#trying to draw him making one of those stank faces

[yappacadaver]

a man who looks more at home holding the sawed off shotty than a bundle of flowers

with bloody version ♥

[o0sleepingdead0o]

Prepared for Anything

Part 2, MasterPost

Danny stared at the ceiling, bored, as the creepy clown laughed manically at a camera. Danny hadn’t been in this dimension for two minutes, (he’d portalled directly into Joker’s hideout) before he was promptly tied to a chair. He could get out of it easily.

Thing was, there were others here, restrained more thoroughly than Danny. They wore colourful, armoured suits and were obviously the vigilantes/heroes of this. . .place—Gotham? Danny’d heard the name mentioned a few times now—This Freakshow wannabe was obviously one of their villains. 

Danny had been hoping someone would show up without having to draw attention to himself. What was this dimension’s stance on halfas? Or ghosts?

But no one had come yet, it had been an hour, and he was getting stiff from sitting here so long without being able to move his limbs.

Danny heaved a loud, exasperated sigh-groan at the ceiling. The guy, face-painted like a toddler who’d gotten into their parent’s make-up, suddenly stopped monologuing. 

Good. It was getting annoying.

“Are you done yet?” Danny complained much like the impatient teenager he was. “I’ve got crap to do, wrap it up, would you?”

Danny came here to explore. He was not exploring. He should be exploring and it was all this dude’s fault.

Danny supposed he could go all ghost on him and bounce, but he came all this way. It wasn’t much of hassle, but still. Danny was stubborn. He knew this.

The warehouse was silent. The creepo wasn’t talking, anymore, he wasn’t doing anything, and Danny deigned to lift his head from where it’d been thrown back on the chair.

The costumed people were looking at him in horror.

Danny wasn’t sure why.

The walking fashion disaster began to cackle with condescending amusement.

Yeah, okay, whatever.

Danny ignored the man’s delve into something about Danny’s impending doom, or threatening him with pain, and something, something, something. Something about broken this, burning that, yada, yada yada, when Danny got an idea.

Behind the chair where his hands were bound, knowing no one was behind him, he quietly broke the ropes on his wrists. The vigilantes—a red one with bandoliers crossing over his chest and one who wore a largely grey and black suit with an R emblem on the left side of his chest—were valiantly trying to dissuade the psycho to leave Danny alone, who now realized the said psycho was coming towards him, carrying a crowbar.

How original.

The Joker, as Danny heard someone call him at some point, he’s not sure when, leaned in close. His breath stank. 

Danny made a disgusted face. “Do you not brush your teeth at all? Gross, dude.”

“You won’t be mak—“

Danny punched him in the jaw. The guy went down pretty easily. 

Danny made an annoyed noise as he bent down to untie his ankles from the chair legs. He muttered to himself. “Stupid villains, always gotta get in the way, why can’t I just have one nice vacation, huh?”

“How did you do that?” 

Danny looked up at the red one. “Do what?” He asked, standing and stretching with satisfying pops.

“Get free.”

“Oh. . .” Danny reached into his hoodie sleeve and pulled out a small hand saw. He guessed he coulda used a knife, but it was the first thing he'd thought of.

The guy spluttered. “You just keep a saw in your sleeve?”

“Yep.” Danny popped the P. No need for them to know he can make portals. As tiny as needed. “You guys want help out of those, or what?” Danny gestured to the chains keeping the two bound on the floor.

“No, Joker’s goons outside probably has the keys, we have back-up. . . .coming. . . .where did you get that?”

Danny didn’t miss a beat as he crouched to get a grip on the chain with the large pair of bolt cutters. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a good pair of bolt cutters.” He offered. The room they were in was pretty bare, saying he found it “lying around” wouldn’t work. It’d be pretty obvious.

“That is absurd.” The younger one said. “Where did they come from?”

Danny snapped the red one free and moved onto the angry eyebrows one. How did they still emote so well through those masks? “Just had it on hand.”

“But wh—“

“Oh look! There ya go! I gotta go, nice being held hostage with y'all.” Danny ignored their calls for him, climbing out of the nearest window and disappearing.

[latenightdaydreams]

I have an idea that Konig is Ghostface and he's been stalking reader for a while. He found out reader is a bookworm outside but literally a cunt inside. Like she never comes to parties, spend hours with her vibration instead. One night, Konig sneaks in her house and rape her fat unused pussy 😩😩😩

🤭🤭🤭YES😮‍💨

Ghostface!König x Nerd!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

🚫TRIGGERS🚫

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, bondage, voyeurism, stalking

3.1k word count

👻

.

.

The first time König saw you was at the campus Valentine's Day party. You showed up dressed in a festive pink sweater, but then sat in the corner with a stank look on your face. His eyes followed you as you seemingly complained to the girl you came with, a friend? Either way, your breasts and sensual body shape caught his attention.

König walks up to a guy that’s talking to your friend, “Wer ist das?” He asks, pointing to you.

“She’s a bitch,” the girl's friend hits his chest as if to tell him to shut up.

“She’s just shy. She hates parties.” Christa, your friend, defends you.

They all stand there and watch you gather your things and walk out the door without saying bye to anyone, not even your friend. Interesting. What type of woman are you? He was intrigued and wanted to see more of you. See what those bouncy breasts look like outside of that pink sweater.

After this first encounter, he dedicated his time to following you around campus. First, only to figure out what your schedule was. What classes do you take, what teacher do you have, what building the classes are in, etc. Just the basics.

He stalks behind you, far enough behind that you’d never notice; but close enough to listen in on any conversations you had. Which was basically zero. You kept to yourself no matter what you were doing. If someone interacted with you, you’d have such a poor attitude about it. Snappy, short, lots of eye rolling. This went on for two months.

One day, König set up a forced interaction. Dressed casually and slicked his blonde hair back. He looks handsome, standing at 6 '10 and being pure muscle. He knows he is attractive; his personality just sucks, much like yours seems to.

He lingers outside your second class of the day and looks around as if he were a lost student. Once he sees you, he walks over.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Your eyes dart to him as you take out an air pod. “What?” Your tone is unkind.

“I’m lost and I don’t know which room-”

“I’m late for class.” You cut him off and walk past him.

König just watches as you walk away with a smirk on his face. He knows once he has you in his hands, he’d have fun breaking you. After that, he waits for you to leave class and follow you home. Since you would not get to know him the typical way, he would continue getting to know you in the shadows.

You walk fast, but he has no issues keeping up. Your hips sway hypnotically, keeping his attention. Finally, you stop at a cute one-story home. He watches as you take your keys out and enter your home. Waiting a few minutes before he walks up to peek into your windows. He looks around to make sure no neighbors are watching as he walks up to your house, crouching.

Eyes peering through the first window, he sees your living room. Your shoes kicked off by the door, TV turned on already, and backpack thrown on the couch. His eyes scan the room, trying to take in every detail.

Continuing on he comes to the next window. He sees you and ducks back, worried you might have seen him. After a few seconds of no screams, he creeps back to the window. There you are. Taking off your shirt and jeans, just standing there in your beige bra and blue cotton panties. Totally unaware you’re being watched as you check yourself out in your dresser's mirror.

Watching like a hawk as you open the top draw and pull out a pink little vibrator. König could already feel his pants begin to tighten. You walk to your bed, grabbing a towel that’s folded underneath the bed. Laying the towel out, getting your pillows situated, and moving the blanket. It’s almost like a ritual and König’s interest is definitely piqued. 

He watches as you lie down on the bed. Your pretty pussy covered with a little bit of hair, as you spread your legs he can see the pink within your folds. Fuck this is gold…

König quickly undoes his pants as he watches you pick a setting before moving it to your little clit. Through the window he can hear how loud you’re being, your legs twitch from the stimulation. All the while König stands there feverishly stroking his leaky cock. Imagining him running up to you and shoving his cock in that tight little pussy…

Your hips begin to grind into the vibrator as your head drops back on to your pillows. Your left leg is starting to tremble… König watches without blinking as your innocent pussy begins to squirt. Fingers replacing the vibrator, you start rubbing your clit quickly. Your sweet juices are spraying everywhere. He bites his lip as he begins to cum, accidently cumming on the siding of your house. It felt as if he were a wild animal and just marked you, leaving his scent behind to deter other predators.

This became a ritual for König as the school year went on. He would follow you around campus, watch who you talk to, see how you interact with the world. Occasionally he would try to go up to you and just talk nicely, but every time you shot him down. As if you’re better than him. Then he would follow you home and masturbate outside your window as you play with your tiny cunt.

That was until summer break happened. You went away to work as a camp counselor for the summer, leaving König behind. With you gone, König felt lost. He spent most of the summer inside watching porn. Looking for actresses that resemble you, but none could match your perfect breasts or pretty pink cunt.

August rolls around and classes start back up. König walks into his social science class and sees you… perfect. You sit in the front, middle. Teacher’s pet know-it-all, of course you’d pick there to sit.

König sits in the very back, where he has a clear line of view in your direction. He watches as you rest your head in the palm of your hand. How you cross your legs and squeeze, as if you’re trying to stimulate some sort of pleasure. Little slut, you can’t even control yourself in class. All the obsession comes rushing back to him. He needs you.

Halloween rolls around. König is handed a flier for a costume party that will be happening at one of the sororities here on campus.  His new friend Carl, your friend’s boyfriend, goes out with him to buy costumes.

 They both walk through the Halloween store and talk casually. He tries to think of ways to ask about you without being so direct.

“Is Christas bitch friend coming?” König chuckles to make it seem less important to him.

“Y/n? Probably not. She never shows to support anything Christa does. When she does, she’s in a foul mood and just leaves. It breaks Christas heart.” He sounded genuinely upset with you and your behavior.

“What’s her deal anyway?”

“I don’t know. Little stuck up virgin bitch thinks she’s better than Christa because she’s waiting until marriage.”

Virgin. That’s why you only touch your clit; you don’t want to “pop” your cherry.

“Is she religious?”

“Probably. I never cared to ask. Let’s just hope she doesn’t show up and ruin it.”

“Yeah.” König didn’t want you to show up, but for a very different reason. He had something special in the works.

Reaching up, König grabs a Ghostface mask and holds it up to his face. “Hey, what about this?”

.

.

Halloween night, König puts on the black robe over a pair of blue jeans, a white shirt, and a small satchel bag that has duct tape and rope. A real knife in his hand. He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, looking at himself. Blonde hair longer and pushed back, dark circles under her icy blue eyes, and a twisted look on his face.

“You got this. You can do it.” He whispers as he slips the mask over his face.

König leaves his shared apartment on campus and walks down the street while the sun is just beginning to set. Other students rush past him, all heading to their own Halloween parties. Towering over everyone dressed as Ghostface, he had a few people jump out of fear. From behind the mask, he apologizes while laughing. As if he is a normal guy.

Finally, he approaches the steps on the sorority. Walking inside he sees that there are a few other Ghostface at the party already. König rolls his eyes under the masks. His attention turns to the staircase as he hears Christa and Carl arguing. Without being seen, he walks closer to listen in. It’s clear that she’s talking about y/n.

You bailed. Probably home studying or making yourself squirt. The thought gives König a chub. You’re exactly where he hoped you would be. At first, he was nervous this wouldn’t work out for him. No, you never change. Easy to track. Before he is seen, he slips out of the doors.

He blends in easily for once in his life. Everyone dressed up like freaks or sluts. The giant isn’t the main focal point today. Once he enters your neighborhood, he notices the empty streets, but very loud house music. All of your neighbors seem to gather, yet your home's lights are on.

Cautiously, he approaches your living room window. Boom, there you are, asleep on the couch. The TV on TLC, some random trash television show. He attempts to lift the window in front of him, but it’s locked. Moving down a window to your bedroom, also locked. König walks around the back and tries the back door, locked. The kitchen window is a little smaller, but he still tries it. Open.

Carefully, König climbs through the window. His massive body just barely begins to fit, but he manages. Slowly he climbs off of the counter that was right under the window, being sure to not kick anything off the counter and possibly wake you up.

Once stable on the floor he stood there for a while and looked around your kitchen. Your style was quirky, which was odd because you act as if you have no personality. Before waking you up, he goes into the bedroom and gets that towel you keep under your bed. He lays it out on the bed the same way you do. Even arranging the pillows and blanket for you.

Reaching into his bag under his black robes, he takes out the rope and tape. The rope he leaves on the bed as he walks out of the bedroom with the tape. He pulls some and he can be quick to shut you up.

With soft steps he makes his way to the living room. He can see your hands are in your hands as if you fell asleep masturbating. A virgin whore. He’s ready to just make you into his whore. Standing over you as you sleep; eyes drifting over your breast and the tiny bit of midriff that is showing.

Slowly lowering his face closer to you until he sees your eyes open. At first it’s as if you didn’t register what you saw. König tilts his head. Then you open your eyes again and begin to scream. Quickly he covers your mouth with the tape.

“Shhh,” his eyes go wild behind the mask.

You try to stand and get away but his massive body easily overpowers yours and slams you back down into the couch.

“Don’t fucking move.” He hisses as he cuts the tape with the knife. Pulling more, he adds an extra layer.

With ease he lifts your body from the couch, pinning your arms to your side so you can’t hit him. Your legs kicking as he brings you into your room; eyes going wide as you see that he set the bed up the same way you set up when you masturbate.

König giggles looking at your face, “I did good, ja?”

He grabs the rope and tosses you on the bed. As you try to stand up, he pushes you back hard, “Give up Maus, you’re mine tonight.”

Using his massive body to pin you down, he climbs on top of you. Your face down into the mattress as he grabs one of your arms and pins it behind your back before grabbing the other. He uses the rope to tie your hands together, tight enough to dig into your flesh.

“I’ll show you how to have a really good time.”

König stands and grabs your body, turning you to rest on your back, nuzzled in the pillows like when you masturbate. He walks to your dresser and takes out the small pink vibrator. You look up at him with wide eyes, it’s clear that he’s been watching you.

“Now, don’t move, or I might cut you.” He says leaning back over your body as he begins to cut your shirt from your body. Your full breasts come into view and he can’t help the temptation of reaching up and pinching your nipple. You try to scream through the tape, but the sound is muffled.

His attention drops down to the waistband of your pajama pants. Slowly he pulls them down. Seeing your cunt face to face instead of at a distance was breathtaking. Speechless, he moves his fingers through the soft hair that covers your pussy. Finally, he can feel you, smell you, taste you.

“If you move, I’ll gut you.” He threatens as he begins to settle himself between your legs.

He lifts his mask slightly and takes in a deep breath of what your pussy smells like. It’s almost sinful. He has to taste it. Slowly he slips his tongue out and swipes it through your folds. You squirm slightly but stop, remembering the knife. He swipes his tongue up again. If he knew you were this sweet, he would have broken in sooner.

Shoving his face into your pussy he takes a deep breath before sucking on your clit. He bites it lightly, causing you pain as your body jerks away. Not letting you move; he wraps his arms around your legs tightly to hold you still. Spit running down his chin as he aggressively laps at your cunt. He slurps your pussy juice before biting your labia. Again, you jerk in pain and König just laughs as he pulls his mask back down.

Once he stands from the bed he just looks down at your naked body. He begins to pull off the black robe, tossing aside the satchel. Stripping down to his birthday suit, but the mask stays on. His body is massive with a cock so heavy it hangs.

He grabs your pink vibrator and turns it on, gently holding it to your clit. His eyes light up as your legs begin to tremble. Muffled little moans escaping your lips. You can’t help but to feel pleasure, even though you’re in this situation.

“Good…kleine Hure.” He turns off the vibrator and sets it aside. Inching closer to you, he slaps his cock on your pussy a few times.

“Ready?”

You shake your head no and try to scoot away from him, but he grabs your legs and drags you back to him. “No, no, no, you’re not getting away that easy.”

Looking down at your cunt he rubs the head of his cock back and forth over your clit. Slowly he slips down. With one hard thrust of his hips, he bullies his monster cock deep inside of your unused pussy. The tightness of your cunt was something only his hand had ever given him.

“Mien Gott, you really were a virgin.” He chuckled.

König grabs your legs and lets them fall over his arms as he holds your ass up off the bed slightly. His hips rolling rapidly into you, looking down he can see blood on his cock. A soft growl leaves his lips.

He lets your legs drop as he leans over you, one of his hands wrapping around your throat lightly. “My fat unprotected cock just ruined your pretty virgin cunt.”

You try to turn your head away from him as tears begin to roll down your eyes, but he doesn’t let you. He turns your head back to face him.

“Eyes open. I want to see the shame when I make you cum.”

You open your eyes as you have no choice but to listen. His free hand reaches down between your legs and begins to rub your clit. Trying to resist the pleasure was impossible, your legs tremble as your pussy feels as if it were torn in two.

He watches as you shake your head no. Your pussy getting tighter on his cock, he knew. He pulls out quickly, shoving his middle and ring finger into you. He presses down on the lower part of your stomach as his fingers curl, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

You drop your head back and he slaps your pussy, “Eyes on me!” His voice a low growl.

Lifting you head back up to look at him, your eyes cross from the explosion of pleasure you’re feeling. You squirt, hitting the Ghostface mask slightly, getting it all over König’s hands and arms.

“That’s what I want to see!” He excitedly slips his cock back into your pussy. His eyes watch as you wince in pain.

His hips move mercilessly into you. “I’m going to cum deep inside of this pussy. You’re going to get pregnant with my babies. You like staying home anyway, right?”

The look on your face as he talks down to you is full of fear and it’s just enough to get him off. He presses his cock fully into you, your cries of pain muffled buts still so beautiful. König cums deep inside of you. His seamen painting every inch of your velvety walls. A loud groan leaves his mouth as he tries to press in even further.

The look on your face is almost relieved as he cums, that means this is over with. So, you thought. He pulls his cock out, covered in blood and cum. In one quick motion he flips you on to your stomach, pulling you down the bed a little. He sits on the bed now, one leg on either side of you. König leans forward to pull the tape off of your mouth and drags you closer to him by your shoulders.

“You’re going to clean this.” He says slapping his cock on your face a few times. “Open.”

You don’t struggle, opening your mouth wide. The taste of salty cum and blood assaults your taste buds. His hand grasping a fist full of hair and shoving his cock down your throat. Your body thrashes, legs kicking as you gag.

“Get used to it, Maus. My cock isn’t leaving your throat any time soon.”

[psybrepunk]

Testing The Sealants (Nick Valentine & F!Sole Survivor)

Summary: The sole survivor becomes exhausted with Nick's refusal to take care of himself, and decides to take it into her own hands to clean up the good ol' synth.

Wordcount: 547

Tags: Pining, Eventual Suggestive Themes

"Hey, Valentine.  Are you waterproof?"

Nick looked up from the case file in his hand, automatically ashing the cigarette that was in his other.  His brows knit together in momentary confusion. Then again, he knew what Nora was like.  Her mind was always running a mile a minute, and he never knew what the journey to the destination might look like until he asked.  "Now where did that come from?" he drawled, and sat the file aside, leaning forward on his elbows.  

Nora rose from her seat across the Agency, and settled into the chair across from Nick at his desk, crossing her legs.  "I asked you a question, detective.  Are you waterproof?"

"So you're the one doing the interrogating around here now?"  Nick smirked, drawing on his cigarette.  

Not in an unfamiliar fashion, Nora completely ignored his question. "I'm not taking you to the Memory Den looking like this," she said, pointing generally at Nick and fixing him with what she hoped came across as a mock glare.  "Irma will have my ass.  Look at you.  You have cigarette burns on your collar.  There is actual dirt embedded in your neck skin. You still have someone else's blood on your shirt, and presumably the panel underneath.  And I can see a coolant stain on your arm right now."

The synthetic detective grimaced.  He nervously adjusted his hat with his intact hand, but in doing so was met with a sight of the deep blue stain that ran down his pallid forearm.  A low grumble of frustration rumbled through his - apparently blood-stained - chest.  He knew she was right.  He afforded so little thought to actually caring for himself physically.  The average person was so off-put by his visage either way that he hardly ever felt like it mattered - who cared if the local decrepit synth had blood on his clothes and stank of bicentennial tobacco.  He was still the local decrepit synth.  

But Nora was different.  Even from the first moment they had met.  He had never seen in her what he had seen written on a hundred faces when regarding him - the fear, the disgust, the general distaste that even the people who acted civil often couldn't quite hide.  From the very beginning she had only ever treated him like a person, with curiosity rather than mistrust, and soon with a fondness that he had experienced so little of in his synthetic existence.  

"Fine.  No need to make a man feel good about himself," Nick growled.  His metal hand drove his cigarette butt into the nearby ashtray.  "To answer your question, yes I'm relatively waterproof. I've got sealants galore.   Nothing really reaches the ol' circuits, at least not the ones that matter.  But I get tired of trying to dry out the metal bits before they rust.  So your idea better be good."

Nora waved away his concern.  "I have an actual shower in my old house at Sanctuary Hills.  And a blow dryer.  One of those fancy ones they used to make pre-war.  We'll have to ask Sturges how much water we can pump for the shower, and the blow dryer runs on a very small generator, but I imagine it'll do."

"And let me guess, there's no arguing about this with you is there?"  

[sex-lapis]

Unexpected Circumstances

You never expected your heat to come so early in Teyvat. It wasn't like in other worlds you'd visited. But then, in other worlds you had Aether as your early warning system, telling you you stank a week before you started to feel it, started to feel the chafe of your clothes against your skin, the unnatural warmth of the air.

In Liyue, you put it down to a hot day in the harbour, until you found your eyes wandering to the shirtless sailors on the dock, catching their scents on the breeze. Saltwater and cinnamon, brass and coconut, fresh fish and old rope. Then the sailors stare back, which jolts you out of it, head in your hands. Hundreds of scents in Liyue harbour and not a single Alpha. In fact, you haven't seen one since you arrived. Half in a fog already, you head to the one person who might have an inkling of where you might find one.

You come to his door with slick already pooling uncomfortably in your underwear, and Zhongli's eyes widen as he greets you.

"I was not expecting company," he says, his question unspoken.

"Please, Zhongli." You bite your lip, holding your arms tight to your sides. "I need your help."

He pulls you inside with no further delay and it's all you can do not to strip off and mount him. Bless this man, bless his caring, protective nature.

His gold eyes are soft and concerned in a way that makes your brain hum, even though there's not a single Alpha in all Teyvat. He tilts your chin with his thumb to look at your face, the sensation of his touch almost unbearably bright against your mind, and a whimper escapes your lips.

"Have you been drugged?" he asks, brows furrowing. "Poisoned? Your pulse is erratic. And your pupils-"

You shake your head. "No, I-" you swallow your words as your eyes meet his, those perfect golden lacunae. Anxiety rushes through you, a hope that what you're about to say next won't fill those golden eyes with disgust. "I'm in heat," you say, quietly.

There's a silence between you as Zhongli gently withdraws his hand, eyebrows raised. "Like a… cat?" he asks.

"Is that not… usual here?" you ask, despair tightening in the back of your throat. "It happens in lots of worlds, I thought maybe since the adepti have the features of beasts-" your words are running away with you, and you're sounding more pathetic by the second.

"You thought that I might have some understanding of the situation. I see."

"You think it's disgusting-"

Zhongli doesn't answer with words, not even his usual hum, but he steps in close, an arm around your back, pulling you to him and settling his chin atop your head. The embrace is so sudden that you squeak, air pushed from your lungs. "Do not-" he starts, and his voice is stern. "Do not suppose to tell me my own feelings on this matter."

You nod against his shirt, smelling musk and sandbearer wood, and the underlying smell of Zhongli. With your heat flaring your senses, he smells like jade and blood and the deep earth, and his touch on your back is certain and deliberate, more stable than the floor on which you stand. You find yourself relaxing, your tension melting against him.

"I may not have direct experience of your condition, but I have dealt with beings that are subject to their nature before, so this is not beyond me." Zhongli pauses, seeming to ruminate on the right words as he holds you to him. "I am not disgusted, but I can feel that you are afraid, and I want to help. I have some herbs, that if brewed for a few hours-"

"In a few hours, I won't have a choice," you say, squeezing your eyes shut. "I'll be roaming the streets, trying to give myself to anyone with a pulse."

Zhongli gives one of his trademark hums. "And so you wish for my protection?"

"Please. Just keep me in place and make sure no-one finds out about my…" You swallow. "Condition. You can even use my body for yourself if you want-"

Zhongli draws in a breath sharply, the noise stopping you mid-flow, and when you look up at him, his face is full of thunder. "y/n ," he says, his voice sonorous. "You are my friend, and you are in need. I trust that you do not think so poorly of me that you think I would demand use of you in exchange for your safety?"

"N-no." You look down, knowing that if you look up into his face another second you'll be trying to kiss him, and you don't want to embarrass yourself like that. "I came to you because I trust you, Zhongli."

"Hm." He fixes you to the spot with a stare, and shakes his head. "I will keep you safe. I will keep this matter private. You have my word."

Your brain sings Alpha, Alpha, as he carries you to his bedroom, the scent of sandbearer wood thick in the air. You find yourself pressing your face against the soft skin of his neck, where his scent glands ought to be, pulling ineptly at the knot of his tie.

He sets you down on his sheets and you realise belatedly that you are leaking, slick coating your inner thighs and running down to your knees.

"Your sheets- they'll get dirty-" The heat is hitting you hard, but you're still enough yourself to be mortified that you're dripping sex fluids all over your friend's bed.

"They're bedsheets," says Zhongli, his expression a little bemused. "Don't concern yourself with them. Did you want me to stay with you?"

Yes, your heat-brain screams, the same part of you that guided you to his door in the first place. You nod vigorously, grabbing his wrist. "Please. Zhongli. I don't want to be alone."

"I understand," says Zhongli, and you think you see the shadow of a blush on his cheekbones as you wriggle out of your clothes. You've been too hot this whole time, but just about holding it back, and part of you hopes he will go back on his word and mount you, fill your aching cunt.

He doesn't though, his gold eyes looking down on you, revealing nothing of his intentions. He reaches out, fingers finding your neck, the same spots you had been trying to stimulate on him a moment before, your raised scent glands. The brush of his thumb brings a moan to your lips, has you spreading yourself for him, wide and slick and shameless.

"Fuck me. Zhongli, please." Your fingers drag a line from your hole to the nub of your clit, back and forth, and you catch his eyes following the motion, which makes your sex throb in turn. "Please, I want you."

The former geo archon's eyes drift back to your face, thumb still stroking gentle circles against the scent gland of your neck. "Me, or anyone with a pulse, I suspect." A small smile flickers across his lips. "Ask me again when you're in a state to consent. If you still feel the same way."

"But I'm empty now. It hurts, Zhongli." You right yourself, crawling onto his lap, and he doesn't stop you, though you're certain that the colour in his cheeks deepens. "Please, Alpha-" you murmur, and leaning up, you kiss him.

You had been half-expecting him not to kiss you back, to remain stiff and still as a stone, but he leans down, cupping the back of your head with his palm, his lips parting for yours, tongue twining against yours, languid and deep. You whimper, insistent, pressing your sex against his thigh, but his other hand presses your hip, holding you back, and you break the kiss, indignant at his denial.

"I told you that I would not take advantage of you." Zhongli's gold eyes stare into yours, infuriatingly calm. His fingers stroke the nape of your neck, and his touch is bliss but it makes you ache for him all over again. "A contract is a contract, verbal or not."

"Please, just fill me." You hear your voice crack, tears hot in your eyes. "Your cock, your hands, anything. I'm so empty and it hurts."

"Anything?" Zhongli asks, and you find yourself nodding again. His expression is thoughtful. "I believe I can work with that."

There's a golden glow around his palms, and he frowns as the power coalesces into a chunk of rock. A large, phallic, rock, still glowing with geo energy. "Will this be sufficient?"

Gods, he's sweet, and sincere, and even though you sort of hate him for not mounting you and claiming you like a proper Alpha would, the dildo feels solid and warm in your hands. You ask him with your eyes, and he's frustratingly good at reading you as you lie back and he guides it into you. The ache in your cunt subsides as he pushes it fully in, and you close your eyes, wishing it was his cock in you instead, angled to rub and press against the deepest parts of you.

"Fuck," you whimper as he finds another spot, the sensation making you see stars. "Fuck, that's good."

Zhongli's answer is a pleased hum. "Is this filling you up?"

"Y-yes- ah!" You gasp for air, brain humming Alpha, Alpha, Alpha as he fucks you with the geo cock. "Thank you, Alpha."

"I'm Alpha?" Zhongli sends a vibration through the dildo, a pulse of geo energy that has you twitching on the edge. "What does that make you, then?"

"O-omega-" you manage, feeling him slow his movements, keeping you on the cusp of your orgasm. The slightest brush of your clit could spill you over, and you can feel it. "You're meant to tell me how good I am."

You hear a strangled noise from Zhongli's throat, and you open your eyes, afraid that you've overstepped a line. He's still dressed, but he looks flustered, his face pink, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow, the dildo in his hand making obscene noises as he moves it into you and out of you.

He clears his throat, eyes, going to yours. "You're beautiful," he croons, still edging you, still giving just enough sensation that you are denied release. His voice is rough as he continues. "A flower wrought in moonlight and you open yourself to me. I could ask for nothing greater." He leans forward, lips finding the delicate shell of your ear, and his voice lowers to a growl. "So cum for me, Omega."

"Alpha-" your voice breaks, and you have no words.

He's not an Alpha, he can't be, but your body is responding as if he is one, an almost hypnotic obedience as the precipice that he's been keeping you on for the last few minutes becomes a cliff-edge and you tumble over it, your body pulsing with the intensity of it, the intensity of the feeling, your walls gripping down on the faux cock he's pushed inside you. And what's best are the feelings, of safety, and security, of being in his room, in his bed.

In your post-orgasmic clarity, you peek up at him. He looks much as he did a moment before, maybe a touch of concern on his brow. You swallow. You'll probably have to ask him for more before the night is over, but you're glad it's him. "Th-thank you, Zhongli."

Zhongli's eyes soften as he looks down at you. "Anything you need, y/n."

[plus-size-reader]

Blood pt.4

Stiles Stilinski x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2589 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: The pack finally gets to meet this mystery girl of Stiles’ but that glaring secret of theirs just keeps causing problems. 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 

—————————————————————————————————

The table fell silent as you walked up to it, every single one of their attentions poised on you as if you were the most interesting thing they had ever seen in their entire lives. 

You hated it. 

For obvious reasons, werewolves made you really uncomfortable and as much as you wanted to trust that Stiles knew his friends well enough to know they weren’t going to freak out and rip you apart, you weren’t sure. 

You didn’t like them. 

Though, as Stiles became more and more aware of the fact that you were dragging your feet, his grasp on your hand tightened to help you remember that you weren’t completely alone.

“I’m going to be here the whole time, just relax” he prompted, hoping that his words were going to be enough to make you feel better about this whole thing while also knowing that wasn’t going to be. 

This was something you never wanted to do in your life, but if you wanted to live your life here, you’d have to do it. You had to find out if what he said about them was true, so that you knew that you could stay. 

It sucked. 

The only thing that made you feel any better about this situation was seeing how well your act had worked on Scott this morning. If you kept it up like that, there was a chance that they would never know what you were at all. 

Maybe you could just keep it a secret from them forever. 

You had done crazier things. 

By the time the two of you made it to the table, the entire group had shared knowing looks, shocked that the tall tale Scott had weaved about what he’d seen this morning wasn’t all one big lie. It just wasn’t something they ever thought would happen.

“Hey, there they are. I was worried you were playing hookie today” Scott grinned, addressing his words to his best friend, who only shrugged at his words. 

Not showing up at all today would have been a better idea, all things considered, but you’d have to answer the questions at some point. 

It was much better to just get it over with. 

“Could you blame me?” Stiles jokes, sitting down beside Scott at the table, taking you with him. You were stiff as you sat down, doing your best to stick in your own little bubble without drawing too much attention to yourself. 

Unfortunately, that was basically impossible given the circumstances. 

The two of them shared a laugh before Scott addressed a question to you, one that you missed completely because you were still trying to come to terms with the situation you had found yourself in. There was just too much going on at once, and you couldn’t help but be a little overwhelmed. 

You weren’t designed for this, after all. 

You should have never been afraid of anything, or had to answer to anyone but that had gone out the window when you decided to attach yourself to a teenage boy who was involved with a pack of werewolves. 

Just your luck. 

“Y/N, honey. You okay?” Stiles hummed, obviously addressing you that way for their benefit. Scott had asked you a point blank question and while he was well aware of what was going on with you, they weren’t. 

You had to get a handle on this. 

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just a lot at once” you shrugged, plastering that bubbly grin on your face that made you feel as though your cheeks could crack in two at any moment. It wasn't natural for you, but as you had previously decided, it was natural for this girl Stiles was dating. 

This girl that you were pretending to be. 

“It’s okay. We’re all friends. We’re just a little shocked at the news is all” Scott allowed, smiling at you in a way that was surprisingly genuine. It wasn’t like the werewolves you remembered from all those years ago, that were made up mostly of gnashing teeth and threats of violence. 

He didn’t look like he could hurt anything, or anyone, even if he wanted to. 

“Stiles didn’t tell you, did he? He can be so goofy sometimes” you laughed, bumping the male in question with your shoulder. The action was surprisingly natural for you, and Stiles reacted naturally as well. 

Pretending to be a couple was the easiest part of this whole thing, for both of you. 

It was real life that you were struggling with. 

“I just didn’t know how” Stiles decided, moving your two hands, that were still interlocked, onto the tabletop. It was a blatant display of the relationship the two of you were supposed to share, but you didn’t mind it. 

The more they focused on the show you were putting on, the less they could pay attention to you.

“Come on. Tell us more about it, how did you two meet?” another in the group, a redhead, prompted. She had a cheery demeanor, with eyes that held an intellect that you could have seen shining there a mile away. 

She wasn’t a wolf, but she stank like one just like Stiles did, that much you could tell. Of course, she wasn’t human either, but based on what you could get from her alone, you had no clue what sort of creature she was. 

“We sort of just ran into each other, and went to get a bite” you shrugged, not even bothering to hide the clever little nod to how you really met within your answer. 

If nothing else, knowing something they didn’t made this a little more entertaining. 

It was hardly the meet-cute that Lydia had been hoping for, but that didn’t mean she didn’t accept the answer you gave her. After all, it was clear that Stiles really had a thing for you and as long as he liked you, she liked you too. 

Contrary to what you would have thought, she wasn’t as tough a critic as Scott seemed to be. He just wanted to figure out what was going on right now, 

Stiles had never once had a girl over like that, and every time he’d ever gotten close, Scott knew about it. Sometimes, Stiles stopped talking to a girl to call him in the moment and let him know that he had talked to a cute girl. 

He just had to make sure you were legit. 

That was literally his whole job as his best friend. 

“So, you go to school here Y/N? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before” he questioned, offering another comforting smile to you which you couldn't help but be a little tired of. Every time you looked at him, all you saw was your coven, torn apart and left for dead.

It was really putting a damper on this whole conversation. 

“I used to live here actually, a while ago, and now I’m moving back. I actually enrolled when I got here, but it's been a little difficult getting used to being back” you shrugged, not totally lying this time. 

Being around this many people, any number of whom could have walked in on you that day instead of Stiles, was hard to wrap your head around. You were so used to being alone; travelling alone, living alone. 

You were always alone. 

...But you had to do something, and if you wanted to stick around here for a little while, you knew that you had to build a life for yourself. 

“She’s gonna stay with me for a little bit while her folks get settled” he allowed, hoping that at some point, the intense line of questioning would come to an end. Even if you were just a girl he was seeing like they believed, this was a bit much. 

He’d never had this many questions for someone Scott was dating. 

Though, Stiles knew that it was just his friend's curiosity that was driving him. There is no malicious intent or suspicion behind it, that you would likely want to read into it later when it was just the two of you alone. 

This was just how Scott was sometimes. 

“Well, it’s good you two have each other then”

You expected more, more questions or pointed looks in your direction but the group seemed content with the backstory they had been given, at least for now. The more direct questions he had, Scott was just going to ask Stiles when they were alone. 

It would be easier that way, so that he didn’t make you super uncomfortable. 

There was definitely still something about the relationship you two shared that Scott didn’t fully understand but eventually, he came to the same conclusion that Lydia had. It was clear that the two of you liked each other, and for now, that was good enough for him. 

It had to be. 

After all, he had no reason to assume there was something wrong with you. You had only just met and deciding things like that took time. 

~

“They hate me” you decided, plopping down on Stiles’ bed as if you owned it. On the outside, your meeting them had gone fine but you just had this bad feeling about it. You hadn’t sold it hard enough, or maybe you had sold it too hard. 

In any case, it seemed clear to you that they were never going to like you. Just the way Scott looked at you told you everything you needed to know. 

They didn’t trust you, and they never would 

You were an idiot to think that you would just be accepted here, like you belonged. 

“What are you talking about? They loved you. You were great” he hummed, really not seeing where this was coming from. His friends had no reason not to like you, just like his dad was going to have no reason not to like you. 

This was all going to be just fine. 

All you had to do was trust him. 

“I’m not supposed to have to do any of this. I’ve lived lifetimes, and never had to worry about something so trivial” you grumbled, your voice muffled by the pillows and blankets of his bed, which you were still face down on. 

You didn’t want to do this, to pretend to be something you weren’t just so that you could live here but now that you were potentially in danger, you had to. 

You had to keep this up until Stiles found a way to tell Scott what you really were and even after he did, there was a chance it wouldn't go well and you'd still have to leave. There was just too much that was up in the air for you to relax. 

This wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Still, before Stiles could really get a chance to comfort you over the whole thing, your attention snapped up at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. This time, it wasn’t accompanied by the terrible stench of dog, which meant it wasn’t Scott. 

Sheriff Stilinski must have been home. 

“Okay, this dinner is going to be a lot easier than at school. You just have to let me handle it” Stiles prompted, sure that you would be able to handle that much. If you could sit at a table full of werewolves, his dad wasn’t going to be a problem. 

In fact, he had every confidence that tonight was going to go perfectly because Noah was so easy going.

Stiles was a good kid, he did as he was told and never got into too much trouble, if you didn’t count all the supernatural business. If the most he needed to do was have a girl stay at the house for a while, he doubted his dad would mind. 

It wasn’t like he was home too often anyway. 

You nodded, not bothering to tell him that you were pretty sure you’d decided to just let him handle everything from now on and stood up, doing your best to keep calm. Though, as it seemed to be doing a lot lately, something went wrong. 

You couldn’t have dinner with his dad. 

Not only did you not eat, and wouldn’t be eating but as far as food was concerned, you were also starving. You didn’t have to feed super often but with all this stress lately, your system had just blown through the little bit of blood you’d had yesterday. 

If you didn’t get something in you soon, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Um, Stiles? Did you say dinner?” you clarified, though your comment served more as another gentle reminder that you weren't’ like he was. The male seemed to keep forgetting that you weren’t human like him, and that you couldn’t do the same things. 

You had other things you needed to attend to, like the hunger gnawing at your system as you spoke. 

“Oh, yeah-okay, change of plans. I’m going to have dinner with my dad and you’re going to stay here and lay low” he suggested, not really liking the idea of leaving you out. However, that was quickly remedied by the fact that you wouldn't have wanted to partake anyway. 

As much as you had enjoyed a nice hot meal when you were human, you weren’t anymore and you preferred to get your meals from a different source. 

“That sounds great, but what am I supposed to do about my dinner?” you asked, trying to be subtle about what you were going to have to do. There were some things about harboring a vampire in your home that weren’t pretty, and this was one of them. 

...but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t just starve so that he would be more comfortable. 

He had to figure something out, or else you would have a repeat of the event that got you here in the first place, and you were pretty sure he didn’t want to deal with that again. You got blood everywhere when you did that. 

Besides, keeping you fed was in his best interest, considering you live in very close quarters with him now. 

“I’ll take care of it” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead and heading out before he could even think about what it was that he’d done. His glaring feelings for you could wait, because he had something much more important to take care of first. 

Thankfully, Stiles did have an idea. 

If his best friend didn't ask too many questions, there was a way that he could get some blood for you without having to hurt, or even involve, another person. He just had to hope that Scott was willing to help him. 

It was really a long shot, at this point. 

“Hey Scott, buddy. When you get this message, I need a favor” he prompted, speaking as plainly as he could into his phone and leaving a voicemail for Scott that he could only hope the other male would get and be able to be cool about. 

After all, what he was asking wasn’t exactly a normal thing best friends asked of each other, even when one of them was a werewolf. 

It was definitely going to come with a few questions. 

Stiles just had to hope that would be lucky enough to be able to lie his way out of those. He had been doing that an awful lot lately, but in his defense, he had a promise to keep.

[imagine-that-100]

The Martini Police

Description: You’re leading yourself down a slippery slope, but thankfully the person that matters most in your life notices and helps you.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Angst, and drinking issues

A/N: This was requested by an Anon. I hope I did it justice. Angst isn’t really my forte but I gave it a go. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you for reading x

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What happened?” Alex asks, rushing into the kitchen.

You were sitting at the table, head in hands, heels just being kicked off. But that wasn’t what shocked Alex, it was the fact that your tights were all ripped, covered in dried blood, and you had it still trickling down your leg, from your knee which was cut open.

You shake your head and in a pathetic voice, you whisper, “I don’t know.”

Alex rushes to the sink and immediately wets a cloth so he can help clean you up. He was still in his pyjamas, only coming down the stairs because he heard the front door closing a few minutes ago and it worried him when you weren’t in bed beside him.

He knew you’d been on another night out, but he hoped you’d be in bed beside him when he opened his eyes this morning.

As water collects in the material he worriedly asks, “What do you mean ‘you don't know’?”

“I can’t remember.” You say in an exhausted voice, looking up at Alex for a second but you cast your eyes to the ground once more.

You take a few deep breaths before you realise that your mouth has gone dry again. So as Alex comes back over with the wet cloth to try and clean up, you reach for the drink you poured when you came in.

Alex makes his way back over and kneels down in front of you to tend to your injury, but he notices that you half wince at what he thought was the water in your glass. His face falls immediately, and he reaches for the glass you were about to put down, as he asked, “What’s that?”

Your eyes go wide as he takes it from you. “Alex, please don-” You start but it’s too late.

He already brought the glass up to his nose and the stench of vodka filled his senses immediately.

“Is that vodka? At seven in the morning?” Alex asks you with wide eyes, despite knowing it’s a fact.

You watch as he gets up and pours it away, and you just try and defend yourself, “It’s helping take the pain away.”

“You know what else would do that? A paracetamol. Or an ibuprofen.” Alex said distastefully, but it was the shock filtering through his system. “You should not be drinking at this time in the morning.”

You murmured a little, “I know, I know.” as Alex comes back and starts cleaning up your knee. He ended up just ripping the tights open and pulling that leg off, as you didn’t look like you were in a fit state to stand up and take them off yourself.

You don’t protest, feeling bad enough that you’ve obviously upset him by drinking and stumbling home at this time. You’d gone out last night with a few of your older friends that you met when you first moved to London.

You’d been going out with them a lot recently after one of them got back in contact. And most of the time you’d been stumbling back into your home at similar times.

And that wasn’t like you at all.

It worried Alex to no extent. Because he’d seen you around these people. You were different around them compared to how you were with your usual group of friends and both of your friends.

And Alex couldn’t pretend he didn’t see it anymore.

“Y/N…” Alex says softly, drawing your attention to him, as he carries on cleaning up your knee. He says almost hesitantly, “I don't think you should go out with that lot anymore.”

You frown at him, questioning what he meant by that, “What?”

“I don’t trust them.” He tells you honestly, still trying to keep his voice calm. “And I don't think they are good for you.”

Despite his calm tone, you get defensive about what he just said. And it didn’t help that you were still drunk when he was just trying to express his concern for you.

“Do you think this is high school where you can make me feel guilty about who I spend time with?” You ask not comprehending where this was coming from at all.

You saw Alex sigh at that as he got up with the now blood-stained cloth in his hand. When Alex gets a large plaster out of a box, he also gets some painkillers as he hears you scoff, “I didn’t realise we were teenagers getting jealous over friendship groups.”

“I’m not jealous Y/N/N…” Alex shakes his head, and once he’s got your glass of water, he says, “I’m scared for you.” as he kneels back down in front of you.

Your emotions seem to change immediately hearing him say that. You ask with shock clearly on your features, “Why?”

Alex makes you take the painkillers before he tells you what he’s thinking.

“Because this is the sixth time you have stumbled home when the sun’s already coming up and you’ve been hurt. You’ve had bruises on you before and now you’ve cut your knee open.” Alex points out in a pained voice before continuing to tend to your injury.

“That's just me being clumsy.” You sigh, knowing you weren’t the most balanced person when you were like this.

Alex isn’t so convinced, “But is it though?”

“Because I know you know London’s not always a nice place. Someone could have hurt you whilst you’re like this.” Alex says, as he puts the large white plaster over your knee and presses down the sides of it, so it doesn’t come away from your skin.

You shake your head, “Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not Y/N/N, I'm scared.” Alex reiterates, emphasising that he was in fact he was worried about you.

Not seeming to get it, you ask, “Why are you scared?”

“I’m scared for you because you can't remember how these things have happened.” Alex tells you; worry is all over his features as he says, “I’m scared that someone is hurting you on purpose or your so called ‘friends’ are putting you in harm's way by letting you get blackout drunk.”

You’re just looking into his brown eyes at this point as he’s looking up at your heavy and tired Y/E/C ones. Your makeup had smudged a little, but that wasn’t a surprise considering you’d been out of the house for over 12 hours.

Alex presses on calmly, trying to make you understand that this wasn’t good for you. “You surely can’t like having no memory of where you’ve been? Or what you’ve done?”

You think about it for a moment and you feel your eyes filling up because even when you thought really hard back to just a few hours ago, you were drawing a blank. And that was starting to scare you.

Especially when you realised you barely had any memory of being around your old friends on the previous nights out, you’d been on too.

So, you look into those gorgeous brown eyes, and shake your head a little as you answer, “No.”

“Then please stop with this Y/N.” Alex begs you in a strained voice. Seeing you get even a little upset hurt him and it felt bad that it was his words causing it. “I worry about you all the time when I’m away now because I don’t trust that those people have your best interests at heart.”

Alex hints at his worries for the future too. Because he’d found an empty glass in the kitchen last week after you’d returned home early from a night out and it stank of stale alcohol.

So Alex has to say, whilst you’re both having this conversation, “I don't want this to get worse for you Y/N. Because we all know what slippery slopes alcohol leads you to.”

“And I love you, so I’m not letting you get to that. Because I need you, and I can't lose you.” Alex continues in a pained voice, trying not to cry.

“I need you too... I don't wanna get to that Al.” You admit as the tears start gathering more.

“It’s not going to get to that.” Alex cups your face, and he smiles when you lean into his touch. He reminds you, “You’ve got me, yeah?”

Your eyes fill to the brim with unshed tears and when you nod, saying a faint, “Yeah.”

When your tears start spilling Alex gets the first few before he pulls you into a hug. His chest was hurting seeing you like this and yours was just as heavy.

You clutched him like he was your last lifeline and Alex held you tightly as he felt you start crying in his arms. Yours were around him and you were holding onto his pyjama top like it was

“I'm sorry.” You sob into him, needing him to understand just how sorry you were.

You never meant for it to get like this, but everything he said just clicked together and you could see that you were on a dangerous path. These people that you thought were your friends were just leading you down a dark path of needing a drink almost every night and you didn’t want that.

And you didn’t want that. Before they got back in contact 6 months ago, you were fine living your life with Alex barely wanting anything to drink, even when you both did end up going out.

And you wanted that back.

“No, don't be sorry.” Alex shakes his head, as he cradles yours, feeling shaky breaths rattling though you. He admits, “I just need you to be okay.”

After a few minutes, he hears you say when you’ve calmed down, “I love you Alex.”

“I love you too.” He says before proceeding to kiss your head.

And he does help you through it. Because that's what you both signed up for.

For better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish.

Always.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You can add yourself to my Taglists in my Masterlist x

[mrskurono]

a/n: this is the first installment(?) of the Nori brain rot from ages ago w/a Studio Ghibli vibe, idk man this just happened word count: 2.2k tags: post!Shibuya arc, possible spoilers, blood, violence, cursing(?), heavily Hoizer inspired, kinda edited character(s): Noritoshi Kamo, fem!sorcerer reader pt ll

Curses stank. 

In a metaphorical sense yes. But also in a literal sense for you. 

These twisted beings permeated your senses like a rot that you could never rid. Unless exorcised they stuck around in your nostril for days. Each one a different smell but all of them stuck in your craw all the same. 

Beasts of rancid nature in behaviors and looks. Nothing more than to be exorcised by sorcerers. You learned quickly that exorcising the curses was no different than taking out week old trash. 

What you hadn’t planned on was someone doing more than dumping trash on the world. Whatever had happened. Suddenly you were faced with more than just dutiful tasks of keeping non sorcerers safe. A monsoon of trash had been dumped not only on you. But every human in this world. 

Your nostrils burned. And you couldn’t be rid of these things quick enough. Each one you exorcised only meant two or three popped up in their place. Never ending. You couldn’t stomach this smell though. It wouldn’t kill you before you got a breath of fresh air.

Glancing around you take a deep breath. Mountain air on the outskirts of Kyoto during this time of year always meant a refreshing break from the city stank. What you smelled wasn’t refreshing. It was that same vile smell you could clearly recall. 

A curse. One that was close too.

To thread carefully was to perhaps save your life. Every aspect of daily life ripped from you. As well of millions of others. You had done your part to try and protect those around you. Soon finding it in slight vain as you sought out some place to find your own breath of fresh air in this madness. 

‘It’s close....I feel like I’m gonna hurl.’ Thoughts toying with where the curse might have hidden itself. You keep a firm grip on your hilt with every intent to draw it the second the creature made the mistake of slipping up. 

Where you could smell it lurking. There was something else. Almost metallic in scent. You ignored it though. Nothing over powered the scent of a curse. You longed for just the sight of these things. Told over and over again how handy it was to have more than one sense open to curses. Each and every time you took a whiff of one, it made you wish nothing more than to just be able to see these creatures instead of smell them as well.

‘Wait-’ Every alarm in your body went off. Snapping around you couldn’t smell the rancid putridness of the curse anymore. That same metallic scent hung around though. You couldn’t identify it. It was something you’d never smelt before but also so familiar. 

Each hair on the back of your neck rose. This was an old deserted Buddhist temple. No one should have been here except you and the curse ransacking the place. A safe haven or so you thought. When your instinct told you to step behind one of the structural beams. You were suddenly glad you did.

Mere inches from your face, the gust of an arrow whistled past you. Weapons were not used by curses. Now you understood. That smell was human.

Quick to defend yourself, with sword drawn, you didn’t expect the same arrow to make a hard one eighty back in the direction you were. No wooden pillar to save you now. You raise your sword just quick enough to sheer the object in half. Rendering what ever power it was imbued with useless. As it had sped past you though the faint smell of iron suddenly became strong. Whatever it was from had a source. Likely human.

Not ready to give up your ideal hiding place to some interloper. You take only a second to focus on the unfamiliar smell. Faint. And not like a curse. There was something towards the back of the temple though that hinted that they were lurking where you couldn’t see them.

With an idea of where the attack would come from. When another arrow came flying by you from a faceless source, you were ready. Smacking it down before the enchanted weapon could turn on you like the first had. This time though you’d seen what angle the projectile was fired from.

‘Gotcha,’ No shortage of ways around a deteriorated temple like this. You duck down through a few broken beams and make your way up to where the attack came from. 

Expecting to have but a lowly sniper sitting with no way to guard themselves. You find no one. But the scent lingered. Scrutinizing it closer you decided maybe to use a different sense, “...Hey, I know you’re not a curse! Neither am I! Maybe if you just-” Words cut off by another arrow whizzing past you. There was nothing ruder than being interrupted. Glowering in the direction that the arrow came from now you tightened you grip on your sword, “Ok! I get it- Strangers we might not-”

Another arrow. This time too close to your head for comfort. You lost your patience with the third one. 

Recklessly charging towards the assailant was clearly enough to throw their game off track. Swinging your weapon before seeing what it was to lie before you. It was a surprise when your blade met with the dull thud of the wooden limb of a bow. 

“What the-” You attack deflected for the moment being. Your first instinct is to jump back from whoever deflected your attack. In close enough range you thought you had the upper hand to avoid the bow. But that was purely lazy thinking on your part as the cause of the stank of iron became clear.

“Slicing exorcism!” This nobody who reeked of iron shot what looked to be a shuriken made of blood at you. 

No time to be disgusted. An overwhelming scent of blood made it apparent what you’d been smelling. It wasn’t a simple metal. It was blood.

“Oh- Oh!” You raise your blade up in the nick of time to just get the splatter of cold liquid on your cheeks. Disgusted in passing you have no time to dwell as the stranger before you makes to dart away. With their head of dark hair in your line of sight, you weren’t ready to try and re-find them once again in this maze of debris.

Lurching forward you feel the upper hand stall when they stopped your attack once more with the brute of their bow. Clear view of them now. The man who’d clearly fired the arrows was all but composed when shaking off your attack. No way to not suspect another sorcerer caught up in this giant trash heap of curse attacks. You still have no time to play nice when they hurl another blood conjured weapon at you.

In such suddenness you are less lucky than you have been. This one catching your cheek and causing a sting to spread throughout the skin of your face. Fed up with this game you don’t care if he’s a sorcerer or not. This was a one for all situation now that you intended to win.

Firm foot hold found. You realize the man has cornered himself at this point. Range attacks out of the question. Undoubtedly giving you the upper hand now. With a hefty swing of your sword and the first time you’d channeled any energy into at all. You bring it down like a guillotine. Ready to strike flesh. Instead the snap of the bow is your first sign of an upper hand. 

All but trash the man throws it aside but too slowly. You’re on him before the range attacker can pull that weird blood trick again. Slight intent to kill as if he were a curse. You swipe your foot down and knock him down to the temple floor with a hard thud.

You waste no time between the moment his head hit the ground and your above him. Tip of your blade pressed to his neck. One breath too deep from him and the sharp tip would pierce his pale skin. Eyes fixated down on him you realize in the moments after your adrenaline fades that he’s staring right up at you.

Sharp tongue your words come out curt only to be interruped right away, “Who are-”

“Another sorcerer-” His eyes open from the slits they’d remained in the skirmish, “What are you doing here? How did you-”

“I get to ask the questions!” You snarl, jabbing his throat with your sword just enough to watch a crimson bead peak from under the tip of your weapon, “You attacked me, what are you doing up here? Why were you-”

“...you’re so pretty-” Suddenly his eyes open wide realizing what he said, “Wait I didn’t-”

“Shut up or I’ll cut your throat out!” Your sword pressing uncomfortably into the side of his neck now, “I asked you a question! Why are you up here!?”

“Kamo-”

“What? What are you-”

“Kamo family!” He quickly sputtered, “Head of the Kamo family!”

The name rang a bell somewhere in your frazzled brain.

“I’m the head-” He suddenly registered really the blade to his neck, “I’m looking for stragglers-”

“In an abandoned temple?” You weren’t buying it. 

“My people live just down the hill,” He spoke earnestly, “I had to keep the stragglers safe when the curses released from their seals in the keep. Some where up here but-”

“I killed them,” You glared down at him, “I killed all but the one you shot. How long were you up here? Were you following me?”

A shake of his head even as he stared at the glimmer of your sword, “No. I was looking for anyone who came up here. I didn’t expect to find another sorcerer. I felt your cursed energy and assumed you were a curse.”

Eyes narrowing you didn’t like the sound of something so simple to this pretty face, “...I don’t believe you. Give me a reason I shouldn’t kill you right now or else-”

“Noritoshi-” He blurted out, “Noritoshi Kamo. Head of the Kamo family. I can give you some place safe to stay. I don’t understand what’s going on but-”

You lift the blade from his throat. Something about the diligent tone in his voice. Like he’d introduced himself like that a million times. You could kill him but it seemed a waste. Weapon retracted but no offer to help him up. You stand above him with a confounded glare, “...do you know what’s happening?”

His head shook and your stomach dropped. Noritoshi didn’t get up. Only propping himself up slightly when he realized the back of his head was thumping from the impact, “....A special grade curse released a powerful seal in Shibuya about two weeks ago...I saw but....” His face became somber and he shook his head once again, “...I don’t know what’s been going on. I just know things are in disarray and it’s my duty to protect my people.”

Once more you were skeptical but with how little rest you’d gotten in the past few days due to the tremendous increase in curses. This man’s words seemed as solid as any other theory you’d heard. More so than the plea of non sorcerer’s you listened to day in and day out about the end of times. 

“...Has the Jujutsu elders said anything?” You step off him completely. If he was speaking the truth maybe he knew what was going on as an actual heir to one of the clans.

Noritoshi looked up at you a moment longer, “No...there’s been a wide emergency notice to do what you can but our numbers....” He grew quiet, “...as many sorcerers seem to be dying as the rest of Japan.”

Perhaps the end of times were coming. You grip your sword hilt tight and take a deep breath, “....seems a angel of death is coming then whether we like it or not.”

“You’re a sorcerer.” He began to get to his feet, “Please, come with me. If anything to stay away from here. There is a grave yard on the other side of the thicket. More curses will come. No one should be here even as a sorcerer yourself.”

First hand you’d seen the influx he spoke of. From every direction. While out of the city provided some safety you knew that this place left you as vulnerable as any other if you stayed alone. With no words to be spoken of from the elders. And an age of curses threatening to crowd out humans. Like a trash pile reaching it’s capacity. You didn’t see much choice in this one.

“...I will kill you if I find out you’re lying to me.” Voice firm without breaking eye contact with him as you sheath your sword, “I smell one curse in this safe space of yours and I’ll-”

“Kill me, yes,” Noritoshi nodded with both busted ends of his bow in his hands as he looked on at you, “I am not lying but if you see fit, I’ll accept you as my angel of death then.”

a/n: I have one wine cooler in me as I finish this. This might be a multi part if the inspiration finds me. Anyways, um, yeah! This is an old idea coming so pls let me know if you liked it!

[mlm-writer]

Hero of the Swamp (Shrek x Jaskier)

Edit by me 

Pairing: Shrek x Netflix!Jaskier (Julian Alfred Pankratz/Dandelion) Rating: Explicit Words: 2893 POV: Third Summary: After being left on the mountain, Jaskier finds himself lost in the swamp and in need of warmth and comfort. Note: Y’all can thank @spielzeugkaiser​ and their amazing art for this. Sorry for the sloppy edit, but I really was not going to put even more time into this sinful work.  Tags: I’ve been a bad boy daddy forgive me father fore I have sinned, pre-movies Shrek, post-mountain Jaskier, angst, fluff, Shrek’s huge dong, size kink, cum shower, monster cock, blowjobs, rimming, cum eating and Shrek has emotions ok 

The growls of monsters lurking in the forest rolled over the muddy forest grounds and reached Jaskier’s icy ears. He shivered in both terror and response to the temperature. He told himself he could get off that mountain on his own, but who was he kidding? His frigid ears caught something in the dark. The bard bolted off the path, then later found himself in the middle of nowhere, chilled to the bone, disoriented, and, to be honest, frightened. 

He was looking for a path, but even that seemed to not be present anywhere in the vicinity. Jaskier rubbed his trembling hands together and walked on. Jaskier thought he should at last find some shelter from the wind. Just as he was about to settle for a random tree, he noticed light in the distance, warm like fire, inviting him and promising warmth and shelter. 

The fatigued bard all but ran towards it, the signs around the perimeter unnoticed in the dark. His boots sunk into the mud of the swamp, but he had his eyes set on the house-like structure in the middle of the swamp. He could not believe anyone wanted to live in this stinky place, but right now this someone was about to be his saviour. Once at what he assumed to be the door, he knocked on it. When there was no answer he knocked again. There were some angry, heavy footsteps, before the door opened. 

Before him stood a massive humanoid, skin green like peas, frame built like Geralt who preferred cake over his nasty potions. “Eh, good evening, sir,” Jaskier tried. If it was living in a house, it must be intelligent to some extent… right? “Could you please spare some place for a weary traveller?” The green creature did not look nice, even without its facial expressions. Some tension left its body after the question. Jaskier recognised it as a hint of confusion. “I’m afraid I’ll freeze to death if I don’t warm myself by a fire.” 

“No, get out of my swamp,” the creature spoke. It sounded like it was from Skellige. It was about to retreat into its home, but Jaskier put his foot between the door.

“Please, I’ll die out here,” he spoke dramatically, hoping for pity so he’d have a roof over his head tonight. He was not sure if he should try his luck with this creature, but at least it could speak. Wraiths had said less words, before trying to slice him. 

“Not my problem. Get out of my swamp. The only way you get close to my fire is when I roast you over it.” “Oh please, you don’t mean that.”

Jaskier had barely finished speaking, when the green man grabbed him by his doublet and pulled him close. His breath stank of swamp water and fish. His mouth was wide and Jaskier was pretty sure he would fit inside there. The bard felt like he should be terrified, but underneath a thin layer of leather and cloth, there was warmth radiating off pear skin. He wanted to lean into it, thaw. What inhibited his survival skills further, where those eyes glaring into his. Under bushy eyebrows rested two brown pools of warm broth. He heard the green man roar into his face that he needed to leave, because he was an ogre and he was going to eat him, but it was hard to believe him. 

Within those eyes that were so close to his, the ogre told the story of a creature that wanted to be alone, because alone was safe, alone was comfortable, alone was all he was used to. Jaskier never knew that, but after today, he understood why one would think that. 

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”

It stung, more than anything had caused him to ache in ages. Jaskier could feel the urge to never make friends again, never love again, never lust after one he could not have. However, he refused. It was pain that made life worth living. Without pain, bliss did not feel as good as it did. The rain made sunlight so much more appreciated. The cold made fire so much more precious. The monsters made the witcher so much more valuable.

The human knew this, but the ogre holding him up by his doublet did not. Jaskier had wished for pity, but he pitied the other now. He clumsily threw his arms around the ogre and hugged him tightly. The ogre stopped yelling at him. Jaskier could feel the muscles against his body tensing up. The hand holding him loosened and he threw his legs around the ogre too, holding on and hugging him tightly. “You don’t have to be alone. I don’t fear you,” Jaskier spoke gently. 

“I am an ogre.” “And if you were really malicious I would not still be breathing. Please, just for one night. There are all sorts of dangers out in these swamps, especially at night. I just want to stay alive.” 

Jaskier could hear the ogre letting out a long sigh. “Fine,” he spoke, “but you have to be gone tomorrow.” Jaskier let him go, but not after planting a delighted kiss on the rough skin of the ogre’s cheek. 

“Thank you so much,” the bard exclaimed. He slipped inside, before the ogre could change his mind. The inside of the hollowed out tree looked cozy. It stank like hell, but he was in the middle of the swamp; what did he expect? “Do you like music? I have little to give you, but I am a bard.” Jaskier held up his lute as he grabbed the chair that had no food in front of it. One look at the giant slug on a plate and he was pretty sure he did not want to have any food. Jaskier pulled the chair a little closer to the fire and sat down with his lute in his lap. It seemed rather strange that there were two hand-crafted chairs, while the ogre seemed to be so keen on being alone. “Oh and you can call me Jaskier, by the by. What may I call you, my hero from the swamp?”

The ogre looked at him a little annoyed as he closed the door and sat back down to finish his dinner. “Uh… Shrek. You can play, but don’t sing.” Jaskier let the name roll off his tongue, before playing a calming tune. He didn’t speak, just let his fingers do their thing as he processed all that happened during the day, well it was actually more just those few minutes that haunted his mind. Each one of Geralt’s words cutting into his soul. “Eh… Jaskier?” Jaskier was pulled from his thoughts when Shrek spoke his name. He shook his head, before looking at Shrek. “You don't seem to be… you… you seem sad, well, what I mean is… I never heard such a depressing tune.”

Jaskier faked a smile. “My apologies, good sir. I’ll play you a happier tune, if you wish.” He diverted his eyes to the fingerboard, blinking away the tears he suddenly noticed pooling in his eyes. 

“No, you don’t have to. I prefer silence, anyway.” Jaskier looked up and noticed Shrek had finished eating. He stood up and started cleaning up. “You can sleep on my good chair.” Jaskier followed the ogre’s gaze to the fauteuil in the corner. He nodded. It looked comfortable enough. He had slept on forest floors with Geralt. This was more luxury than a regular day with the witcher. 

Shrek had some board and card games, which he seemed to enjoy to play. Jaskier wondered if Shrek usually played these games on his own or if he hosted guests more often. Neither seemed likely, since the games seemed to have gone untouched for at least a decade, if not longer. They shared a few laughs. Shrek turned out to be more fun company than Jaskier would ever have expected from an ogre. His jokes were terrible and sometimes a little insensitive, but he so clearly meant well. It was clear Shrek was not used to talking or any social interactions. He spoke like a young man still trying to figure out what was socially acceptable to say and what was not. Still, he was trying and Jaskier welcomes the vivid chatting. 

When they got tired, Jaskier curled up on the comfortable fauteuil by the fire. Shrek had draped a shirt of his over the human. It stank and was dirty, but it was warm and Jaskier was still low key afraid of getting kicked out to sleep in the mud, so he didn’t voice a single word of complaint. In the silence of the night with no one to talk to, words that were already spoken returned to his mind. Jaskier tried to block them out, but they bit at his brain, keeping him awake and drawing tears from his eyes. He curled further in on himself, trying to stay quiet as he sobbed into his hands. It just hurt so much to be discarded like he was nothing but a nuisance. Was that all he was? He was sure his songs brought joy in taverns, but right now the unlikely and unrealistic idea that everyone just pretended to have a good time was so overwhelming. 

The bard flinched when he felt a huge hand on his shoulder and arm. He looked up to find Shrek hanging over him in nothing but his smalls. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the ogre clearly wasn’t good with words. “I’m fine, Shrek,” Jaskier lied as he wiped the tears off his face, “I’ll just find the nearest town tomorrow and fuck the pain away.” The words had already left him, when he realised how that might sound. “And I’ll do that tomorrow, not because I think you’re hideous, quite the contrary, you might be the most handsome ogre to ever exist, but I just assumed you would not be interested in having sex with a human… male. Human male, doesn’t seem your taste, but it could be, I wouldn’t judge you. How could I? You’ve been a most generous host! I…” 

Jaskier almost suffocated as Shrek’s palm covered the entirety of his face. He got the hint and just shut up. Shrek slowly let go of his face, allowing him to breathe again. Jaskier looked away, cheeks red. He was blabbering nonsense to an ogre who preferred peace and quiet. He guessed it was time to sleep in the mud outside, however, Shrek wasn’t yelling at him… yet. 

“So you just have sex and that helps you feel better?” Jaskier nodded slowly. “I wouldn’t mind helping you feel better. It is not like I have had lassies lining up in the swamp… or lads.” He laughed a little awkwardly, making Jaskier laugh too. He took hold of one of Shrek’s huge fingers with two of his, by comparison, tiny hands. 

“Oh Shrek, you are such a wonderful host. You really do not have to do this though. I will still want to visit you again, even when you don’t want to fuck my brains out, just so I don’t have to think about some brutish asshole.” Shrek gave him a long look, before enclosing his hand around Jaskier’s waist and lifting him off the fauteuil. 

“It’s not just for you. It’s for me too.” And Jaskier wanted to read into those words, figure out the ogre with complicated feelings, but he had no willpower to. Shrek’s bed was firm, almost hard like a plank. It smelled like him, like onions and mud and firewood. Shrek tried to undress him, but his huge fingers couldn’t get a grip on Jaskier’s complex clothing. Jaskier smiled kindly at him, helping him without even needing to look at any button. “Can I kiss you?” Jaskier didn’t even reply. Instead he pulled Shrek’s head down. It was an awkward kiss. Shrek’s mouth was way too big and neither of them were very coordinated in the moment. 

When his clothes were mostly off and Jaskier was left in his smalls, Shrek kissed down his body, his huge tongue lapping at his skin and Jaskier could hear him enjoy the taste. He hummed to signal his pleasure, letting the ogre go about his business. Shrek pulled off his smalls and to Jaskier’s complete surprise, the ogre took his cock in his mouth. Jaskier whimpered, hands grabbing the sheets. Everything about Shrek was big, including his mouth. Even when the ogre sucked him to full hardness, Jaskier still didn’t feel the back of the ogre’s throat. Shrek sucked in his balls at well and Jaskier almost cried from the pleasure of having his cock and balls inside a warm mouth.  

When Shrek let Jaskier go, his length was hard, red and leaking. Jaskier barely had time to recover, before he felt that glorious tongue on him again, this time licking over his hole. Whispered pleas left his lips as he imagined that tongue inside of him. Then a thought crossed his mind. If everything about Shrek was big, what about his dick? Jaskier had seen the ogre’s hands and one finger was already bigger than the average cock. While he normally was down to go big, the imaginable size of Shrek’s dong low key terrified him.

His mind had no opportunity to freak him out completely, because Shrek’s tongue entered him and the feeling was so, so good. Jaskier moaned as big green hands spread his cheeks and thick wetness penetrated him. “Ah… ah Shrek I hate to be a uh… fuck!” The bard trashed his arms around when his new found friend started to stroke his cock at the same time. “I’m gonna cum! Way too soon, I know! Sto..aahh...” His whole body tensed as he spilled all over himself. Shrek was unrelenting. As the bard’s cock was spent, he still had his tongue inside him, pressing at the right places and wiggling around so talentedly. “Stop, stop, stop, it’s too much, really, too much.” 

Jaskier was out of breath, head fuzzy with post-orgasmic bliss. His whole brain short-circuited as Shrek’s tongue licked over his torso, cleaning him off all the cum he had spilled over himself. “Are you all right?” The green-skinned sex machine inquired with innocent eyes that did not match the absolute tent in his smalls. 

“Say, Shrek, will I die if I swallow ogre cum?” Jaskier almost laughed at Shrek’s expression. It was a ‘yes, no, maybe’. “Ok fine, but I will suck you off still.” The human pushed at the ogre, cornering the larger frame against the opposite wall, before getting on his knees. 

“With all due respect, Jask, I don’t think you can fit me anywhere.” Jaskier didn’t listen, pulling down Sherk’s white smalls in spite of knowing the ogre was probably right. As soon as 12 inch of green cock basically slapped him in the face, Jaskier knew he was in way over his head. Still, he was confident that if he tried, he could still fit the head inside his mouth. With Shrek still assuring him he did not have to do this, Jaskier started licking all over Shrek’s length. The taste was not as bad as he feared. In fact, the more he licked, the more he started to like it. Jaskier made out with the head of Shrek’s cock, fucking the slit with his tongue. Shrek was holding his shoulder, occasionally squeezing a little as he moaned. And oh were those delicious moans, primal, guttural, deep and vibrating through Jaskier’s entire body. 

The human tried many times, but he couldn’t slip the monster cock inside his mouth. He was resilient though and kept trying, while stroking the rest of the green length. He was so caught up in his quest that he didn’t hear Shrek telling him how close he was. He made a disappointed sound as he was forcibly removed from the cock in his mouth. Jaskier crawled back up the bed and stretched out his body. “Cum on me,” he wantonly moaned and Shrek did not disappoint. Jaskier had to close his eyes and mouth as he got showered in thick, beige cum. He never had felt this dirty, but it was a good kind. He wished he could have taken Shrek in his ass. He could’ve been so full. 

Once Shrek had stopped groaning, Jaskier dared to open his eyes. He could see guilt already spreading over Shrek’s face. He must have been a sight, so much smaller than Shrek and absolutely drenched in his cum. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve always fantasised about being showered in cum. Just never thought that all that cum would come from a single person.” 

Shrek let out a relieved sigh and helped him wipe some cum off his face so it wouldn’t get into his mouth or eyes. “I’ll prepare you a bath,” he spoke gently, surprising Jaskier with the thoughtfulness. His eyes followed the ogre as he put his breeches on and moved out to probably get some fresh water. A laugh escaped Jaskier as he stared at the sticky substance covering his skin. Who would’ve thought that the swamp could’ve been so pleasant? 

[sereia1313]

The Sweetest Sounds 41-50

I decided to start posting these here in lots of 10 instead of one at a time (follow me on Ao3, Dokuga, or FFnet to get daily updates).

Summary: Sesshoumaru is driven by many things, but the reason behind joining his brother’s pack is the pure and unadulterated need to quench his curiosity about the miko.

Read the whole story on Ao3, Dokuga, and FFnet.

Interloper

The marketplace buzzed with activity, and Sesshoumaru was loathed to be a part of it, but wisps of her aura continued to tease his senses, drawing him closer to the bustle.

Her face gave nothing away—nothing to those who were not familiar with her—but every time those suspicious blue eyes flickered in his direction, his teeth clenched tighter.

He had not anticipated this.

Blunt nails dug into frail flesh, the pain keeping him from dragging her away from prying eyes so that he could explain himself.

In the end, it was Rin who gave him the means to approach her, his eyes wandering to a booth filled with newly picked blooms.

Commodious

The stall stank of death, each plant already rotting from being uprooted.

And yet humans seemed to use them for all occasions. His ward's smile was always the brightest when they came across a field of flowers.

Perhaps it would work on the miko.

"Trying to impress someone special?"

Sesshoumaru's brow furrowed at the vendor's words.

Special? Did that describe the miko? He supposed so.

A fringed iris caught his eye, its white petals standing out against the rest of the greenery. Making his selection, Sesshoumaru turned, eyes searching for raven hair.

Instead, he found her curious gaze on him already, the path between them seemingly empty of other patrons.

Fomite

Having been caught staring, the miko turned away, her cheeks turning a strangely enticing shade of pink.

Sesshoumaru followed her to a butcher's stall, his nose wrinkling at the scents of meats at various ages of decomposition.

The miko didn't linger, her hands not even touching the surface of the stall as she frowned in revulsion.

He didn't cut her off—didn't even fall in step beside her—he simply placed the iris in her basket and bowed his head as he passed.

"I apologize if my presence has caused you any unease." Not waiting for an answer, he headed towards the surrounding forest, intent on hunting before returning to the camp.

Ostracize

He was clad in his glamour. There was no reason for the miko to pay him any mind.

No reason for the guilt to worsen.

Especially when she grabbed the sleeve of his kimono, dark silk creasing between her fingers.

Sesshoumaru didn't turn around. "I understand your concern. You have no reason to—"

"Thank you."

Confused, he faced her, the expression written clearly on his face.

"For the flower."

He'd done nothing of significance, yet her smile was genuine.

The guilt began to gnaw.

Each minute he spent in her presence created new and unfamiliar emotions within him. Perhaps it was better not to have a pack at all.

Milquetoast

Her mouth opened multiple times, her normally tenacious intellect failing her.

Even under the direst threats, words had spewed from her mouth like fire, the dragoness baring her claws to anyone who would underestimate her.

But as she stood before him, lip caught between her teeth, the air was saturated with indecision, and Sesshoumaru almost wished the village was plagued by some lesser demon.

If only to rid her scent of the humility he was not accustomed to.

And he'd been the one to cause it.

He sneered.

"Look, I—"

"You are correct."

Blue eyes blinked in confusion.

"I followed you here."

Rankle

Her response was immediate—suspicion returning to her eyes as she shifted her weight.

But she did not turn away.

The miko continued to astound him.

"I-I—" He struggled for the right words. "Your perception of things is different from what I am accustomed to. You spoke to me like a comrade when I had given you no reason to do so."

"So instead of asking me about it, you tracked me, spied on me, then swooped in at the best time to make yourself out as a hero?"

A storm had formed in her gaze, reiki crackling around them, and Sesshoumaru felt his hackles raise.

This was not how things were supposed to go.

Palisade

"I told you before. I can take care of myself."

"I am aware—"

"And yet here you are once again, trying to rescue me."

"I was not—"

Sesshoumaru clamped down on his youki as her reiki flared. Humans rarely felt it; they could see her attacks, but anyone without demon blood was unaffected.

Instincts compelled him to defend himself.

Self-preservation compelled him to do the same, albeit for a different reason.

The miko stood proud and fierce before him, the dragoness once again baring her teeth.

His instincts shifted to something more profound, the image of her defending the Western Keep flashing through his mind.

Secular

If he shed his worldly guise now, would it make things better or worse?

Noting the fire in the miko's expression, Sesshoumaru knew it to be the latter.

She was so contradictory. Every moment spent with her was meant to ease his curiosity, and yet there seemed to be no end to it.

His shoulders sagged. "I do not understand."

The resignation in his voice seemed to calm her. "Understand what? That you're being totally creepy?"

Frowning, he motioned to the iris in her basket. "I apologized. Gave you a gift. Left after you revealed your discomfort. Yet you have stopped me only to become angrier."

"Because you keep putting your foot in your mouth."

Enigma

His confusion only increased. "Why would I do such a thing? The villagers allow their livestock to wander along these roads and—"

The miko was laughing at him again.

What had he said now?

"You c-can't b-be serious!" She gasped for air between words, holding her stomach as tears began to stream down her face.

There was no consistency to her emotions, and Sesshoumaru found himself floundering. The only time a female switched moods so quickly was when she was close to giving birth.

What was it about this woman, this human, that fascinated him to the point of ridicule?

Beleaguer

He was conflicted.

Honour dictated he retaliate. Or at least remove himself from the humiliation.

And yet he stayed.

He stayed because the sound of her laughter did funny things to his stomach.

Because her smile made him feel more powerful than any weapon ever had.

Because he liked her.

As the realization settled in his heart, a weight was lifted from Sesshoumaru's shoulders.

"A stalker shouldn't be this funny," the miko sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"I am not—"

"Followed me from the other village, remember?"

Blunt teeth bit down on his human tongue, not wanting to antagonize the dragoness.

As much as he was tempted to do so.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Heaven, Hell and You

John Constantine x OFC (Valarie Moore) 

Masterlist  Chapter 1

Warnings- Violence, biblical references (sort of, I think)

Chapter 2

Humming under her breath, Valerie strolled through the little convenience store in the city. She still donned her uniform, light blue scrubs and white shoes, though thankfully, she was only half as tired as usual. Even better was the fact after her shift gone by, Valerie would have the next twenty four hours off and wouldn't have to see the hospital, and by extension, the ICU for the next day or so. It was her one day off for the week and she was determined to make the most of it. The most beginning with unwinding in a warm bath and a glass of wine. 

The shopping basket was hooked in her crooked elbow as she slowly walked to the liquor aisle, slowing down even further as she passed shelves lined with different kinds of pasta on her way. Maybe she could make herself dinner too, instead of ordering takeout. For a minute, Valerie seriously considered it, but then, remembering how long it might take and how much she'd anticipated doing absolutely nothing, she decided that it could be an activity for some other night and that pizza would do just fine. Once again, she began, head down, cast towards the beat up tiled floor, not even noticing that she was walking straight into someone.

"Shit," she swore, coming into contact with a man's chest, consequently stumbling backwards, "Sorry," Valerie huffed a quiet, breathless chuckle upon noticing how strikingly handsome he was; sharp bone structure, pale skin and raven  hair.

"Its my fault," he dismissed, not even bothering with returning her shy smile. Instead, he shoved one hand into the pocket of his black trench and readjusted his hold on his half filled basket, "Sorry about that," he nodded politely, proceeding to furrow his brows in what she perceived to be confusion. "Do I know you?"

Equally confused, Valerie's lips quivered with questions unspoken, and eventually, she found herself tucking a soft brunette lock behind her ear, the little diamond stud on her earlobe twinkling teasingly, “I don’t think so,” she licked her pink, bare lips, “Maybe I just have one of those faces,” Valerie giggled quietly, though, she could tell by the man’s stare that he wasn’t buying it for a second. It was slightly unnerving, the way he was looking at her, like he actually believed that they knew each other.

“Maybe,” he scoffed, apparently only agreeing cause he really couldn’t place her, “Sorry,” he cleared his throat quietly.

He seemed to shake off whatever he was feeling, moving to go around her before she could even dismiss his apology and assure him that it was all good. As Mr. Tall, dark and mysterious, went about his way, Valerie turned around, sparing him one last glance, trying to ignore the disappointment in their conversation being over. She didn’t really get out a lot, discounting work, and her flirting skills were very rusty, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t know a hot guy when she saw one, and she’d just spoken to one, barely. 

When he didn’t look back, either pretending to not see her or just ignoring her completely, Valerie sighed heavily, continuing towards the limited liquor selection without another look back hoping to eventually dust off her disappointment that he hadn’t shown much interest in her.

2 Weeks Later John usually preferred to drink alone, at his loft, sometimes in front of the television, sometimes while he worked. Needless to say, John didn’t ordinarily visit bars and pubs, but alas, Angela had called earlier that day wanting help with a case, and seeing that she was one of his only friends, he didn’t really think it right to refuse her. So there he was, at some no name, low lit place in the city, nursing a glass of whiskey straightening up when he saw her come through the doors of the place. “Hey,” she smiled softly, still in her work clothes, holster peeking out from beneath her blazer, file in hand, “You got started without me,” she nodded to the glass on the table as she sat on the opposing chair. 

“You took too long,” he huffed, bringing the glass to his lips. The air around them stank of cigarettes, which wasn’t exactly ideal considering that, quitting had been hard, and even a year later, the smell alone still tempted him sometimes. Reaching into his pocket, he dug around for the pack of nicotine gum that he had taken to carrying around, shoving a stick into his mouth before talking again. “That the case?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, handing over the manila folder, “Why don’t you look it over while I go get a drink?” 

Wordlessly, John took it, letting it lay open on the table before him, slowly sipping his drink as his weary eyes scanned the pages, looking for anything that would prove inhumanity. There were definitely some things that looked ritualistic, and John could certainly see why Angela had grown some suspicions; the Latin scrawling and the way the bodies had been mutilated pointed to something supernatural. But John could also easily see the human factors, the little details that showed him the killer was actually human; there were slight discrepancies in the incantations printed in blood on the walls and the marks were hardly drawn with fluidity. “Your guy, whoever he is, is human,” John eventually determined, sliding the folder back towards Angela. 

Slumping her shoulders, she took a swing of her beer, running a hand through her hair with a defeated sigh, “Seriously? I just thought….”

“I can see why,” he nodded, “But here,” he hit one of the pictures with the pad of his fingers, “And here,” he tapped another spot, “These translations don’t make sense. It’s definitely Satanic worship, but not by a half breed.”

“Great,” She groaned, “Now its back to the drawing board I guess…” John didn’t really hear the rest of Angela’s sentence, for when he looked up, he was greeted by a familiar face. It was the girl from his dreams again, and of course, the same one he’d met at the convenience store just about two weeks ago.

Since then, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head, his troubling dreams had only grown more  lucid, and once or twice, he’d even found himself unable to determine if he was actually dreaming until he’d wake up, most times with his heart ready to burst from his chest and his mind a mess. At first, he’d tried to convince himself that meeting her had been a dream too, but now, seeing her walking into the bar, flanked by about four other people, John knew that it was real. She, whoever she was, was real.

And she was absolutely stunning in person, far better than what his mind had managed to conjure up. It wasn’t hard to think that she wasn’t real, John never thought that it was possible for a human to look so……..remarkably flawless. Could humans even be made that perfect? Part of him longed to know her; know who she was, what she was like, why she’d dominated his dreams for months before they’d even crossed paths. But another, though weaker, part urged John to keep his distance, to stay away from her; those dreams had to mean something, and above everything, they meant that she was trouble. 

Still, John found himself, sitting in a wooden chair that didn’t really do anything for his back, staring at the girl he’d been losing sleep over as she stood at the bar, getting drinks while her friends claimed a table. She wasn’t wearing scrubs that night, instead, she’d switched them out for a little black dress that ended above her knees, boasting her very nice legs, with capped sleeves and tiny red polka dots about the entire thing. Though his eyes stayed on her, she didn’t look his way for a second, too busy trying to wave over the buzzing bartender. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Angela snapped her fingers in front of John’s face, rousing his attention. Meeting her frown, John finished off his drink, not really able to lie and say he had been, considering she was very likely to question him on it, knowing full and well that he wouldn’t have an answer. “What are you looking at?” Angela turned in her chair, trying to see what, or rather who, he was seeing. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he huffed gruffly, rolling his whiskey orbs and twirling the empty glass in his hands, “I’m gonna get another drink.”

“Feel free to flirt while you’re at it,” she teased lightly, and he largely ignored her, not even turning Angela’s way as he headed towards the bar. 

He’d had every intention of ignoring her, just like he had when she’d turned around to give him one final glance back at the store, but by some unfortunate coincidence, the only empty spot left at the bar just happened to be right next to where she was standing. Slipping in, John maintained his silence, not even looking at the woman as he leaned on the lip of the varnished, wooden bar top, drumming his fingers impatiently. She didn’t seem to notice him at first, though, all she had to do was turn to the side to  before her eyes lit up in recognition, “It’s you,” she gasped, taking a tentative step back.

Clearing his throat quietly, John didn’t bother to force a smile, smiling wasn’t really his thing anyway, “It is,” he nodded, “Funny seeing you here,” even if he had absolutely no interest in smiling with her, that didn’t mean he was particularly opposed to seeing her smile.

But, alas, she didn’t. John couldn’t blame her though, passing jokes weren’t really his area of expertise, and she just scrunched her face, “Is it though? I mean, its downtown L.A, you probably see the same person three times a week, it’s just, you almost knocked me over, so you actually remember.”

Rolling his eyes again, John shook his head, avoiding her pretty dark gaze. She had nice eyes. No, nice might have been an understatement, she had gorgeous eyes, so dark and bottomless, almost completely black. If given the opportunity, John thought that he wouldn't mind getting lost in them. Maybe that was why he’d been avoiding them so much, because he wanted to mind, because getting lost in her eyes meant he’d have to get to know her, and getting to know her meant letting her in. And his life wasn’t one that allowed for that sort of thing. Besides, he didn’t even know her name. 

“You walked into me,” he argued half heartedly, hoping the bartender would make his way to their end soon. The longer he stayed, the more they’d talked, and the more they talked, the more he’d want to know.

“If I remember correctly, I believe you said that it was your fault,” she quipped, a teasing glimmer in her dark pools, and a smirk up turning her lips.

Huffing a chuckle, John sighed in relief when the bartender drew nearer, “I was being polite, don’t make me regret it.”

“What a gentleman,” the woman taunted sarcastically, no malice in her tone, though, it was laced with subtle intrigue, and before John knew it, she was offering her petite hand, “I’m Valerie, Valerie Moore.”

Reluctantly, John  took her hand, enclosing it in his larger, calloused one, “John Constantine.” As hard as he tried, it was difficult to pretend that her touch didn’t have an effect on him. Her, Valerie’s, hands were so soft, and John felt like just the slightest haste could hurt them. He could see why she was in the medical field though, he could tell by the scrubs she’d been wearing, with the hospital’s name etched on the breast pocket, her hands felt healing. It was hard to describe how, but quickly, John had imagined that anyone graced by Valerie’s touch would feel better about anything in seconds, he knew he did.

Scrunching her face, Valerie giggled as she reclaimed her hand, and by just her relaxed demeanor, so different from how flustered she’d been at the store, it was obvious that she’d probably been drinking even before getting to the bar, “Like the Roman Emperor?”

Snorting, John squinted his eyes, “What?” He fought a smile, caught off guard by the fact.

Glancing down at their feet, her pale cheeks took on a rosy hue, accentuating her thick dark lashes, “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, her giddy giggles softer, “My dad’s a history teacher and sometimes I just-”

“Hey,” a matronly woman, no doubt years older than Valerie interrupted, gently laying a ring adorned hand on her girl’s bare shoulder. Maybe she was her mother, though it didn’t quite seem like it, surely though, she was someone that cared enough to come check in when Valerie was caught in conversation with a lanky stranger, “Everything okay hun?” The short, plump women looked between them, and it was only then that John realized just how close they’d been standing.

“Huh?” Valerie cast her wide innocent eyes towards her friend, “Yeah, I’m fine Martha, I was talking John’s ear off over here,” her blush deepened. She was so, painfully innocent John thought, girls in L.A weren’t usually like that, so blushy and reserved. 

Nodding slowly, Martha gave John a cautious once over, as if determining whether or not he was worth her friend’s company or not, “Okay,” her tone held a skepticism and when the bartender placed a some beers near where they were standing, Martha took a few, only leaving behind one for Valerie, “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, but everyone’s right over there. Right Val?”

“Yeah,” she nodded astutely, “I’ll be right over, thanks Martha.” When the older woman was out of earshot, Valerie turned back to him, offering a shy smile and quick blinks. After, she took a quick, tentative sip of her beer, before speaking again, “Sorry about that, Martha’s just…..protective.”

“It’s okay,” John inhaled deeply, vaguely aware of Angela casting him an intrigued stare from their table. He knew she wasn’t jealous or anything of the sort; they’d tried the whole dating thing for a short stint, after he’d started cleaning himself up and she’d had time to properly grieve for her sister, but in the end, had decided that they were much better off as friends. “I should let you get to it,” he got his drink, another finger of whiskey, “Be careful, okay?” John didn’t know why he’d let himself say it, but the urge might have nagged him otherwise. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that Valerie might be in actual danger. 

“Um,” stunned, Valerie straightened her back, swallowing thickly, “Yeah okay. It was nice to meet you John,” and before he could return her words, just after her smile faltered, she was turning on the flat heel of her black ballet pump and hurrying off towards the group she’d arrived with, and unlike that night in the store, she didn’t look back.

It was late when Valerie and her friends from the hospital had finally decided to leave the bar, nearly stumbling out onto the sidewalk. “You sure you’re good to drive Val?” Damien, one of the other Nurse practitioners, probed before he could start walking in the direction of his own car.

“Yeah,” already, she was rummaging through her little purse for her keys. Of course, she wasn’t exactly sober, but Valerie didn’t live too far away from the place they’d chosen, it was just about a fifteen minute to her place. “I got this,” she laughed giddily, trying to suppress a stumble as she moved away from the group. The rest of goodbyes were exchanged with an air of skepticism, and her friends seemed reluctant to let her leave, but Valerie was a bit past noticing their worry, eventually shaking them off, slowly staggering towards her car, parked all the way at the top of the street. 

Everything was fine, at least for a while until the night chill broke through her thin coat and at some point, the path in front of her started to seem bleary. Worse yet, she was pretty sure that there was someone following her, keeping close the shadows, several feet behind her, their identity shrouded. Unnerved, she sped up, clutching her keys tightly, the metal cool in her palms. Heavy, shallow breaths were hard to contain, and that was when it happened, sending the iciest chill up her spine.

“Precious little Valerie shouldn’t be walking alone. Bad things happen when pretty girls walk alone….” The ragged, hoarse voice seemed closer than it ever had, and then, out from the shadows, merely two or three feet in front of her, was a boy, no older than sixteen, his skin hard and yellow, and his eyes unfocused and glassy. 

Half a panicked scream left her quivering lips and Valerie could feel her heart trying to break through her ribs and leap right out of her chest. In an instant the boy…..or whatever was left of his apparently decaying form lunged for her, barely phased when she swung her bag offensively, hitting him square in the jaw. “What the fuck?” She breathed, too frightened to scream as she stumbled, falling back into the damp sidewalk.

Wildly, she kicked him in the face, not caring if her attempts of fighting back were barely buying her time. It couldn’t end that way; she was too young. “Let go of me!” She violently wiggled her leg out of his grasp, scrambling up and trying to run towards her car, her left shoe slipping off in the process, nearly causing her to slip on the slippery concrete. 

For a split second, Valerie thought that she might have escaped her nasty faith, but nothing was as unforgiving as whatever was after her. Enraged, it’s high pitch, demented shrill rang out ear piercingly, “No!” It reached for the back of her dress, “Valerie comes with me!”

It was over. It had to be, the teenager from hell had caught her. He was stronger than her, or so she thought, and he was about to drag her to whatever hole he’d crawled out from. But then unthinkable happened, all in a blur; a familiar form leaping out of alongside the darkened store fronts, formerly protected by the darkness, was now fighting her battle for her. And much more efficiently too. In what seemed to be an instant, though might have just been minutes sped up by her adrenaline fueled mind, John ‘not the Roman emperor’ Constantine, had the kid pinned down,  splashing what Valerie could only presume to be water, or maybe clear liquor on his face. Really, she didn’t know, but she could tell that it had been enough to weaken him enough, so John could subsequently start reading from a little black book. “Close your eyes,” he growled, taking a minute from his words.

“What?” Confused and scared, it was safe to say that Valerie was having a hard time processing even the simplest instructions.

Taking another quick, very reluctant break, John, more annoyed than ever, simply spat, “Your eyes, close them!”

Without any other reasonable explanation besides not wanting him, or anyone else to viciously attack her, Valerie shut her eyes tight. Her other senses kicked in, working in overdrive, trying to piece together what was going on, though all she could comprehend were John’s continued prayers and then, after a few minutes, a body tackling her, once again knocking to the floor again. It wasn’t the boy though, no, he had smelt disgustingly of sulfur, but this person gave off another aroma; soap, cologne and whiskey. Cracking one eye open, Valerie sighed in relief once her suspicions were confirmed; it was John. 

His face hovered less than an inch over hers, lips so close that it would take barely any effort to lean up and kiss him. Their breaths were shared and Valerie could feel John’s hard chest pressing on her breasts, his weight heavy on hers, though, she didn’t think she wanted him to move anyway. His presence and their proximity was so consuming that she hadn’t even noticed the shattered glass surrounding them, pieces caught in her hair, though his larger body shielding her from the worst of it. “You-”

She didn’t get to finish, for the minute that John realized that he was lingering, holding her down for longer than he needed to, he struggled into a standing position, offering his hand to help Valerie do the same. “You need to come with me,” was all he chucked out when they’d just started grasping their bearings, his fingers enclosed around her upper arm, trying to pull her along.

Though, now sobered by her near heart stopping experience, Valerie fought his grip, almost yelping when she saw the boy laying on the ground, looking far different from how he’d been when he attacked her, and the glass from one of the store fronts completely shattered, “What the fuck is going on?” Her hair was wet from some puddle or the other, her clothes were soaked through too and one side of her shoes was still missing. And that was just the physical damage. What was going on in her head was something entirely different. 

“I can explain this when you’re safe,” he urged her along, not even phased by her fighting.

Trying to yank her arm away, Valerie refused to give in so easily, “And I’m safe with you? I barely know you. And we can’t just leave that kid on the sidewalk.”

“He wasn’t the one that almost died back there,” his low, gruff voice dripped with annoyance, and Valerie could tell that he really just wanted her to shut up. But how could she with all that was going on?

“What was that back there? What the hell was wrong with that kid? Are you a priest, why were you saying Saint Michael’s prayer?” The questions just tumbled out of her mouth, right as she’d finally wrenched herself from John’s grip.

Finally, realizing that she was too stubborn for them to make it to his car, John slumped his shoulders, begrudgingly giving in. Why’d he have to want to save her so bad? “You speak Latin?”

“What?” She scoffed, folding her arms, “I don’t, and if you’re not going to answer my questions, then I’m going back to my car.” 

Turning on her heel, Valerie had just started walking again, when John halted her with a series of brief explanations, “That was a possession, and then an exorcism. That kid was possessed and no, I’m not a priest.” When she turned back to him, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, “Now lets try this again, do you speak Latin? And don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t,” now traded places, with Valerie being the annoyed one, she spoke through gritted teeth, “Why’s that so important to you anyway?”

“You ask so many questions,” he rolled his eyes, “And its important because that’s the only way you would have understood a word of that prayer. Unless you’re a really devout Catholic.”

Taken aback, Valerie’s eyes widened, jaw hanging slack, “I’m not,” she gasped, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d set foot in a church or even prayed. “You…..I….you were…...that was Latin?”

“Well it wasn’t exactly English,” John joked, dry and humorless, only frowning when he noticed her trouble, “But you didn’t know that.” All she managed was a slight shake of her head. “Did you understand what he was saying?”

It couldn’t be. “Yeah,” nothing followed the breathy peep, as Valerie was too busy getting lost in a swirling pool of despair. A demon possessed kid knew her name, tried to kidnap her, and now she could speak dead languages? Maybe she should have just stayed home that night. “What’s…..I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” John grabbed her shoulders, probably thinking it would ground her, Valerie knew the little trick well, it was something she did when patients started freaking out, something about having someone’s comforting touch was centering. “But I might be able to help you, I just need you to trust me, okay?”

Trust him? A man she didn’t know? A man who could probably want her dead, just like some apparent demon.

But his eyes were so sincere, and beneath his cynicism and sarcastic quips, it actually seemed like he cared.

It wasn’t something her father would approve of, and Martha would definitely give her a lecture or two on her naivety, but there she was, thinking that maybe John was exactly who he said he was; someone that could help.

“Okay,” Valerie relented, finally letting John urge her to his car, going wherever he’d take her just so she could have some answers.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea  @luxx-aeterna

[buckybarnesdollface]

Body Shot

Warnings: Smut

Summary: Drinking games are never a good idea after a mission...Or are they?    

           “Whose brilliant idea was it to get drunk after a mission, anyway?” I groaned. I had just downed my fourth tequila shot of the night and was now trying desperately to get the taste out of my mouth with a beer. Sam laughed.

           “It was your idea, genius,” he replied. “You’re the one that was like ‘We should all get drunk tonight’ as soon as we stepped off the quinjet.”

           I groaned again and rolled my eyes. “Sober me is a real dick.”

           “Oh c’mon, (Y/N),” Nat teased. “We’re having fun! It’s not our fault you’re terrible at drinking games.”

           I glared at her, but it was true. I don’t know how it happened, but it seemed every game we played I lost, to the point where I was the most drunk out of all of us. Most of them I could understand – Steve and Bucky were supersoldiers, it would take a lethal amount of alcohol to get them drunk. Nat had a very high tolerance, as most Russians did. Sam and Wanda could handle about the same amount that I could, but yet they weren’t anywhere near as drunk as I was.

           “It’s not fair,” I grumbled. “These games are all rigged. I think you should let me pick the game.”

           Steve snorted. “You know very well these games aren’t rigged, (Y/N),” he said, “but if it makes you feel any better then alright, you can choose the next game.”

           I grinned wickedly. This was my time to shine.

           “Beer pong,” I stated. “That’s my choice. Somebody help me set it up.”

           “I’m down for beer pong,” Sam said, and Wanda nodded.

           “Me, too.”

           “How are you going to play beer pong, (Y/N)?” Nat teased. “You’re so drunk you likely can’t even stand up, let alone throw a ping pong ball into a cup.”

           Always a competitor, I glared at her. “I’ll have you know I won a championship in university for beer pong,” I said indignantly. “I’m a pro. You had all better be scared.”

           Wanda laughed, and Sam shook his head. “They’ll let anyone be an Avenger now, won’t they?” he said, and I reached over to elbow him in the gut.

           “Where did Bucky go, anyway?” Natasha asked. “Is it getting past the old man’s bedtime? Are we young ‘uns too much for him to handle?”

           “He went to put more beer in the fridge for you alcoholics,” Steve chuckled, “and I asked him to bring back some food for our drunker companions.”

           His eyes shot over to me, and my own eyes narrowed. “I’m not that drunk!” I argued. “Look, I’ll prove it.”

           I pushed myself up off the couch, and immediately regretted it. I hadn’t stood in awhile and all the blood rushed to my head, making me dizzy. I gave myself a couple of seconds to balance myself and then took a few steps forward.

           “See?” I said. “I’m completely fine.” As if to prove my point, I tried to do a twirl. However, I overestimated my ability to balance and stumbled, tripping over my own feet. Before I could fall, though, a strong arm was hooked around my waist to steady me.

           “Careful, doll,” Bucky murmured, and I felt my cheeks grow red. I straightened up and pulled away, mumbling an embarrassed “Thank you,” to him; I could hear Nat and Wanda snickering to my left and I shot them a dirty look before flopping back down onto the couch between them.

           “I think Steve meant for those nachos to be for (Y/N), Bucky,” Wanda said pointedly, and my blush deepened. Bucky turned to me with a small smile.

           “They’re fresh,” he said. “Eat up – You’ll feel better.”

           “Thanks,” I mumbled, completely mortified at this point. Bucky nodded and then turned to hand Steve the beer he’d brought him before cracking open his own and returning to his seat in the armchair.

           “So what are we gonna play, then?” Wanda asked. “Beer pong is out, and (Y/N) needs a break from taking shots, but I’m not ready to go to bed yet.”

           The rest of the group nodded their collective agreements, and Nat grinned wickedly. I knew that grin. It could only mean trouble.

           “Well why don’t we play truth or dare, then?” she suggested, waggling her eyebrows. “It’s fun, and the only reason you’d have to take a shot is if you refuse to answer the question or do the dare given to you.”

           Sam nodded eagerly. “I’m in,” he exclaimed. “I’m a pro at the dares.”

           “Me too,” Wanda agreed with a grin. Steve nodded too.

           “Sure, why not. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

           Bucky and I were the only two that hadn’t said anything. Bucky tended to keep to himself most of the time and was a very private person, so I was surprised when he finally nodded as well.

           “Could be fun,” he murmured, and Nat grinned.

           “Perfect,” she breathed. “(Y/N), how about you?”

           I wanted to say no. Nat was way too excited about this for it to just be an innocent game of truth or dare, and she knew too many of my weaknesses for it to be safe for me. Five pairs of eyes were looking at me expectantly, though, and finally I sighed.

           “Fine,” I said, and the triumphant look on her face made me wary.

           “So who goes first?” Steve asked.

           “You’re up, old man,” Sam said to him with a smirk. “Truth or dare?”

           Steve narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust your dares,” he said, “so truth.”

           “Has a girl ever asked you to wear the Captain America outfit in bed?”

           Steve’s cheeks were pink, but he nodded. “Yes, once,” he admitted, and the room erupted into hoots of laughter.

           “Did you do it?” Nat asked, but Wanda shook her head.

           “Go easy on him. One question only,” she chuckled, and then she turned to Sam. “Truth or dare, Sam?”

           “Dare, obviously,” he said, as if offended that she’d even had to ask.

           “I dare you to replace Clint’s Cocoa Puffs with dog food,” she said, and the room all looked at her with wide eyes.

           “He’ll kill everyone when he finds out!” I breathed. “Clint lives off those things.”

           Wanda shrugged. “He ate the last cinnamon bun the other day. This is payback.”

           Sam, not being one to ever back down from a dare, dumped the cereal down the garbage disposal and refilled the box with the kibble that Peter had for the dog Tony had let him keep after he’d claimed it had “followed him home” one day. Sam came back to the common room with a mischievous grin on his face.

           “Done,” he said. “Your turn, Natasha. Truth or dare?”

           “Dare,” Nat replied boldly, one red eyebrow cocked as if challenging him to do his worst.

           “I dare you to hack into the compound’s database and change ‘Tony Stark’ to ‘Tony Stank’ so that’s what comes up on every last piece of paperwork and in every file.”

           I laughed. “Do it,” I urged. “Rhodey will lose it when he sees it.”

           Smirking, Nat pulled her laptop out from under the coffee table. For a few minutes she stared at the screen with her brows knitted together as she typed furiously, and then she looked up triumphantly. “Done,” she told us. “I even reprogrammed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to call him Mr. Stank.”

           “I love you,” Wanda breathed as we all tried to catch our breaths from laughing. Nat grinned.

           “Okay, my turn,” she giggled, and when her eyes met mine I froze. She opened her mouth to speak, but then turned instead to Bucky. “Truth or dare, Buck? You’re a little too quiet over there.”

           Bucky hesitated before he finally said, “Truth,” and even then he sounded unsure of himself.

           “Are you a guy that appreciates tits or an ass more?” Nat asked, and Steve nearly choked on his drink. Sam grinned from ear to ear, and I expected Bucky to look uncomfortable but he scrunched his nose before finally saying, “Definitely the latter.”

           “Smart man,” Sam said, and Bucky grinned ruefully before turning to Wanda.

           “Truth or dare, Wanda?”

           “Truth,” she replied.

           “Do you ever use your powers to get your own way?”

           Wanda had the decency to at least pretend to look offended, but the sparkle in her eyes gave away the truth before she even said anything. “Maybe…” she admitted, dragging out the word. “But in my defense, the woman at the DMV was a bitch.”

           “You used your powers to get your license?” I cried in disbelief. Steve shot her a stern look.

           “We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” he said, and Wanda rolled her eyes.

           “Oh, lighten up, Steve. Truth or dare?”

           “Dare.”

           “I dare you to drink some of Thor’s Asgardian liquor.”

           Steve shook his head. “That’s Thor’s, I can’t just take it –”

           “If he were here he’d insist you drink it,” Sam argued. “Besides, it’s the only thing that’ll get you and Frosty over there drunk. It’s about time you stop drinking beers like they’re water.”

           Bucky scowled at the nickname Sam so often liked to call him, but Steve sighed. “Fine, I’ll have one drink,” he said. “Buck, you want one?”

           “Is it really enough to get us drunk?” Bucky asked, and Nat grinned. She had already retrieved the bottle and poured them each a glass.

           “Find out for yourself.”

           The guys each took a sip. Steve had tried it before so he knew what to expect, but Bucky hadn’t and when it touched his tongue his face scrunched up. We all laughed and he shook his head.

           “It’s so bitter,” he choked, and Steve chuckled.

           “You get used to it. Just take it slow; that one glass is all you’ll need,” he explained before turning to Nat. “Truth or dare, Nat?”    

           “Ask me a question, Captain.”

           “Did you sleep with that pizza delivery guy the other night?”

           She grinned wickedly. “Yep. Wasn’t bad, either.”

           “You are incorrigible,” I chuckled quietly, and Nat turned to me.

           “What was that, drunkie?” she asked, and I cursed myself for drawing her attention to me. “You’ve somehow managed to stay out of the spotlight so far, (Y/N); we’ll have to fix that. Truth or dare?”

           I swallowed hard, weighing my options. If I answered with truth then she would most certainly make me reveal something that I didn’t want a certain someone in the room to know. If I chose dare, then god knows what she would make me do. But I couldn’t forfeit either, because I really didn’t think my stomach could handle another shot this early on.

           “Truth,” I finally said begrudgingly, knowing I could at least be creative with my answer if I had to be. She smirked, and I immediately regretted my choice.

           “When was the last time you got laid?”

           I blushed, but it could have been much worse. Glaring at her, I mumbled, “It’s been a year.”

           Of course, Nat had already known this – She was only stirring the pot. Wanda had known as well so she didn’t react. Sam’s eyes widened.

           “A year? Jesus, girl, how are you not more uptight than you are?” he cried. My blush deepened.

           “I’ve been busy, alright? Not all of us are naturally skilled in being a superhero. I have to train twice as much as all of you; it takes up a lot of time.” I frowned. “I answered Nat’s question, now let’s drop it. Sam, truth or dare?”

           “Dare.”

           I thought for a moment. “I dare you to pick a random number from the phone book and try to seduce whoever answers.”

           “It’s one in the morning on a Tuesday,” Steve said. “Who’s gonna pick up the phone?”

           “New York is the city that never sleeps, Steve,” Nat pointed out. “Someone will answer.”

           So Sam did it. He called a number, and an old man answered. We all had to stay quiet because he had it on speakerphone, but when the old man started getting unsettlingly into it and Sam’s face twisted in disgust Bucky snickered and we all burst into laughter. Nat quickly hung up the phone and Sam shook his head.

           “Nasty-ass man, Christ,” he groaned. “I vote we play something else now.”

           “Oh, c’mon, Sam, I thought you were the king of dares,” I taunted. “You said you would do anything.”

           “I draw the line at strange old men wanting to get in my pants.”

           We all chuckled, but Nat shook her head. “I have too many good ideas to stop playing now,” she said, and then she arched an eyebrow at Sam. His brow furrowed, but then his eyes widened as if he had just made a realization and he grinned.

           “Fine, we can keep playing, but it’s my turn to deal out some punishment.” His eyes scanned the room and landed on Bucky. “Frosty!” he exclaimed. “Truth or dare?”

           “How many times have I told you not to call me that?” he grumbled. “Dare, I guess.”

           Sam smirked. “Atta boy. I dare you to do a body shot.”

           “Off of you?” Bucky’s nose wrinkled. “Absolutely not.”

           “Off of (Y/N),” Nat offered, and my eyes widened. I looked at her in horror, but she was looking at Bucky expectantly. He won’t do it, I told myself. It amazed me that he had even put up with us for this long instead of going to bed. Surely this would be where he drew the line.

           “Alright,” he said with a shrug, “as long as (Y/N)’s alright with it.”

           I coughed, and Nat grinned. “Of course she is!”      

           “I don’t know…” I started, but Nat was already pouring tequila into a shot glass.

           “Lie flat on the table so it doesn’t spill,” she ordered, and she gave me a look that said if I didn’t cooperate, she would make me. Pursing my lips, I laid down on the table, and she set the shot glass on my belly button after sliding my shirt up some. Then she spread a line of lime juice on my stomach and sprinkled salt over top of it. I wanted to protest – It was way too close to the waistband of my leggings for comfort, but she was already motioning for Bucky to come over.

           “Hands behind your back,” she ordered. “Pick up the shot glass with your mouth and –”

           “I know how to do a body shot,” Bucky said indignantly, and Nat shrugged.

           “Just had to be sure. You never know with you old guys.”

           Bucky shot her a look of annoyance before coming to stand next to me. “You sure you’re alright with this, (Y/N)?” he murmured. My throat was too dry to say anything but I nodded, even though my heart felt like it was going to hammer right out of my chest. Shooting me a shy smile, Bucky clasped his hands behind his back and bent down to wrap his lips around the rim of the shot glass, downing the tequila in one gulp. Nat took the shot glass from him and then he leaned in to lick the salt and juice from my skin.

           His tongue was soft and warm, and as he dragged it across my stomach I could feel goosebumps prickle my skin. I had to bite my tongue to keep from whimpering, and then he was pulling away all too soon. He gave me an embarrassed smile as he straightened, and then offered a hand to help me off the table. I took it, though the dizziness I felt wasn’t from the alcohol in my bloodstream.

           “Steve, you’re up,” Bucky said as he sat back down in the armchair. “Truth or dare.”

           “Dare.”

           “I dare you to tell everyone what happened that night with Mandy White.”

           Steve’s face darkened as he glared at his best friend. “That’s not fair, jerk. We promised we’d never talk about that night again.”

           Bucky had a wicked grin on his face – A look I’d never seen on him before. I wondered if the Bucky that Steve knew from all those years ago was this Bucky now; carefree, light and mischievous.

           “Who’s Mandy White?” Wanda asked, and Bucky cocked an eyebrow.

           “Tell them, Stevie.”

           “She’s a prostitute,” he finally grumbled. “Buck and I were in high school and we snuck into a bar in Brooklyn. This dame – Mandy – took an interest in me right off the bat.” He shook his head in disgust. “That should have been the first clue, but I was a dumb kid. I didn’t clue in till she pulled me into the bathroom and told me she’d let me do whatever I wanted to her for the right price.”

           Bucky was howling with laughter, as were Sam and Nat. Wanda was giggling, and I was biting my lip to keep from laughing because I knew Steve was already embarrassed enough.

           “Poor Stevie,” I breathed. “Look at it this way, though; you’re Captain America now. If you met her now, she’d probably pay to have sex with you.”

           Steve scowled at me. “Yes, (Y/N), because that makes me feel so much better,” he said. “Moving on. Truth or dare?”

           I bit my lip, but Steve wasn’t a threat. He was too sweet to play along with whatever Sam and Nat had going on.

           “Truth,” I said, and Steve grinned.

           “Have you ever had inappropriate thoughts about another member of the team?”

           Sam whooped and Nat was smirking. Cheeks hot, I narrowed my eyes. “Yes, right now,” I hissed. “Does contemplating kicking all your asses count as inappropriate?”

           “Easy, (Y/N),” Nat chuckled. “You know that’s not what Steve meant.”

           I scowled. “I’ll pass. Hand me the tequila.”

           Steve shook his head. “Uh-uh, no more shots for awhile,” he ordered. “I never asked you to tell us who. Just answer the question with a yes or no.”

           I sucked in a sharp breath, casting my eyes to my hands. “Yes,” I finally admitted, and I could practically feel the satisfaction rolling off of Natasha. Pursing my lips, I stood. “I’m gonna go get some water, I’ll be right back.”

           I left the common room, my cheeks burning. Just as I’d expected, Nat followed me out to the kitchen, and I turned on her.

           “What the hell are you doing?” I snapped. She gave me an innocent look.

           “I don’t know what you’re talking about, (Y/N).”

           “The fuck you don’t. I expected it from you and maybe Wanda, but Sam and even Steve?” I shook my head in disbelief. “When I told you I liked Bucky, that was in confidence, Nat. The last thing I needed was for you to tell his best friend!” I groaned and sat down at the island, burying my face in my hands. “Now everyone’s gonna know…”

           “I didn’t tell anyone, (Y/N), and I’m offended that you think I would,” Nat told me. “I wouldn’t have to tell anyone anyway. Everyone in the compound knows how you feel about Barnes.”

           My head shot up. “What?” I hissed, and Nat shrugged.

           “I mean, you are an excellent fighter, but when it comes to hiding your emotions you’re terrible,” she said. “Everyone can see it.”

           I felt as if I were going to be sick. “Does he know?” I whispered in a panic.

           “Nope.” Nat shook her head. “But he’s probably the only one. The guy has to be pretty clueless.”

           I shook my head. “So this whole game thing was just everyone trying to push us together?”

           “We’re all rooting for you, (Y/N),” Nat chuckled. “We want you to be happy, and we all want Barnes to stop being so antisocial, too.” She cocked her head to the side. “Although he’s a lot more fun tonight than he’s ever been before.”

           “He’s not antisocial, he’s just nervous to get close to people,” I defended, and Nat grinned.

           “Which is why we’re giving you both gentle nudges towards each other. Now come back out. I promise I won’t put you in any more awkward situations if you promise to loosen up and flirt a little with him.”

           “I wouldn’t know what to say –”

           “(Y/N), I’ve seen you charm even the most sour of people. Just be yourself and stop being so nervous.”

           So I followed her back out to the common room. I noticed that everyone had changed seats, and the only free space was the spot next to Bucky on the couch. I suspected Nat had something to do with this and I shot her a look but she was all of a sudden very interested in her drink. Biting my lip, I sat down next to Bucky.

           “Hope you’re recovered enough to play another drinking game,” Sam said to me, and I narrowed my eyes.

           “Why?”

           “Never have I ever!” Wanda exclaimed. “I’ll start. Never have I ever been arrested.”

           Everyone but me drank, but even if I had meant to I couldn’t. I’d finished my last beer and hadn’t bothered to get another drink. After Bucky set down his own drink he reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a glass, handing it to me.

           “Vodka lime,” he said, and then he gave me a rueful smile. “Steve told me it was your favourite so I mixed you up one when I got myself a drink.”

           “Thank you,” I murmured, in shock that he’d even thought of me. He grinned.      

           “I would have given it to you a minute ago, but I figured you wouldn’t need to drink,” he chuckled. “You’re too new to the team to have ever been arrested before.”

           I ducked my head, blushing. Before I could say anything, though, Sam was speaking.

           “Never have I ever,” he said, “made out with an Olympic athlete.”

           No one drank but Sam, and we all groaned.

           “Sam, you gotta stop bringing that up,” Steve said. “We get it. You made out with Genie Bouchard in a bar in Montreal once. We’ve heard the story a hundred times.”

           Sam frowned. “Well sorry if y’all haven’t led as exciting a life as me.”

           Bucky rolled his eyes. “My turn,” he said. “Never have I ever thrown up on the Cyclone at Coney Island.”

           Steve was the only one to drink this time, and Bucky snickered when he shot him a dirty look. Natasha shook her head.

           “The point is to pick statements that more than one person can drink to, guys, c’mon,” she said. “Never have I ever had sex in a public place.”

           Everyone but Steve and Wanda drank this time. I was surprised when Bucky lifted his glass to his lips to take a drink, but then I remembered that Steve had told me that Bucky had been quite the ladies’ man back in their day. It was just so hard to picture the surly, quiet man beside me having ever been a big flirt.

           “Never have I ever stolen a car,” Steve offered, and everyone but Wanda and I drank. Nat narrowed her eyes at Steve.

           “That truck we stole to get to Jersey, you called it ‘borrowing’,” she said, using her hands to make air quotes around the last word. Steve shrugged.

           “It is what it is.”

           “Alright.” I clapped my hands together to draw everyone’s attention back to the game. “Never have I ever had sex on at least three different continents.”

           Nat, Wanda, Sam and I all drank. Bucky frowned.

           “Two,” he murmured. “So close.”

           Steve cocked an eyebrow at him and he grinned.

           “If you think there weren’t some European girls that didn’t want a night with an American sergeant then you’re crazy, Steve,” he teased, and Steve rolled his eyes. I pursed my lips, not wanting to think of Bucky with other girls. Nat must’ve seen my face because she quickly changed the subject.

           “Never have I ever,” she said, “fallen asleep during sex.”

           Only her and Sam drank, and I laughed. “Must have been pretty bad to have fallen asleep,” I remarked, and Nat rolled her eyes.

           “I hate vanilla sex,” she groaned, “and this guy was as boring as it gets.”

           “I was just really tired,” Sam explained. “The girl I was with got very offended, though. She left and wouldn’t answer any of my calls after that.”

           “I don’t blame her,” Bucky snorted. “You don’t leave a girl hanging like that, no matter how tired you are.”

           I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks warm at his words. Before him and Sam could get into one of their infamous disputes, however, Wanda spoke up.

           “Never have I ever had a sex dream about someone on the team.”

           Sam narrowed his eyes at her. ���That’s not fair, you’re dating someone on the team,” he accused, referring to Vision. Wanda shrugged.

           “I stand by my statement,” she said as she took a drink.

           Begrudgingly, Sam took a drink, and then so did Nat and even Steve. I hesitated; of course, I’d had multiple, with the man sitting right next to me having starred in all of them. Cheeks burning, I finally lifted my glass to my lips to take a gulp while keeping my eyes downcast. Just when I thought I was the last one, out of the corner of my eye I saw Bucky take a drink. I tried not to overthink it, but my mind was racing. There were only so many women on the team, and I was going to drive myself mad wondering which one he had dreamt about.

           “Well, my drink is gone,” Wanda said, interrupting my thoughts, “and that’s probably it for me. I’m definitely feeling it now. If I want to get up at all tomorrow I should quit while I’m ahead.”

           Nat frowned. “Don’t go to bed yet!” she protested. “It’s still early.”

           “It’s two in the morning,” Steve snorted.

           “We could do something that doesn’t involve drinking, if y’all wanna stay up,” Sam suggested. “Poker?”

           Steve and Bucky agreed enthusiastically, as did Nat. Wanda shook her head.

           “Vis is probably waiting for me to go to bed. I should probably head upstairs.”

           We said goodnight to her, and then Steve looked at me. “(Y/N), you want to play?”

           “I don’t know how,” I admitted, and Steve shrugged.

           “We can teach you.”

           “No, you guys go ahead and play. I’ll stay up and watch, though. I’m not quite ready for bed yet.”

           So Nat found a deck of cards and the game started. I settled myself into the cushions of the couch with my legs crossed underneath me, nursing the rest of my vodka lime. Bucky looked over to me, a playful grin on his face.

           “Now don’t go tellin’ anyone what cards I’ve got, doll,” he teased, and with some of Thor’s liquor in him his Brooklyn accent was coming out. It was the first time I’d heard it and I smiled.

           “No worries,” I giggled, still feeling the effects of the alcohol myself. “I’ll keep my poker face on.”

           Steve snorted. “You’re in trouble then, Buck,” he warned. “(Y/N) has a terrible poker face.”

           I pouted at Steve, but Bucky shot me a warm smile. “I trust her,” he murmured, and my insides warmed. I gave him a shy smile in return, and he winked at me before turning his attention back to the game.

           For awhile I was enjoying watching them. There probably wasn’t a better group out there to watch – Each of them had perfected their poker faces. Years of military experience, and in Nat and Bucky’s cases years of being assassins and spies, would have trained them to know how to hold a blank face. They had also been drinking, though, and would slip up every once in awhile. I took note of each of their tells; Sam would scrunch his nose, Steve would rub the back of his neck, Nat’s eyes would dart quickly between the four of them, and the muscle in Bucky’s jaw would twitch.

           As hard as I tried to keep up, however, eventually it got too difficult. The lack of rest I’d gotten on the mission was finally catching up to me, and the liquor as well as just sitting there not doing anything wasn’t helping. I yawned, and Nat looked across the table at me.

           “Not you, too,” she said, and I shook my head.

           “I’m good,” I told her, even though I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. Steve chuckled.

           “You’re stubborn as hell is what you are,” he taunted, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

           “I can go for hours.”

           But I could not. Not long after I could feel myself drifting, and I kept trying to force myself awake but my body wasn’t having it.

           “(Y/N), you really should go to bed,” Sam told me. “You look like you’re barely awake over there.”

           I wanted to argue, but I knew he was right so I just nodded instead. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna turn in for the night,” I murmured. I stretched out my legs and made to stand, but it had been a couple of hours since I’d been on my feet and with the liquor still running through my bloodstream, I was a little dizzy and stumbled a bit.

           The next thing I knew, Bucky was up and at my side, a hand on my back to steady me.

           “Easy, doll,” he murmured. “You alright?”

           I blushed. “Just tired,” I mumbled. “And I need some water, I think.”

           Bucky nodded, and then he slipped his arm around my waist. “Let’s get you some water and then make sure you get to bed, then,” he murmured, and he turned to look at the others. “I fold the next few rounds, I’m gonna take care of (Y/N) and then I’ll be back.”

           I’m pretty sure Nat was giving me a look but I didn’t turn around to check before Bucky was leading me out of the common room. When we got to the kitchen he sat me in a stool before going to pour me a glass of water. When he came back over, my eyes were half-lidded and he let out a soft chuckle before shaking his head.

           “We need to get you to bed,” he said. “You’ve had a long few days. D’you think you can make it to the elevator?”

           “Yeah,” I mumbled, sliding out of the stool onto my feet unsteadily. With my glass of water in one hand, Bucky set his other hand on my back and led me to the elevator.

           “(Y/N)’s floor please, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Bucky said to the AI.

           “Right away, Sergeant Barnes.”

           The elevator began to move, and I leaned heavily against Bucky. He was warm and he smelled like soap, and I could feel myself drifting.

           By the time the elevator stopped, I was barely awake. Without hesitating and without any difficulty, Bucky gathered me in his arms bridal-style and carried me down the hall to my room. I laid my head on his shoulder and my arms wound loosely around his neck, and all I could think was that I was comfortable enough to fall asleep right there.

           Bucky opened my door and carried me inside without switching on the lights. He set my water on the bedside table before gently lowering me to the bed, and then he reached for the water, handing it to me.

           “Drink some, doll,” he urged, “or you’ll regret it in the morning.”

           I gulped down a few mouthfuls before setting the glass back on the bedside table clumsily. “Thank you,” I mumbled, “for taking care of me.”

           Bucky gave me a warm smile that sent my heart fluttering. “No worries, doll. Now get some sleep, okay? You need it.”

           “So do you,” I said quietly, and when his brow furrowed I continued. “You barely slept ten hours the whole week we were on the mission.”

           He shook his head and chuckled. “You don’t miss much, do you?” he mused, and then he gave me another smile. “I promise to get some sleep if you do. Goodnight, (Y/N).”

           “Night,” I mumbled. He had turned and nearly made it to the door when something – most likely the liquor – drove me to do what I did next. “Bucky?” I said softly.

           He stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to me. “What is it, doll?”

           “Will you stay with me?”

           My voice had been barely above a whisper and for a minute I thought maybe he hadn’t heard me, but then I remembered that being a supersoldier there was no doubt that he had heard it. His eyes widened slightly, and then he pursed his lips.

           “(Y/N), I don’t know –”

           “Please?” I bit my lip. “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

           He looked torn, but finally he crossed the room and motioned for me to slide over. I did, and he pulled back the covers for me to crawl under before following me.

           “Come here, doll,” he murmured, stretching out his arm across the pillow, and I scooted closer to snuggle into his side. He tugged me close, and between the warmth of his body and the steady, even rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took, it wasn’t long before I started drifting. I vaguely remembered feeling something – his lips, maybe? – brush against my temple lightly, and then I was out.

           When I woke up the next morning, my whole body felt heavy and I regretted drinking so much right after a gruelling mission. I stretched, letting out a soft groan, but my movements disturbed the arm that had been draped loosely across my stomach. I froze – I had forgotten in my drunken state that I had asked Bucky to stay the night, and now I was panicking. Before I could even try to come up with a way out of this situation, though, Bucky was shifting and blinking his eyes open.

           “Hey, doll,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. “How are you feelin’?”

           “Hungover,” I admitted in a small voice, and Bucky chuckled. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes.

           “I actually think I might be, too,” he said. “I haven’t been hungover in decades. That Asgardian alcohol is killer.” He paused, and then looked over at me. His blue eyes were tired, but he looked more at ease than I think I’d ever seen him. “Did you sleep well?” he asked me.

           I bit my lip, then nodded. “I did,” I told him, blushing. “You?”

           Bucky’s smile was warm. “Better than I have in awhile,” he admitted.

           “I’m sorry if asking you to stay last night was weird,” I blurted out, and then ducked my head. “I was drunk and overtired and –”

           I didn’t get to finish my explanation, however, because all of a sudden Bucky was leaning in to close the distance between us. His lips pressed to mine and my body froze even though my mind was screaming at me to do something while my heart was nearly hammering out of my chest.

           Bucky pulled away, his cheeks tinted pink. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I wanted to do that all night last night but everyone was always around and then you were so tired…”

           I blinked. He was looking at me with increasingly worried eyes, and finally I found my voice.

           “Wait – You wanted to kiss me?”

           “That’s what I said,” he chuckled, and then he bit his lip. “Is that okay?”

           Instead of answering, I pulled his face back to mine. He caught on quickly, rolling his body so that he was overtop of me as our lips connected, his flesh hand coming up to cradle my head while he used his metal arm to support himself. His tongue probed at my lips until they yielded to him, and as our breaths mingled together my hands reached up to grip at Bucky’s waist.

           “You have no idea how hard it was holding myself back from taking you upstairs last night after that dare with the body shot and doing this then,” Bucky murmured, skimming his nose along my jaw and then kissing my throat lightly. My breath hitched and I felt him smile against my skin. “You like that, doll?”

           “Yes,” I whispered, my voice thick. Bucky pulled away enough to look at me, his blue irises nearly swallowed up by his lust-blown pupils, but there was a softness there as well as he smiled at me.

           “Good,” he murmured, “because I want to do this every day, doll, if you’ll let me.”

           I was temporarily snapped out of my haze, and I looked at him with my brow furrowed. “What are you saying?” I asked uncertainly, and Bucky’s smile was shy.

           “I like you, (Y/N),” he told me. “A lot. I have for awhile now, but I never knew how to tell you…”

           “So this wasn’t just brought on by the drinking games and the liquor and me asking you to stay last night?”

           Bucky chuckled as he shook his head. “Not at all, doll,” he assured me, and then he began to pepper kisses along my jaw. “I want you every day, if you’ll have me.”    

           His actions were confident but his eyes were nervous, and I reached up to cup his cheek in my hand. His skin was warm and the stubble on his face was rough, but he leaned into my touch as his eyes drifted shut and I knew in that moment that this beautiful man – this man that I had been pining over for months – really did feel for me the way I felt for him.

           “Show me just how much you want me, Sergeant,” I said in a husky voice as I looked up at him. “I’m yours.”

           Bucky made a quiet noise in the back of his throat, and then he crushed his lips to mine with feverish passion. My hands slid up under the hem of his t-shirt to slide along the muscles of his back, my fingernails grazing his skin lightly and drawing a growl from his throat. Disconnecting our kiss, he sat back on his knees and yanked the t-shirt over his head before tossing it carelessly to the floor. I sat up, tracing my fingertips over the planes of his abdomen, and when I looked up his eyes were blue fire, causing my stomach to flip in anticipation. Tugging lightly at my shirt, he stared at me as if waiting for my permission. I nodded and then the shirt was on the floor with his.

           Bucky’s lips latched onto one of my nipples and I let out a quiet moan, arching my back towards him. As his mouth alternated between my breasts his flesh hand toyed with the waistband of my leggings before slipping past it and underneath my panties. When his fingertips slid through my folds my moan was louder, and he pulled away from my breasts to smirk at me.

           “So wet, doll,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “This all for me?”

           “Mmm…” I managed to hum, and then Bucky was retracting his hand and I let out a soft whine at the loss of contact. He brought his fingers to his mouth to lick away my juices and a fresh wave of heat flooded to my core.

           “So fucking sweet,” he breathed. “I’m gonna have to get a better taste.”

           The next thing I knew, I was on my back and he had yanked the rest of my clothes off in one swift move, leaving me entirely naked under his hungry eyes. At this point I was practically aching to be touched and it must have showed on my face because Bucky flashed me a sinful grin before spreading my legs with his hands and diving in to swipe his tongue along the length of my folds.

           My hips bucked upward at the sudden contact and I let out a gasp. Bucky’s hands reached up to hold my hips in place as his mouth worked over me, drawing whimpers and moans from me. It didn’t take long for him to bring me to release, a panting and sweating mess tangled in the sheets.

           Bucky pressed a few light kisses to the inside of my thigh before he was sliding up my body and claiming my lips in a kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue, and it sent a fresh wave of arousal to my core.

           “Need you now,” I managed to huff out, grinding myself against his still-clothed erection, and Bucky grinned before quickly shedding the rest of his clothing. He slid his solid member through my folds slowly and I groaned, glaring up at him.

           “Stop teasing,” I hissed. “There’s plenty of time for that later, but if you don’t fuck me right now I honest to god might explode.”

           As I spoke my legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer to me. His eyes were dark as pitch and he growled before lining up with my entrance and sliding in with one thrust. I hadn’t been prepared for his size and my eyes fluttered shut as I let out a breathless, “James…”

           He stilled inside of me, and when I opened my eyes, he was regarding me with a mixture of shock, desire and tenderness. “Say it again,” he murmured huskily.

           “James,” I whispered, and then he was crushing his lips to mine and rolling his hips into me. My nails dug into his back, wanting to pull him as close to me as possible, and he pressed his face against my neck to suck lightly at my throat. It didn’t take long before I could feel my second orgasm that morning coming on, and I knew Bucky was also nearing release because his thrusts were getting sloppier. I dug my heels into his back as my hands grasped at his arms, opening my eyes to find that he was already looking at me.

           “James…” I breathed. “I wanna feel you come inside me, James, please.”

           “Fuck, doll,” he groaned, and then with a couple more thrusts he was spilling inside me with a grunt. His orgasm brought on my own and I cried out, my head pushing back into the pillows as my back arched up into Bucky’s body. As we came down from our highs he cradled me in his arms as he rolled us over to our sides, his now-softened member slipping out of my tender heat. I let out a soft moan at the loss of his length, feeling a mixture of our juices dripping down my thigh. Bucky reached up to tuck a damp lock of hair behind my ear.

           “Was that okay?” he murmured, and I let out a breathless laugh.

           “Are you kidding me, Buck? That was a hell of a lot better than just okay. My only regret is that we haven’t been doing this all along.”

           Bucky chuckled, but he looked relieved. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt sooner.”

           I rolled on top of him, pressing my lips to his. “Guess that just means we’ll have to make up for all that lost time,” I teased, wiggling my hips against his and grinning delightedly in finding out he was already half-hard again. Bucky smirked as he lifted his hands to grasp my hips, but just before he could lift me up to pull me down onto him, a shout echoed through the compound, followed by laughter and then the sound of glass breaking. Bucky and I stilled.

           “I will kill you!” we heard Clint roar, and I giggled.

           “Guess Clint found the dog food. Should we go make sure Sam doesn’t get himself killed?”

           Bucky shook his head. “Nah, Wilson’s a grown man, he can take care of himself,” he murmured, sitting up to place kisses along my jaw. “Now, where were we?”

           I caught his lips with mine and was just about to line him up with my entrance when this time F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted us.

           “Sergeant Barnes, Ms. (Y/L/N), Mr. Stank requests that everyone meet him in the board room immediately.”

           Both Bucky and I burst out laughing, and when we finally calmed down enough to catch our breaths I said, “I suppose we should get dressed and get down there before Tony sends someone looking for us.”

           “Yes, because I have nothing better to do right this moment than deal with an angry Barton and an angry Stark.”

           I grinned and kissed him quickly before rolling off of him and pulling on a sweatshirt. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later,” I told him. “After all, we’ve got all the time in the world now.”

[utterlyinevitable]

Holyyy shit I’m dying over those NSFW asks 😂😂 I might have to reblog lmfaoo take me to horny jail 😩👅💦 I need to know 3, 11, and 14 for my darlings Ethan and Becca. Make it dirty Dom 😈

AHAHAHAHAA Celi you definitely should reblog it I’ve got a few I’d like to know about Camille and Ethan 😏😈

3. Cum: Use your imagination for this one aha (what are they like when they finish, how do they feel about their partner’s cum/face, etc)

Becca’s eyes are shut tight from the second she notices she’s inching closer and closer. She’s very mental about the whole thing - like, she’s one of those people who can get off on just words, and the environment needs to be just right in order for her to really hone and enjoy her orgasm. But when Ethan is close she tries so hard to keep her eyes open and watch him. Sometimes she screams, sometimes she moans, other times it’s a little “ooh”. Rarely does she actually says his name as she climaxes. 

Ethan’s face changes each time with the varying degree. The one constant is the way his nose scrunches and jaw slacks into the sexiest “0″ face. His deep, ragged breaths so erotic. 6 out of 10 times she cums right after watching him. Combine that with the feeling of him filling her up (because we all know these two don’t know what a condom is) and she is done for. 

If she’s gonna swallow it’s because she’s feeling generous or guilty. When she and Ethan first started fucking around she was more inclined to let him cum in her mouth. But once they hit the domesticated days he’s lucky if he gets to do it once a year. She’s very very picky about blow jobs - he’s gotta be clean and freshly showered and she’s gotta be just a little bit inebriated. Funky salty taste? No thank you. Becca likes great oral hygiene. Sometimes when she’s feeling extra frisky she’ll lick her taste off of him. 

Ethan loves the taste of her. His favorite thing to do on his birthday is eat her out for longer than necessary. There’s a sweetness there that he’s never tasted on anyone else - he just can’t get enough. (boy doesn’t realize it’s love 🙄) 

11. Kink: Does the character have a kink or a few?

Becca is curious. She’ll try anything once. Katoptronophilia usually does the trick when it’s just her and her vibrator. She loves when Ethan talks dirty, especially about cumming in her. 

Ethan’s a boob man. And we know he’s an exhibitionist. He likes his balls fondled and maybe a finger up the butt if he’s drunk enough 😉

As a couple they like to play around with dom/sub and roleplay. Other times they dabble in sensory play. 

14. NO: Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs

Becca will not do anal. No no nope nothing will be going up her butt. One time Ethan was very very insistent and got a rude awakening when she boshed the whole evening and made him sleep on the floor of her bedroom. 

Her biggest turn off is smell. There’s a difference between sultry musk and man stank. Lucky for her Ethan’s very good at cleaning himself.  

Ethan’s a lil freak and willing to do anything that involved sex with Becca. He’d probably draw the line at humiliation and degradation though.  

nsfw alphabet otp asks

[captain-tch]

Extinction Event

You are a captain in the Scouts when a strange phenomenon means that the sun never rises again.

Note: this is inspired by the events of the game, Final Fantasy XV. Its such a great game and I highly recommend it if you're looking for something new.

The morning the sun hid from the world, everything changed. No one knew what had caused it, or why the sun dipped far below the horizon to never be seen again. But one thing was for sure - the world just got a lot more dangerous.

During the Age of the Sun, living a forever night would be a dream come true. The titans used to be immobile during the night. No one could understand why. But it didn't matter for long. Because the fuckers evolved over time, starting to torment the walls in the deepest darkness.

At first, people hoped. They prayed and believed this was only a temporary phenomenon, eagerly waiting for the next time the sunlight would kiss their skin. It was all in vain. The sun never rose again.

Panic set out within the walls. Titans banged on the walls day and night, the moon feeding their desire for blood. Many soldiers died protecting the walls. Many died in vain. Your home, along with many others, was trampled beneath the feet of the monsters. The bones of your family laid there too. That was why you stood on top of the very wall that both protected and caged you from the outside.

The only wall left.

Wall Sina was once a bustle of life. Luxury that once oozed from every crevice now reeked of desperation. People laughed in those streets once. You couldn't remember the last time you heard it. Children wandered the streets, puffy eyes and light fingers.

You sighed, turning yourself away from the mess below, staring lifelessly at the titans on the other side instead. In the dark you could only make out their shapes. Their towering figures were enough to make your heart race.

"It's getting worse down there." Your team mate Anna noted, glancing down at the titans beating at the walls. You strained your ears to hear her over the constant explosion of cannons. "The deterrents aren't working."

Fear struck close to your heart. As quickly as you felt the feeling, you clenched your jaw, looking out over the wall solemnly. You could barely see beyond the wall, torches lit all along it, casting a dim light on the monsters below. Even without the light to guide you, you could imagine the barren land, lush with green. In the distance, you could picture the pines that provided you safety. A long time ago, the Scouts were out there, trying to reclaim land. Now they could barely cope protecting the land they had.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Being a Captain was no easy job before the Darkness came, and now it was ten times harder. Sometimes you wished you could curl up into a ball and sleep for a million years. After being in the Scouts for over ten years you thought you had seen it all. Having joined the 104th cadet corps as a young teenager, you believed yourself to have long been desensitised to the horrors that came with the job. Then the darkness fell and you were back at step one.

Its in this moment that your thoughts turn to Jean. A warmth blossomed in your chest as you imagined his disarming smile, and his strong arms. How you wish he could wrap them around you now and hide you from the world.

"We're doing all we can do."

Anna shook her head, nodding. "I know. But its starting to feel like its never going to be enough."

You laughed humourlessly. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Fuck this all off and live while we can."

You pondered it for a moment. You could try and forget about the impending doom that threatened the security of the walls. You could spend time with Jean, finish that book you've been dying to read, maybe even drink yourself into oblivion. The thought of not having the future of humanity on your shoulders was luxury enough.

But all of the blood spilled...

And in a flash, that fantasy rippled away. Too many people were gone for you to brush away your duty.

All you could do was offer Anna a small smile, eyes distant. "Tempting."

"Yeah, me too." Sometimes it was strange how Anna could read your mind; she always seemed to be on the same wavelength as you.

The canons stopped for a brief moment, giving your ears a moments reprieve.

You almost wished it hadn't.

Because the moment silence fell, so did the wall.

*

You were fucked. To be honest, that felt like a complete understatement for the horror surrounding you, but its the closest you could get.

The titans had broken through the wall. Your entire team was dead - including Anna. Her blood was staining your clothes. She had dived off the wall to stop you from falling. By the time you had landed on the ground you only had a searing pain spreading through your shoulder and she was dead.

You barely had time to take in your surroundings, slicing titans wherever you could. Subconsciously though, you saw how the streets were drowning in bodies, body parts scattered. A child's shoe discarded on the pavement.

Flying through the air, you hurtled to your next destination, slicing open the neck of a titan with ease. You had no chance to think about your next move, already advancing on your next target. The agony in your shoulder was at the back of your mind, the urge to survive overpowering the tear jerking feeling.

You had stopped trying to save people today. All attempts had been in vain. Their screams would be scarred into your brain forever.

If you lived long enough to remember.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice cut through the slaughter.

You stopped in your tracks, perching on the side of a building. Frantically you searched everywhere for that voice. Your rock. Your best friend. Your love.

"Jean?"

"Y/N!"

His voice was nearer now. You scrambled to the top of the building, eyes desperately catching on to a familiar shape flying in your direction. Tears swelled in your eyes.

He was alive. He was okay.

For the first time in a very long time, you felt like you could breathe. It didn't matter that the air stank of death, clogging your lungs, or that a metallic taste lingered in your mouth. You could breathe. A smile touched your lips.

Unable to wait any longer, you started to run along the roof, desperate to be close to him. You wanted to clutch him close to your chest and breathe in his scent. You wanted him to draw patterns on your back, just the way he always did when you were upset.

You wanted to kiss him.

You leaped over the edge of the roof, tilting your hips as you directed your gear to follow you. You were launched over the gap, soaring over the next roof and landing without breaking a stride.

Jean was matching your pace, his gear sending him zooming closer to you.

Finally.

You landed on the same roof as him, hands instinctively gripping your knees, desperately sucking in breath. Jean was on you before you could stand straight, holding you tight and squeezing as if his life depended on it.

You clenched your eyes shut, wrapping your arms around him with a mirrored ferocity. Everything fell still. Time froze as you two held each other, anchoring the other in a world without gravity.

He pushed you away from him gently, eyes darting over your form. His gaze found the blood soaking your clothes, hands following to try and staunch the blood from an invisible would.

You swallowed thickly, curling your hands around his. "Its not mine."

"I'm sorry." He cupped your cheek, spreading blood. "This is it, isn't it? This is our extinction event."

You didn't want to admit it but you knew it was true. The air wasn't filled with as many screams as it was before. You knew it was because there weren't many people left.

Wordlessly you shook your head, lacing your fingers through his hair. "I wish we had more time."

You pulled your forehead to his, closing your eyes. This was your happy place. With him. Some of the happiest memories you had were with him. Sitting in the mess hall, flicking mashed potato at him. Resting your head on his chest as you read to him, his fingers lazily working through your hair. Escaping from the barracks in the middle of the night to go skinny dipping.

The thought of not being able to make any more happy memories hit you harder than any loss.

But like all great things, it doesn't last forever.

Beneath your feet, the building shook. Both of you were thrown off balance, stumbling to regain your grip. Without thinking your hands flung out, reaching for Jean. His fingers slipped between yours, holding you tight and pulling you upright.

"We have company."

Spinning around, you saw the thirteen metre titan staring intently at you. It was close enough that you could make out it's details in the dark, a demonic smile painted on its face, blood and skin wedged in its teeth. Red stained its chin.

You were its next target.

Unsheathing your blades, you ready yourself to pounce.

"Y/N!"

You cry out as you're knocked to the ground. Your head smacked harshly against the cobbles, stars appearing in your vision. You're so out of it you barely hear Jean screaming your name, or feel the abnormal titans grip.

The abnormal tightens its grip. Involuntarily, you screeched, your ribs crunching and sending waves of pain through your body. It keeps squeezing, squeezing and squeezing until - pop.

Blood spilled out of your mouth. Wetness stains your cheeks - whether its blood or tears you're not sure.

The sound of wires zipping greeted your ears. A battle cry ripped through the air. The titans grip loosened and now you're falling -

Falling -

Falling -

A pair of strong arms gently wrapped around you. You recognised Jean instantly by his ashy smell. Even with all of the pain you're in, you muster a smile.

"My knight in shining armour," you croaked, trying to lift an arm to stroke his cheek. The agony tore through you fast enough for you to drop it.

Jean stopped moving, landing in a derelict street. The sounds of fighting were distant. You were alone.

He tried to lay you on the floor; your hysteric cries stopped him. Instead he cradled you in his arms, moving to sit himself down. You grunted, clinging to him with a tight grip.

"I'm so sorry Y/N," Jean whispered, moving a strand of hair away from your face. His touch lingered for a moment, his eyes searching your pain stricken ones. "I'm so sorry you didn't get to see the sun again."

You give him a weak smile - a feeble attempt to mask your pain. Your vision was darkening, your anxiety rising. You had so much to say, so much to still do.

But you had no time.

"You are my sun."

[honibee-arts]

dramatic villain nie huaisang and hero jiang cheng? maybe nie huaisang flirts with the hero while jiang cheng is kinda horny but has a duty to fulfill?

Just a warning this gets a little steamy but its a kind of pan to the window vibe. I will mark this as NSFWish text to be safe though.

"Jie, I don't think I can get all of these people out of here in time.” Jiang Cheng panted into his headset, holding the crumbling ceiling up with one arm, watching the people run out.

He heard his sister sigh, her manicured nails clicking against her keyboard.

“Lightbearer and Moonbeam should be on the scene in the next two minutes.” she replied.

“Jie, I don’t have two minutes. This building is going to collapse in the next thirty fucking seconds.” 

“A-Cheng, language.”

“I’m holding up a building, I don’t even have super strength. I’m gonna die like this. Can’t you tell them to hurry up?” He grit his teeth. He’s going to have a fucking hernia and broken bones after this shit, and he was going to make that stoic asshole Lightbearer pay for his goddamn medical bills. He probably had more than enough money.

“They’re going as fast as they can, A-Cheng.”

“And your boyfriend couldn’t come and help?”

“A-Xuan’s taking A-Ling today so you could patrol, remember?”

“It’s hard to remember when I’m being crushed.”

Jiang Cheng widened his stance, pushing the crumbling ceiling back up with both hands, growling in pain. Black spots began to gather in his vision, his static flickering across his visor from the strain on his suit. 

“We’ll take it from here, thank you, Violet Spider.” Came Moonbeam’s firm yet gentle tone, taking the weight literally off of Jiang Cheng’s shoulders.

“About fucking time.” He wheezed, taking a deep breath as his arms dropped by his sides, wincing in pain.

“Would appreciate some gratitude.” Lightbearer huffed petulantly as he helped his brother carefully lift the falling ceiling back up, holding it there in an eerie white glow.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes as the remaining people rushed past them, scrambling to get out of there as quickly as possible. Jiang Cheng didn’t blame them in their haste, not one bit. He didn’t like being the one to hold that shit up.

“Are you alright, A-Cheng?” His sister asked in his earpiece, the display on his visor recalibrating.

“Yeah, yeah. Just. Exhausted...” he stood back and caught his breath.

“I’ll make sure to have some lotus rib soup for you when you get home, A-Cheng. I’ll check over your injuries too.”

“A-Jie, you don’t need to do that.”

“Aiya, hush. It’s nothing. I’ll check what the damages are to your suit too.”

“A-Jie...”

“No buts, A-Cheng.”

He sighed and looked down, his hair falling over his visor as he stared at the rubble beneath his feet.

“I’m going to have the longest goddamn nap in history after this.”

“You deserve it, A-Cheng.” A-Jie hummed. “Thank you, A-Xuan.” she said softly, sipping what Jiang Cheng assumed was a cup of tea handed to her by her boyfriend.

In his visor, purple warning symbols flared up in his periphery.

“A-Cheng-”

“On it.” He said as he spotted a flare of green a few blocks away. Gritting his teeth against the ache in his arms, Jiang Cheng jumped up onto the wall of the nearest building, scaling it as quickly as possible and sprinting across the rooftops.

Sometimes, only sometimes, Jiang Cheng hated this fucking job. Sure, he could have a normal 9-5 job and earn a stable income, but no, he just had to be born the son of Yunmeng’s protector and inherit her powers and mantle, along with a load of fucking pressure. He just had to have been trained intensely by his mother, day in and day out from the second his powers manifested at 11. He just had to have had the heroes instinct and the motto of “Attempt the impossible” drummed into him since he was a child.

As much as he wanted to push back against his instinct to protect in favour of his exhaustion sometimes, he couldn’t stop himself. 

The blasts led him to the Jin Corporation office building in Yunping, only a half mile from the crumbling building he was just almost crushed under.

“A-Jie, the source is coming from the Jin Corp. offices in Yunping.”

“Mm. I saw. The building that you were just in was a Jin owned business too.” She replied thoughtfully.

“Does your boyfriend know anything about someone that might have been slated by his father? Cousin maybe?”

“Nothing. I know Jin Guangyao had a complicated relationship with Red Blade. There were rumours about him having something to do with his retirement.”

‘Retirement’ had been a delicate way of putting what happened to Red Blade. When Jiang Cheng had first come onto the hero scene, Red Blade had taken him under his wing. He had been something of an older brother figure, despite being the protector of Qinghe rather than Yunmeng. 

He had been familiar with Jiang Cheng’s abilities, having also been mentored by Jiang Cheng’s predecessor. Everyone knew and respected Red Blade. His super strength and speed was matched by none, in his prime he could leap a building in a single bound and punch a meteor out of the sky without so much as a single scratch. With all that power however, came a price. Red Blade had been prone to feral rages which were difficult to pull him out of, very few people could. Moonbeam seemed to be the only one beside whoever was in his ear all the time who could do it.

About six months ago, Red Blade had disappeared for three days. Moonbeam had found him snarling and bleeding from his eyes, his right arm severed and his eyes white. How Red Blade had survived, Jiang Cheng had no idea. After a few weeks in a medically induced coma, Red Blade had announced his retirement and hung up his mantle for good. Only Moonbeam was said to know what had happened to him following his retirement. There was sometime unspoken between those two that Jiang Cheng couldn’t quite figure out but stank of probably resolved sexual tension.

“Shit!” Jiang Cheng cursed, narrowly avoiding a blast of green energy, rolling onto the nearest roof and ducking for cover.

“A-Cheng.” A-Jie chided.

“Like you didn’t say worse when you were being shot at.” Jiang Cheng argued, sending a bolt of violet lighting back.

“Back in the day, I didn’t run my mouth like a sailor, A-Cheng.” 

“I bet you don’t miss this part of heroing, huh?”

“There are times I am grateful I took a permanent maternity leave, yes.” She replied. “A-Cheng! On your left! Someone’s coming your way, and its not anyone on the Lotus servers. Be on your guard.”

Jiang Cheng nodded and raised his hackles as a a figure cloaked in blinding green energy floated onto the building, their black heels clicking against the concrete roof. As soon as the figure was close enough, Jiang Cheng shot a bolt of lightning in their direction, yet, to his horror, it was deflected easily.

“Come on out little spider, I won’t hurt you.” The figure said.

Jiang Cheng swallowed thickly and stepped out, hackles still raised.

“Aiya, so defensive. Put your arms down so I can see your pretty face. I won’t try anything.” Jiang Cheng slowly lowered his arms but kept his guard up, stance firm. “So stubborn. That’s better though, hello handsome.” 

The figure was slender, androgynous with long, dark hair that shone in their eerie green glow and flowed behind them in the wind, their eyes afire with the energy that seemed pulse from their entire being, almost drawing Jiang Cheng in like a moth to a particularly deadly yet hard to resist flame. Their body was wrapped in a skin-tight leather-like substance with mesh panels, leaving even less to the imagination, half of their face obscured by a mask that started at the neck and wrapped around his mouth and nose.

Jiang Cheng swallowed thickly, ready to burst into action whenever necessary.

“And what should I call you?” Jiang Cheng said steadily.

“Well, I go by he/him pronouns, but I do quite like it when sexy men like you call me beautiful.” He giggled, bouncing on his heels a little. “Binary terms are horseshit anyway, gender is a social construct.”

“Not what I meant but. I don’t like misgendering people. Even if they’re tearing up half the fucking city. So. Thanks.”

“Well, I haven’t really given myself a name yet.” The man hummed, snapping open one of the fans in his hand and fluttering it lightly. “Kinda just wanted to do one thing and hang up the whole thing I guess.”

“And you wanted to what, not get caught?”

“Well, something of the sort.”

“And you assumed you could do this tearing up half the city looking like a green lava lamp dressed like a hooker?”

“A-Cheng! Be nice!”

“Yes, listen to your sister, A-Cheng.”

“How do you know that!” Jiang Cheng snapped, his hands sparking.

“Whoa, whoa, easy hot stuff, I mean you and your family no harm. You have your headset on way too loud and everyone can hear you saying A-Jie so. Go figure.”

“Alright... I’ll be more mindful in the future.”

“He seems genuine, A-Cheng. I’m going to log off for now, but I’ll keep an eye on your vitals and see if you seem like you need help.”

“Alright...” He heard the line go quiet, her lotus icon in the corner of his visor going totally transparent. 

“Is it just us?” The man asked. 

“Yeah. Just us. So. What the fuck is your deal?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“The Jin corporation have fucked plenty of innocent people over, but there are also innocent people in that tower you’re trying to destroy.”

“They’re collateral. I’ve accepted those losses.” The man said, his demeanour turning cold suddenly.

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“You wouldn’t understand my motivations.” The man turned around and stared ahead at the slowly burning building ahead of them.

“Ugh, what is it with villains and cryptic bullshit? I can’t let you wreck the fucking building, okay?”

“Watch me.”

Jiang Cheng lunged and grabbed his arm, earning a blast of green energy to his solar plexus that sent him staggering. Today was not his day. 

“If you want a fight, then fine.” The man said, rolling his shoulders. “I’m just sorry I’ll have to kick that glorious ass of yours.”

Jiang Cheng felt his cheeks flush. 

“Oh please, the spandex doesn’t hide shit.” The man said before lunging at Jiang Cheng.

Yeah, okay. This was a day Jiang Cheng really hated his fucking job. His muscles screamed with exhaustion as the man tackled him to the roof, straddling him and pinning his arms above his head. Maybe he was tired and his resolve was slipping, or maybe he had been rocking a semi for a fair amount of the fight and could admit this man was fucking hot despite his different side of the law.

The tightly coiled strength in his deceivingly slender limbs forced Jiang Cheng down as he straddled his lap. As he brushed his groin, Jiang Cheng let out a slight groan.

“Hold on,” The man said, sitting back. “Are you hard? Does fighting me turn you on?”

“Sh-Shut up! Are we gonna fight or not?!” He struggled under his grip.

Fuck, okay. The man was right. This was humiliating. Why does he enjoy this?

“I dunno, do you want some help with that?” The man purred, his long, thick lashes fanning over his cheeks as he leaned in closer, shifting his hips ever so slightly and earning another groan from Jiang Cheng.

“Are you crazy? I’m meant to be fighting you!”

“I know but, I kinda like this vibe we have going. Do you?”

Jiang Cheng bit his lip and looked away, nodding.

“I need a verbal yes.”

“You care about that?”

“I’m an anarchist not a monster, damn. Answer me.”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I... I like... this.”

“And is it a yes that you consent to this rooftop encounter?”

“C’mon I already said-”

“Yes or no spider. I won’t take that horseshit for an answer.”

“... Yes. I would like you to. Help me out.”

“Good,” he hummed, hooking a black gloved finger in his mask and tugging it down, revealing soft, pink lips pulled into a suggestive smirk. “I’m glad to be of service.” and he leaned down to press his lips to Jiang Cheng’s.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Magical Loopholes

Chapter 31: Gone or Taken

He was torn. Inside, his emotions oscillated from the frenzied motions that came along with panic to the sluggish pit associated with depression.

Belle was gone. Her nightgown lay discarded on the floor. It was still warm, barely, but warm enough. She hadn't been gone for long, but then where had she gone and why?

Gone or taken?

That was the question.

Had she finally had enough? Had their argument today been enough to send her over the edge to make her leave him?

Or had someone lured her outside and taken her away? This town was full of enemies; it was why he wasn't so keen on taking her into town when she begged. He felt confident that no one had come onto his property, but she'd gone outside for "air" before. With magic it might not take much to lure her out past the property line so that he'd never sense another presence on his property.

Gone or taken?

The first roused fear in him, the second anger and panic.

Anger and panic. He needed to hold on to those. Most of his life had been driven by anger and panic. He'd learned that he could do a lot when he was angry and panicked, and even if Belle had gone of her own free will, he still needed to find her. Free will or not, he'd promised to take care of her. Out there in the world, she had nothing. No money, no friends, not a single idea about where she was. If she chose not to come back, then what did she plan on doing? Sleep on the street?

No. She'd look for something familiar, she'd try to play the role of the hero, she'd try to do what he hadn't done yet. She'd try to find her father or Gaston, the only other people she'd indicated she thought she knew in this town.

Those thoughts allowed more anger to pour through him. He'd promised to take care of her, and part of that promise meant that she'd never have to go back to her father, never have to play a part in his games again. He had to find her before she found him.

He snatched the nightgown off the floor, grabbed his jacket, and used magic to take him to the shop. First thing first, he dove for the black bag he kept in the corner. A potion, he could use a potion to find her. The magic he'd placed on her to keep her safe and hidden from others would hide her even from him, but with her nightgown, a tracking potion could work! It was a loophole he was happy to exploit only...he remembered too late that he'd given his Tracking Potion to David and hadn't made another one yet. That was no bother. He'd given it to him before he'd known there was a problem with the town line because he knew he could cast a Tracking Spell himself. A Tracking Spell would work around his magic just as well.

He clutched the nightgown Belle had been wearing in his hand pushed the spell into it only…

It glowed. Just as it was supposed to, it glowed brightly for only a second. And then the glow flickered out and faded. He looked around as if expecting to see her sitting on the cot or in the corner, he wandered out into the front room, but the place was untouched. He glanced back at the nightgown and cast the Tracking Spell over it again.

Again, it glowed as it was supposed to before flickering out and fading away just as…

Just as it was supposed to when the owner of the object had been found.

Him. He was the owner of the object. The nightgown...it wasn't hers. She'd worn it, but it was his magic that had created it, and so it recognized him as the owner. It was finding him. But there were other things, things that she'd found around the house that she'd confessed had belonged to her long ago! But what? He hadn't been paying attention when they'd had that conversation. And the items had been random, a book or two, a shoe, maybe a pillow…he couldn't remember.

And there was her teacup…

He was halfway to the case where he was storing it before he stopped. Her teacup…from his tea set, bathed in his blood and magic so that it would find its way to him in this world. It might recognize itself as her own, just as half a dozen other things in his home might, but he needed to find her. He didn't have time to run around trying to find that one magical item that would take him to her. He didn't have anything of hers to cast a spell on, not even in a carnal way. Blood, skin, saliva, they hadn't so much as kissed this morning before she'd disappeared, and they hadn't had sex last night; there was nothing he could harvest for a potion. Except…

Blood to blood. Her father. Her blood would flow in his veins and vise versa. And he suspected that if she left on her own, then that was the place she would go to. He'd cut her off.

If he couldn't get to her first, then he'd get to where she was going first. If she was going there at all, he reminded himself. He wandered into the back room where the drawings that she'd made of her father were still waiting to be tossed out with the other trash, and from a drawer, he pulled forth the amateur drawing of her that her father had done. He wasn't sure what he wanted to believe. He wasn't sure how to marry the person she'd been to the one she was now. Part of him believed that if she left on her own and had nowhere to go, then she'd go to her father. Another part of him believed there was a slim chance of that happening. Not just because she wouldn't want to, but she wouldn't know how.

She had nothing to go on here. She had no idea who her father was here or what he did. But if she did know…that was the first place he'd look. Out on her own, confused, scared…she'd want something familiar. There was a slim chance she was there, but if she was…if she was, then he had to know. He'd always known this day was coming, a day that she walked out on him because she couldn't handle the monster the way she thought she could. He'd promised himself that when that day came, he'd accept it he just…he thought he'd had more time. He hoped they'd have more time. He'd hoped that he might be able to tell her about Baelfire, and yet when he'd had the opportunity this morning-

Later, those were thoughts for later, after he had a hint about where she was. He needed to go to the flower shop. If she was there and wanted to stay with her father, then he'd accept it. If she wasn't there…he shivered. If she wasn't there, then he might have a problem that required a bit more thought. He just had to know if she was safe. That was the priority. He just needed to know where she was so he could protect her from Regina, among others.

"You!" Moe spat out the moment he entered the flower shop. He'd walked there. Not because he was dying for air but because part of him had hoped he might see her on the street or hear something about someone who was looking for him or Moe. But the trip had been wholly uneventful. Until now. Now Moe French glared at him, red in the face, his heart racing, fear pouring from him so that it stank up the place, an achievement for a man who owned a flower shop. He could understand his fear. At the moment, he understood that emotion all too well.

"Rest easy…I'm not here for you. At least not today," he warned in a tone that certainly carried the implication of a threat to it. But he let the words linger there as he showed the man the poster he'd brought. "I was wondering if you'd heard from your daughter?"

Immediately, Moe snatched it out of his hands. "Is this some kind of cruel joke?" he snapped. "I wouldn't have made this flyer if I knew where she was. The only reason she's missing is because of the deal I made with you."

Belle's deal. He wanted so badly to correct him. It was Belle who had stood up and made that deal, who had negotiated it, who had paid the price. Maurice had just benefited from it as he let it happen, and it turned his stomach still today. Watching him look over that paper with sorrow and longing all the while knowing what Belle had told him about her life, how trapped she'd been…it made him want to take a cane to man again.

"I'd held out. I hoped she might have survived such a wicked trade."

"And she has."

"Why hasn't she come looking for me?"

"Oh, she did," he assured him, crossing his hands over his cane to keep the smile he felt inside from blooming on his face. He wanted him to know the truth of it. He wanted him to feel guilty. But considering the situation and the position he found himself in, he opted for implications instead of pesky details. Now was probably not the time to confess that they'd been living together since the Curse broke quite happily until this morning. Now was probably not the time to confess that they'd been sleeping together, even if he did hatefully want the man to know that Belle had been the one to make that decision. He wanted him to know those things, but at the moment, he thought it was better to leave out the details and allow him to take from it what he would. "She even made a flyer like this one."

"Well, let me guess. You took care of it by throwing it in the trash."

"I don't expect you to help me!" he growled, stepping forward and grabbing the paper out of his hands for himself. He did so want to make Moe flinch, to make him cry and scream again. But that would help his current situation, not if Belle came by. What had his aunts always told him in difficult situations? Best behavior. He had to be on his best behavior now. He didn't need help from French, but he might just need assurance. He hated to be indebted to the man for anything, but if it got back to Belle somehow…she was softer than her father; tenderhearted. She'd make sure he knew she was alright.

"I just want to know she's safe."

"And now, thanks to you, neither one of us knows where she is. You're a monster, Rumpelstiltskin," he muttered before he turned and walked into the back room.