, can we skip to the part where they back down?”

Bucky shot her a brief glance. His glowing eyes were so intense that they sent a shiver through her body. “Stay behind me,” he growled, his voice barely human.

“Oh, believe me, I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, with both sarcasm and genuine unease.

The standoff continued, and the tension was so thick it was almost suffocating. She could feel it in the air, the raw, primal energy radiating from the pack and Bucky himself. She hated to admit it, but even now, amid danger, she couldn’t help but notice the sheer power and command he exuded.

“Any time you want to scare them off would be great,” she quipped nervously, keeping her eyes on the pack.

“I’m working on it,” he rumbled sharply.

The tension in the clearing was suffocating, the pack of worgens circled closer, their growls vibrating threatening in the air. Before she could react, Bucky’s paw encircled her wrist, and he pulled her roughly in front of him.

“W-what?” she gasped, wide-eyed as she looked up at him.

His snout was so close, and his voice was a low, urgent rumble when he asked. “You trust me?”

“Always,” she whispered.

“Alright,” he muttered. Without another word, he leaned down and licked a slow, deliberate stripe along her neck, never breaking his gaze from the pack.

“Buc-” she started, her voice faltering.

“Moan,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“What?”

“Just do it. Like you mean it,” he commanded, tightening his grip slightly on her wrist.

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she let out a soft, breathy sound, tilting her head slightly, while her voice trembled with a mix of nerves and compliance.

The pack hesitated, as they exchanged uneasy glances. Bucky growled low and deep, as his free hand moved to the nape of her neck, guiding her downward on her knees with surprising gentleness for the intensity of the moment.

She frowned. “What are you-”

“Rut season,” he growled under his breath, lips close to her ear. “They want to fuck you, and I’m showing them you’re mine.”

Her stomach dropped, and her breath caught as his words sank into her brain. “Oh my god,” she whispered, half in disbelief.

“So, unless you want some fun with those boys,” he continued, dangerously calm, “you’re going to play along.”

Before she could respond, he pushed her neck lower, bending her slightly as he positioned himself behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body, and the weight of his presence almost overwhelmed her as he pressed closer.

His hand brushed the hem of her robe, lifting it just enough to expose the curve of her thighs. Her breath hitched as she realized what he was doing. She wanted to throw him a dirty joke to decompress, protest, or say something, but the gravity of the situation kept her rooted in place.

Bucky hunched over her, his chest brushing against her back as he growled at the pack, sounding primal and territorial, and -oh light- he started to pound and grind against her. His movements were deliberate, and calculated, mimicking the act with enough realism to leave no doubt in the pack’s minds.

“They don’t see much detail from here,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he panted near her ear. “But it would be wise to show them some… engagement. If you know what I mean.”

The low growls of the pack echoed through the clearing, but they faded into the background as she cast her scruples aside, letting out soft moans and whimpers every time his hips connected with her rear. It was humiliating, sure, but the situation demanded it. Every sound she made seemed to amplify the tension in the air.

Bucky was a storm of barely restrained chaos. Each time their bodies connected, the friction sent a jolt through his body, and it was becoming impossible to ignore the painful erection straining against his pants. He bit back a growl, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact that she could feel every inch of his leaking cock pressing against her.

The pack’s growls began to falter, their aggression giving way to hesitation. But Bucky’s protective instincts burned hotter. The violent intent in their stares toward his mage had his blood boiling. He wanted to tear them, to rip them apart for daring to covet what wasn’t theirs.

And yet, another fire was burning in him, one far more dangerous.

The charade, though necessary, was pushing him to his limit. Her body pressed against his, her soft sounds filling the air, and the scent of her arousal cutting through the damp forest air, it was killing him.

Oh, he noticed.

He noticed how her movements became less stiff, how her breaths quickened with something more than nerves, and how the sounds escaping her lips grew more authentic and less forced.

And she noticed too.

The undeniable hardness grinding and slapping against her clothed pussy was impossible to ignore, and she hated the way her body reacted. Her cheeks burned with the realization of the slickness beginning to gather between her thighs. And worse, she knew he could smell it.

Bucky flexed his claws at her waist, tightening his grip momentarily as a low growl rumbled in his chest. “That’s it,” he murmured darkly but oddly reassuring. “Just a little longer. They’re starting to get the message.”

Bucky inhaled deeply, and his eyes fluttered shut momentarily as her scent overwhelmed him. When he opened them again, they were sharp, glowing faintly in the dim light of the forest. His voice was strained, low, and almost trembling with the effort it took to speak clearly.

“Listen,” he panted, each word carrying the weight of his struggle. “These bastards are going to retreat, and when they do… I need you to cast Frost Nova. On me. And run.”

“What?” she gasped, twisting slightly to look back at him. “Are you insane? I’m not doing that!”

His grip on her waist tightened, claws grazing her robes but not piercing. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to speak through the haze clouding his mind. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t trust myself right now. All I can think about is ripping off that damn underwear and stop this charade.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and her cheeks heated anew.

“But Bucky-” she began, unsure.

“By the Light, woman,” he growled, cutting her off, “Can’t you, just once, do what I say without questioning me?”

The desperation in his voice was unmistakable now, and she froze, torn between the rising fear of what he might do and the unwavering trust she’d always had in him. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her mind raced.

“Alright,” she said finally, not sounding very convinced.

His response was a guttural snarl, but the tension in his body eased, just slightly. “I’ll be fine,” he bit out, though the way his claws flexed told her he was barely holding himself together.

The pack lingered, their yellowed eyes glinted with hesitation as Bucky’s sharp, murderous gaze bore into them. Every roll of his hips against her, every growl rumbling in his chest, was a clear message: she was his, and they had no claim here.

He let out a guttural snarl of finality, slowing his movements until he stopped, and she played along, meowling and whimpering in reaction to his fake release. He leaned forward, almost covering her body entirely with his, growling more menacing than ever before.

Eventually, the tension broke as the pack, deterred by his dominance, slunk back into the shadows of the woods.

After a couple of minutes that seemed like an eternity, he reluctantly moved backward. “Do it,” he commanded, edged with desperation.

For a moment, she froze. She could feel his body trembling against hers, not just from exertion but from the monumental effort it took for him to hold himself back. His claws dug slightly into her sides, not enough to hurt but enough to remind her of how close he was to losing control.

“Now,” he barked, sharp and low.

Swallowing hard, she pushed herself away from him, forcing herself not to look back. With a quick flick of her wrist, she channeled her magic, releasing a Frost Nova that erupted in a ring of ice around him. The spell worked instantly, freezing his limbs in place and rooting him to the forest floor.

Her chest ached as she heard the muffled sound of his growl, laced with frustration, and something else. She forced herself to run, her boots pounding against the uneven ground as she headed toward the road.

Behind her, the crackling sound of ice straining against immense strength echoed faintly. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

-----

Maybe telling her to run hadn’t been the most clever idea his clouded mind could come up with. Because now, all he could think about was the chase… and the prize.

Her scent clung to his fur, sweet and maddening, filling his lungs and clouding what little rationality he had left. Each breath only made it worse, feeding the primal hunger gnawing at his control. His aching cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat, every pulse a painful reminder of how badly he needed her.

Something in him snapped.

The ice encasing his limbs cracked audibly before shattering altogether, shards scattering across the forest floor. With a guttural roar, Bucky surged forward, his massive form blurring as he gave in to the chase.

His mind, already teetering on the edge, gave itself over to instinct. Each pounding stride brought him closer to her, his muscles coiling and releasing with terrifying precision. He could smell her panic mixed with something else, something intoxicating. It made his mouth water, his claws flex, and his cock twitch with unrelenting need.

She ran as fast as she could, her robes fluttered as she darted between trees and over roots. But she wasn’t fast enough.

Bucky leaped, the world narrowing to a single focus: her. The thrill of the hunt consumed him, but it wasn’t just the chase, it was the promise of catching her, of claiming what every fiber of his body screamed belonged to him.

----

Her steps began to falter as she reached the road, her breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. She bent over, hands braced on her knees, trying to recover. She wasn’t built for this kind of thing. She was a mage, for Light’s sake, spellcasting was her forte, not sprinting through a forest or other physical strain.

That’s what she had Bucky for.

Bucky, who would roll his eyes and toss her over his shoulder like a caveman whenever she whined about being too tired to walk.

Bucky, who would scout ahead for the easiest path even though he could tear through any terrain in his worgen form without a second thought.

Bucky, who hunted and butchered their meals with efficiency, ensuring they ate more than stale bread and questionable stew on their travels.

Bucky, who wanted to fuck her.

Her cheeks burned as that particular thought. Not that she hadn’t thought about it before, because she had. Maybe too often for her own good. The idea of him and his hands on her, his low, gravelly voice saying her name in that way that sent a shiver down her spine.

But not like this.

Not the furry kind of fuck.

She straightened, forcing herself to keep moving toward the town. Each step felt like it was taking her further from the chaotic heat of the encounter in the woods, but her mind couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d looked at her: possessive, dangerous, hungry.

And if she was being honest with herself, a small part of her didn’t entirely mind that look.

She almost tripped and cursed, adjusting her robes and glaring down at their impractical hem. Maybe it was time to ditch the flowing fabric and invest in some pants like a sensible person. To hell with Khadgar and his fashionable mage aesthetic. She let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand through her hair as she walked. All she needed was to reach the inn, find a stiff drink, and put this insanity behind her.

Oh, but she wasn’t going to make it.

The big, bad, and sexually frustrated wolf had been prowling alongside her, concealed by the thicket, his predatory instincts zeroed in on every step she took. She’d barely made it four more paces down the stone road before her vision blurred with sudden movement.

The next thing she knew, she was pinned.

Her back was pressed against the rough bark of a tree, and in front of her was Bucky. Human, barely. His chest heaved, his shirt torn and clinging to his sweat-dampened skin. He was panting, feral, utterly undone.

Her breath hitched as her eyes raked over him, and before she could stop herself, her thighs pressed together to ease the tingling ache his mere presence provoked.

“H-hey, Buck,” she croaked, her voice trembling under the weight of his stare. “I guess the nova wasn’t to your liking?”

His lips curled into something between a snarl and a smirk, and his gaze dropped to her lips before sliding back to meet her eyes. “Did you really think that would stop me?” His voice was low, rough, vibrating with barely contained hunger.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. “Well according to you, it was supposed to give me a head start.”

He huffed a breathless laugh, his hands braced on either side of her head against the tree. “I guess I subconsciously knew damn well I’d catch you. Since, you know, your stamina sucks”

Her cheeks flushed hot, and her heart hammered in her chest as she struggled to keep her composure. “Yeah, well... there was the possibility that maybe the spell cooled you off.”

“Cool off?” He leaned in, brushing his nose against her temple, dropping his voice into a growl. “You’re the one who’s been driving me insane, running around smelling like... that.”

“Like what?” she whispered, even as she already knew the answer.

“Like you want me to lose control,” he murmured, his lips just barely grazing her ear.

Her traitorous body shivered at his words.

“Would that… be that bad?” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

His entire body went rigid, curling his hands into fists against the tree bark. A growl rumbled low in his chest, vibrating between them like a warning. Or a promise.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he ground out against her skin.

She tilted her head slightly, forcing herself to meet his burning gaze. “Maybe I do.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared, and he clenched his jaw as if he were fighting an invisible battle within himself. The tension between them crackled like a live wire, and she couldn’t tell if the heat pooling in her belly was from fear, desire, or both.

“Don’t,” he rasped, strained. “Don’t tempt me like that.”

Her lips parted, letting go a soft exhale as she felt the weight of his words. Still, she couldn’t stop herself. “And if I did?”

He snarled, closing the faint distance separating them. His forehead dropped to hers, and his ragged breathing mixed with hers. “Then I’ll show you just how dangerous I can be.”

The words sent a jolt of adrenaline and something far darker coursing through her veins. She swallowed thickly, and her heart hammered against her ribs as she whispered, “Maybe I’m not afraid of danger.”

Bucky’s eyes searched hers, his pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of blue around a sea of black. His lips hovered over hers, so close she could feel the ghost of his breath.

“I don’t know if I can stop,” he admitted.

“Then don’t,” she replied steady, despite the quiver in her knees.

Bucky didn’t move for a heartbeat, his body trembled as he fought his instincts. The moment stretched, before something inside him finally snapped.

His lips crashed against hers, hard and demanding, as though trying to express everything he couldn’t say. She gasped into the kiss, her fingers instinctively tangling in the ragged fabric of his shirt and his long locks, pulling him closer despite the warning alarms blaring in her mind.

His hands moved to her waist, rough and possessive, as though afraid she might slip away. The kiss was a clash of tongues and teeth, raw and unrestrained, but it wasn’t enough, not for him.

He broke away, panting heavily, roaming his gaze over her heated face. “You don’t know what you’ve started,” he growled, low and thick with need.

Her lips tingled, swollen from the force of his kiss. Her fingers trailed up to touch them as her mind spun. “Well Buck, I’m not sure I care,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression darkened, and his body pressed her back against the tree. “Say that again,” he demanded, his tone more animal than man.

She met his gaze, and her stubborn streak flared. “I said, I don’t care, Bucky.”

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a snarl and a groan, and his hands moved to cup her face with surprising gentleness despite the storm raging inside him. “You’re going to drive me insane,” he murmured, brushing her lips with unexpected tenderness.

Her body ached at the contrast, of the softness of his touch against the raw hunger in his voice. She shivered again, and he didn’t miss it.

With a low growl in his throat, Bucky pressed one of his thick thighs between her legs, dragging against the sensitive spot that was already aching for attention. She gasped sharply, and her hands flew to grip his shoulders for balance, but before she could say anything, his hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back to expose the vulnerable curve of her neck.

His lips were on her a heartbeat later, hot and unrelenting as they trailed along her skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and nips that made her shudder. The scrape of his teeth sent sparks down her spine, and when he growled again, the sound vibrated against her throat and she couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from her lips.

The sound seemed to set something off in him. His thigh pressed harder against her, sending jolts of pleasure as her body instinctively rolled against him. She felt the heat pooling low in her belly, and her mind was a blur of sensation and need.

“Bucky,” she breathed, with a trembling voice.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, “Say my name like that again,” he commanded, in a rough whisper that made her knees weak.

“Bucky,” she whispered.

His hands tightened on her hips, holding her firmly against him as he leaned in to capture her lips once more. It was messy, desperate, and so consuming that she felt like she was drowning in him, in his scent, in his heat, in his presence.

When he finally pulled back, it was only to grab the front of her robe and tear it apart with a single, feral motion.

“Hey!” she protested, instinctively trying to cover herself.

“You didn’t like it anyway,” he retorted, dark amusement lacing his tone as he tossed the tattered fabric aside.

Her protest died on her lips when his hand moved lower, hooking into her underwear. “And I don’t like these,” he added, low and rough as he shredded the delicate material without hesitation.

Her cheeks flushed with heat as she stood bare before him, and his predatory gaze raked over intently, his expression darkening further when he finally saw the evidence of what he’d only smelled before, the glistening slick between her thighs.

“So damn wet,” he growled. Without preamble, two fingers slipped between her folds, sliding through the slickness before finding her clit.

Her body jerked at the contact, a whine escaping her lips as his touch sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her body. He didn’t hold back, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with calculated precision, his rough fingertips adding just the right amount of friction to make her toes curl.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful admiration as he watched her reactions. She was utterly pliant beneath his touch, resting her head back against the tree, lips parted while gasping softly. “So perfect like this.”

She could barely form a response as he kept up his relentless ministrations. Her hands shot out, clutching at his shoulders for balance as her legs trembled under the onslaught of sensation.

“Fuck, Bucky.” she panted, her voice shaky and desperate, as his fingers continued their slow, devastating circles over her clit and her hips moved involuntarily against his hand, seeking more of the friction he was so generously giving her.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, laced with a possessive edge. He leaned in, and his lips brushed against the shell of her ear when he finally buried his fingers inside her. “You feel how good this is? How good you’re gonna feel when I’m finally inside you?”

Her knees buckled at the promise in his voice, and his grip tightened, holding her steady as he continued his ministrations.

His lips trailed along the sensitive column of her neck, and his teeth grazed her skin before he bit down gently.

Her nails clawed at his shoulders and biceps as his fingers worked her relentlessly, curling just right to hit the spot that made her vision blur. “Fuck!” she gasped.

“Feel so good, don’t you?” he murmured against her skin, as his thumb kept circling her clit with maddening precision. “So damn wet for me, and I’ve barely started.”

Her hips moved in tandem with his hand, grinding against him as if she couldn’t get close enough. Every thrust and curl of his fingers, every swirl of his thumb sent waves of pleasure through her body and she was about to snap.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned again, and her head lolled back as he continued to mark her neck. She was completely at his mercy, and her body trembled, as the heat built low in her stomach, threatening to unravel her completely.

“Chase it,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with her. “You’ll be so fucking beautiful when you let go.” His words were her undoing. Her body arched, and a sharp cry left her lips as she shattered, clenching around his fingers as the pleasure crashed over her like a wave.

Bucky didn’t ease up, and his fingers continued their relentless pace, driving her deeper into a haze of pleasure. She squirmed, pushing at his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him, but he didn’t budge. His other hand gripped her hip firmly, pinning her against the tree.

“Bucky,” she whined, her voice breathless and trembling, “I… I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, with authority. “And you will. I’m not done with you yet.”

She gasped as he slid a third finger inside her, stretching her further. The sensation was overwhelming, but it teetered dangerously close to pure bliss. His thumb continued its torment on her clit, and her thighs shook as another wave of heat coiled low in her belly.

“That’s it,” he rumbled, his lips brushing against her ear. “I want you ready to take all of me, sweetheart. You’re mine, and I will make sure you know it.”

“Oh, cocky, aren’t we?” she tried to quip, but her voice shook as she clung to the last shred of control she had left.

His deep chuckle vibrated against her skin, “Yeah,” he retorted, his lips curling into a feral grin. “Cocky, indeed.”

Her response was lost in a breathless moan as he curved his fingers again, finding that perfect spot and sending sparks shooting through her body. She couldn’t think or do anything but cling to him as he worked her over with ruthless precision.

Bucky’s blue eyes bore into hers, feral and wild, “Come on,” he murmured, low and commanding. “Give me another one. Show me how good you can be for me.”

Her body betrayed her completely, tightening around his fingers as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge once more. His relentless dominance was intoxicating, and she hated how much she wanted to fall apart for him all over again.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she whined, “or I swear I’ll put bubblegum on your tail the first chance I get.”

Her body trembled violently as her climax tore through her, making her see stars. It was the most intense release she’d ever felt, and it left her gasping for air, every muscle in her body turning into jelly.

Bucky chuckled, clearly satisfied with the way she fell apart under his touch. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, glistening with her slick, and without warning, brought them to her lips.

“Open,” he commanded, in a rough growl.

Her dazed eyes blinked up at him, but she obeyed, parting her lips. He pressed his fingers onto her tongue, making her taste herself. Before she could process it further, he leaned and crashed his mouth against hers.

He licked at her lips, her tongue, and his own fingers still in her mouth, mingling their breaths in a way that felt so filthy and erotic that it made her head spin.

His other hand cradled the back of her head, keeping her in place as he deepened the kiss, his feral nature showing in the raw hunger with which he devoured her.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen and slick, and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Bucky’s blue gaze glowed with pride and desire, and his mouth curled into a wicked smirk.

“You taste so damn good,” he murmured, thick with arousal. “Every part of you.”

Unable to hold back any longer, he fumbled with his belt and nearly tore his pants apart to free his throbbing, leaking cock. A guttural groan escaped from his throat as the cool air hit his heated length.

His glowing eyes locked on hers, filled with feral hunger. “And now, magic bun,” he rasped, “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk… and then some more.”

With one hand, he gripped the back of her knee, lifting her leg to spread her wide. The other wrapped firmly around the base of his shaft, guiding it between her slick folds. He groaned low and deep as the head of his cock pressed against her clit, grinding teasingly against her sensitive bundle of nerves.

She gasped, and her head fell back against the tree as the tantalizing friction sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. “Bucky…” she breathed half a plea, half a warning.

“Patience.” he growled. Slowly, torturously, he began to push forward, as the thick head of his cock stretched her inch by inch.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her breath hitched as he split her open, his size forcing her body to adjust to the overwhelming intrusion. He paused briefly, giving her time to catch up, though his trembling muscles betrayed how much restraint it was costing him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against the tree as he sank deeper. “So tight, so perfect.” He lifted her other leg from behind her knee and pushed again.

She whimpered, rolling her hips instinctively to meet him, drawing a shuddering growl from his chest. Her body stretched and molded around him, every nerve alight with pleasure and the intoxicating mix of pain and anticipation. Her breath came in short, heated bursts as her lips sought out his stubbled jaw, lingering before she nipped at his skin. It was soft but enough to provoke, enough to draw a growl from deep within his chest.

"Keep going, big guy," she whispered, her voice husky and laced with a mix of daring and need.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he rasped, “Once I start, there’s no stopping.”

Her hands slid up his chest, grazing the muscles beneath his shirt with her nails. “Good,” she breathed, “because I wasn’t planning on stopping you.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. With a guttural sound, Bucky thrust forward, stretching her inch by maddening inch. He kept his eyes locked on hers, watching the way her lips parted in a gasp, her pupils blown wide with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice a broken growl as he sank deeper, claiming her completely. Her nails dug into his skin as her body arched against him, and a soft cry escaped her lips.

He rolled his hips again, slow but deliberate. “You feel that? That’s all me, and I’m not stopping until I’ve emptied my balls inside you, magic bun."

The vulgar promise sent a new wave of heat through her body. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as her body clenched around him in response.

“You talk a big game,” she managed to tease, the faintest smirk curling her lips despite the haze of pleasure overwhelming her.

Bucky chuckled darkly, “Oh, you’ll see just how big.” he growled, snapping his hips forward sharply, drawing a gasping cry from her.

He didn’t give her a chance to recover, since his movements became relentless in a punishing rhythm that was intoxicating. Every thrust pushed her higher, her moans grew louder, unrestrained, as his words and actions blurred her ability to think of anything but him.

"That’s it," he murmured against her ear, his voice ragged. "Take me. Take every damn inch."

His pace grew rougher, more determined as if his life depended on claiming her body completely. Each thrust drove her harder against the tree, and every delicious drag of him against her sensitive walls made her body sing.

“God, you’re tight,” he groaned, his lips brushed against her ear. “Like you were made for me. Do you feel that? Feel how perfectly I fit inside you?”

“Y-yeah, I feel it,” she stammered, her voice trembling with pleasure.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you,” he continued, his voice dripping with feral hunger. “Every. Last. Drop.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust, making her cry out in ecstasy.

Her nails scraped down his back, leaving marks that only spurred him on. “Bucky! oh, fuck… I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, gripping her hips tighter. “You’ll take it, every inch, every load, until you’re dripping with me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

She could only whimper in response, her head falling back as he angled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot that made her see stars. Her body tensed, the overwhelming pleasure building to a breaking point. “Bucky, I’m gonna- oh!”

“That’s it, cum for me,” he commanded, “Squeeze me, magic bun. Milk my fucking cock!” he growled, his voice rough and ragged as he felt her clenching around him. He could feel his balls tightening dangerously, and with a guttural roar, he drove into her one final time.

“Fuck! Just. Fuck,” he groaned, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he spilled inside her, thick, hot ropes of cum filling her up while he panted against her neck.

Her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and her legs shook as he held her up against the tree, keeping her pinned as he emptied himself into her.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, resting his forehead against hers, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

She gave a breathless laugh, still shaky. “There goes your endurance”

He smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to her lips. “Don’t think we’re done, though,” he murmured, sliding down his hands to cup her ass. “Not until I’m sure you’ll feel me with every step tomorrow.”

"Bucky-" she started, but he pulled out his still-hard cock and gently set her down, immediately latching his mouth onto one of her neglected breasts. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin as he sucked and nipped, leaving her gasping.

“Oh, how many times did I imagine milking these,” he murmured against her flesh, his voice thick with want.

She quirked a brow at him, managing to ask between pants and squeals when he got rough. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he growled, squeezing both breasts with his large hands to make his point. “Every fucking time we shared a tent and you pressed them against me in your sleep. You have no idea what you did to me.”

She let out a sharp gasp, caught somewhere between indignation and arousal. “You creep! Ah!”

He chuckled, flicking his tongue over her hardened nipple. “I’m not a saint, but believe me when I tell you, another man wouldn’t have held back. They’d have taken advantage.”

Her fingers wove into his long, dark locks, an unexpectedly tender gesture despite the heated moment. She tilted his face up slightly, meeting his gaze. “I know. But you’re not just ‘another man.’ You’re my partner, and since our first quest, I’ve always known I was safe with you. Grumpiness and brooding aside... you’re the best.”

His movements stilled for a moment, then he pressed his forehead against her chest, brushing his lips in the swell of her breast as he exhaled deeply. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” he admitted, raw and almost vulnerable.

She smiled, scratching lightly at his scalp. “You don’t make it easy, but you’re worth it, Barnes.”

His blue eyes flicked up to hers. “I don’t deserve you,” he muttered, still exploring her body with his hands, tracing every curve.

“Not the time for the monthly self-loathing spiral.” she chastised. Her hand slid down his chest, fingers dancing over the hard ridges of his abs before continuing lower. When her fingers encircled his shaft -or at least tried to-she began to pump him slowly.

His breath hitched, sharp, and audible, and his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. “Don’t,” he ground out, his voice rough and almost desperate.

She knit her brows, confused. “Why not?”

He kept his grip firm, clenching his jaw as he averted his gaze, with a flushed face. “Now’s not a good time,” he muttered. “Maybe... maybe when I’m not rutting.”

Her head tilted slightly, studying him. “What’s the difference?”

His grip on her wrist tightened just slightly, and his eyes flicked back to hers with a mix of restraint and frustration. “If I get too... invested,” he admitted, almost growling, “I’m going to shift.”

“Oh.” Her lips parted to say something, but she hesitated, caught between curiosity and concern.

“It’s not just about me losing control,” he added, almost hesitant. “If I shift mid-act, it’s... it’s a lot. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her gaze softened, and she cupped his face with her free hand. “Bucky, you’ve never hurt me,” she said gently. “And I don’t believe you ever would.”

He leaned into her touch for a moment, exhaling heavily.

“I won’t let you get away with what you want as always. Not with this.”

“But-”

“Shut it,” he growled, cutting her off as he turned her around and manhandled her to the ground on her hands and knees, his discarded cloak softening her landing. His voice dropped into a commanding snarl, rough and dangerous. “Now I’m going to keep getting what I want, and you will take it.” He spread her thighs open with his knee. “You’re only going to open that pretty mouth of yours to moan or cry out my name.”

“Bossy now, aren’t w-” she began, sassy, but she didn’t get the chance to finish. His hand came down on her ass with a loud, stinging smack, making her gasp.

“You just had to insist on being a brat and coming with me,” he hissed, his lips close to her ear, his voice dripping with frustration and unbridled heat. “And then I had to fake fucking you in front of a bunch of horny bastards.”

His hand kneaded the spot he had smacked, “Now, magic bun, you’re going to pay for every second of that torture.” His hands gripped her hips possessively, dragging her back against him, pressing his leaking cock into her ass.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he muttered darkly, sliding a hand down between her legs “You’ve been soaking since that little show.” He pressed his fingers against her pussy. “This? This is all mine.” He growled and pressed the thick head of his cock against her entrance, already slick from his cum and her fresh wave of arousal. Without hesitation, he thrust inside her, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful motion. She cried out, arching her back as she adjusted to the sudden, overwhelming fullness.

He groaned, “So perfect, magic bun. Taking me so well.”

Her fingers dug into the cloak beneath her, and her breathing ragged as her body tried to accommodate his size. “Fuck...” she gasped, a mix of protest and pleasure.

He leaned over her, pressing his chest against her back as his lips found her shoulder. He nipped at her skin, sharp enough to leave marks, each bite sending a jolt of electricity through her already overstimulated body.

“Bucky,” she moaned, her arms trembling as she tried to hold herself up under the force of his thrusts.

“Don’t stop saying my name,” he demanded roughly against her ear. His hips snapped forward harder, and his cock hit that perfect spot inside her with every hard thrust.

She whimpered, dropping her head forward as her body surrendered completely to him. He growled approvingly, sinking his teeth gently into her shoulder before licking the sting away.

“You’re mine,” he rumbled as he drove into her relentlessly. “Say it.”

“I- I’m yours,” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper, but he heard her loud and clear.

“Yes, so damn mine,” His hand slid up her spine, possessively fisting her hair and pulling her head back. The exposed line of her throat and shoulders was too tempting to resist, and he sank his teeth into her skin again, marking her.

The wet slap of his balls against her clit grew louder, mingling with her breathless cries and his guttural groans, creating a symphony of pure, unrestrained need that echoed through the forest.

“Buck, y-you’re so deep,” she choked out, clawing her fingers at his discarded cloak for stability.

He chuckled darkly against her skin. “Deeper still, magic bun,” he rasped, his voice filled with raw determination. “I want to feel your womb kissing the head of my cock.”

He withdrew almost entirely, leaving her desperate and trembling, only to thrust back in with a force that had her crying out. His pace quickened, each stroke harder and more deliberate than the last, pushing her toward the edge of sanity.

Her walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, and he cursed under his breath, the sensation driving him wild. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, his free hand gripping her hip so tightly she was sure it would leave bruises. “Made for me, made for this”

She moaned, arching her body, her knees threatening to give out under the relentless pleasure, as her body rocked with every thrust. He let go of her hair and reached down to play with her swollen clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. “Take it,” he growled, dark and commanding. “You’re gonna carry me,” he murmured, thrusting harder. “Gonna fuck you so full you won’t have room for anything else. My scent, my seed, on you, in you, everywhere.”

“Oh, fuck, Bucky,” she whimpered, her thighs quivering as she clenched around him, her body responding instinctively to his filthy promises.

She meowled, and her body responded with another involuntary squeeze around his cock. He groaned, the pressure almost undoing him. “That’s it,” he hissed while his pace grew erratic. “Gonna breed you, leave you dripping for everyone to see. “You want it, don’t you?” he rasped, circling her clit faster. “Say it. Tell me you want me to fill you up.”

“I-I want it,” she gasped, the words barely leaving her lips before another sharp thrust sent her spiraling.

He groaned as her walls pulsed around him, and he buried himself to the hilt. “Fuck!,” he growled, as his cock twitched inside her. “You’re gonna take it all. Every last drop. No one else gets to have you, just me.”

The orgasm hit him like a storm, spilling thick ropes of cum into her, the heat of his load making her whimper. He thrust a few more times, grinding deep as if determined to leave no part of her untouched.

His movements slowed, then stilled, and he remained buried inside her for a moment, his chest rising and falling against her back until he finally withdrew, groaning softly at the loss of her warmth. He pulled her down gently onto his discarded cloak, spooning behind her. The feral aggression that had consumed him moments before seemed to melt away, leaving behind a calmer, more satisfied version of himself.

“You alright?” he murmured, softer now as he brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. His hands smoothed over her sides, no longer gripping bruisingly but exploring her curves with a reverence that made her sigh.

“I’m fine,” she replied, still breathless. “But you are totally carrying me tomorrow in a piggyback. I don’t feel my legs.”

His lips twitched into a small, self-satisfied smile. “That was the idea, your limbs around me, where they belong.”

She rolled her eyes and snuggled her back closer to the warmth of his broad chest. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And you didn’t escape,” he retorted, nipping playfully at her ear.

“Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment,” she quipped, tracing the lines of his forearm where it rested around her waist. “Or maybe I just enjoy being with the guy who acts like a beast but is actually pretty damn sweet when he’s not trying to prove a point.”

He huffed a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Sweet, huh? Pretty sure I wasn’t ‘sweet’ a few minutes ago.”

“No, you were something else entirely,” she teased, turning to meet his gaze with a sly smile. “But don’t let it go to your head, big guy.”

Bucky inhaled deeply and buried his nose in the crook of her neck. His hands slid up her side to cup her breast, his rough palm was gentler now as he thumbed over her sensitive nipple. He sighed, utterly sated yet still unwilling to let her go.

“We’ll need the tent,” he murmured and the deep rumble of his voice vibrated against her skin. “We’re not making it to the inn.”

She groaned, grimacing at the thought of wrestling with the cursed contraption in her current state. “Ugh, the tent. Can’t we just sleep out here and hope nothing eats us?”

Bucky chuckled with a low and indulgent sound. As if he’d read her mind, he nipped her shoulder, eliciting a squeak from her mouth. “You’re going to lay there looking pretty, and I’m going to set it up,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

She turned her head to shoot him a skeptical look. “Oh, so you’re all chivalrous now?”

He smirked, brushing his lips against her ear as he spoke. “Don’t push your luck, I’m trying to be nice here.” he muttered, adjusting the cloak around her shoulders as if she couldn’t do it herself. “Since I plan on fucking you again -and maybe a few more times after that- I’d rather you didn’t catch a cold. Also…” His gaze lingered pointedly on her chest. “I don’t want some random traveler getting an eyeful of your bouncing tits.”

She quirked a brow. “Funny, you didn’t seem to care about modesty a few minutes ago.”

He crouched down beside her, tugging the edges of the cloak higher over her chest as he gave her an unimpressed look. “Yeah, well, that was different. I was the one enjoying the view. No one else gets to.”

Her smile widened as she brushed her hand over his stubbled jaw. “Possessive much?”

He just stared at her, leaning down to kiss her, slow and deliberate, as if to remind her exactly who she belonged to. When he pulled back, his lips brushed against her cheek, and he nuzzled her affectionately. “Be good for once and stay put. I’ll set up the tent.”

“Oh, I’ll stay put,” she said with a mischievous lilt, shamelessly traveling her gaze down his naked body. “Enjoying the view.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. He liked her looking at him like that, and she knew it. He made no effort to hide the way his muscles flexed as he moved, taking every chance to show off while setting up the tent.

“Really taking your time there, huh, big guy?” she teased.

“Maybe I am,” he shot back, giving her a knowing glance over his shoulder. “If you’re going to stare, I might as well make it worth your while.”

She laughed as she propped up on her elbows to get a better view. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just admiring your… big dedication to the task.”

He shook his head as he secured the last of the tent’s poles. “Come on,” he invited, holding a hand out to her. “Tent’s ready. Let’s see if its sturdy enough for my big dedication.” His smirk widened into a full-blown grin, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

“Always so humble, Buck.” she observed, slipping her hand into his and letting him pull her up.

“Just calling it like it is,” he shot back, pulling her closer until their bodies nearly touched. “And judging by your staring, I’d say you agree.”

She opened her mouth to quip but then paused, frowning. “Um, Buck… by any chance did you bring the sack with the silver or…?”

His confident smirk faltered as his brows knit together. “Of course I-” He stopped mid-sentence, glancing toward the forest, and his expression shifted from cocky to sheepish. “I was a little preoccupied,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Steve will love this.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, stepping closer until he loomed over her. “You think I care about what Steve thinks right now?”

She arched a brow, dropping her gaze lower. “Well, considering you’re standing here without a stitch of clothing and no silver in sight… maybe not.”

His lips curled into a slow, predatory smirk as he took her hand, placing it boldly against his hard cock. “You tell me, magic bun. Does this look like it cares about Steve, silver, or his damn surprise quests?”

Her cheeks heated as her fingers instinctively curled around him. She swallowed hard. “No, it doesn’t” she managed,

He growled, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip. “Now, get in that tent before I lose what little patience I have left.”

Her lips quirked, but she wisely said nothing, turning toward the tent with a sway in her hips that she knew he wouldn’t miss. Behind her, he groaned, with both exasperation and lust.

“Keep that up, magic bun, and we won’t make it inside at all.”

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[alvivaarts]

AO3 is Removing 'All Media Types' without Public Input or Announcement. What Can We Do?

What's Happening?

For those who don't yet know: AO3 and the Tag Wranglers have begun to slowly remove the 'All Media Types' tag for older fandoms. Aka, removing the 'umbrella' tag for many franchises, and forcing franchises to be split by media, or to be shoved under one umbrella that does not accurately reflect the types of fics or source medias they come from. This has been slowly occurring with no official announcement, under the pretense that things will be 'easier' to manage, or that some users claimed that the 'All Media Types' tag was confusing. This has begun in secrecy, without genuine input from the userbase, and without any public announcement. (As of 9/5/2024 9:30 AM PST) Many of us are pretty confident in AO3 staff's decisions, but the fact that this decision is not only incredibly impactful, but made without public input, has deeply violated the condition of the site as an archive... an archive of OUR own.

Current seen issues and active risks:

Removal of 'All Media Types' automatically makes fics from different sources in the same franchise a 'crossover', forcing users to consider non-crossover fics 'crossovers'. So, any fanfic that spans or implements elements from multiple pieces of media in a franchise are now considered a 'crossover', despite being from the same franchise and not a crossover.

Removal of 'All Media Types' forces users to manually search for the fics and ships they want one by one through each fandom tag in a related franchise. (Imagine looking through all the separate DC or MARVEL movies one by one).

The 'include crossovers' and 'exclude crossovers' filters are now useless, and removing genuine crossovers (crossovers between franchises) must be done manually through the filter system, which can take upwards of half an hour, if not longer, with the amount of one-off genuine crossovers that exist.

Slightly smaller franchises are being shoved under the umbrella of a single, super popular fandom. (See, Sherlock Holmes. All Sherlock Holmes media has been relegated to the tag 'Sherlock TV', which confuses users, as the tag now includes not only BBC Sherlock, which is the umbrella tag, but any works based off of Arthur Conan Doyle's original works, the 2009 Sherlock Holmes films, and the 16+ Sherlock Holmes adaptations and international TV shows... none of which are BBC Sherlock.)

Anime and manga fandoms (especially smaller ones) are being automatically split by media type, without regard to the fact that many anime and manga adaptations are very similar, and/or authors tend to often implement elements from both anime and manga.

As far as we are aware, no one is going to be correcting any improper sorting resulting from this.

Accounts that are no longer active/accessible, memorial accounts, and orphaned fics and no longer be corrected by their original authors and are at risk of being misplaced into incorrect fandom tags. Unfortunately, no one can fix this but the tag wranglers, who were supposedly removing 'All Media Types' in the first place to prevent MORE work. Counter intuitive, isn't it?

Already, fandoms are being improperly split, others being improperly merged, and still more being far more confusingly sorted. This deeply damages AO3's integrity as an ARCHIVE.

What Can I Do?

As soon as it's back up again, make sure to stop by the Contact Support page! There, you're able to let them know exactly how you feel about this, and what fandoms your fear will be impacted by these changes. Many already have been.

In the meantime, make sure to contact AO3 on Twitter (or X): ao3org (AO3's general twitter page), ao3_wranglers (AO3's tag wrangler page), and OTW_news (the parent host of AO3).

There is also tumblr: ao3org (AO3's tumblr page) and transformativeworks (OTW's tumblr page).

And finally, the Organization for Transformative Works contact page.

If you are aware of any additional medias, please add them below to ensure that AO3 thoroughly understands the negative impact of this decision, especially the violation of trust resulting from making such a massive choice without impact. Be sure to share this information elsewhere, repost, share the links, and make a stink. Furthermore, if you are able, letting AO3 know that you are no longer comfortable financially supporting them in the future.

Be sure to also repost and list any fandoms you have personally noticed have been impacted by this change!

Already Impacted Fandoms:

MARVEL, MCU, Marvel Comics, Avengers, and related tags

Any Sherlock Holmes based Media

A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon)

World of Warcraft

Assassin's Creed

Monogatari

BanG Dream!

Jujutsu Kaisen

Disney (all media, now: Disney Theatrical Animated Universe)

DC and DC Comics

AND MANY, MANY MORE!

[tanadin]

Show Me Your Scales

Chapters: 11/13 Fandom: World of Warcraft Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Khadgar/Medivh (Warcraft), Khadgar & Anduin Lothar, Anduin Lothar & Medivh & Llane Wrynn, Garona Halforcen & Khadgar Characters: Khadgar (Warcraft), Medivh (Warcraft), Anduin Lothar, Moroes (Warcraft), Llane Wrynn, Varian Wrynn, Garona Halforcen Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Dragons, but not Warcraft dragons really, come in I have perfectly normal dragon lore for you, More violent than is canon-typical, In which the author breaks and distorts canon very deliberately, Soulmates, but only if you sit down and do it on purpose, in which Medivh's platonic soulmate throuple disintegrates so bad, Canon-Typical Apprentice Endangerment, this is essentially a rewrite of The Last Guardian with more emotions and dragons, Angst and Emotional Turmoil Series: Part 1 of Dragons and Ravens Summary:

With the Kirin Tor finally fed up with him, Khadgar, a young gold dragon, is sent all the way to Karazhan to make his case for an apprenticeship with the Lord Magus Medivh--a mysterious, capricious dragon known for his great power and little else. To his surprise, he is allowed to stay and prove himself--and, in time, a deep bond forms with Medivh, one that curls around his heart and changes his life forever. Khadgar finds himself needing to recruit Medivh's old friends and guard the Guardian as more and more oddities in his behavior spring up, all while juggling his own education. Eventually, two truths make themselves known to him:

Medivh is not well. And he is running out of time.

Fic is completely prewritten. Chapters aim to go up every Thursday, to give me time to edit them and write the sequel (which is almost finished), as well as my other series. It can only be viewed when logged in to prevent it getting scraped by a bot, so, sorry about that. If you’re worried by my choice to not use archive warnings, feel free to shoot me a PM and I’ll be happy to confirm whether or not the fic contains something that might be upsetting or uninteresting to you.