#even if I have to drag my nails through the dirt it will be done

[inkspottie]

Heya! I’m not the best at writing these type of asks and I’ve been working up the courage to do so but I just want to say Thank you, LaT means a lot to me and it kind of shaped how I am today yk? I remember scrolling through tumblr and I saw some fanart of LaT and I got interested. I found your blog, pressed on the ao3 link and started reading. This was in February and I was in 7th grade at the time, and I fell in love with LaT. I would read it during lunch or after school. I was obsessed, I am now a freshman in highschool and I still love LaT and I’ve reread it more times than I can count. It has its own special little tab that I go to whenever I want to read it. I’ve had friends come and go but LaT has always stuck with me. I don’t know who I would be if I never read LaT. So what I’m trying to say is thank you so so very much for making Laughing at Tragedy, you and LaT hold a very special place in my heart, and I appreciate you and your writing very much!

Also, ANY APOLOGIES FOR ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS OR BAD VOCAB!! Writing isn’t really my expertise lol

Laughing at Tragedy will always and forevermore be my favorite FNaF fic. ˆ⌣ˆ

Hhh thank you for the lovely words! I’m so glad you enjoy LaT (sorry for the lack of update it will get finished I promise)

Thanks for sticking around, it really means a lot of me when I get things like this. Y’all made this journey very fun and special to me.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"anything" - emily prentiss x liaison!fem!reader

summary: you take an unnecessary risk out in the field

wc: 1.4k

cw: flangst? typical cm violence, but mostly just mentions, pre-establish relationship!

this is my first emily fic plz lmk if u like it!

A steady beeping slowly drags you awake. Your eyes flutter open and you take in the hospital room around you. The first thing you notice is the source of the beeping, from the patient monitor beside your bed. Then the pain hits you like a muffled train wreck, crashing into you but hitting a wall, so it doesn’t hurt quite so bad. They must have you on some strong medication, because it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you thought it would. The worst feeling of all, though, comes from your abdomen, and when you shift in the bed, it aches and this weak little whimper uncontrollably escapes you. 

“Don’t move,” the velvet voice beside you warns. You didn’t even realize Emily was in here, that’s how knocked out you feel. When you turn your head, you see she’s got the chair pulled up as close to your bed as it can go, her elbows connected to her knees in a C-shaped hunch. “You’ll pop your stitches, and it still wouldn’t be the stupidest thing you’ve done today.”

You hear the sternness in your girlfriend’s voice and feel the color drain from your face. She always said you could never control your face, at least not around the people you love. In family interviews, or talking to the press? You could be stone-cold, unreadable. But once you’re comfortable around someone, your visage has a mind of its own. 

“I’m-”

“I know, you’re sorry,” Emily scoffs. Her voice reminds you of bitter, dark chocolate right now. She’s clearly irritated, but remains by your side loyally. That’s how you know she loves you. “That doesn’t change the fact that you made a thoughtless, reckless decision.” 

“I was actually going to say that I’m not sorry,” you huff, groaning softly as you move your rear back to sit up a little. Emily leans back in her seat and her jaw hardens. “Maybe I did act on impulse, but you would have done the same thing.” 

“You disobeyed Hotch’s direct order to stay put,” Emily’s chocolate eyes darken, and she rises from her seat, towering over you with her arms crossed over her chest. “And it got you shot.”

“I thought you were in trouble,” you grumble, your voice just barely above a whisper. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You and Hotch and Morgan all went in different directions, and I heard a scream and a gunshot from where you had gone,” you rattle off, your words all stringing together from the drowsiness. 

You recalled the vast farmland property where Garcia had nailed down the Unsub, how Hotchner didn’t want to wait on SWAT to show up because the guy’s endgame was so close to playing out. He killed at exactly noon with every single one of his victims, so the team had three minutes to find this missing girl. 

“And I couldn’t just stay put, Emily, not when I thought you’d been hurt,” you wring your hands over the top of the scratchy hospital blanket, your knuckles going stark white. “I couldn’t just wait to see what had happened. I couldn’t be helpless like that, not when I thought you might be hurt.” 

Emily’s got her eyes closed and she’s breathing in and out sharply, like she’s forcing herself to calm down, to filter through her initial thoughts so as to not say anything irreversible. “But Hotch told you to stay put,” she repeats in a defeated murmur, lifting one arm to run her hand through her hair. Her fringe is all over the place, and you’re just now noticing the dirt on her milky white cheek. She’s not rested since the farm, you realize, not even taken a second to wipe the dirt off her face. 

Guilt pours over you like a rainstorm, and you feel angry, frustrated, self-reproaching tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I didn’t do it to scare you,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, Em. I’m sorry that you had to worry about me like that. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant knowing that you were okay.” 

“Don’t Em me,” her voice cracks and you see tears start to fall from her eyes. She must be so tired. You don’t know how long you’ve been out, but you can tell from her posture, from her expression, that she’s not had a moment of respite since she saw the bullet take you down. 

You recall the look on her face - horrified, when she hovered over you, lying in the dirt. She shot the Unsub directly after he shot you. Hotch and Morgan made it in time to help the victim out of her ties, so she ran over to you the second the Unsub was down. 

“What were you thinking?!” she shrieked, lifting your shirt only to find blood oozing from the hole in your stomach. 

“I thought…” you murmured breathlessly, your eyes immediately feeling heavy. 

“Someone get a medic over here now!” she shouted, holstering her gun and pressing her hands onto your stomach. You woke up in the ambulance a little bit after that, but were too hazy to say anything. 

All you remember is Emily crushing your hand between both of yours and muttering something under her breath repeatedly. "Stay with me, baby." You hear it now. "Please don't go."

You reach gingerly for her hand as she stands over you now, unable to stretch your arm out too far for fear of popping a stitch. She helps you out and shuffles forward a step, sitting back down in her chair and pulling it next to the bed. Your fingers grasp hers, and then your palms are flush together. “I’m still really pissed at you,” Emily says. “So is Hotch. Says he has half a mind to take you off active duty altogether.” 

You purse your lips. Surely that’s not totally true. “Well, then he’d have to deal with the press on his own, and he’d want to rip his hair out,” you say. Emily squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. 

“I think he’d do it if it mitigates the risk of you getting shot,” Emily admits seriously. 

“It’s just a graze,” you grumble. Emily’s glowering at you again, and you concede. “A graze that required emergency surgery, but still a graze.” 

“Baby, I don’t think you know what a graze is,” Emily says. “They had to remove a bullet from your stomach. That’s not a graze.” 

You feel your cheeks tingle as they turn pink and you shrug your shoulders, pretending to be none the wiser. “Tomato, tomahto,” you wave your free hand nonchalantly. 

“You feel okay right now? D’you need any more pain meds?” Emily asks, the caretaker in her taking over, despite her frustration towards you getting into this situation in the first place. 

“I’m alright,” you say quietly. Emily’s eyes, beautiful orbs of brown so dark they’re almost black, float down to where your wound is. “Em, hey,” you insist, and those eyes snap back up to yours. “I’m alright. Promise.”

“You’re an idiot, is what you are,” Emily chastises with a sigh. 

“How long are they keeping me here?” you ask in a feeble attempt to change the subject. 

“Probably just a couple of days,” she says, lifting your knuckles to her lips and kissing them gently, like you’re made of fine china, like you could shatter at any moment. “Everyone wants to see you. I told them you probably wouldn’t be up for visitors until tomorrow,” she says. 

“That’s fine,” you agree, leaning your head back against the pillow. Whatever medications flowing through the IV in your wrist has you feeling very low-energy. “And how long are you gonna be mad at me?” you ask, sticking your bottom lip out a little in an attempt to earn some sympathy points. 

Emily shakes her head a little, but you see the faint uptick of her mouth that gives her away. “At the very least, however long it takes you to recover,” she jokes halfheartedly. 

“Does my punishment come with a ban on kisses?” you ask, tugging her hand with your own. 

Emily leans forward in her seat, her lips mere centimeters from your own. “That would be a punishment for me, too, and I didn’t do anything wrong,” she teases, then pecks your lips briefly. 

Your eyes are feeling heavy, and you heave a small sigh. “Love you, Em,” you say softly as the room goes dark. “Do anything for you, Em.” 

“I know you would, baby,” Emily sighs as well, but you feel her thumb swiping over the back of your hand. “That’s the problem.”

[not-neverland06]

How About A Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII

Series Masterlist

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I see a lot of comments talking about how you guys wished they would just communicate. They are communicating its just that neither of them know what they want. Summary: All you want is to just be clean. He offers to show you a nice little spot where you can finally scrape the grime off of you. What could go wrong?

“So,” you shifted your bag further up your arm. You were favoring the left today on account of the giant gap he had left in your right bicep. You were still pretty pissed off about that. “Do you ever, you know, bathe?”

He looked over his shoulder at you, he seemed caught off guard by the question. “Bathe?” He repeated, face raised in surprise.

You rolled your eyes and nodded, “Yeah, bathe. I’ve been out here over a week. I’ve got about twenty layers of blood and sand stuck in every crevice.” Your skin crawled thinking about the different types of bodily fluid you’d been sprayed with since coming out of the cryo pod. 

There was a lot of blood, of course, but Hollywood doesn’t show everything that gets excreted in death. You were itching for a good shower. You know that’s out of the question, but there’s got to be something. 

He laughed and ripped off a piece of jerky. He offered you some, grinning when you shook your head. “Buckle up, sweetheart, you’re in for a rude awakening. You can always use the water, but that’s a waste of Radaway if you ask me.” You should have known. It’s not like anyone you’d encountered seemed particularly gung ho about personal hygiene, but you had hoped there would be something. 

You reached down, digging your nails into your arm and scratching off flakes of blood and who knows what else. You shouldn’t have bothered, though, it only made the rest of you feel a hundred times worse. You looked crazy, scratching at yourself like a dog but you couldn’t help it. 

“Alright, damn, I’ll give you some of my Radaway, you look half rabid.”

You stopped with your scratching and stared at him in shock. “You’ll give me some of your Radaway?”

He rolled his eyes, stopping only when he noticed you’d quit walking. “Is that not what I said?”

You crossed your arms and glared at him, “You’re not exactly known for your generosity. What’s the catch?”

He frowned and clutched at his chest like you’d actually done damage, “Now, that hurts darling. I’m just trying to help you out.” He turned around, walking to the right now, further towards greenery and away from the desert. “Plus, it’ll get rid of that fucking smell.”

You kept your mouth shut but he was one to talk. He hadn’t exactly tasted wonderful when he’d kissed you. Nor did he smell amazing. Still, he had made your heart race and it wasn’t from pure terror for once. Though, any positive feelings he’d caused within you had been negated the second he dropped you to the dirt like a used up toy. 

You knew better than to try and bring it up to him, but it had stung. Attacked that vulnerable part of you that made you want to put up walls so high even the sun couldn’t get through. 

With no other choice you sped up and caught up to him. Your hip was still bothering you, but it wasn’t dragging behind you as much as it was a few days ago. The only thing really bugging you now was your throbbing arm. He’d assured you that it couldn’t rot, he’d dealt with that, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch. 

“Through here is a lake you can use.” He pointed towards the area where the trees started to thin out. 

You looked at him skeptically, “You’re really letting me do this?”

He scoffed and glared at you, “The fuck did I tell you?” You don’t know if he’s talking about his new rule to stop questioning him or about giving you the Radaway, but you keep your mouth shut anyway. He hasn’t been as much of a dick today and you’d rather keep it that way. 

“Here,” he motions through the trees and you stumble into an abandoned neighborhood. It’s been submerged in water, you can spot some old apartment buildings peeking up through the top. 

Briefly, you wonder if you’ve ever passed your old home and just never realized it. You dismiss the thought as quickly as it comes, not willing to let your mind linger on thoughts like that today. 

You slowly make your way to the water, still not entirely trusting of his intentions. He’s made it clear he’s keeping you around for the long haul, but that doesn’t mean he’s stopped tormenting you. “You’re really gonna let me use your Radaway?” You call over your shoulder. 

He sighs and leans against the trunk of a tree. “Get your ass in the water, I won’t wait around all day. 

You’re not dumb enough to fully submerge yourself in radiated water. You just rip a piece of your shirt off and dunk it into the startlingly blue lake. You use it to scrub yourself down, rubbing your arms until they’re raw and feel clean enough. 

You shuffle closer to the water, trying to bend over enough to scrub your face a bit. But when you gaze down into the water you find something gazing back up at you. You scream, scrambling back just as that thing leaps out of the water and towards you. 

Something pink and wet slams into your chest and knocks the air out of your lungs. You grope blindly in the mud for your gun as it opens its mouth. Horror and disgust fill you when you see what’s in its mouth, human fingers dangle like disgusting uvulas. It darts forward, jaw posed to clamp around your whole face. 

A loud bang echoes through the lake. The thing goes flying back and causes ripples to drift across the surface of the water. You clutch your chest, trying to get your breath back and scoot closer to get a better look at whatever attacked you. It’s the size of your torso and looks startling like some deformed axolotl. He’s left a large bullet hole in the middle of it’s head deformed head.

“What the fuck?” You whisper, shakily getting to your feet and groaning when you realize whatever you’d manage to clean off had been replaced by a thick layer of mud. 

You turn around, hoping for some sort of explanation from him, but he’s just bent over laughing, gun still smoking. You grab your bag out of the muck with a huff and glare at him. “Really?”

He straightens up, still grinning and shakes his head. “You should have seen your face, you were petrified.”

”Well, I’m glad someone enjoyed that.” You glare down at the corpse, eyes wide with horror, “It’s got fucking fingers in it’s throat. Human fingers!” He saunters over to you, entirely too pleased with himself. He grabs his inhaler out of his bag and loads it with Radaway. He tosses it over to you and you catch it with your good arm. “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” You press down and take in a deep breath, ignoring how bitter the juice tastes. 

“Never trust anything, rule number one of the Wastelands darling. Can’t even trust the water.” There was a loud roar off towards the middle of the lake and he nodded his head back towards the tree line. “Come on, that one was just a baby Gulper. Momma’s gonna be by soon and I can’t imagine she’ll be real happy.” He walks off without you and you’re stuck staring at the dead mutant. 

“That was a fucking baby?” He laughs at you again and when you catch up with him, you can't help but laugh a little yourself. You probably looked ridiculous, wrestling in the mud with what, apparently, was only an infant. 

He grins at you, “You got a lot to learn.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

He’s kneeled down beside you, fingers prodding at the reddened area around your wound. It feels a bit better now, more like touching a fresh bruise rather than raw nerves. He poured some water from his canteen over the area and retied the bandage. He stood up and moved away from you while you dug around in your bag for another ration bar. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You’ve got the bar positioned between your knees, and you’re trying, hopelessly, to open it up with one hand. Your fingers, now dusted with dried mud, slip uselessly against the packaging. 

He looks up at you and lets out a loud sigh. “Give it here.”

”I’ve got it-”

“Give. It. Here.” You huff but toss the bar over to him. He rips it open in one smooth move and throws it back to you. You catch it with your good hand and take a large chunk out of it. It feels like rubber and tastes oddly like dried out meatloaf. You’re not exactly sure what flavor it’s supposed to be replicating, but you figure it’s so old it doesn’t really matter as long as it fills you up. 

He pours some water from his canteen onto a ripped piece of cloth and tosses it at you. You’re unprepared, bar in hand and midchew, it slaps against your face and you scowl under the fabric. “Really?” You mutter, mouth half full. You yank it off your face and give him a questioning look. 

“Just clean yourself up.” 

You drag it across your face and arms, trying to get off as much residual mud as you can. Your clothes are a stained, lost cause, but this will do for now. Not like you’re going to get much better without going up against some mutant monster. 

“You’re being nice today?” It comes out like a question more than anything. Probably because you’re having trouble trusting him, especially after the Gulper incident. You wished you could say you can’t believe he would do something like that, but you’re pretty sure he’d been hoping the mom would get you, not the baby. 

He shrugged and leaned back against a fallen log. “Feelin’ chivalrous.”

You hummed but didn’t push. You forced down another lump of your ration and reached for your water. “Where are we heading anyway? Been walking for a long time but we haven’t seem to have gotten anywhere.”

“There’s a compound I took a bounty for. We’re on our way to deliver it.”

You tilted your head as far back as you could, tongue out and hoping to catch the remaining drops of your water. “Shit,” you tossed the canteen back in your bag, already knowing it was hopeless. 

“Ah, hell,” you glanced up and saw Cooper rifling through his supply box. 

“How are you on Radaway?”

He sighed and chucked the box back into his bag. “Got two vials left.” He ran his tongue along his teeth, a pensive expression on his face. 

You sighed and rubbed idly at some mud left on your fingers. “You’re gonna need more soon.”

He cut you off with a sharp laugh. “Faster than soon, this is the diluted shit.” He rubbed at his chest and you wondered if he was already starting to feel the effects of being so low on the medicine. You can’t believe he gave you a vial of his own with so few left. 

Bastard must’ve really wanted to see you get jumped by a gulper. Your face twisted up in distaste and any twinge of sympathy you’d felt for him dissapeared. You wished he would cough so hard he’d choke on his tongue, at least then you wouldn’t have to listen to his bullshit anymore. 

He looked over at you and then your bag. “Got any of that purified water left?” You shook your head, crumpling the wrapper of your bar up and tossing it somewhere behind you, 

“Just ran out, not sure where I’m gonna find more.”

He chuckled and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I do,” you stood up and grabbed your own bag, following behind him. 

Loud laughter and rowdy conversation drifts into the night air. You sit perched behind a large boulder, staring into the building across from you. It’s an old supermarket, refurbished to fit the Wastelanders' needs. “They’ll have what we need?”

He doesn’t look at you, his sight is dead set on the men milling about in front of you. They’re clearly guards, switching positions every couple of minutes and loaded to the teeth with weapons. Cooper silently tracks them, eyes darting between them as they switch positions yet again. 

“Yep,” he lifts up into a squat and watches as one of the men turns his back to lace up his boot. “Now!” He grabs you by the sleeve of your jacket and drags you along as he weaves between the guards. He throws you in front of him, practically tossing you inside the store. 

You hold back your gasp of shock and duck behind a waist-high shelf. There are only seven or eight men walking around inside. They’ve got a fire burning in the middle of the store, the empty shelves pushed back against the walls. Behind them is about the largest pile of supplies you’ve seen since being up here. They could give Ma June a run for her money. 

You peek your head over the shelf and try to get a look at just how many weapons they have. You hear the familiar sound of spurs walking behind you and twist immediately to see Cooper walking calmly towards the group with his hands raised in surrender. He catches your eye and winks before he fully addresses them. 

“Gentlemen!” You sigh and sink back against the shelf, an irritated look on your face. The shelf screeched forward slightly and you scrambled off it, you caught Cooper twitch a little in irritation but he didn’t say anything. He’s been fully noticed at this point, the others all glaring at him with their guns raised. 

He had a full view of all eight men from his perspective. What he couldn’t see, which you could, was a ninth man sneaking up behind him with a knife. He had it poised, aiming to strike right through the back of Cooper’s neck. 

Without thinking too much on it, you leapt out of your hiding spot and used your good arm to point your gun in the man’s face. He came to a stop almost cartoonishly, eyes wide and the knife in his hands trembling when you popped out. 

Cooper barely gave you a glance out of the side of his eye and you figured he knew all about the ninth man. He must have been testing you, see if you really had his back. “Hey!”

“Who the fuck is she!”

“What are you doing here?”

You ignored the sounds of their voices, you kept the gun trained on the boy and motioned him towards the left of the room. He followed, letting you guide him backwards until he was scrambling to hide behind his friends. It’s then that you finally got a good look at just how many guns were trained on you. 

One of them pumped their shotgun and you pulled back the hammer of your gun. Cooper’s guns were still tucked away in their holster, it was just you and however much firepower they could cram between ten pairs of hands. 

“Now, I suggest that you gentlemen put those guns down or my friend here is gonna get a little too friendly with her trigger.”

One of them scoffed, gesturing with the barrel of their pistol towards your right arm hanging limply by your side. “She got a bad arm and a shaking hand.”

“Maybe,” you call out, “but I got a working finger. I only need one of ‘em to kill you.”

Before he can respond there’s another one stepping forward. “She can get real friendly with me.” He’s got a lecherous grin on his face and a look in his eyes that makes your skin crawl. You sigh, sick of the men up here being so predictable, and turn your gun on him. His eyes widen, like he hadn’t seen you pointing it at his friends, and you pull the trigger. 

Your aim is a little off and the recoil is harder to handle with only one hand available to you, but you’ve got a sawed off shotgun in your hand, don’t have to have a great aim to kill a man with that. His twitching body has barely hit the ground before you’re diving to the right and ducking behind a shelving unit. 

Cooper goes to the left, eyes wide in the same astonishment as those men. Bullets started flying the second their friend was on the ground. They were shouting all sorts of insults and threats at you but it was hard to make out over all the shooting.

“You shot him!” Cooper shouted over the hail fire of bullets.

You rolled your eyes and did your best to reload the gun with your wobbly hand. “He pissed me off,” you shouted back at him. You leveled the gun over the top of the shelves and fired blindly. There was a loud yelp and then another Bitch shouted at you, so you must have hit something. 

“You know, I was trying to handle this civilly,” Cooper jumped to his knees and turned around quickly. He fired off a quick succession of shots, four bodies dropped as he did. The rate of gunfire slowed a bit as more men fell. He ducked down and ran across the room, throwing himself down next to you. He tossed his guns at you and tugged yours out of your hand. “Reload me,” you nodded and tugged some bullets out of his bandolier while he used your gun to shoot at them. 

“I’m sure you handling it civilly would have ended the exact same fucking way.”

He grinned and sat back next to you, “Well,” he shrugged, “maybe. Maybe not, doesn’t matter now.” You handed him his reloaded guns and he dropped yours in your lap. “Only a few left, use the shelves as cover and circle around behind ‘em.” He didn’t stay to make sure you understood his plan, he immediately set off, drawing the fire away from you and making a run for it. 

“Shit,” you hissed, struggling to your feet and following his instructions. With only a few of them left it should have been quick work to get rid of the last few stragglers, but the guards from outside had heard the scuffle and were rushing in. Cooper shot most of them but one got close enough to snatch his gun from his hands and throw it to the floor. 

Cooper struggled against the man, his towering form easily overpowering Cooper. Though, your friend didn’t seem particularly worried, if anything it looked like he was letting the man live to draw out the fight, like he was enjoying it. 

You were going to just leave him to it when you saw the same bastard from before with the knife sneaking up behind him again. You rush forward, scooping up Cooper’s gun as you go and shove the man backwards. 

He grunts at the impact but he refused to be deterred. He charges at you, eyes red with rage and blackened mouth frothing like a rabid dog. You try and keep your guard up but you’ve got a gimp leg and a useless arm, it’s not a fight you’re going to win. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and yanks you into him. You grunt, breathing out slowly as you feel his knife slide into your gut. You glance down at the rusted blade and shove your gun under his chin. His eyes widen when you draw the hammer back but you don’t flinch when you pull the trigger, not even when chunks of skull and hair start raining down on you. 

Cooper must have finally noticed the tussle happening behind him because he draws his second gun out from under his coat and ends his little fight with the last of them. You must be in shock, you still haven’t fully experienced the pain that you should. 

There’s a knife sunk past the handle slammed into your gut, you should be feeling something shouldn’t you? You’re sure it’s the adrenaline still pumping through you. Your body is warm from how fast your blood is pumping, your ears ringing from all the gunshots and head spinning from the amount of blood steadily leaking out of the wound. 

“Hey,” you turn around to face him and his eyes widen ever so slightly. You lose your footing and he darts forward, quick arms grab you and draw you into his chest. You clutch onto the sleeve of his jacket, letting all of your weight rest on him while you try and get your panicked breathing under control. 

You’ve had worse injuries than this. As hard as it is to believe, in your time up here, you’ve survived a lot worse than some measly stab wound. 

So why does this feel so fucking bad?

“Oh,” you moan in pain, nearly doubling over. A feeling like a million exposed nerves being set on fire stops you from falling to the floor, instead you push off Cooper and struggle to your feet. 

“Alright, come on,” he grabs your arm again and you have the ridiculous urge to just shove him off you. Your head is swimming,  you feel like you could float away. You look down at the knife again and finally realize just how large it is. One of those hunting ones that was about the width of your hand curled into a fist. 

Well, fuck.

“Hey,” he snaps when you stumble away from him again. “Sit your stubborn ass down, you need help.” He yanks on the straps of your shirt, holding you up and dragging you to a chair, you don’t have much choice as he forces you to sit. Though, the motion causes a wave of excruciating pain to flare through you. 

He kneels in front of you and rips your shirt open, you’re in too much pain to complain about it right now. He hums low in the back of his throat as he takes in the wound. With no warning whatsoever he grabs the knife by the handle and yanks it out like he’s ripping off a fucking bandaid. 

You nearly scream, lurching forward and shoving him away from you. The sudden shock of pain has left you half blind and panting like an animal. “What the fuck was that?” You force out through gritted teeth. He plants a hand on your shoulder and presses you firmly against the back of the chair. 

“Need to get you a Stimpak.” He takes your hand in his and presses it against the wound. Where blood was once oozing, it’s now gushing. You hadn’t realized just how much keeping the knife in had kept the blood at bay. With how rapidly it’s leaving you now you’re afraid. 

You’re afraid that you might not be able to make it back from the edge with just a Stimpak. You can already feel your fingers going cold, pretty soon you won’t be able to flex them and then you’d lose feeling in your arms too. 

“Hey,” he uses the grip he has on your hand to press down on the wound. You groan but he keeps the pressure steady. His eyes bore into your dazed ones, some odd expression in them. “You don’t get to give up. Keep pressure on this, understand me?” Your head flops forward in a lazy nod. 

He could have been gone for a minute or an hour, you wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Your head is foggy, coherent thoughts replaced by loopy ones. You’re struggling to remember where you are or what you’re supposed to be doing. 

Just as your hand slips from the wound, he comes back. He grabs your hand and places it back, holding it there with his own. You appreciate the way he warms your fingers back up, but the rest of you is freezing too. Maybe he’d share his jacket. 

The thought of him sharing anything makes you laugh and he gives you a frustrated look. “Don’t go losing it on me. Not yet at least.”

You lean forward, face nearly pressed against his and grin. “You know, I haven’t heard a thank you yet.”

He scoffed, opening the Stimpak with one hand and preparing the injector. “Yeah, for what?”

“Saving your life, dick.”

You’re caught off guard when he slams the needle into your stomach, your lips part with a silent gasp and you wince at the cool rush of medicine. He grins at you, “Well, thank you for being the only dumbass to get herself stabbed in a gun fight.”

The medicine works fast, you learned that from when he’d shot you. You can already start to feel the pulse of blood slowing and your head clearing up slightly. “Asshole,” you hiss, leaning away from him. But his eyes stay trained on you, on both of your blood covered hands and where they still rest, linked together, on your stomach. 

You find yourself taking advantage of his distraction to really look at him. It bothers you, how after everything, his eyes are still so pretty. It’s the first thing that drew your attention when you were younger. Those eyes of his had you swooning from the first time you saw him on the big screen. 

He catches you but you can’t find it in yourself to care. There’s something odd in the air, a lingering tension from the kiss you’d never discussed. From the silent partnership you’d never voiced. You’d nearly gotten yourself killed for him tonight, the thought finally seemed to be dawning on him. 

His eyes drop to your lips and he leans in. He doesn’t get very far, lips just barely brushing yours before you’re jerking back in surprise. You’re bleeding out in his hands and he kisses you? Your hand is up and cracking across his cheek before you can think about it. 

His head whips to the side with a satisfying crack. He lets out a breathy chuckle, using his free hand to soothe the area you’d hit. He stretches the tension out of his jaw and shakes his head before he looks at you again. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed you. You definitely shouldn’t be further entertaining his ideas that he holds any sort of possession for you, but you’d just realized what that look in his eyes had been earlier. He had been worried about you. 

Cooper has always been the one who protected you. Not the other way around. And as twisted as he’d become, it still relatively remained the same dynamic today. You’d caught him off guard earlier, putting yourself in danger like that for him. And he had been worried about you. 

You grab him by the collar of his jacket and drag him forward before he can decide what to do with the fact that you slapped him. Your lips meet again and he hovers over you on your chair. The hand on your stomach pushes harder against you, deepening the pressure and making you groan into his mouth. 

He doesn’t waste time, deepening the kiss and letting his other bloodied hand drift into your hair. His fingers curl around the strands and he yanks your neck back, manipulating you how he wants and bending you to his desires. You melt into it, into the complete control you allow him to momentarily wield over you. 

You let your mind go blank and just focus on him. You can pretend, for now, that you’re in his old house. You’re coming back after a date at one of those fancy restaurants that he hates, but he takes you there anyway so you can have an excuse to dress up. 

He’ll whisper I love you and drag you to the couch. You’ll start there, his kisses traveling lower until he’s dragging you back to his bedroom. You’ll feel valued, cherished, loved. Cooper will take care of you. 

He parts slowly from you, still keeping a firm grip on your hair. It takes a moment for your eyes to flutter open again. You’re sure you look like a mess, staring up at him with glossy eyes and swollen lips, completely drenched in your own blood. 

“Don’t think about him when I’m the one kissing you, darling.” Your eyes widen and he lets you go. He shoves back from you and paces towards his bag. Any warmth in his eyes, any care, was gone. 

You want to say something to drag him back but the moment has passed. It’s not like he was wrong, you were pretending he was someone completely different to make yourself feel better. 

But you couldn’t make yourself feel guilty when you remembered half the reason you needed the comfort was because of who he was now. He comes back with a needle and thread. He lets the needle hover over the men’s fire for a moment before he approaches you with it. “Stimpak will only do so much, need to sew you up.”

You nodded and looked away as he knelt down and pressed the needle into your skin. You barely felt it,  could barely pay attention to him when your thoughts were on what it was like before. What he was like before. Sometimes it makes you sick to your stomach to look at him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[wandascrush]

Runaway Bride

Summary: There’s only one person you really want on your wedding day

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Weddings, love, crying, running away, lots of angst

Song: Someday I’ll get it by Alek Olsen

You were out of breath by the time you got there, crisp cold air hurting your chest. Your throat was as dry as sandpaper. Natasha was there, waiting for you like she always was. Your legs were tired from running, broken nude heels in your hands, beautiful and forgotten. The white flowy, soft fabric of your dress touched your body delicately, dragging and picking up the color from the wet mossy grass. Sore legs lowered down to sit on the grass next to the girl who once captured your heart…but she was silent. Just you two, alone. The air was so cold it hurt your bones. 

   You rested your head against the large oak tree that sat behind you two, making a little cove under its branches. So many thoughts were racing through your mind, “I’ve ruined everything. What will people think? I have to say sorry.” But once you saw your favorite spot waiting for you, with your favorite girl, everything melted away. You shouldn’t even be here right now, you shouldn’t have been thinking about Natasha, but she was the only person that ran through your mind. 

   “Long time no see, Natty.” 

    You’ve gotten used to her silence though, it kind of became her new character trait these days. Sometimes you pretended it didn’t hurt anymore, but it always did. A little more each time. Rain droplets started to fall around you, wetting every inch of dirt and stone. More green from the grass started to slowly seep into the beautiful white fabric of your dress. You knew her deep gaze was on you, looking at you with pity…maybe with love? 

   Your chest tightened as you blinked hard, vision blurring, “I was supposed to get married today, you know,” a sad laugh escaped your throat as you played with the fabric of your dress, “I looked beautiful. My hair was done and my makeup was perfect and-I was supposed to be happy today,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I was supposed to be standing at that altar, looking into her eyes, promising forever. But I couldn’t even say the words. Because every time I looked at her, I saw you. And I hated myself for it.”

 “I’m so tired of missing you. Some strange part of me thought getting married would make me happier. But all I see is you. When I say my vows, it’s your name they’re written for.”

I think of you all the time, now that you’re gone.

    The rain poured down in relentless sheets, soaking through the dress. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds and angry wind. Digging your manicured fingers into the soft mud, it felt like the only grounding thing. The feeling of mud seeping under your nails was the only anchor you had.

   You checked your phone, trying to wipe the rain off of it and realized that you’d already been there for over an hour with Natasha. You needed to get back, answer all the missed calls and texts. This would be the last time you two saw each other…something inside you was certain about it. Shaky legs stood up, using the big oak tree as support and grabbing the bouquet you forgot about next to you. 

   You slowly kneeled down in front of your first love, first everything, and pressed your forehead against her cold grave stone, “If love could have saved you,” breaths came in short, sharp gasps, salty tears falling into your mouth, “you would have lived forever, my Natasha.” Soft lips kissed the engraving of her name as you gently lied the bouquet down for her, grabbed your broken heels, and said goodbye. It took all your strength to not look back as you walked out of the private cemetery.

[ma1dita]

im begging on my knees for you to see my vision of riding Luke in the driver’s seat of a car after a stressful and dangerous quest 😩😭 THE TENSION!? THE ROUGHNESS??

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

mdni

luke castellan x reader

a/n: it's 7am... i... don't know either. smut. unprotected sex. semi public. slight exhibitionism

wc: 835

riding luke in the driver's seat of a car he stole while accompanying you on your first official quest.... having a car was a quicker way to get the job done he said, and chris also reasoned the old lady they carjacked won't know what she's missing. with two sons of hermes against you, even if you disagreed with them they still wouldn't hear a single complaint from your lips once you could sit in the ac instead of trod through the summer midwestern heat.

a week later you're sitting in the parking lot of a motel in rural illinois. one second you're grinning over the success of your quest and waiting for chris to come back with the room key and the next second luke's pulling you over the console into a bruising kiss that makes his cracked lips bleed. days ago you remember watching luke pick the locks of this car just as easy as he flicks your belt open just now, your knees digging into the hot metal of the seatbelt mechanism next to his thighs as you rise up from your haunches and he can see the sweat glistening on your tummy, back arching over the steering wheel. your shirt flies over his shoulders and lands somewhere in the backseat. shorts following as quick as he can pull them off you, slick rubbing against the meat of your thighs so much that when you sit back down on his lap he can feel it through his jeans---the heat isn't just coming from the red glow of the motel sign almost vibrating with the words 'open 24/7'.

he presses your back across the wheel, one hand snaking up to your throat and the other dragging your panties to the side for him to peek and prod at in the dim light. with his seat leaned all the way back, he watches you like you're something out of the porn magazine chris jokingly nicked from the gas station earlier, shiny with sweat and something he can smell, desire reeking from every pore of your tired body. demigod aside, you're a fucking fever dream, a nasty thought that keeps luke hard at night until he can jack off when everyone finally goes to sleep in cabin 11. the only thing he'll be thanking the gods for is the fact that his brother left you two long enough for a quick fuck.

"luke, we're still dirty," you mumble, but he knows you couldn't care less, both of you covered in blood and grime and unable to know where he ends and you begin once his fly goes down and you sink onto him like a perfect mold. this is filthier---the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him tight with every thrust of your hips downwards like he'd ever want to leave this small slice of heaven.

"f-fuck, just like that...you're so tight f'me..."

you grab onto his curls to make him look at you in the dim lighting, dipping your fingers into his mouth as you rock your hips hard and he sucks on them like they're covered in nectar---sharp tongue and plump lips dancing around your digits despite the dirt under your nails but he's entranced by the way your eyes roll back once he starts fighting against your rhythm. it's not a competition but with every noise that spills from your lips as he pistons into your sopping warmth, he thinks he might be winning.

"so dirty baby... you're right... feels too good to stop though huh?" he grins at the sound of sticky skin slapping once he bucks his hips up faster. through the steamy windshield, he can see curtains rustling in the windows near where he parked the car. maybe it's the way the whole vehicle is shaking with the force of your hips, the headlights he accidentally turned back on when taking your clothes off, or maybe its the way you're screaming his name like you want someone to hear.

"oh, luke, i can't! slow down, people are gonna...see!"

you're holding onto his shoulders and peeking at his face through teary lashes and this motherfucker has his tongue between his lips smiling---mortals be damned. they can watch if they want, regardless he fucks into you like he means it. until you fall apart on his cock and there are red handprints on your hips from where he pulls you off of him, the both of you pulling at his cock with his hands over yours until hot streaks of cum paint your tummy to your tits.

there's a knock at the window. rolling the window down at eye level, luke makes eye contact with chris who looks at his brother with a knowing grin. you've thrown your head onto his shoulder in embarassment, sandwiching the multiple stains and fluids between your shaking bodies.

"shower's open. you guys were... occupied so i went ahead. you both need it," chris smirks, before sliding luke the extra key card.

and he's right. the both of you need a shower. good thing the next step after getting dirty is scrubbing each other clean, right?

[blimpintime]

jar of wind part four

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to a end.

warnings: torture, gore, blood, angst, and unedited

word count: 1.1k

eris x oc

Peeling my heavy eyes open as I am being dragged through some sort of forest, I turn my head to see some large creature yanking me by my arms not caring that I am leaving a trail of blood leaking from my leg. 

My hand is throbbing in the creature’s tight grip and I feel lightheaded from the wound in my thigh. I decide to stay quiet to see where it is I am going but that doesn’t last very long when the creature pulls me hard and tosses me forward towards what seems to be a small campground. 

I go rolling with a yelp and lay in the dirt for a moment disoriented. I am lying on my stomach in what once was my favorite green dress that is now covered in blood, dirt, and sticks. I try to sit up with a groan when a forceful kick whips me in the stomach. 

“Stay down little pixie.” A woman’s voice says to me. I roll to my back to get a look at my surroundings, the beautiful night sky mocking me in my hazy eyes. 

“You’re probably thinking we are hunting you for fun,” She declares with a smile, standing there with what looks to be a bounty hunter’s get-up with long straight white hair. “You’d be wrong though well sort of— no, no. Not just for fun, but for war dear pixie.” I choke out some blood and spit it at her from my lying position. Which in return earns me another hard kick to the stomach.

“You have the worst person to do this, I am a nobody, I work in a children’s shelter.” I whimper out. She walks back to her orge-looking companion with an annoyed grin when she pulls two huge nails out of a bag. 

“You are everybody, darling. Probably the only one quick enough to figure out what kind of chaos I am about to cause. You are the smart one after all.” She tosses the nails down on the dirt next to me and crouches down. She gets in my face and drags a sharp finger across my bloody mouth. She pops it into her mouth and sucks. She grins, “A virgin’s blood? My oh my Wynnie dear, you keep getting better.” She then takes a knife and shoves it back into the same thigh wound as before and twists. I scream as she collects my blood into a vial. 

Once she is done stealing my blood for whatever reasons she has, she stands up abruptly and hands the container of blood to the tall ogre. 

“Unfortunately Oggie and I cannot stay for long.” She chirps out with a pout. 

“Who are you?” I grunt out half haphazardly trying to crawl away from her my leg going numb from pain and blood loss. 

“My name is Blythe, and I would say I am sorry for the pain I am about to give you but… eh all is fair in love and war.” with that being said she picks the nails back up out of the dirt and grabs me by my hair. I kick and pull away from her but with a weak hand and leg, my efforts are futile. 

She reaches into her pocket and blows some sort of dust into my face. I wheeze and notice I am becoming even more sluggish, I can barely keep my eyes open when she decides to take the nails and stab them through my wings.

“Awe you’re like a pinned butterfly. One nail per wing.” She whispers like she is proud of her work.  I hadn’t noticed when I stopped screaming all I know is that I was lifted and put on the ogre’s back is when I eventually lost consciousness. 

Eris pov:

Eris has never felt terror like he is about to experience. The warm fireplace lit up his office with a warm orange glow creating casts of dark shadows when guards burst into the room.

“Sir. There is an emergency.” One of the guards looks pale as a ghost. Eris stands with a quick huff and takes a breath. 

“What?” He says and makes his way from around the desk following the guard out the door, “There was something horrifying left for you on the palace steps.” The guard clears his throat before continuing, “High Lord I want you to prepare yourself for what is to come.” 

Eris for a moment looks shaken, immediately thinking something happened to his mother or brothers. When they finally winnowed to the steps, the sun was starting to peak over the trees, making the day look like it was about to be a beautiful one.

But unfortunately, no amount of warning could have prepared him for what he saw, which was his dearest Wynnie Lara pinned to the marble flooring at the top of the stairs like a dead bug waiting to be studied. 

When he stumbled over to her limp body praying to the mother that she wasn’t dead. He collapsed next to her still form, “Someone get the healer.” He barked tears in his eyes. 

Hands shaking like he doesn’t know if he can touch her frail shape, he reaches towards her face brushing the bloody bangs off her forehead, leaning in close to see if he can hear her breathing. A light breath flushes out of her nose and he could have collapsed into a manic pile of joy just knowing she was still alive. 

She was always on the smaller side but there was something so jarring about seeing her so limp and broken on his property. Made him feel sick to his stomach looking at her, eyes closed and such shallow breathing.

By the time the healer arrived and brought her back to the healer’s room, Eris had been patiently waiting outside the room. He swore to himself whoever hurt her was going to feel the wrath of his entire army and then some. He was toying with ideas of torture for the one that caused her this pain and trauma.  And he was so deep in thought he barely noticed the healer coming out of her room. 

When the healer walked his way he noticed him holding a bloody piece of paper,

“Found this tucked into her dress, My Lord. She should wake in a few days now that she has been stabilized.” And walked off. 

Eris took the note with trembling hands and walked into her room. He sat next to her bed not even planning on leaving her side until she woke. He unfolded the note that was damp in her blood and gagged at the sight of it. 

Dearest High Lord Eris, 

Enjoy your traitor back. 

-The Night Court

a/n: soooooooooo. thoughts?

sorry about the cliffhanger! (i am not)

taglist: @cazrielsfairygf @buckyloki888 @litnerdwrites @the-fandom-ness @booksbypisces @nerdyalmondlawyerauthor @fatimam6 @lees-chaotic-brain @love-bookprincess @paleidiot @slytherintaco @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @esposadomd @dxjaaaa @tele86 @saltedcoffeescotch

[rocy-slo]

I dunno how to preface this, but here's an honest attempt at whump from me. I don't know shit about this.

Chapter 1, i guess?

tw: body horror, scarring, self-deprecation

His eyelids split apart as his body involuntarily turned itself towards the greater room. Curling up in a corner to prevent the light from reflecting off the mirrors was his only grace, one that was being taken away by his own self repeatedly each time he would fall into deep sleep. Can’t. He completely turned over, tucking his knees and staring at himself in the floor mirror. A bald, ugly mess stared back at him. I need to get better. I need to clean myself- I cannot look like this. He loathed how he looked. He was ugly and no matter what he did, he couldn’t clean himself as well as he would like. Only here for a few days and already looking like a disheveled rat. He tightly wrapped his fingers around his left arm and began pulling it up and down. There was no other way for him to get the sweat his horrible body secretes. No other way to rid himself of the old skin besides literally wringing it out of his body. The sensation of doing so felt like dragging a piece of sandpaper up and down his arm with how hard he was gripping it. His skin turned red the longer he went on, tiny clumps of amorphous tissue of dead skin mixed with bodily secretions fell to the floor. I’m not doing this hard enough. He changed his strategy, using the hardened callouses on the tips of his fingers to scratch the filth off. He wouldn’t dare have it get under his nails- there was barely any left anyway, almost at its roots due to the amount of times he asked Michael to clean them, only to find out the dirt had already fused with the bottom layer of keratin and him having to trim it. It stung, and the only reason he stopped was because his eye caught a tiny drop of blood gathering atop his arm. Good- just one this time. He moved onto his arm and other limbs, repeating the procedure until they were all pinkish-red. There were small piles of gray matter all around him. Only his back remained. He stood up, taking a deep breath- moving slightly fast always made his skin feel like the air itself was scratching it further, like a hundred needles threatening to break through and draw more blood. Just my back left. I’ll be clean after that. He backed into the wall and began sliding himself against it. His arms couldn’t reach that far, and even then it would do a subpar job. He closed his eyes, as he didn’t want to see his struggling, pathetic form barely managing to clean itself. At first, it felt oddly pleasant- working the skin on his back, almost like a massage. As he went on, the amount of times the skin would bunch up and bump him away from the mirror lessened, turning the completely smooth surface into a horribly abrasive one, as he did the motions slow enough to not sweat and keep it dry. By the time he was done, there were thin dark-red lines stretching across the entirety of the wall. I still can’t get it right. Damn it. He crumbled to the ground, looking at the mirror. The sight of himself blurred by the red streaks taunted him. Told him that he would never get better. They were always going to be there, no matter how much better he thought he would get. He couldn’t go in such a state. He couldn’t emerge to the world to immediately be a burden to it. He couldn’t. “G-God damn it.” His head fell into his hands as tears began flowing, stinging the scars upon his cheeks as they slid down. I have to. For Michael. He still believes in me.

[alpydk]

If you ever find yourself bored again, you can do this 😉

CHARACTER ASK GAME!!! 💫

For Astarion: 5+6+8+12+25

For Gale: 14 + 16+ also 8+ 23 (I expect cowboy hat 🤣 just kidding)

I'm going to do this now before I fail to ever find the ask game questions again! (I love answering questions and using my brain to think over stuff like this.)

Right! Astarionnnnnnn!

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Keep me dumb, keep me small Keep me closer to you Keep me still, keep it all Keep away from the truth Keep me here, keep me cool 'cause it's already done Everything is so intimidating

My partner's choice was "Walking on Sunshine..." - -

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

Reactions to trauma, baby! It's too early to share further than that. Just know I struggle with his romance if I'm playing a good serious run through and I don't take him to beat Cazador because his breakdown is too relatable. (Even if it is one of the best acted scenes in the entire game.)

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Essentially make him out to be sin free the moment they romance him. You can't fix someone just by fucking them! It does not work that way. You think he's going to be healed within 6 months? A year? No, this guy is going to be fucked for at least another century, if not longer. You want a fucked up relationship with someone mentally ill go for it, but don't think you can truly fix him. #endrant

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Going to take from my fic CoO for this.

“When they buried me, they forgot to wipe a spot of blood from my neck.”  He wiped the dirt and scarlet spots from her cheek, revealing the pale complexion beneath. “And when I woke up, I found myself trapped in the darkness, within the confines of the box they’d placed me in.” He placed the cloth in the water, squeezing it slightly, watching as the fluid changed colour to a murky red. “I remember the dirt falling in on me as I broke through the wood, terrified I was going to suffocate. It took some time to realise that it wasn’t happening as I swallowed the soil and emerged above ground.” Astarion began to softly wipe at her hands, delicately tracing under her nails. “And yet despite how I felt, how my clothes were left muddied, how much earth was beneath my own nails, all I really remember is that dried blood on my neck.” 

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Killed him in my first run with little regrets. I didn't find him until near the end of act 1, got attacked by him, then bitten, all in a very short time span. Then I found the Gur and handed him over. Oops, but served him right.

Now though, he's my team cleric of Lathander (Irony!) - And he's my ride or die bro.

Gale time!

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

I'm a member of the messy suit brigade. Get that man an unbuttoned collar, stat! (Also picture related, I want that too.)

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character?

Shadowheart x Gale - Just don't see how it works. Or like I do, with him teaching her to swim or something, but I don't think she'd put up with his long lectures on subjects and he'd get annoyed at her snappiness. Just doesn't work for me.

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

I've ranted about this before. Pining God!Gale! -

23. Favorite picture of this character?

I have so many! (But these are my favourites, before I get dragged into my screenshots folder and you lose me forever)

[astarab1aze]

'did you know she cried for you? said your name over and over like a prayer that was never going to be answered? i wonder... will she ever be able to look you in the eyes again? will she ever be able to be touched? poor, poor broken loni.' leanne smiles gazing down at his mangled, chilled form. deadeye certainly had done well to take her daughter's lover out. not dead, but she was all too sure he'd wish himself to be once he saw loni. 'anyways, have her back. I've grown bored for the time.'

signaling to someone behind her smiles. behind her two men walked forward, each holding an arm belonging to the shewolf, her feet dragging along the ground. at the snap of her fingers they threw the body onto the ground, her head cracking against a rock, flesh splitting open, blood seeping down and staining the earth red. 'she should wake up soon and I'm sure you'll warm up soon enough. have fun, loux. enjoy your time with my toy while it lasts.'

@the1iars

Even on his knees, sapped of his strength down to the pores and fractures of his bones, mind hanging onto consciousness by a thread, reduced to little more than leathery, gaunt flesh and bruises all his own, he couldn't bear it. He couldn't endure. Every muscle just shy of snapping, teeth near to shattering, and he couldn't breathe, chest tightening, squeezing, lungs burning for naught - there was no air for him, the living incarnation of fire itself, starved of oxygen.

He struggled uselessly against his bindings, magic never once giving life to the frantic shake of his hands or the twitching of his fingers, silver melting into his skin at the slightest jostle. Too weak to free himself, on every front, and weaker still to protect her, as they paraded her wretched form around him as if a suckling pig, rubbing his face in her humiliation - and when they threw her, too far beyond his reach--

Bile rose in his throat, breaths coming to him in rapid swells, each causing the silver to burn ever deeper into his flesh. He winced, he flinched, he teetered and fell forward onto his elbows, eyes fixed to the blood pouring from her skull, shoulders trembling, unsteady, hollow, heart stopping-- And all at once the bile came loose, sick sick sick to the very depths of himself, every strip of flesh ripped from her body, every bruise, laceration, broken bone, rope burns, every attempt to tear her apart seared into his memory. And there was nothing he could've done, no way he could've saved her from this, nothing nothing nothing! They robbed him of the chance! And they took her from him, they hurt her, they hurt her, they--

His blood ran hot and cold in unpredictable cycles, and though he was feeble and fragile, soon to lose himself to the loss of his magic, he...tried, tilting his head and digging his chin into the dirt, elbows and fingertips digging into the earth in an effort to pull himself toward her - he couldn't feel his legs, but the pain everywhere struck him like lightning, taking what little wind he had right out of him. He fell to his side with a hollow thud, forehead smacking into the dirt. Like screaming without a voice, breathing without lungs, seeing without eyes, a soul without a body. Too much had happened.

Too much.

She was...she was-- and he was only a shell, a shifter in decay. If he could just reach her, he could keep her warm in his ribcage.

Please...

He grit his teeth and tried again, awkwardly rolling his shoulders forward, arms angling ahead of him. As his fingertips found purchase in the earth, aching on contact, nails near to departing from their beds, he clawed his way to her. His vision blurred and he could no longer make out the details of her face, bloody fingers pawing through her matted hair to her cheeks, chest rapidly heaving as the warmth of her blood soaked into his skin. He tried harder, to pull her into him, but she wouldn't budge, too heavy for him now, arms withering to skeletal jags of meat.

"-o-on-i--" he stammered, fumbling on syllables his tongue wasn't strong enough to pronounce anymore, head lolling to the side, lids fluttering closed. Exhaustion claimed him as soon as the numbness settled into his nerves, jaw going slack. He didn't have much time now, before he'd fall unconscious, but a loud part of him childishly hoped he'd overcome this, that he'd power-up like any of his childhood heroes and save his girl, tke her head in his hands and lend her all his strength to heal, to get back up again and smile at him just one more time. He couldn't bear the blood. "L-Lo--"

How cliche that would be.

His breathing shallowed, and his fingers slipped free of her chin.

[just-a-tiny-goldfish]

fixing the other's hairstyle to let their hands run through their partner's hair for the physical affection prompt? 👀

Omg I was like— what is bro talking about 😭 yes— That’s does sound cute— then I realized I had reblogged that thingy with all the cute soft stuff, and my oblivious ass didn’t realize ppl would take that as prompts 🥹 I thought they were just cute little bullet points LOL

But I did write a lil’ thing for ya cause I thought it was really nice of you to ask for something 💕

—

The longer she stares the hotter you feel your face become.

“Stop it” it’s curt, snappish, she’s already on your last nerve and she hasn’t even said one word. A woman of many talents.

Julia’s smile stretches into a grin.

“I mean…I can hel-“

“No way” Cut her off, hands reaching up to your hair protectively, like it wasn’t you who’s absolutely massacred it.

“Why?”

You’re backing back—watching the way she stretched from her place on the couch, hear the pop of her spine, before getting up, sauntering over, swiping the scissors up from where they lay half buried in a poor unlucky spider plant after you’d thrown them in your frustrated state.

“You’ve already messed it up”

“It’s not that bad!” It is that bad. You know it’s that bad.

She doesn't seem to be paying you any mind anymore, instead her attention is focused on getting the dirt off the small scissors.

“Look, I’ll just even it out ok? easy peasy”

You’ve backed yourself into the kitchen table. You stare pointedly down at your socks. They’re too big, blue with a sole lightning bolt running down to the heel—stolen from her closet months ago on a spontaneous movie night.

When she finally reaches you, you keep your gaze fixed down—too embarrassed to meet her eyes. you don’t put up much of a struggle as she turns you around, but flinch slightly as you hear her drag the garbage can over to your side already anticipating the worst.

When you finally feel her hands in your hair — hear the first snip, you can’t help but scrunch your eyes tightly shut. You don’t wanna see the way the dark strands build up in the white trash bag.

“Miedosa” You hear Julia softly snicker as she tugs gently at your choppy strands.

Your eyes clench tighter, cross your fingers—a move that has Julia exhaling in amusement—hope she can really salvage your mess.

Overly transfixed on your own breathing, calming it down—the way you swear you can hear your heartbeat in your ears the longer Julia takes on your hair—there’s no way there’s any need for her to be taking so long? Your hair wasn’t all that long to start with. How much is she cutting off exactly? The thoughts alarming enough that it has you blinking open your eyes—

You still hear the scissors snip above you, which sends your heart into another set of rapid beats until you realize…there's no hairs being thrown into the trash at your side—in fact? There doesn't seem to be all that much in there at all…

As you keep your gaze fixed on the near empty trash can, you finally find yourself relaxing enough to actually feel the way Julia’s hands are gently combing through your hair. The way her hands tenderly rake up at the short hair at the nape of your neck, her nails raise goosebumps and you hunch your shoulders in response. You expect a teasing remark at your reaction—but she stays quiet. When you feel her hand slow and go to repeat the action you call out softly to her confused.

“…Julia?”

“Hmm” you would’ve flinched had you not frozen, a deer in headlights—she’s leaned down close enough to your neck you can feel her warm breath on your skin. It tickles the short hairs, your goosebumps come back full force.

You involuntarily bite at your lower lip—keep the squeel sealed up tight in your mouth that would have otherwise escaped.

“Are you done?” Your question is rushed and it sounds almost like an accusation.

You hear her fidget behind you but she doesn't move away, you grow increasing tense, after some time you feel her lean down fully, resting her head, heavy, on your shoulder as she reaches over you and flips open a small compact makeup mirror, “yeah—see”

But you're more focused on how warm her cheek is against yours. Her long hair is loose, and wild, smells strongly of her and—well, looking into the small mirror? It’s really all you can see.

Like a mini tv.

All you can focus on.

She doesn't seem to notice, her attention elsewhere.

You give her a minute to adjust it but when she makes no move to do so, you grab the small mirror forcefully from her.

You shrug your shoulder—the one her head is still heavy on— when she doesn't take the hint you push your palm into her face and get her off you. Maybe a tad bit too roughly.

“Aye—really?”

“You’re done, I don’t need you anymore”

“De nada Oro” you hear the eye roll in her tone.

focusing on the small mirror, ignore your slightly darker than normal cheeks and pointedly stare at your hair —You have to admit one thing “it doesn't look like you did anything” you're concentrating hard on seeing what exactly she’s ‘fixed’—your hair if anything— looks a little worse. Puffed up by her hands it sticks out at different angles. You turn every which way but before you can really pinpoint anything, Julia’s snatched the little makeup mirror back, out of reach.

“I mean I can cut a little more of-“

“No!”

“Then stop complaining”

[jlilycorbie]

Resurrectionists

Many years ago, I read Stiff by Mary Roach (highly recommended), and shortly after I discovered The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. And NaNoWriMo came up, so I dove in with an idea. And I quickly realized I couldn’t keep up the voice.

These days I don’t think I could recapture that voice no matter how hard I tried, and I don’t remember where I was planning to take the story, either. Honestly, I’d forgotten all about it until I was digging through some old files.

If anyone’s interested, here’s what I managed to write before I realized it would be wise to move on to a different idea. Content warnings for grave robbing, body horror, zombies, body fluids, desecration of bodies, and sexual assault.

---

It all started with the cull what had clawed up the inside of his coffin.

I'd done the first half of the job and more, digging through the fresh dirt to the goods waiting below. Brae took the tip-top, busting through the lid of the coffin. I didn't mind so much. I'd just as soon sit topside while he and Carey hauled out the goods. Soon as he'd broke through, Brae reeled back and scrambled at the dirt. He didn't make it topside by me, so he just doubled over and cast up his accounts right through the hole.

"Hey, there, you gotta shit through your teeth, don't you do it on the goods!" I shouted.

He dragged the back of his hand over his mouth and answered, "Shut it, you sparrow-mouthed bastard."

Carey grabbed my shoulder afore I could answer and asked, "You open up a ripe one, Brae?"

"Worse'n that," Brae said. He held up the glim shiner, opening it just enough for a beam of light through the hole. It weren't too bright, not enough to get the traps coming for us, but enough to see the hands up by its face, fingers curled up and raw. Its face was all bloodied up, and looked black even with the light. "Too fresh when it was put to bed."

I whipped my hat off, threw it on the ground, and said, "You'll have the traps breathing down our necks, you bottle-headed cake. Let us take it."

Brae didn't grumble or nothing on the way up. I slid over the edge of the ground and into the grave. The coffin echoed hollow when I hit, but stayed solid. "How's it looking, Blake?"

I picked up the glim shiner and held it over the goods. I didn't like it neither when they went and did something what made them look more like people than trade, but I didn't need to splatter the corpse. Not even with the gin-soaked reek of Brae's vomit over the shit and blood. "Torn up its nails something wicked," I said. "Broke up its fingers, the clump. The resurrectionist'll take it just the same."

"Truss it up." Carey dropped the rope down, and I bent over.

This cull was just like the rest. Maybe a little stiffer. I got the rope 'round its shoulders all the same. It would have been easier around its neck, but the resurrectionist had taken a strip out of my hide for the first broken neck I brought him.

This cull'd gone to eternity well equipt. On its way by, I pulled off one of the rings and slipped it down in my purse. It weren’t like the coves was looking.

Once the goods was dangling, I climbed back up topside and reclaimed my hat. Soon as they had it clear, I took up the shovel to fill her back in. It wouldn't do any good for the traps to walk by and see the hole. Brae knocked my shoulder and took the shovel.

"You load it up," he said.

"Keep up your leery," I said, and went to help Carey haul the goods onto our cart.

Carey mustn't have been feeling too solid, because he left me at the cart and went to help Brae. If neither of them could handle the goods just because it'd had a little fight in the ground, then I wasn't helping more than they asked. I got it swaddled up and hidden down in the cart, and kept my leery out for the constabulary.

The coves made quick work of it. I went to pet our wheezy little pony while they was working, and Brae must've been feeling right by the time they was done. While pretending he was steadying me while I climbed up to steer, he tried to get his hand up my shirt, and managed to get a good feel of my arse. I warmed his ear for it, even if he didn't mean too much by it. He'd been trying to get a good feel since he'd found out I was a girl. At least he'd stopped trying to make me a man and buy me a whore when he was feeling flush.

I drove and they both beat the hoof aside me, Carey holding the glim shiner out to give our pony enough light. The resurrectionist's house was just outside of the city, hidden back by a brace of trees.

At the door, Brae and Carey knocked each other about. No one wanted to go rap on the resurrectionist's door, but sure as we was breathing, we wanted our blunt. I rolled my eyes and made to drop the reins, but I'd already bested Brae once. He'd carry the goods over his shoulder before he'd let a mort have him again.

There was a bell pull, but Brae ignored it, and same for the swell brass knocker on the wood. He beat out a tattoo with his knuckles, and stood right back before the door could open.

It was a corpse answered the door. I knew her: we'd fetched her up not a week past, and I'd fenced her gold locket. Her eyes had dried out and weren't shiny no more. The resurrectionist never said why they always dried out instead of going ripe, but I didn't mind. The smell from his house was dry and dusty, like the closed crypts under the city. Old books and parchment flesh.

"Fetch out your master," Carey said. He stood well back, pressed up against the cart, and talked loud, like death made her deaf.

"There is no need." One of the doors in the hallway opened and the resurrectionist came rolling out. He weren't so old as I'd always expected, and with a thin beard combed out neat. He wore a right swell suit of a brown what suited him, and polished up shoes with buckles on. "Let me see what you've brought me."

I twisted round to pull up the swaddling on the goods. The resurrectionist lifted a lamp off of his table. I squinted up when he brought it too close. It made our little glim shiner look like a star. He wrinkled up his nose when the smell got to him, and lifted his eyebrows at the splintered fingers. "What did you do to him? A damaged body is worth less."

"We ain't done a thing," I said, "but reaped it for you. It's our first what put up a fight after it was laid a-bed."

That plucked up his interest right well. "Buried alive?"

"Too right," I said. "And worth a little extra blunt, on account of being special."

He lifted up the hand, took a careful look at the splinters. "I suppose this means the plague has come to the city."

"Red Maiden's come about, right enough, and the starlings with her," I admitted. "But this trade, it ain't come down with the cannikin afore it was laid a-bed."

He considered the fingers a moment longer, then laid the hand right gentle beside it again. "Wait here."

The resurrectionist left us blinking in the dark, and Brae got the fidgets almost as soon he was out of sight. His corpse stayed to watch us.

"I spied it, I swear I did," he said, leaning up close to me to whisper. "I know I have, I spied a cloven foot. We'd best scramble while we can. I hear there's a chirurgen what'll pay almost as much for a fresh corpse, and it ain't going to answer the door later, neither."

"That's the bastard what's got Molly Meg in a bottle, so's he can abuse hisself while he looks at her floating," I hissed back. "This ain't a bleeding cull, and it'll get you beverage and darby to spare. Now cheese it. The cove's got ears."

Brae had figured the cull didn't hardly ken a word when the cant got thick. He got to looking right touched when he spied the corpse again, waiting in the open door. Carey sent him a look what shut his bone box right enough, and it weren't long before the resurrectionist had come back.

"Now," he said, considering the purse he carried. "I value our little arrangement a great deal, and it would be a shame if it were cut short. I'm willing to offer you a chance for extra pay."

Brae backed up, but Carey nodded. "We'll hear," he said.

The resurrectionist shook open the purse and out came three baubles. "When you return, bring me news. I'm interested to know more of the war, and how the plague is progressing in the city."

Carey had his eyes hooded, and he leaned back against the cart. "And earnest?"

His eyes narrowed. "We've already an arrangement," he said.

"Asking for more, you need to make earnest," Carey said. Brae was going to botch the deal. The bottle-head would've given the crows a pudding years ago if it weren't for us.

He fingered his baubles and said, "I'll guarantee you'll be untouched by the plague. Drink of poisoned wells, eat of food contaminated by the ill, lie abed with the stricken, and you will remain whole and untouched."

"And at tables?"

"I will increase your pay by the worth of the news you bring to me," he said. "If you've something good enough, you may even come without…trade." He said the last like it coated his tongue on the way out.

Carey ignored Brae, but he cast his eye back at me. "Two more safe from the starlings," I said. Both his eyebrows went bolt up. "Or no deal." Carey stayed against the cart, and the pony coughed.

The corpse went arse around, walking like a marionette. The resurrectionist waited, keeping his eyes locked on us. Brae'd have botched it right there, but he wouldn't go crosswise to Carey. It came back carrying two more of the baubles, and he took them and held them out.

"Have we an accord?"

Carey took them and offered a hand. The resurrectionist shook his hand and gave him the purse. Two more dead came out from the house and gathered up the goods. One had seen so many days it rustled like parchment. The dead woman pulled the door shut, and we was alone under the stars again.

"Bowsing ken?" Brae asked.

"All aboard," I said.

"Only right, I reckon," Carey decided, hopping up into the cart. Brae climbed in aside him, "what with you casting up all your blue ruin."

[collecting-stories]

Midnight - JJ Maybank

Request: Hello, I would love to read something when reader gets shot and JJ is worried sick about her. Thank you!

A/N: Thank you for this insanely inspiring request...hopefully I did it justice.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The smoke from the bonfire dissipated as it rose, like clouds blending into the darkness of the night. You kept your eyes shut, so tight you could see colors behind your lids as you listened to the sound of Rafe and Barry tearing through the Chateau. If you looked to your right, you knew Sarah would be there, just as scared as you were. On your left side, a branch over, was JJ. He would probably be trying to save face, to look unafraid even though this all felt a little too real for any of you. Just moments earlier, minutes, really, you’d been sitting at the bonfire with JJ, his sweatshirt keeping you warm in the chill of the early autumn night, everyone shouting after Pope and Kiara as they took the HMS out.  

Having John B and Sarah back felt surreal. Like you could do anything you wanted to do. And somehow, even scrambling up the big tree in front of the Chateau while John B threw a bucket of water over the fire, you still truly thought that everything would be okay.  

You hadn’t even felt it at first, as Barry grabbed Rafe and he fired up into tree, you dropped flush against the limb, bark digging into your body. You saw a bullet hit the tree near JJ and all you could remember thinking was how relieved you were that he hadn’t been hit. You waited until you heard Barry and Rafe leave, speeding away from the Chateau, before you tried to move. And then you felt it, a burning in your shoulder worse than the time you’d broken your arm skateboarding. You tired to push yourself back up but your right arm gave out and you fell into the tree, cursing as you lost your balance and slipped, landing on the grass. 

Flat on your back, staring up at the leaves in the tree obscuring the stars and the blurry vision of JJ jumping out of the tree. Sarah reached you first, falling onto her knees beside you and pushing the old sweatshirt out of the way to try and see where the blood that was coating the fabric was coming from.  

“Holy shit!” Sarah shouted, “oh my god…oh my god! John B, she’s bleeding! I think she was shot!”

John B pulled Sarah away from you, covering her mouth with his hand, “be quiet. The last thing we need is for them to turn back around.” Trying to shut her up was in vain, all you could hear was the pounding of JJ’s boots on the ground and John B cursing when he was pushed out of the way as JJ crowded in to see you, “lemme see!” JJ said, dropping to his knees next to you. 

Having him there, so close to you, felt like it reignited something in you and you turned your head to the sound of his voice, obscured stars fading until all you saw in the dark was JJ kneeling over you. “JJ,” you reached your hand across your body to feel your shoulder and he pushed you away, shaking his head. 

“Don’t, I got it…it’s gonna be okay.” He promised, pressing his hand into the blood-soaked sweatshirt. “John B man, we gotta get her to a hospital.”  

“What is it?” You asked, words slurring, they felt heavy on your tongue...like you’d forgotten them. “What happened?”

“No, it’s okay,” JJ repeated. He wiped one of his hands on the front of his shirt before reaching your free hand and squeezing it, “it’s okay, we’re gonna get help.”

“We need to get outta here, if they heard us they might circle back.” John B urged, his train of thought still on Rafe and Barry. He tried to grab Sarah’s arm as she scrambled for the front door of the Chateau, “Sarah!”

“I’m getting the keys to her car, John B! JJ’s right, we need to take her to the hospital!” She called, tearing through the picked over living room. Rafe and Barry had done a number on the inside of the small house but she managed to spot your keys, the Kildare County High School lanyard sticking out amongst couch cushions. 

While she dug through the house, JJ stayed by your side, hand pressed over your shoulder, trying to apply pressure to the wound and stop the bleeding, staining red. John B opened up the back door of your jeep, pushing your backpack off the seat and grabbing a towel from the trunk to throw down. “JJ,” he turned back to his friend to find JJ practically shaking as he sat there, over you, “JJ, we need to get her in the back seat.” 

JJ nodded his head vigorously as he tried to stand up, stumbling back the first time and catching himself on the ground, bloodied hands sticking to grass and dirt. His whole body was shaking and you were lying there, half-conscious but too out of it to respond to anything, eyes flickering shut as JJ and John B lifted you. The movement jostled you and you screamed at the shock of it.  

“Shit! Careful John B!” JJ cursed, unable to do much else for you.

“I’m doing the best I can!” John B snapped.  

Everything felt like it was moving in autopilot for JJ, all his focus was on you and he was completely positive that if he stopped for even a second, he would collapse. Since his feet hit the ground beneath the tree every thought in his mind had been you.  

They were careful of your shoulder as they loaded you in, JJ climbing into the backseat of your jeep and guiding you to lay over his lap. You groaned again as he grabbed your arm, keeping you on your back when you tried to roll over. He leaned down, kissing your forehead and promising, quietly, that everything was going to be okay.  

“I got the keys!” Sarah shouted, holding them up as she ran to the car. “I got the keys!” 

The drive to the hospital felt like a blur. You weren’t even entirely sure that Sarah stopped at any of the stop signs that you knew you were on the road. JJ kept his hand on your shoulder the entire time, though somewhere along the way you stopped feeling it.  

You couldn’t remember it, and when you were finally lucid enough to remember anything at all no one mentioned it, but the minute you were pushed behind the doors, away from the waiting room, JJ lost it. He’d spent the whole ride shaking like a leaf and as they wheeled you away it was everything John B could do to keep his best friend in the waiting room. He had his arms around JJ’s shoulders and he almost lifted him off the ground trying to keep him away.  

“JJ! She’s gonna be okay.” Sarah said, grabbing at his arm as he pulled out of John B’s hold. As he broke away, JJ punched the wall by the door, shouting ‘fuck’ at the top of his lungs and alerting the desk nurse to the three of them. No one told you, later on, that JJ had punched the wall though you noticed his bandaged hand, and no one told you that two security guards had to escort him outside until he could cool down.  

John B stayed in the waiting room while Sarah followed JJ outside. The security guards left him at a bench and Sarah knelt down in front of him, putting a hand on his knee to try and calm him down, or ground him as much as possible. “Hey, the doctors are doing everything they can JJ and it’s going to be okay. They said that the bullet didn’t hit anything major.”  

“I can’t...” he breathed out, covering his face with his hands, “I don’t...what do I do if she isn’t?”

“She will be, Jay.” Sarah replied, “I think though...I think we should call Shoupe and tell him what happened.”

“Fucking Rafe man...it doesn’t even matter. Shoupe didn’t do shit about Gavin and he’s not doing anything about Peterkin...he’s not gonna give a fuck about this either.”  

“You don’t know that.”  

By the time you did wake up, Kiara and Pope had come back from the HMS, huddled in the corner of the waiting room with John B and Sarah, whispering with each other about what had happened and checking every few seconds that JJ, who was pacing back and forth, wearing out a rug near the nurses’ station. He was the first one back to see you when the nurse finally came out to tell them that you were awake. JJ was shaking worse than he had in the car. Kiara had found a clean shirt of his in the back of her SUV, the old one tossed in a trash can in the men’s bathroom when Pope suggested changing so he didn’t totally freak you out.  

And you, JJ felt like his heart was pounding up into his throat when he walked into the hospital room and saw you laying there in bed, hooked up to IVs and only half lucid because of the morphine that they were giving you. But you gave him that sleepy smile you did in the mornings when you slept over at John B’s with him and the shaking in his hands started to subside as he dragged a chair over and sat down next to you.  

“Hey,” you whispered, voice hoarse from being intubated during surgery.  

All the promises that he’d whispered in the car, that Sarah had supplied him with as they sat up and waited all night, they were true. You were awake and you’d be okay and he was gonna nail Rafe to the wall for this...but maybe for now he’d just sit with you and remember how to breath.  

“Hey.”

[mochikeiji]

Enough For Me

Request: "Congratulations on 1k!!! you deserve it, you’re a really good writer. Can i request prompt 12 “please don’t cry” angst to fluff with yuuta from jjk. thank you, congrats."

12. "please, don't cry."

↠ Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x Reader

↠ Warning: angst to fluff

↬ Word Count: 1.5k

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event

When did every thing become so loud?

One minute you were similing. Laughing loud with a hint of the obvious enjoyment masked on your features. Then second you're staring to nowhere but silence greeting you. An expression so dim that the light in your eyes wasn't present as well. Left at the forest training grounds, the others had already gone back to their dorms. You told them you were staying for a bit for extra training when in reality, you were looking for an outlet without anyone witnessing your hour of vulnerability.

Stupid clan and their elders. As disrespectful as it may sound, you understood now why Gojo despises them. Loud it was to the point it deafens your ears; the murmurs of a child cast away from the bloodline because of the mockery it holds. A no good sorcerer was never welcome in families like yours. People would still chew on your head even when you have your backs turned on them. So frustrating it was to shoulder a burden of their devilish gossip and expectations.

At first it was alright. You handled it well. But to the extent where one of the higher ups brought it up during a meeting? How many people know of you and the disappointment you carry?

Gojo had his fist clenched that day. Maki understood you more than anyone, having to be someone who ran away from her clan as well. Inumaki and Panda did their best in comforting you, telling you that humans are weird to drag other humans down when they're the same race. That was just being so entitled, said Panda. You however, convinced your comrades you were fine. You were used to it. And it was fine.

It didn't matter what other's say as long as other's knew you for what you weren't, right?

That doesn't mean you couldn't help but become overwhelmed of the impact they had on you. Like knives forcefully shoved their ways through your heart. The pack of negative energy should've been enough to form a large curse that could take you.

Loud it was indeed. To have so many people shit their way into your life when you only wanted to live yours and not bother theirs.

You gulped down the heavy lump in your throat. Caught up in the fog of profanities from the world. Who were you kidding, you weren't Maki who can handle all this thrown at her. Tumbling and falling, that was all you knew about yourself in your whole life. The nails that grip in your palms pierced through the skin as blood trickles down, no amount of pain could level the amount of pent up emotions you buried in your heart.

Perhaps you've were born in the wrong time and place. If only you were a simple civilian, maybe life wouldn't be so bad. A loving family would be there, instead of the ones that were throwing their unfulfilled dreams to their children and controlling of their destiny.

The look in your mother's eyes will forever haunt you. Looking already as tired as you were, her eyes spoke more emotion than you could ever endure as loveless, empty ones met your teary gaze that very day.

"I only wanted a daughter who could've done so much for me as I've given her life after birth."

Your heart throbs, soon you were down on the dirt covered ground on your knees. The weight of her words colliding in the world you swore was a safe space for you. It shouldn't matter. Not when they've cast you away and yet, no matter what there is, she was still your mother.

And still the pain is as fresh as ever coming from the one you used to call, "family."

As loud as your world was, your cries were louder and clearer this very night. As if with all your might, you wanted to scream from above on how this was truly unfair. Wanting someone— anyone to hear you curse at the world you were forced to live in. It hurts your lungs, it was indeed hard to grasp small bits of oxygen when your insides felt like they were shrinking from the compact.

You wish you could scream at your mother that deep inside you still loved her. Even as a child who never received the motherly love they deserved, you loved her dearly. It was by instincts and the remains of your vision as a baby, being held in someone arms in hushing your cries.

The surface felt so firm unlike you remembered how it was when you were young. Yet the warm embrace felt nostalgic as it shielded you from the cold blistering wind of the night, you find yourself searching against the surface without a care of any danger or anything anymore. You wanted to be comforted for once. To not feel alone.

"Please don't cry."

Small hushes drowned out your sobs, an arm wrapped firmly around your waist while the other pets your head at the outmost caring matter. Curling closer, your hand held the one on top of your head. Taking in the rough texture, but reminding yourself that someone was now here in your time of need. Here after being away most of the times.

"Yeah, it's me." sensing your troubles as he averts his gaze away from you as if he was embarrassed. "I heard what happened. I managed to finish up much just to get here." next to him was the blade he carries around. Probably less hazardous as to why he place it down.

"Yuta.." sobbing as you clutched on the white material he wore. He immediately reverts back to soothing you in your distressed state. Something about the way he holds you only made you tear up more. It broke his heart in pieces to see you hold onto him as if he was the only person left to anchor yourself. And here he thought he had it worse back then, your body language brought this resemblance to the girl he used to hold just as he was doing now.

"Shh, I promise you that none of those words said about you is true."

Easier said, he knew that. It was easy to reassure someone of their thoughts, but it's not that easy to erase. The mind is a wondrous and torturous place to be in. Old memories can be dug out to the surface and you'd still feel the emotion like it just happened yesterday. Oh if you had Yuta's vision of you, you'd believe in his words.

A strong role model like you is exactly the reason why Yuta aims to be the strongest as well. To help people realize that strength isn't found in the words of other human beings, but within yourself. Yes, it's a harsh world we live in. Those who feel lowly amongst themselves would drag those above them. And those who feel the surge of entitlement snarls at those below them.

But no matter who it is that doubts you, and your potentials, there would always be someone behind you, with the glimmer in their eyes, you are their hope and inspiration in some ways.

That is what Yuta murmurs next to your ear, your cries now subsided to focus on his voice. "You're doing great. We've seen it. I've seen it." facing you with his boyish smiles, you wondered how'd this guy who came looking like a ragged mess become someone twinkling brighter than the stars above the night sky. It was contagious, it made you smile so minimal.

"There's that pretty smile." chuckling, he pats your head softly like treating a little kid. Yuta knows deep down that he can't fully resolve the thoughts inside of you— one of these days you'll have these moments again. And it saddens him because he's often away from you. Yet he's breathless at the fact that you're able to hold yourself off with all these tormenting you.

"You're amazing, darling." came out lower than a whisper before his lips closed in with yours. Last time he kissed you boy was he sweating buckets. He wasn't even as bold as now to be able to initiate first and pull you flush against his chest. But the erratic pace of his heart still was the same as ever. The loudness that had clouded you vanished. All you could hear now were pleasant chorus played by the crickets of the night and the wind lacing together throughout the atmosphere.

He promises to do much more with you for the time being. Help you mend the wounds no one can see and assist with the battles you two could only share and understand. One day as he stated before he would walk through the doors of your clan and prove to them that you were the diamond in the rough they've thrown but he's found.

You were his own butterfly. Beautiful to his eyes, you bestowed your wings; and to yours you cannot see but for people to admire.

"Give yourself more credit. You've done so much, my love."

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

[aithorin]

A Lesson in Possession - All Smite x Reader (18+)

Summary: When you make the mistake of revealing that you find one of the top ten heroes attractive, Smite wastes no time in reminding you that you belong to him.

Warnings: Villain AU, Villain!All Might, Possessive behavior, Dominance, Vaginal fingering, Possessive sex, Unhealthy relationships, Degradation

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30772664

Very much NSFW!

All Might was ignoring you. Intentionally ignoring you. And you didn’t like it. Not one bit. For the last 20 minutes, you’d tried in vain to get him to finally sit down on the couch with you yet to no avail. He just continued to rustle around in the kitchen, seeming to clang together every goddamn pan in existence while looking for who knows what. At any rate, it was clear your attempts weren’t working at all.

Letting out a huff, you turned away from the kitchen to face the television. Raising the volume to drown out all the fucking noise he was making, the newsreporter babbled on about a battle that had happened earlier in the day. The fight in question was between none other than All Might and a horde of the top heroes. But what else was new?

‘Boooooorrrrring’ You droned out in your head. Picking up the remote, you flicked to the next channel only to be met with the same regurgitated garbage from the last. Sitting up straight, a spark of irritation fired through you as you began cycling through all the channels, going through them faster with each disappointment.

“All Might-” Next

“Earlier today, Symbol of Discord, All Might-” Next

“Top hero Endeavor and All Might faced off-” Next

God, was there nothing else to fucking watch? Huffing in frustration, you hit mute before tossing the remote onto the cushion beside you. Crossing your arms, you settled further into the sofa as a small pout crept onto your face. Glaring at the TV, you gave it a scowl that rivaled All Might’s. However, as you kept your eyes trained on the now silent news report, your glower slowly faded into a wicked grin as an inkling of an idea began to take form. You knew exactly what to do. All Might wouldn’t be ignoring you for much longer.

Sitting up, you swung your legs up onto the couch and schooled your features into the epitome of relaxed and unbothered. Slinging one arm over the back, you kept your gaze glued to the TV and called out, “Your fight from today is all over the news.”

A particularly loud clang was all you got in response. That was okay. It was to be expected. On to phase two.

“They’re saying you destroyed half of Kamino Ward. And with five of the top heroes there too! That’s pretty impressive you managed to make it here without a scratch. I guess even the best have nothing on you.”

This time you got a clang followed by a grunt. Okay, so flattery was a no go. Time to change tactics. But no matter, you had saved the best for last.

“Although…” you began, dragging the word out, “While they may not be a match for you when it comes to power, I do have to say that some of them rival you quite well in the looks department. Personally, I think Hawks comes pretty damn close.”

Bringing a finger up, you tapped it against your lips. Amending your previous statement, you said, “Hmmm, wait. On second thought, I think he might actually be hotter than you. He is pretty attractive, you know.”

At your words, all clanging came to an abrupt halt. This time all that greeted you was deathly silence. Reveling in it, your smirk grew tenfold. Checkmate.  

Slow footsteps rumbled across the ground, sending tremors through the floors of your apartment. But you wouldn’t let yourself be intimidated. Keeping your eyes trailed on the screen, you refused to look at him, knowing it would anger him more. With the sole intention of pretending not to notice you had just pissed off the number one villain, you nonchalantly picked at invisible dirt in your nails.

Standing in the doorway that separated the living room from the kitchen, you could feel his glare burning holes into the back of your head, but you held steady to the charade.

“What,” All Might growled, “Did you just say?”

Giving a noncommittal hum and schooling your features, you threw a cursory glance at him over your shoulder before turning back to the TV, feigning disinterest. Once you were out of his line of sight though, you couldn’t help letting the devilish grin return. It was all going according to plan. He was absolutely pissed. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so angry before. Just a couple of words and his aura had darkened so much it cast a shadow over the whole room. With his eyes blazing and his lips curled back in a snarl, his fists were clenched at his sides, trembling ever so slightly in an attempt to keep his anger in check. At any rate, it was clear your comment had gotten his blood boiling.

“Hmmm, what was that?” you finally replied. Looking at the TV, you continued, “Oh, I was just saying that I think Hawks is way hotter than you. No offense.”

Letting out a snarl, he began to stalk towards you. “You’re playing a dangerous game doll. Are you trying to make me mad?”

“No,” you said, giving a small pout, “I’m trying to get your attention. You’ve been ignoring me the whole time you’ve been here!”

“Insolent girl!” All Might growled, “And you thought insulting me was the way to do it?”

“Well nothing else was working!” you said haughtily, crossing your arms, “Besides, from my view, it worked perfectly. You’re certainly not ignoring me now, which is all I wanted in the first place.” Letting the irritation slide off your back, you gave him a cheeky grin and waggled your eyebrows.

Yet your words seemed to have the opposite effect on All Might as his expression grew impossibly darker. Giving you a derisive smile, he sneered. “Fine,” He said, voice sinister yet full of promise, “Have it your way then.”

The change in the air was palpable. Grin fading from your face, you realized that with nothing more than a few words from him, you’d lost all control over the situation. The knowledge sent a wave of nervousness down your spine. There was no denying it. The tables had turned, and while you may have won the battle, you were most certainly about to lose the war. God, you should have just kept your mouth shut. Why did your impatience always land you in such deep shit? Would it really have been so bad to wait another 15 minutes?

You’d played with fire and now you were about to be burned. From the look of All Might’s heated gaze, it seemed you were in for a world of painful pleasure. He’d give you what you want alright, but the bastard would be sure to reduce you to a writhing, sobbing mess beforehand. Yet despite the fact that your head was screaming at you to get away, your body seemed to have other thoughts. To your horror, you realized that the idea of being so completely at his mercy was actually turning you on. Just thinking about it had you shifting uncomfortably in your seat as a dull throb of need began to build in your abdomen.

In a flash, his looming form hovered over you, encasing you with his shadow, and the glow of his blazing blue eyes burned with a smug self-satisfaction at the sound of your breath hitching. Somehow, he’d gotten ahold of your arms, and they lay trapped in one of his hands held high above your head. His actions had caused your shirt to ride up ever so slightly, a fact which had not escaped All Might’s attention. Taking a moment to rake his eyes over your form, you could feel your body heat under his appreciative gaze, tendrils of want slithering through you.

Leaning over you, All Might trapped you with his body, your chests touching. His nearness created a warmth, and with it your heart began to beat ever so slightly faster. Tongue darting out to nervously lick your lips, you waited to see what he would do. With his free hand, All Might came up to swipe his thumb across your bottom lip, getting rid of the moisture you’d just laid there, before tilting your chin up and somehow getting impossibly closer. It was more than enough to unnerve you, and it was obvious he was doing it on purpose. The damn bastard knew you were helpless to resist when he was that close.

Bending down, he pressed his face toward your ear. “You want attention?” He snarled, his hot breath fanning the shell of your ear and sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine, “I’ll give you attention.”

Pulling back, he made sure his eyes met yours. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget that bird brained freak even exists. But first, I’m gonna teach you a lesson, doll. Mark my words, you’re gonna regret opening that pretty little mouth of yours.”

And that was all the warning you got. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a bruising kiss, demanding entrance. But the brat in you couldn’t help resisting. You met him full force, refusing to give him what he wanted, goading him. In response, he growled against your lips before biting down on your bottom one, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to surprise you. Releasing a tiny yelp at the shock, he seized the moment to push his way through. In an instant, he had his tongue tangled around yours. And there was nothing loving about the embrace. Rough and bruising, it was pure punishment and you were helpless to do anything about it.

As your need for air began to become overwhelming, All Might started to pull away, leaving a trail of saliva connected to your lips, thinning ever so slowly before finally splitting in half to land against your chin. Chest heaving and yearning to feel his lips against yours again, you sought his touch the only way you knew how.

By baiting him.

Sitting up ever so slightly by wiggling one arm out of his embrace, you propped yourself up on it and gave him a roguish grin. “Is that all you got, big guy?” You asked.

At the jab, he let out a growl. “I’m not anywhere close to done with you, girl.”

Leaning down, he grabbed hold of your T-shirt and tore it straight in half in one fell swoop before doing the exact same with your bra. Letting out a gasp, your exposed nipples began to harden in wake of the cold air, and All Might smirked as you rushed to cover yourself.

“Uh Uh Uh” He tutted, waggling his finger at you, “You know better than that.”

Slowly you began to lower your hand, and All Might let out an appreciative hum. “Good girl.” He purred.

Leaning down, he latched onto one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around the tip before taking it between his teeth and giving it an experimental tug. Your body, desperate for the slightest touch now, responded immediately. Letting out a breathy moan, you arched into his touch, silently begging for more as the sensation sent jolts of pleasure dancing across your chest that headed straight to your core. Smirking in satisfaction, All Might chose to ignore your plea. Grabbing onto your hips, he began trailing his lips down to the waistline of your pants, leaving warm wet kisses with his tongue across your belly while his thumbs stroked the sides of your waist. Arriving at the top of your pants, he reached one hand over to flick them open before sliding them over the curve of your ass, taking your panties with them and leaving your glistening pussy fully exposed.

“Look at you. You’re positively drenched, and I’ve barely even touched you. What an eager little slut you are.” He said, dragging one long finger along your slit.

Gasping at his touch, you watched, entranced, as he pulled his finger away, your juices dripping off of it. Bending down, he held it up to your mouth.

“Suck.” He commanded. Looking down at it, you hesitated just a moment too long, and his face twisted into a snarl.

“I’m not gonna ask you twice, girl. When I tell you to suck, you suck. ” He growled, squeezing your jaw open with one large hand wrapped around your cheeks and pushing his index finger into your mouth.

Tentatively you took the length of his finger into your mouth, wrapping your lips around the base of it. As the back of your tongue touched the pad of his fingertip, the warm, slightly salty taste of yourself met it. Swirling your tongue around the digit, you slowly began to bob up and down on it, thoroughly lubricating it with your saliva.

Letting out a satisfied smirk, All Might purred, “Good girl.” Shoving his finger back in as far back into your throat as he could, you gagged trying to catch your breath as he finally removed the digit, bringing your bottom lip down with it.

“That was for earlier.” He sneered, “Don’t disobey me again.”

And then, beginning from your mouth, he traced a path down your chin with his wet finger, going between the valley of your breasts and the soft curve of your belly. As the wet trail he made quickly dried, you shivered as the dampness met the cold air. Arriving at your pussy, he began to prod at your entrance, easily slipping the digit in.

You couldn’t stop from letting out an immediate moan at the stretch. From one finger, he had already managed to make you feel deliciously full. The mind numbing emptiness your body had been begging for him to satiate was finally being remedied.

Beginning to pump, All Might turned his attention toward your clit. As his fingers thrust inside you, his thumb began to rub slow circles over your clit, pulling all sorts of gasps out of you. Working you open, his pace began to quicken and before you knew it he was slipping a second finger in.

Dissolving into putty at his hands, you could feel your climax fast approaching.

Yes!” you moaned, “Just like that.” You were so close. With one more thrust, you’d be gone. You could feel his fingers pulling out, preparing to send you over the edge, when suddenly they were completely gone, leaving you painfully empty.

Choking from the force of being denied so suddenly, your eyes flashed open just in time to see him climbing off of you. Face sweaty and cheeks flushed, you were an absolute mess. Lost in a haze of need, you could barely even comprehend what was happening. All you could see was that damn smirk on his face.

Unbuckling his pants painfully slow, he seemed to revel in your agony. As he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pants, a distinct clink floated through the air as his loose belt buckle hit the metal of his pant button. And then in one swift motion, he took his pants off, his cock springing free. Painfully hard and red, it seemed to almost pulsate. Following the line of one thick vein, you saw that the tip was already oozing pre-cum.

Licking your lips in anticipation, you waited for All Might to approach you once more, but he remained standing. In fact, he moved farther away from you, making you want to cry.

Stroking himself, he seemed to completely ignore you as he lifted his other hand to rest on his chin, a thoughtful expression came over his face. “You know, I’ve already been quite lenient with you. Maybe it’d be better to just take care of myself.”

At that you wanted to sob. Nothing in the world mattered more to you than having his cock balls deep inside you at the moment. “Please please don’t do that!” you said, wanting nothing more than to pull him close, but he was just out of reach, and by then, you were too out of it to do anything else but stretch a weak hand toward him.

“Ple-please touch me.” You whined, legs rubbing together, desperately trying to regain even the slightest amount of friction.

Letting out a snort, he taunted, “And give me one good reason why I should. You haven’t exactly been on your best behavior today. Need I remind you that this is supposed to be your punishment?”

“I-I know you want to though.” You said, breathless. Raising your head to look at him through hooded eyes, you purred, “It-It’ll be so good.”

Taking a few steps toward you, he looked down into your eyes. Face becoming almost pleasant, he questioned, “You want this? You want my cock?” As you watched him stroke himself, you eagerly nodded. You wanted nothing more.

In an instant, his face turned dark once more as he growled, “Then beg for it.”

At that, a look of confusion spread over your face. “Wh-What?” You questioned.

“You heard me. If you want my cock beg. for. it.” He said.

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve laughed in his face, but, well, being incredibly horny does make a difference. Swallowing your pride, you whispered, “Please. I want your cock. I want you to fuck me.”

And yet, true to the utter asshole that he was, All Might pretended not to hear you. “Hmmm. What was that?” He said, lifting a hand up to cup his ear, “I didn’t hear you.”

“I want your cock!” You shouted, looking up to glare at him, “I want you to fuck me.”

“No need to be so mean kitten,” He said, a mock pout coming over his face, “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Before you could even register that he’d moved, All Might was back over you again, one last self-satisfied smirk being the only warning you got before he buried his cock in you. Moaning from the sensation, tears sprung at your eyes from how far he was stretching you. God, he was so big, yet you couldn’t even find it in yourself to care because it felt so good.

Fully inside, he gave you the small mercy of allowing but a single moment for you to adjust. Before you knew it, he was pulling out only to thrust back into you again, setting an absolutely brutal pace. Eyes rolling into the back of your head from the force, you briefly registered him attaching onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave teeth indentations.

Grabbing hold of his neck, you wrapped your legs around his waist to give him better access as breathy groans escaped your lips. Already you could feel the coil inside beginning to wind again.

“You filthy slut. You like this, don’t you? Me using you for the whore you are.” He said, wrapping a hand around your throat and grunting as he bucked into you.

“I’m the only one who’s ever gonna be able to fuck you this good. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. You got that. You’re mine.” He growled, reaching hand down to flick at your clit, never once slowing down.

Lost in pleasure, you barely even processed his words. That is until he leaned down to snarl in your ear, “Say it.”

“I-I’m yours, All Might. You’re the only one who can fuck me this good.” you groaned.

Coming in close, he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, before thrusting in once more, going so deep you were sent flying off the edge. Gasping, you saw stars in your eyes as white hot pleasure wracked its way down your spine sending tremors throughout your body. As you came, your pussy clenched around him, causing All Might to climax as well. Hot seed coated the insides of your walls as you both fought to recover. As your heavy pants gradually became more controlled, he slowly slid out of you.

With sweat coating his brow and his breathing ragged, All Might looked down at you, blue eyes blazing,  “Nobody makes you feel the way that I do. Nobody. And you’d do well to remember that, doll.”

Climbing off of you, he began to make his way down the hall, throwing your pitiful form still sprawled out on the couch one last glance.  “The next time you want to try something like what you just pulled, I’d suggest you remember our little lesson today.”

[mythicamagic]

Fangs of Silver: Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome Higurashi has her work cut out for her, hunting one of the most elusive and powerful werewolves known to man: the Killing Perfection. Sesskag smut oneshot. Werewolf Sesshoumaru/monster hunter Kagome. 

Rated M

Words: 4,700

Read on Ao3 and Dokuga

AN: for @cookieasylum​ for an art trade. Thanks bud! Hope you like it

Fangs of Silver

Warning: werewolf x human smut, knotting, menstrual sex

---

Two fingers unfurled to touch the moonlit forest floor, tracing the outline of a large paw-print stamped into dirt. Even splaying her palm wide with four fingers and thumb outstretched, Kagome couldn't hope to meet its size, dwarfed in comparison.

"Looks like I've found you again," she muttered, straightening from her crouch. Walking onwards and listening out for any hint of movement within the imposing woods- tall anorexic trees completely still with sharp looking branches- blue eyes remained alert, watchful.

She'd been tracking this one for God knew how long now. Months. Had it been a year yet? Though even the smallest victory of finding his tracks left no time for celebration.

Kagome frowned to herself. This particular beast wasn't usually so careless. He evaded her during daylight hours by wading through streams or keeping to rocky terrain, never giving the same name when mingling with villagers. Even when the Full Moon hit- he managed to be elusive and surprisingly clever. The smartest one she'd been sent to hunt. This time he'd either been sloppy or…

Kagome glimpsed something through a gap in the lower trees, located further down the hill. Smoke?

Surely he wasn't trying to trap her with something so obvious.

Frowning, Kagome set down her weapon and snuffed out the flames of her torch, checking her supplies. Enough silver bullets. Enough jewel shards. Her guns were in good shape, but she was out of herbal supplements to repress a certain annoyance that also occurred every month. Wincing, she put a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling it cramp.

Crap, not now.

She'd have to ignore it. She couldn't afford to lose this guy due to Mother Nature kicking her continually in the gut.

This beast had committed countless acts of violence- leaving behind a trail of bodies in their respective towns and villages. Unlike usual werewolves who sloppily left bitten survivors to run amok, this beast made no mistakes. He seemed to kill specific people and left them firmly for dead. He never inflicted the curse upon anyone. Surprisingly his victims were usually reported to be less than innocent citizens.

Due to the killings- a bounty had been placed on what the authorities referred to as 'the Killing Perfection.'

Creeping down a steep incline, Kagome stepped as lightly as possible within the relative darkness of the trees -autumn leaves crunching beneath her boots.

A lonesome house in the woods stood like a mourner in a graveyard under the light of the Full Moon, dark wood faintly eroded by time. Vines held the chimney in a stranglehold, but smoke puffing out of the top revealed it to be in working order despite the dilapidated state of the house.

Slipping around the side of the building and ducking out of sight from any windows, Kagome stopped with her back to the wall, loading her rifle while stooped into a crouch.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Kagome wasted no time. She pushed off and rounded the corner, kicking open the front door with the barrel of her gun trained inside.

Empty?

Kagome didn't let her guard down, slowly inching inside and glancing around.

The fireplace was lit with healthy flames- a kettle sat off to the side, an empty mug not too far away. Everything else in the room had a layer of dust costing it, but the armchair lay newly cleaned. Footprints trailed around the ashen floor, some human, some wolf prints.

Kagome searched the lower floor that comprised of mostly empty rooms, before pointing her gun up towards the stairs, setting foot on the first step.

It groaned loudly beneath her weight.

Wincing, blue eyes snapped to the top of the dark stairs for any tell-tale signs of movement.

Wandering up to the second floor cautiously and looking around revealed nothing more than dust bunnies.

Kagome frowned, eyeing the open window. Had he jumped down and escaped?

Sighing with disappointment, she shouldered her gun and trailed downstairs.

I suppose I can sweep the outside to pick up his trail again, but I bet he's long gone. He probably lit the chimney to distract me before making his escape and transforming for the night.

Wandering over to the kettle, she touched its side.

Still lukewarm. He'd literally just been there.

And I was too late.

Kagome groaned.

"What a disappointed noise. Were you aching to see me that badly?"

Stiffening, her heart jumped. The silky sounding words had come from behind her.

Pivoting on one heel, Kagome turned her weapon on the man lounging in the armchair.

His image blurred, snatching up her gun to lurch the barrel upwards just as she fired, the blast piercing the ceiling- some debris raining down.

Golden eyes sparked, snapping the barrel in two before throwing her to the floor with impressive strength.

Kagome gasped, back colliding hard with the wooden floors, winded. She quickly grabbed one of her pistols and trained it on the man- who had disappeared again.

"W-what?" she panted. "It's a Full Moon. Why haven't you transformed?"

"Ah, you wish for me to change? Very well," his voice rumbled from outside.

Fur blocked out the moonlight pouring in from the shutters, brushing along the side of the house. Quiet, hungry panting filled her ears.

Kagome quickly fired at the windows, but the shadows melted away, causing her to wonder if it had been a trick of the light.

"I heard tell of a woman who subdues my kind before using shards of a blessed jewel to revert them back into humans…"

Paws padded around the house, nails dragging- scraping the forest floor. "You have pursued me for some time. Did you hope to transform me into a mortal like those you have hunted before me? Break my curse?" the male uttered.

"I knew you were strong, so I didn't have much hope of using them. Taking you back alive to stand trial for all the things you've done is a tall order," Kagome grunted, lower stomach clenching. She quietly hissed. Cycle blood likely marred her trousers now.

"Indeed. Even if you shot me with one of your infamous jewels though, it would not work."

A figure bent down, twisting through the front door with the ease of a feline through bars. Sleek silver fur gleamed with a fiery hue, bathed in the hearth's orange light.

Saliva dripped from exposed canines, muzzle pulled back.

The werewolf towered over her in size. He had the look of a distorted wolf- pale torso resembling a man due to broad shoulders and defined abdomen. He shifted to stand upright, hind legs strong, capable of supporting his weight. Thick hackles rose, paws more akin to hands tipped with killer claws.

Unlike the other beasts she'd faced, this one had peculiar red markings slashing over his cheeks, lower legs and flank. Glowing red eyes burned with the heat of the sun.

"You unknowingly came in search of a Pure Blood. I cannot be 'fixed' little hunter. This is how I was born," he purred, mouth unmoving, whispering honeyed words in her mind.

Those eyes strayed down to her legs, nostrils flaring. "And you are in heat, no less. A fine time to go hunting for a predator."

Kagome shivered, raising her pistol and aiming it between his eyes.

The werewolf gazed at her calmly, completely different from the wild, almost rabid beasts she'd fought with before.

A Pure Blood…

She'd never come across a creature so ancient. He looked at her with intelligence, as she'd suspected from tracking him.

"I-I'm not in heat," she muttered, finger grazing the trigger without pulling it. Why wasn't he attacking?

"You hurt those townspeople. Why?"

"I walk among men in my other form. Occasionally I find those deserving of death. Those who harm their cubs and mates. Those who leech of their pack and drink themselves into violent stupors. Sometimes they simply get in my way."

Kagome grit her teeth, "so you dispense justice alone? I don't disagree with cruel people deserving some kind of consequences but you don't get to decide who lives and dies. That's playing God."

He chuckled inside her mind, mouth pulling back from sharp teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Is what you do so different, little hunter?"

"I follow the orders of my superiors- unless I think someone can be saved with the jewels I bless."

Interest brightened his gaze, tail swishing once behind him.

Her only warning.

The beast knocked her arms to one side, striking her down with a headbutt to her chest. The action sent her gun skittering away over dusty floorboards, disappearing into harsh shadows. One human-like forepaw pressed down on Kagome's stomach, making her breath wheeze free from frozen lungs- his other holding her right arm down to keep her pinned. He then leaned in close, white ears perked atop his head.

A white maw drifted over her startled face, nostrils flaring, inhaling her scent greedily.

"Holy powers…" he uttered thoughtfully.

Kagome's left hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, eyes narrowing. "I'm a former sister of the church. It comes in handy when dealing with creatures that go bump in the night."

She abruptly thrust her formally concealed dagger up, aiming it straight for his heart.

Powerful jaws snapped down, locking around her arm- the beast hissing as her blade ran off course but scraped down his neck and shoulder.

Kagome yelped, dagger freezing. Her hand remained free outside of the cage of teeth but she dared not move. Teeth mouthed her arm without breaking the skin, until a particularly sharp canine made a trail of crimson leak down the inside of her wrist.

A large, wet tongue roved, licking and sliding over the length of her elbow and wrist while they lay trapped within the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Now we have both shed blood tonight, little hunter. Are you satisfied?"

Kagome panted, gritting blunt teeth. She glared hotly into large red eyes fixed on her, looming close. From the new proximity, she could now see his seafoam green irises and slit pupils from within the sea of crimson. They dilated the longer she looked.

"You are quite the woman," he rumbled appreciatively. "What name do you go by?"

"K-kagome."

"Hn, I am Sesshoumaru. I thank you for your relentless pursuit of me over these past few months. It was quite flattering."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply before a hiss broke her off. The clenching of her abdomen took up attention for a moment, twisting like a knife in her gut.

"Heat can be painful to go through alone," he acknowledged, teeth slowly easing from her arm, eyes trained on her warningly not to try anything. His slick tongue unwrapped itself from her arm with a trail of saliva. He licked his maw hungrily.

Kagome gripped her sticky arm, glaring from her position on the floor. No bite. Just a nick from his tooth. It wouldn't be enough to curse her. She warily lowered her dagger.

"It's just my monthly cycle. I'm fine...gn…"

"You seem it," he mocked, wolf expression unchanging, though his eyes danced.

His great head lowered, hovering over her groin. His nose drew closer, inhaling over the red patch. His long pink tongue slid out, drawing over it with a lingering lick.

Kagome yelped, forgetting her guns and blades- grasping the dense white fur of his neck. "W-what are you doing?!"

He managed to look suggestive without human features, tipping his head slightly. "As a hunter, it must be difficult to find relief. You are always working, are you not? Chasing evil…" his voice resounded with the finest baritone in her mind, coaxing and soothing, completely at odds with his monstrous appearance. He almost sounded aristocratic. "Fortunately...you happen to lie beneath a beast tonight."

Saliva, warm and dewy, dropped onto her leg in small puddles. Sesshoumaru gazed at her while snaking his tongue out once more, prying it harder between her legs.

Kagome gasped, back-arching, a rush spilling up from her cunt to twist sweet arousal at her core. She viciously clamped down on such a reaction, growling.

"No one gave you permission to take liberties with me, pal!" she drew her knee up, attempting to kick him away.

Sesshoumaru released her arm in favour of grasping her thigh, chuckling while forcing it down. "Why protest?"

Kagome snatched up her dagger again, pressing the hilt against her chest and keeping the point raised outwards.

"Why agree?! Y-you're a…" wide blue eyes flicked over his strange, inhuman body. "I've never- n-not with a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that's breaking some sort of rule. Or law."

"I will not tell a soul."

Her gaze turned flat, fingers shifting over the hilt. "I'm supposed to be killing you. We just tried to kill each other!"

"Hn, keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say. Allowing them into your bed does not seem like such an extreme, and I find there is always a slight thrill in fighting, is there not?"

It was a night of firsts. Kagome had never experienced anything like it in her five years of hunting. None of her superiors had ever mentioned an intelligent werewolf who could control their transformation and shapeshift at will. The only whisper of it had come from dusty old books stashed away in catacombs. The air in the lonely house felt cold, tickling her skin like a living thing, but the space between Hunter and Werewolf crackled with intensity.

Kagome swallowed, feeling squirmy. She tensed when a wet nose came back up to sniff at her neck. Warm breath fanned over flushed skin as his snout travelled up and down, scenting. It soon buried itself within dark hair, making her gasp. The suggestion of teeth scraped the crown of her head, joined by a pleased, rumbling noise. Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin, blood burning, alight with confused but obvious need.

His alien, paw-like hand ran over her hip and breast, cupping the side of her jaw. The shock of thin fur and monstrous, long fingers tipped with claws should've terrified her. Kagome had fought against such hands for years. Her body held traces of scars where such nails had hooked and dragged into supple flesh.

As it was, when his second stroked her inner thigh, Kagome shuddered. He smelled faintly of clove and damp earth. His movements were deliberate. The inferno of his eyes when they locked with hers shone with hunger- but also curiosity. That mindfulness and clarity of his thoughts was what allowed her to hesitantly touch the hand on her thigh.

It felt too large and gangly to be a human, fur and heat brushing the calloused skin of her palm.

"You can't bite me," she warned, laying the flat of her blade against his neck. "I'll kill you if you do- and that'll instantly free me from the curse."

Sesshoumaru smiled with his eyes.

He forced her down again, claws making quick work of her pants, tearing a sizable hole at the crotch.

The wiry fur of his muzzle immediately dived down, fervently taking in her scent with hearty, eager inhales. It sent a rush of arousal straight through her, hips jolting.

Nose, teeth and tongue soon brushed her sex, before the latter thrust inside, heedless of the blood.

Kagome cried out, toes curling, going completely still. The invasive probing between her legs filled her entrance, sinking deeper. It then flicked outside, allowing her to feel the velvet rough texture. It swirled experimentally over her clit.

Shakily tightening her now slippery grip on the dagger, Kagome gasped and shuddered.

"I-I thought you were going to transform into a man-!"

Sesshoumaru gave a rumbling noise in response. He gripped the front of her blouse, yanking to rip it open and fondle her breast.

"You do not wish to see the creature you've hunted feasting on you?" the rumbling purr lifted into something darkly amused, tail flicking behind him.

He grabbed her hips, swivelling them to flip her over. Kagome yelped and snarled, about to protest when his palms kneaded her ass, raising it and tearing off the remainder of her pants- the pads of his thumbs dragging to her sex, spreading slick folds and delving a warm, thick tongue inside her all the deeper.

Kagome kept a needless grip on the dagger, a strangled noise caught in her throat. His muzzle nudged and pried, urging her to rock against his tongue. Feeling warm, she clumsily grasped at her coat, yanking her arms free and tossing it aside.

Full breasts were squashed to the floor under the weight of the werewolf as he pressed her down, but her nipples- stiff and hardened with pleasure- received friction from the steady rhythm. The pleasure came in small, electric bursts.

"Fuck," she groaned, biting her lip. This was wrong. She shouldn't allow this.

A clawed thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs silenced that weak protest. It felt good. So deliciously good. Men scarcely put their mouth on her down there, deeming it 'dirty' or beneath them.

Kagome shivered, pushing back against the roving tongue continually thrusting inside her core, flexibly twisting, rubbing against her inner walls and licking with heinous, grunting noises like she slaked his thirst. They found a kind of rhythm without communicating through words, and an incredible rush built in her stomach- delighted to rock against his mouth.

Bowing her head and trying to concentrate on breathing, Kagome jolted and shamelessly moaned as his movements became more relentless, hungrily collecting evidence of her arousal and cycle onto his tongue.

"W-why-?" she managed out, straining to look at him over her shoulder- the tongue plunging faster in quick delves like he were mining for gold- sharp teeth scraping her entrance, adding rapidly to the throbbing feeling building up in her lower stomach.

Why was he pleasuring her? It didn't align with a wild beasts actions.

Blue eyes glimpsed glowing crimson behind her. With a sudden push of his humanoid paw on her back, trapping her in place- Kagome squealed loudly as Sesshoumaru pried so deep he wore her like a puppet with his tongue, grunting with savage satisfaction when she came from the action.

"Agh!" Kagome cried out, body igniting, juices immediately flowing into his mouth, which he collected enthusiastically with broad strokes. Somewhere between all this, she lost grip on her weapon. The blade clanked against the floors loudly.

After pulling away, the werewolf paid no heed to the red staining his lips, licking at his jaw in a decadent, gluttonous manner.

"Why what?" Sesshoumaru sat back on his haunches, ears perking, haughtily eyeing her with an air of pride. He probably took great pleasure in reducing a hunter to such a vulnerable mess.

Kagome felt like she'd received her answer. "Never mind," she caught her breath, forehead dotted with sweat. Her muscles burned despite the lack of physical exertion, body feverishly warm.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the slick feeling of her cunt. It fluttered and clenched, demanding more- wanting to be filled.

"I feel better now. We can end things there and-"

Kagome caught an eyeful of his crotch, entranced by the hard evidence of his arousal.

Oh.

She swallowed, reading the look in his eye easily. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. From the look of his long, thick cock, they'd be spending a while easing it in if he were committed to pleasuring her.

Somehow she felt alright with that. The fever in her veins wasn't satisfied yet, though she had reservations about allowing a literal werewolf to take her. However something undeniable had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging.

Sesshoumaru's claws closed around her ankle, dragging her towards him- her ass coming to meet his twitching cock.

"I do not think you have unwound nearly enough. You must expel all pent up frustrations if you are to continue hunting me. I worry you will fall behind if not- your tracking has become sloppy lately."

Kagome whipped her head up and growled- just as the head of his cock nestled at her entrance, cutting off the noise and sending it choking. Blushing, she reached behind her, spreading herself for him- holding herself open while Sesshoumaru gave that jagged flash of teeth in response, slipping his thick length inside her inch by inch.

Whimpering and dropping her hands, Kagome bowed forward, trying to adjust. He sank even deeper. The sheer slickness between her thighs helped but didn't assuage the terrible stretch that threatened to overwhelm her. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, encasing her back with the furnace heat of his body.

"Ease yourself back against me- slowly," panting breath fanned over her damp neck. She felt him run an almost affectionate feeling lick up the sensitive shell of her ear. "Relax. This body was built to withstand many things," his palm stroked a path over her navel, circling up her hip where a scar lay. "You will not allow me to dominate you so easily, will you, Kagome?"

Panting, Kagome tried to get used to feeling every inch of him inside her, filling her clenching walls to the brim.

His hands were three times the size of hers, one settling beside her on the floor. The way he loomed over her made the formally fearless woman feel small, crushable.

"H-ha! As if," she shakily replied. Not one to give in, Kagome did as instructed, slowly rocking back against him just like before. She winced. The sensation was much fuller and tighter, uncomfortable.

Sesshoumaru hissed and groaned, rubbing at her clit again to shoot tiny bursts of fireworks through her system. It helped coax some pleasure back into things. Kagome gave a shaky moan.

Sensing her change in enjoyment, the wolf began moving.

She cried out, wincing a little at his slight withdraw- before groaning as he eased back in, creating a slow, building pace.

The thick, soft fur that covered him from crown to foot gleamed in the light of the room. Kagome could feel it hot against her back, tickling her skin. The strands began to stick to flushed flesh. Sweat began to bead, rolling down her shoulder blades.

"You take me very well, for a human," Sesshoumaru nosed at her hair.

"I can't say 'taking a cock' nicely is the highest compliment ever, but- thanks," Kagome panted. He gave an amused huff, giving a hard thrust in response that knocked her forward.

Yelping, she grabbed onto the first available thing. Her breath caught when her fingers met soft, warm fur. His arm.

It felt sturdy amidst the sea of sensations. Kagome held tighter onto it, bracing herself. She could sense the control beginning to slip from her new bedmate.

Sesshoumaru growled ferally, fanning hot, sticky breath over her shoulders. He then slammed inside her- ramming his hard cock completely within.

Letting out a loud, startled cry that bordered on a scream, Kagome bit down on his arm. He set a brutal pace, thrusting his cock with a quickness that blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight stars burst behind her eyelids.

Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead, the rest bouncing and swaying with the werewolf's chosen pace: hard and merciless.

She sank her teeth harder into Sesshoumaru's arm, but he was completely silent inside her mind now. Whatever debonair and lofty charm he possessed had been shoved far back into the recesses of his consciousness, replaced with raw primal need and heavy grunts. He sought to fuck, and Kagome found herself mewling receptively, weakly rocking back against him.

With a snarl, he yanked his arm free from her teeth- rearing back onto his haunches and dragging Kagome with him, holding her hips while continually rutting into her.

Kagome went completely speechless in both pain and pleasure. The new angle nestled onto his lap with the steel band of his arms wrapped around her waist allowed him to reach new depths.

Letting out mindless moans, she rested her head back against his furry shoulder, body ablaze, cunt squeezing him deliciously. The arms holding her prisoner forced her to meet each thrust, creating an intense friction inside that brought her into a state of begging. "P-please- more. Fuck-! More, I'm so close, please!"

Sesshoumaru gave guttural snarls and rumbles in response. But there was something strange happening with his cock. She could feel it even while held under the haze of pleasure. Nudging up against her entrance, something thicker than his length and more rounded threatened to push inside. His knot.

Kagome couldn't react- distracted by another orgasm ripping through her at the most inopportune time.

The knot swelled and stretched her sex farther than she'd anticipated. With a jolt of his hips, Sesshoumaru followed her into orgasm, throwing his head back in a deafening snarl. A torrent of cum flooded her, painting her inner walls- all locked in by the werewolf's knot.

Kagome jolted and strained, mouth opening in a wordless scream. Full. She felt too full. Her sex strained, still squeezing him like a vice.

Slowly, his voice drifted back into her head. "Very good...worthy female...powerful. Should claim..."

"S-sesshoumaru?" she croaked weakly, limp in his arms.

A silver muzzle nuzzled the side of her head in response, crooning lowly. "Hn?"

"You uh..." Kagome panted, giving a weak gesture of her wrist, trying to rise and finding it impossible. He was quite literally locked inside her. "You knotted me- shouldn't you have pulled out?"

She wasn't concerned about being pupped- she'd handled dodging pregnancy with herbal aid before. However, like this, it made moving away impossible.

"Why would this one do that?"

Blue eyes blinked, shifting up to him. His fur plastering against her skin felt like a feathery bed cushioning her spine. "Because now we're stuck, for who knows how long. A few minutes to 30. I figured you'd..."

Want to get away. Re-establish our roles as enemies.

He acted the same as always. She couldn't anticipate his movements or read him.

A sinuous tongue she'd now become intimately acquainted with slid up her cheek. The fur receded at her back, and Kagome stiffened with alarm.

When she turned slightly, she found herself gazing at the pale, handsome features of a man. His markings remained, branding him as something inhuman despite the skin, pretty fall of hair and stern sweep of his brow.

"I intend to have you many times," Sesshoumaru uttered out loud, sounding much crisper in the quiet room. "In a multitude of ways."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply, gasping when a tongue thrust inside her mouth. Grunting, she managed to return the dominating press of tongue and teeth, biting his lip for good measure and feeling him shiver.

When he began moving again while locked inside her, she fell into the murky waters of arousal once more.

-----

The morning sunlight peeking through the broken blinds brought many aches and pains with it. Kagome heard the front door shut, footsteps drawing away before falling silent.

Sitting up quickly, a fur throw fell from her shoulders. It pooled in her lap, revealing the full extent of fresh scratches and claw marks littering her nude body, along with bruises.

She winced at the stickiness between her legs. The smell of sex overwhelmed the stuffy room. So it wasn't a dream.

Noticing a steaming mug of green tea sitting before the lit fireplace loaded with newly chopped wood, Kagome tentatively reached out to touch it. Still warm.

He must've just left.

Running her hands up and down her flesh, she found no bite marks. He'd stayed true to his word.

Feeling a little complicated, Kagome blinked upon noticing a letter sitting atop a fresh change of clothes on the armchair. Her weapons were also neatly arranged nearby.

Picking up the parchment, blue eyes flitted over the message.

'Pursue me once more, my hunter. I enjoyed feasting on you.'

Kagome pressed her lips together. She shook herself a little. This was still the enemy, nothing had changed despite a thoroughly pleasurable night. In the privacy of the room however, she allowed herself a small smile.

After eating, washing and dressing for the day, Kagome stepped outside.

Securing her weapons, she gave chase.

End

[zealous-whispers-of-us-redux]

oh where, oh where?

SMUT AHEAD

Summary: Bucky would gladly get on his knees if she asked him.

They had run down the aisle together. They had written their vows and made out for a good few minutes before someone cleared their throat, and they both remembered that they had an audience. Her dress was bright white, and she had a garter underneath that Bucky pulled off with his teeth.

Bucky's bare feet fly over the dewy grass. He pants, letting his tongue fall out of his mouth as he quickens his pace. He barely makes it over a huge tree trunk in his path, and that short little bit of hesitation has let the person pursuing him catch up. The hot, heady smells of his omega envelop him, the only indication that she’s right on his heels. She can run noiselessly through the forest. She’s so quiet in everything that she does, even running through a heavily wooded forest, that it should scare him. It really should, but it doesn’t.

A soft hiss in his ear, and Bucky feels the scrape of nails scrabbling for purchase on the fabric of his pants. A shiver runs down his spine, and he bites back a low moan. He knows that she is hunting him and that she's winning.

Thor had done the ceremony. It was all handfasting and circle casting and calling out to the Gods of Old and mine, mine mine mine; she’s finally all mine. They’d read their vows, and her eyes swam with unshed tears as Bucky had included a quote from Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra, much to the audience's amusement. But she had hugged him at the end of his vows, and she was the only person whose opinion he cared about.

A cold breath slides up the back of his neck, and Bucky, whining, wants nothing more than to roll over, present his belly, and give up. He would let her do anything to him. But he had promised her this. She wanted to chase him for a while, get him all riled up before she turned him.

The reception went much too slowly for his tastes. Bucky had dragged her away about an hour in, unable to stand it anymore. They had said their goodbyes, and then, Bucky had pulled her to the car and spent an hour with his head buried under her skirt, lapping at her slick and making her moan, the ring on her finger a stark reminder that she was now his fucking WIFE. They’d made their way to the airport and took a late flight to the Great Bear Rainforest in British Columbia. It was still bright when they’d arrived, and, after napping until sundown, they had raced from their rented room and into the beautiful forest.

They are playing their favorite game. Bucky howls at the moon, drunk on love, drunk on her, drunk on every-fucking-thing, and then he hears a snarl right in his ear. He picks up speed, dropping to his hands and letting himself go faster. He’s much quicker on four legs, or so he thinks. Something lands on his back and Bucky face-plants into the dirt with an ‘oomph.’ Strong limbs wind themselves around him, and his omega flips him over, grinning. Her fangs glint in the moonlight, and she leans into his neck, scraping her teeth over his skin as a promise.

“I got you,” she says triumphantly.

“Ya got me,” Bucky replies, unsteady from the scent of her.

“Your heart’s beating so fast for me. What a strong, handsome alpha I’ve got.” She mouths at the spot that makes Bucky groan the loudest. “Look at that, and he tastes delicious.”

“Please,” Bucky begs, his words garbled around the sharp canines growing in his mouth, “Please. Bite me, turn me, fuck me. Anythin’.”

“Why should I when we’re just getting started?”

“It's been hours, baby doll,” he says because it has.

She grins. “But I’m having fun! Aren’t you?”

“I'm so hard for ya,” Bucky complains. “Been hard for ages, sweet ‘mega! I want- I want you to turn me, please!”

“My precious alpha,” she drawls, running a sharp nail down Bucky’s neck, and he wiggles his hips, whining for more, “You want me to turn you? You have to give in first. Don’t you want to be helpless for me?”

Bucky moans as she curls her fingers around his neck. She doesn't tighten her grip, just holds him, but Bucky pants anyway. He watches with hazy eyes as she leans down to rub their noses together.

“Answer me, my sweet boy. Don’t you want to be helpless for me?” she asks. “Be my prey?”

“Yeah, yeah! Anythin’! Anythin’ for you!” Bucky says, his hips jumping.

“You're so hard already. Are you going to come in your nice pants? They were so expensive, Buck. Are you wearing boxers?”

“No. C'mon, honey, I want you to fuck me. I’ve been good, haven’t I? I waited for ya an’ let you chase me for so long.”

“All right. We’re almost done with our game, I promise.”

“Almost?”

Why is she dragging this out so long? Why isn't she straddling Bucky's hips as she sinks her teeth into his neck? It’s not fair, gods-damn it. She wants him just as badly, so why is she just sitting there doing nothing?

“You’re too riled up," she says calmly.

How the fuck is she so collected right now?

“You fuckin’ think so?” Bucky snaps.

When she gently squeezes his neck, Bucky growls, fumbling with her hand. His hands are so much bigger than hers, and he wraps both of them around her wrist and arm, covering the entirety of it nearly up to her elbow.

“More, more, more, more,” Bucky thinks through their bond.

"Yeah?"

Bucky nods furiously, and she smiles, doing just as he'd asked of her.

“Relax, Buck. You need to relax," she croons.

Bucky feels his mind beginning to fade away as she stares at him. Temptation edges her words, dripping off of her tongue like the sweetest honey. Bucky feels like he could float away on a gust of wind and leave his body behind. They are the only two people left on the planet, and she is the most beautiful thing Bucky has ever seen. Her enticement is powerful, and she never uses it unless Bucky asks her to.

“Relax, baby. For me, hm? Take the edge off. Why don't you come for me? I bet that'll make you feel better, right?"

She is talking to him. Bucky tries to get his brain back online, and when her words register, he nods, dazed. He can come for her. She doesn't even need to ask. His hindbrain, upset that Bucky is so quickly submitting, is fighting him, though. He tells it very firmly to shut the fuck up and hears his alpha retreat with a growl. The non-alpha part of Bucky adores submitting to her. There is something so freeing about it. No wolfpack to lead, no turf war to plan, just her and her body making him feel so fucking good. If she were a werewolf, would she be the alpha to Bucky's omega? He sure as shit hopes so. The idea sends a little thrill down his spine every time.

"Didn't you hear me? Come for me." Her fingers flex around Bucky's throat. "Now."

"Shit," Bucky says, his back bowing.

He can't look away from her as he comes, untouched, in his pants. He shudders around her fingers, making little choking noises, and she lets go of his neck, looking worried. But his eyes burst open, and he reaches for her fingers, gripping them tightly in his own as he squirms on the forest floor. Finally, after what seems like an hour, Bucky calms down, whimpering like a pup. He paws at her, wanting her all over. She lays herself on top of him, acting as a human blanket and peppering kisses to his face. She grins at him, looking proud, and Bucky glows.

“That was beautiful, Buck,” she murmurs, smoothing a hand through his messy hair. “You looked gorgeous. Thank you, baby."

“Yeah,” Bucky says, still trying to gather the pieces of his staticky mind, “Fuck, that was amazin’. You’re fuckin’ amazin’. Why have you never done it like that before?”

“I’ve never used enticement that powerfully before. It’s taking away the victim’s free will.”

“You can take away my free will any fuckin’ time you want. Whenever you want, if it means I come that hard.”

"Did you like it, okay? Was it too much?"

"Was fuckin' perfect. Promise."

“Okay, that’s good." She kisses Bucky sweetly. "I’m glad you liked it.”

“Oh, yeah, I liked it a lot. Can we do it again?”

"Baby steps, Buck. We can't do it so much at once. I don't want you to end up miserable afterward. That can happen sometimes."

"Okay," says Bucky, smiling foolishly. "Up to you. You're the boss."

"I am, am I?" she says, giggling.

"Yeah. I'll do anythin' you wan.'"

She kisses Bucky, their bond humming with her delight. Bucky sucks on her tongue and curls a possessive hand around the back of her head. She shifts, leaning further forward into Bucky's body. He sighs, licking her fangs.

“Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky says against her lips.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Chase me again? Make me yours.”

“Mm,” she hums, pressing her lips to Bucky’s jaw and nipping the skin there, “Aren’t you already mine?”

“As much as you’re mine,” Bucky says, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. “But you know what I really want. You gonna give it to me?”

“Aren’t you tired yet?”

Bucky springs to his feet and steps out of his dirty pants.

“Ha! Don’t tell me yer givin’ up already? Are you tired? D'you need a little rest?”

“Am I tired? Please,” she scoffs. “I’ve hunted things for days. This is nothing.”

“Well, why don’t we take it up a notch?” he says, dropping down to all fours again.

“You're going to 'wolf' out on me? Does that mean I can use everything in my arsenal, too?” she asks.

“It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t,” Bucky says, winking.

Bucky stares at his gorgeous wife as he brings the wolf in his mind forward. It is difficult to call it on days that aren’t close to the full moon, but as the alpha leader and protector of a wolf pack, Bucky not only has the power to do so but has practiced this dangerous shift many times. His neck cracks as his joints shift, and his fingernails elongate into claws. His muzzle rips through the skin of his face, and he growls, dancing around and shaking the blood off of his fur. He stares down at his sweet omega with golden eyes, and he tries his best to smile at her. (A complicated expression when one’s mouth is long and filled with too many teeth.)

She laughs. “You're so cute. Can I give you some pets?"

Bucky nods and flops down on his stomach as a dog would. Delighted, she hurries over to him, digging her hands into his fur. It’s not often she sees him in his complete wolf form, but when she does, she’s overcome with the urge to rub herself all over Bucky. Not that he minds, of course. He starts to purr almost immediately after she begins petting him.

“This means something, doesn’t it?” she asks, squishing her face down in the downy fur on Bucky’s cheek.

He inhales once he realizes that her scent is all over him, and his scent is all over her. It has seeped into her pores, and it took Bucky until now to fully realize it. She’s totally and completely his as much as he is hers.

“Mine," Bucky rumbles through the bond.

“How could I forget? This is that wolf chase ritual thing before we mate as 'husband and wife.'”

Bucky woofs and bobs his head, confirming her theory.

“Well,” she says, stepping away from him and fixing him again with a steely gaze, “We better get started then. I’m ninety-four percent positive that I’m going to kick your butt. Can your fragile alpha ego handle that?”

They regard each other for a moment before Bucky shakes his head, snuffling, and races off, leaving her in the dust. He hears her yelp of indignation and grins to himself. He tilts his head and howls at the dark sky. Skidding to a brief halt, Bucky scratches a tree trunk as he races by, marking his path for her as he’d been taught. Typically, the alpha does the chasing of the omega before the first knotting as married mates, but he certainly doesn’t mind having her chase him. Especially if it means that she’ll bite him and turn him (and then she’d carry his pups, and they’d live happily ever fucking after! Bucky cannot wait to see how she looks when she’s pregnant and having his pups. He’s gonna be the most doting alpha ever!)

“Oh, where, oh, where has my little wolf gone?” (He hears her singing from quite far away) “Oh, where, oh, where can he be? With his ears cut short and his tail cut long. Oh, where, oh, where can he be?”

Bucky yips at her, sending a bolt of yearning through their bond. He wants her so much. He hears her stumble and can see the glare she is currently giving him. He laughs inwardly and runs faster. Bucky is sprinting through the forest now, hitting speeds of sixty miles per hour. He leaps onto a tree and knocks it over with brunt strength. He gouges his claws into the trunk and rubs his head against the wood.

“Find!”  Bucky sing-songs.

“Oh, where, oh, where has my little wolf gone?”

She is closer now, and a thrilling shiver runs down Bucky’s spine.

“Oh, where, oh, where can he be?”

“Slow!”

“You forget,” she says. “I can run much faster than you!”

“Can’t.”

“Yes, I can!”

“No.”

“Oh, where, oh, where has my little wolf gone? Oh, where, oh, where can he be?”

“Can’t,” Bucky repeats stubbornly.

“One hundred miles an hour versus a mere sixty,” she mocks. “Do the math for me, alpha. Who’d win?”

“Me.”

“You fucking wish, wolf.”

He grins smugly. “Slow.”

“Oh, where-"

A cool breath hits his left flank, and Bucky is so startled that he trips over a tree stump.

“-Oh, where has my little wolf gone?”

A breath slides up his back. Bucky does an ungraceful somersault and bonks his head pretty hard as he lands, all splayed out.

“Oh, where, oh, where can he be?” says a voice, ruffling the sparse fur on his stomach.

Skidding to a dazed stop, Bucky blinks past the blurred vision that he’d got from hitting his head on the hard ground. He narrows his eyes, pricks his ears, and tries to sense her. Damn, she’s fucking good. Where the hell did she go?

“Oh, where, oh, where can he be?” she repeats.

Why can he hear her but not see her? Where is she? Gods, he’s uncomfortably aroused again, which sucks when he is in his wolf form. He is so desperate to knot her that his mouth is salivating at the thought, but this chase has been going on for ages! Alphas never chase their omegas this long; why is she taking eons?

“Baby!” Bucky whines.

“Where can he be?”

A lithe figure, all five-foot something-or-other, bowls into Bucky’s seven-foot wolf body with so much force that he chokes out a gasp as they roll across the ground. She flips them over, so she is on top of him, and he flicks his ears in submission. She flashes her fangs and bites his right ear like she’s supposed to. He whines.

“There he is!” she says, her eyes gleaming with promise.