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snailsandpuppy-dogtails · 9 months

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Mean What You Say

Part 4 and the completion of the Garvez Solstice story was posted on Ao3 a year ago today! I have not re-read this one, but i'm pretty sure there's no smut here, just fluff.

WC:2,204

As Luke drove home, he considered how and where he could approach Penelope. He didn’t want to corner her in her office, that was her space, her sanctum, he didn’t want to make her feel unsafe or uncomfortable there, if that’s how she might end up feeling. The elevator was private, but again, trapped, literally in that instance, he wasn’t going for coercion, just a mutual understanding and acknowledgment. A conversation. The hall was to open, the bullpen doubly so. It was down to a conference room or the kitchen. There would be more opportunity and less suspicion with the kitchen, he would see when she walked by to grab lunch and make tea, he could slip out then too. Tomorrow. The kitchen. He was going to do it.

——

Penelope, hungover, nursed her iced coffee as she stealthily made her way into the BAU. She was an idiot. Why could she not turn off her mouth?! Sure they hadn’t been the most explicit things she’d ever said to a coworker, but they were some of the most genuine and now she had to come to work knowing he was stone-cold sober for all of it. How was she going to face him, be able to keep up her staunch dislike? How could she look him in the eye?! Well. She wouldn’t have to. Not really. And definitely if they didn’t have a case. She could just hide in her office all day and slip out again at the end of the day. She could do that until they had a case, and then he would be gone! Oooh, this could work. She wouldn’t have to face Luke and her unrequited feelings (because surely he did’t feel the same way or he would have done something last night besides shrug off her touches, right?) and she wouldn’t have to face the teasing he was sure to try and dish out if she was no where near him. Penelope shut the door to her office and started booting up her computers. She exhaled a breath of relief as she sat back in her chair. Ok, this could work.

All morning she stayed in her office, no one came to bother her, and she was feeling a bit more relaxed about the whole thing. However, around 11:30 Penelope was met with a hitch in her plan. Restroom break and drink refill. Thanks to the stash of snacks in her desk she was able to stave off hunger, but she would need to pee or risk bursting her bladder if she held out much longer and all the sour straws were making her kind of thirsty.

Shit.

She did not see that one coming. She took out her purple glitter pen and made a note to get drinks to store in her space and to ask Prentiss to have a bathroom installed… for efficiency.

What, she could ask.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, pelvic floor clenched tight, unable to concentrate on anything but her embarrassing behavior from the night before resulting in her current situation. Her stomach churned, acid building and burning in her gut as her nerves went haywire.

Fuck.

Why did he have to be so beautiful and perfect and nice? Such a jerk.

She couldn’t take it anymore, she got up from the chair, crept as fast as she could to the door and pulled it open a crack. "AH!” She jumped back at the unexpected face on the other side, a little pee escaping at the shock.

“JJ! What do you want?” her voice was a hushed yell, not wanting to draw attention, she was still planning on sneaking out after this. JJ raised her eyebrows, amused grin on her face. “Just coming to check on you…No one’s seen you all morning. Would there be a reason you’re hiding out in here? Maybe a “Rudely attractive, 6-foot-tall, musclebound-sculpture" of a reason?

Penelope straightened, putting on her best authoritative serious face “I’m not hiding. I’ve been working. You know, believe it or not I do a lot behind the scenes for you all when you’re away and even when you’re here and I have to sift through files and cases and compile notes and try to determine what could be a case and what cases I should bring to you all. I’ve been busy, OK, JJ? I didn’t have time to come out and drink coffee and hang out lounging on desks like some car model!”

Whew. That took a turn. Maybe she needed to reel it in.

The smile faded from JJ’s face “I-“

Penelope cut her off, “Now if you don’t mind, I was just going to the Powder room. Excuse me.” and brushed past her stunned friend.

After relieving her bladder, she stood at the sink staring into the mirror. “Get a grip! You just verbally assaulted JJ! What the heck!? Ok, ok, breath in, breath out.” She closed her eyes, slowly inhaling through her nose and then out through pursed lips. She ran a folded paper towel under the cold water, and lifting her hair, dabbed it on the back of her neck and on her wrists. The water reminded her of her parched sour candy-stinging mouth. Feeling a little more in control, she deiced to make a break for the kitchen.

Penelope’s absence, as JJ said, escaped no one’s notice. Especially not Luke’s. How was he supposed to talk with her today if she wasn’t making some kind of appearance? And why was she hiding out? He was hearing her loud and clear there. But did she really hate that she liked him that much, or was it the HR thing? He could persuade one and had a pretty convincing argument for the other, but she needed to be present so they could work through it. Thankfully, he didn’t have much to work on today since he was glancing up every time a body moved in the room, keeping an anxious eye out for her. He knew at this point if she did come out everyone would be watching, he couldn’t easily happen to cross paths and have it go unnoticed. And he knew her well enough to know she’d be embarrassed if the whole team knew they were talking in the way he planned, even if he was pretty sure since the party the whole team knew…

JJ had left by the time Penelope got back. She walked back into her office, grabbed her mug, and heels clacking walked into the main office space. With all eyes on her peeking up, Prentiss and Rossi poking their heads out of their doors, Penelope stopped with an “A-hem", and said, hands sweeping in a grande gesture, “Good morning!” she gave a slight bow and then continue on her way to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Better to let them all know they weren’t as smooth as they thought they were than look like she was sneaking by.

Luke quietly cracked up at the action, god she was ridiculous, maybe that’s why he lo…nope. Liked. Maybe that’s why he liked her so much. Alright. Now, now was the time, she probably wouldn’t be out very long. Go to the restroom, then to the kitchen. Luke got up, heading to the catwalk and around the corner, an appropriate time later he came back and scooped a cup off his desk, wandering into the kitchen after her.

He could see her glance at him from the corner of her eye at her position in front of the coffee pot, he knew she knew he was there. “Penelope.” he said by way of greeting. He’d come to stand right behind her, voice soft and velvety in her ear.

“Newbie,” she sniffed.

“We should talk.” he said, free hand lightly pulling at the tips of her hair, shiver rushing her skin with goosebumps.

“We have nothing to talk about.” It was flat.

He wanted to say he couldn’t believe it, but he expected this. He knew she struggled to not lash out and to communicate what she was actually feeling when it came to him. It’s why they needed to talk. He wanted to see where this could go, he needed to know if she wanted that too.

“Penelope, please.” It was said softly, quiet, just for them.

She turned, freeing up the coffee. He stepped to the side, blocking her exit. “Luke. Move. This is not the place.”

His hands came up to his sides placating, face, serious. “Like I said at the party, I’m done playing games. Penelope. I-“

“Shut up! shut up shut up shut up shut up! Jeez. Just. Fine. Meet me in my cave.” She side-stepped, and stalked off, heels clicking her retreat.

Quickly Luke poured some coffee into his cup, it’s why he was in there, right? He dropped the drink off at his desk as he made his way through the bullpen and followed the path to her office.

Once in, he shut the door, providing them more privacy. He didn’t intend on doing this here, but it’s where she’d chosen, and they didn’t need someone overhearing or bursting in on their conversation, however it might go.

“Look, last night. I’m sorry, sometimes my mouth just says things and I don't…” she started, putting her mug on her desk.

“So none of that was true?” She looked up and suddenly he was right in front of her, drowning her in the smell of coffee and ocean and Luke. She closed her eyes, too close, too much, too handsome, couldn’t look.

“Penelope,” he moved, slipping a hand around her waist and she could feel it searing into her skin through the fabric of her dress. “I know this stuff isn’t easy for you, so I’m going to make it easy.” Another hand on her waist and she could feel his feet bracketing her own, his forehead resting against hers, “I like you, Penelope Garcia. I’d like to get to know you." His thumbs were slowly moving back and forth against her "Privately. Away from everyone else.” she could feel his face tipping closer, making it hard to concentrate, "I’d like to take you out,” his body pressing into hers, her pressing into her desk, "and go on dates,” but not wanting to pull away, not sure she could make her legs work at this point anyway “to hold you...and touch you..and kiss you…” What was he doing, this was too much, to heavy, too forward, if she decided she wasn’t feeling the same she could easily have him fired for this. But she was magnetic, a blackhole pulling him in. She swallowed, mouth gone dry, and breathed out “Now?” She felt his soft chuckle more than heard it, his response a whisper “would that be ok?” She nodded, rocking her forehead against his once before their mouths slipped into contact, his full lips pressing into hers, hands tensing and gripping, his on her, hers on the edge of the desk. Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer, lips gliding against lips back and forth gulping, feeding, devouring, quick and intense, a match striking, igniting, immolating.

The memory popped into her head of Kevin trying to do this here and her pushing him away, but now with Luke she didn’t want to stop. She broke the kiss laughing. She looked up, eyes catching eyes, he was looking at her with something she couldn’t quite place. His breath was ragged, breathing heavy when he asked “So is that a yes?”

She laughed again, nodding “Yes, that’s yes. Just… maybe again…” letting go of the desk, hands coming up to his hair, fingers combing behind bringing him back down. The kiss was deeper, harder, hand turning into arm slipping around, pulling her in impossibly close and firm against him, hand trailing up her thigh and under her skirt, rough fingertips sliding against soft skin, Penelope gasping into the kiss, Luke biting back a strangled sound and letting go. Reminding himself they were at work, anyone could still walk in, and though he'd wanted to do this since that first day on the elevator, this wasn't really the place.

She cleared her throat, righting her clothes looking down at her skirt. “Well. Good talk.”

“Tonight?” he asked, positioning himself next to her on the desk, pleased smile on his face.

Her head shot up, “I’m busy tonight.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed, mouth quirking. “Lunch then, today.”

“We can’t go to lunch! Luke! No one can know!”

“For now. Can you promise not to send us out on a case tomorrow?” He was moving in closer, hands playing with her hair, nose tracing cheek bone, stubble scratching, she was like catnip, “Because I’d really like to start this before you have a chance to get it in your head it didn’t happen…or that it shouldn’t.” He nipped at her jaw following it up with a sucking kiss to the same spot.

Penelope made a whining noise. "Fine. Tonight." then leaning away, "But no more of this,” she moved a pointed finger between them “here. You’re very distracting.”

He chuckled, “I have been told I’m too pretty.”

#garvez #criminal minds #luke alvez #penelope garcia #JJ #fluff #fan fiction #snails tales #ao3

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austajunk · 2 years

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i have a few!

- irouma hate sex

- oumaede rough sex in kaede’s lab

- oumota hanger sex

Ouruma hate sex it is!!! <3

I’ve been dying to write Miu and Kokichi messing with each other, so teasing and bitchy smut beneath the cut!

“Heyyyy, don’t be lazy, Miss Cow Tits! I thought a fat-breasted sex genius like yourself was totally gonna show a virgin like me how to fuck!”

Miu barely had time to collect herself as the Ultimate Supreme leader flung a rubber dildo at her. It plopped against her naked thighs and rolled in between her legs on the bed.

The blonde bombshell was no stranger to fun toys of any kind, but she had never seen that monster before, dropping a lewd and nervous face that made Kokichi double over with laughter. Could anyone actually take that size all the way inside of them?! Her turquoise eyes locked on its fleshy, textured mushroom tip and ran along the veins to its base. It was a girth that would put a musclebound idiot like Gonta to shame!

Okay… this was it. Miu tried to ignore the heat rising to her face as well as the urge to fall over and play dead so Kokichi could just shove the thing inside of her and be done with it. Wait… was she a virgin? Maybe… that was something she was very much trying to block out right now as she faltered onto the red, heart-shaped bed. The cameras that hovered in her bedroom felt closer than ever.

“Sh-Shut up, okay?! I’m getting to it, you limp-dick little shit!” Miu barked back, her cheeks on fire.

Miu’s fingers wrapped around the rubber cock and traced it up her pussy, her lips shuddering as she soaked it in her juices. Nothing felt stranger than having an actual breathing audience in the form of Kokichi someone actually grinning and drinking her in as a sexual being. But oh God, she didn’t know if she was ready for this. Wasn’t her first time supposed to be with someone special or some shit?

Kokichi rolled over on the bed, staring at her in delight with his shining violet eyes. He lowered his head in his hands, grinning from ear to ear.

“Waitttt, are you actually a virgin, Miu?!”

“NO-! N..No… I‘m not—!”

The shorter companion snorted at his naked captive, almost completely in disbelief. “Holy shit. You really are…” He couldn’t believe this. Miu had her pink folds spread out to him beneath her skirt, ready to push a massive purple dildo inside of her and she had never even been touched before!

“It’s not like that, you fucking twerp! I j-just haven’t maybe gone all the way…” Miu’s voice got smaller with every excuse.

“Got it!” Kokichi responded joyfully. “A virgin, it is!” His loud, obnoxious voice made sure to be overheard for the cameras. “Nihihihihi…well, don’t keep that hungry pussy waiting! Whether you’re a slut at heart or by schooling, we’ll just have to see…”

“Ngh…” For some reason, Miu started to feel queasy on the inside. The fleshy mushroom tip soaked thoroughly into her cunt juices before she aimed the toy for her core.

Swallowing everything she wanted to let out at the moment, Miu raised herself above the toy. The slightest hint of wetness poked from her eyes. Then she slammed her hips down. The rubber toy shot inside of her like a bullet, forcing her to thrust her chest up into the air in a massive bounce.

“FUCK—! Fuck—!!!” Miu cried out. She panted roughly, squealing every so often to get through the immense pressure tearing through her. “SHIT FUCKING HELL MOTHERF-!”

Kokichi blinked and then his eyes went wide with wonder. He couldn’t actually believe it. Considering the way she spit lewd remarks out of her mouth left and right, he really was joking about the virgin thing! But she just actually—

Watching the toy go inside her made him stiffen uncomfortably in his pants. “Fuck…” He groaned to himself, rubbing the front of his trousers with a sadistic smile.

With the rubber cock skewering her warm depths, she knew she would never truly go back to how she was before this. And yet, her body was starting to adjust to the girth of the toy, plunging it and out of her body with a renewed gusto. It felt good, but she needed something more to truly reach that sweet peak of pleasure that she longed for. If she could only enter a world of bliss, she wouldn’t think about the multiple cameras watching her humiliating display…

“Jesus, do I have to do everything for you?” Kokichi chortled above her. He really tried to sound disappointed but watching the blonde fuck herself was just too good.

But sadly, every time she neared a pleasured release, Kokichi’s taunts brought her away from that orgasm. “Fuck…” Miu whimpered in futility until she felt his weight next to her on the bed. Kokichi yanked the toy away and commanded her to lie back and keep her hands above her head. “Ah…” Her heart immediately started racing, fear and bewilderment splashing over her pretty blonde features as soon as she saw that evil grin on his face. Whatever Kokichi had in mind, it was going to be so far away from anything close to mercy.

“You aren’t going to actually get off but skewering yourself like that, you dumb bitch,” said Kokichi, eyeing the line of juices that smothered the rubber cock. “Here..” With a bit more delicacy, he began to tease up her folds and rest the vibrating head across her Clit.

Her pink slit glistened with her juices that had already seeped away the last of her used cherry. Her clit was already a swollen, eager nub above her folds and Miu immediately squealed in delight like a pig as soon as the tip of the rubber cock was teased up her pussy.

“Ngh… that’s it… that feels good…” Her mouth watered.

But such an illusion of bliss was shattered when the vibrating tool was shoved so roughly inside of her. She bucked and cried out, tossing her head into one of the pillows while she struggled not to move her arms. She wanted to wrap her legs around the cock, to drive it in deeper. Luckily, Kokichi read her mind and pounded her pussy with the toy until curved up to her sweetest spot. “I’m gonna… fuck me… please!” She moaned for the cameras. He even allowed the vibration to connect with her clit, sending her into a fit of new moans. A line of drool was already trickling down her lips…just as she noticed Kokichi was getting above her…

“Open up.” It was all Kokichi had to say and Miu understood instantly.

Mindlessly, her tongue left her lips to give his six inches a long and slow lick. Even though she was a virgin, this wasn’t her first time tasting a cock. But Kokichi was bigger than the one nerd she happened to blow outside a science convention. The cold air and Kokichi’s ministrations had left Miu’s nipples as hard as little red cherries. As much as she wanted Kokichi to play with her more, she was considerably eager to suck his cock and surprise him with her skills there. And then his face as soon as her tongue lightly licked the tip. But the wild slap to her ass sent her sputtering and off course, leaving a red print to backside as she was forced to take him inside her mouth—

“UNGH-! Ack…”

How Kokichi Ouma was so endowed, she would never know. She gave a hungry groan and obliged him. Her mouth opened and the cock pushed to the back of her throat. "...!!!" Little strings of saliva hung down Miu’s cheeks as she bobbed her head and down his shafts, her tongue brushing the veiny bumps along the ridge. She lashed at the spot under his cock, one she knew was full of nerves. “Mhmm… hrk…” The lewd noises of his cock squishing into her mouth combined with the toy made her pussy tighten over the dildo as an orgasm flooded her body. She couldn't take it anymore. “I-I’m…c-cumming-!” She cried out before his cock plugged her mouth once more. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her face was caught in a hazy look of stupidity and arousal. Her hot nectar spilled down the toy and over the tips of Kokichi’s digits as he teased her mercilessly.

“Awww gross, Miu…you sprayed everywhere…” That annoying voice lured her straight out of her pleasured state. The little fucker… “Should I tell everyone that you secretly like me, cockwhore?”

She wanted to answer back in spite, to rip his dick right off with her teeth. But Kokichi had enough foresight to plunge towards her throat to keep her busy.

It was true that Miu had been lost in the throes of her orgasm. With all the dirty material she consumed, she knew she was surely a masochistic bitch at heart. Even then, there was still the hesitation at actually going for such sordid means of pleasure. But with a vibrator digging against her cervix while its little rabbit ears nuzzled her clit, Miu was content to completely let herself slip away into pure heaven. Her mind wanted to wander as she rode out her squirting climax and think on if any of the other students were watching and if they were jealous that Kokichi was tormenting her ruthlessly instead of them.

But her thoughts couldn’t travel far. Instead, she felt the quick pulse inside the muscles of her throat, the threat of Kokichi about to blow his load inside of her.

Kokichi grunted and slipped his fingers roughly into her blonde locks. He shoved her head forward over his dick, making sure her nose was shoved up against his pubes until he climaxed.

“Fuck… that’s it… drink it all, you dirty…” His lips twisted into a hot grin of satisfication. Fuck. He hadn’t actually expected to like messing with such a masochistic inventor… but his entire body was quivering from the right throat fuck!

His cum spurted into her mouth and across her tongue to drink. “Nghhh…”

Finally, the last rope of spunk was plastered across her cheek as they both fell back on the bed now split apart.

“Shit yeah…” Miu gurgled, burying her head in her arms.

And yet, Kokichi couldn’t resist. “Awwww… that was a good try… but I’m sure I’ve had better, Miu!”

Miu kept her head buried, but stuck up the middle finger from her right hand.

“Go blow Pooichi then, you cock-starved taint.”

#danganronpa #new danganronpa v3 killing harmony #miu iruma #kokichi ouma #ouruma #iruoma #heheheh #my fics #thanks for the request!

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aloudplace · 4 days

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Dirty thoughts 11

It was still strange to walk freely through Stark's compound, even with Thor at his elbow.

Stark had never reneged on Loki's initial release–-his 'graduation' from threat watch. All of the metal man's underlings had been informed. There were no more suspicious gazes, no more humans in black uniforms watching his every move. There were still a few fearful glances, but that had never bothered him.

Even better, the Asgardians were actually happy for his return. They'd given him his own chambers, even furnished and decorated them in lavish Asgardian style. They hadn't forgotten what he'd done for them during Ragnarok. And he liked to think that even though he'd posed as Odin, they'd been happy under his rule.

The compound was barely large enough to contain the remaining Asgardian population, but the buildings were comfortable and well-equipped, especially since many of Asgard's artisans and craftsmen had survived and begun making the place their home. The halls of New Asgard were already decorated with tapestries and paintings, each room filled with traditional Asgardian furnishings.

"Loki," Thor stopped him just outside the door to his chambers. "I owe you an apology, Brother."

Well, that's...unexpected.

Loki turned to him, "Do you, really?" he asked with interest.

"Do not mock me, now, Loki. I'm serious."

He looked serious; handsome face grave.

"Alright then," Loki relented. "Go on."

"I never asked what fate you suffered after you fell into that wormhole. Nor why you came back to conquer Earth. I just assumed..." he sighed sharply. "It was arrogant of me to think you did it simply out of spite."

"Incredibly arrogant, yes," Loki interjected, earning himself a one-eyed glare.

"I'm sorry I've misjudged you," Thor said stiffly. "Though I do wish you'd been more honest all this time. I could have helped you, Brother."

Loki mustered his trademark smirk. "You know me better than that."

Thor shook his head. "I'm not sure I do anymore. I thought I did, but...well, I'm beginning to see there's a great deal about you that perhaps I've misunderstood."

He actually looked ashamed.

Loki felt a curious sensation in his chest. "Thor-–" he began.

"No, let me finish," Thor held up his hand. "I know we've had our differences, and I've thought very little of you at times, but you are my brother, Loki, in spite of everything. You're all I have left." His one blue eye was full of emotion. "I'm happy to have you fighting at my side again, Brother. More than I can possibly say."

Loki found himself mute, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. He reached out to clasp Thor's shoulder in lieu of actual speech. Thor yanked him into a fierce, spine-cracking hug and then released him a moment later, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Well, I'm glad we could have this little...talk," Thor said gruffly. "You best get back to your–-" he gestured at the door, "-–Bella."

"Right," Loki said faintly. My Bella. "Sleep well then, Brother."

"And you, Brother."

Thor turned to continue down the hall and Loki opened the door to his chambers, pausing as Thor's voice echoed back to him, tongue-in-cheek: "Be good to her, Loki. Else I might steal her away from you."

"Just try it," Loki growled and then shut the door on Thor's cocky laughter.

He turned, hackles up, cursing under his breath. Bloody musclebound idiot.

The room was cool and dim, soft light emanating from a carved stone lamp in the far corner, casting shadows across the thick fur rugs and the big wooden canopy bed with its luxurious green draperies and silky golden blankets.

Bella was nothing more than a small bump in the center of the enormous mattress–-the top of her dark head just visible amongst the pillows.

Someone had brought her tea-–it sat on a fine silver tray beside the bed, the silver cup half-empty. He wondered if the servants had been kind to her. If they'd drawn her a bath, offered to undress her.

No doubt she'd have declined such a service anyway. But he wanted to know that she'd been treated with respect. She was consort to a prince, after all.

Well, plenty of time to make sure of that tomorrow. For now, he'd asked that they not be disturbed until morning. He wanted her to all himself tonight.

Who knew how many more such nights he would have before they were at war.

He stripped quietly, laying his clothes across the back of the silk-upholstered chaise so they could be laundered in the morning. Then he padded naked to the bed and slipped between the covers, burrowing until he came against soft, warm woman.

Sweet Allmother, she was completely naked.

Already hard, he curled himself around her, chest to her back, tucking his cock against her silky little bottom.

She stirred when he put his arms around her and he drew his hand slowly up the front of her body to touch her breasts, stroking one and then the other, cupping them firmly, soft flesh welling around his fingers.

"Loki," she mumbled, still half-asleep, stretching languorously against him.

She twisted as though to face him but he held her in place with one hand on her lower belly, fingers slipping between her legs as he leaned over to kiss her mouth.

Wet. She was already wet. Had she lain here thinking of him before she's fallen asleep?

Loki growled softly at the thought–-at the slick heat under his fingers–-dipping his tongue into her mouth and angling her hips back as he kissed her and stroked the velvet lips of her sex.

A moment later he was inside her, sheathed to the hilt. Her breath caught on a gasp, slick flesh rippling around his cock. Her hand found his hip, slid down to the top of his thigh, gripping the muscle there.

"Good girl," he murmured into her mouth, thrusting slowly. "Nice and easy."

The tip of his cock bumped her cervix and she moaned softly.

"Does that hurt?" he murmured, withdrawing almost completely, watching her head roll back to the pillow, mouth open on a gasp.

"No," she breathed. "More. Please."

Loki gripped her hip and thrust again, harder this time, driving deep, making her writhe.

"Still more?" he asked. Her sex seemed to throb around him.

"Yes," she whispered, nails digging into his thigh.

He rolled her over, belly down, bracing his elbows on either side of her narrow shoulders, arching sharply so that he could thrust and kiss her neck at the same time.

She whimpered and clenched, growing wetter.

"You like it this way," he growled, nudging her legs apart and pressing her into the mattress. Biting her shoulder gently. "So deep," he whispered, rocking her, pestering her cervix with short, rhythmic thrusts, groaning when she tightened. "You're practically sucking me, Bella."

The sound she made damned near undid him-–soft, animal keening.

"Tell me what you want," he hissed, thrusting again.

"More," she whimpered, breathless. "Ride me, Loki."

Sweet Mother of–that did it. He thrust hard, withdrew completely and buried himself straight to the hilt. And then again, pausing to look down at his cock bobbing stiffly above her ass, lifting himself to watch the rigid length disappear inside, pink lips closing around the broad base.

And then he settled into a hard, pumping rhythm, watching her little body jolt with each thrust, listening to her ragged sobs of pleasure.

"Are you close, Bella?" he panted, "You're soaking wet. Gods, it's so good, love."

She made a sound that might have been a confirmation, writhing helplessly beneath him.

He was already right on the edge himself, thrusting faster, losing his rhythm. "Come for me, Bella," he growled. "Now!"

Bella gasped, bucking against his thrusts. Turning her head to bite the corner of the pillow closest to her face, screaming raggedly through her teeth, sex fisting tightly around his cock as she came.

"Yes," he hissed, pumping fast and hard, "Yes! Coming, Bella! Gods!"

The pleasure wracked him, burned along his cock in molten spurts, bowing his spine and tearing rough, animal cries from his throat. Her little sex flooded with his seed and he kept thrusting into his own wetness as the pleasure unfurled, every nerve ending lit and sparkling.

"Do you feel that?" he groaned, head of his cock slipping wetly against her cervix now, each thrust producing a soft squelch. "I'm still coming." He jerked inside her once more, and then again, pumping deeply, spine tingling.

Just as the orgasm ebbed she whimpered softly and tensed beneath him.

"Again?" he rasped, as her sex began to ripple and spasm. He rode it out with her, angling his thrusts to give her maximum stimulation, gritting his teeth through the intensity of it. She moaned raggedly and pushed back against him, shuddering, sobbing.

And when she went limp he used the last of his strength to roll her back over and tuck her into his heaving chest, folding both arms around her.

It was a long time before his breath and heart began to settle. After a while, Bella lifted her arm and curled it over his side, squirming closer. He stroked her hip as she settled and realized she must be cold by now; reached down and drew the blankets up around her shoulders. She sighed contentedly.

"Oh." Her little exclamation was muffled against his chest.

"What?" He looked down.

She was reaching under the blanket, hand between her legs.

"I'm leaking," she said softly, with just a hint of embarrassment. "The sheets will get dirty."

"Sheets can be washed," he said, amused. But he conjured a handkerchief and she took it gratefully, tucking it between her legs.

"What other random stuff can you pull out of thin air?" she asked.

Loki produced a knife.

"Ooh, that's handy."

He smiled and sent the knife back into its hiding place, then conjured a cell phone.

"You have a cell phone?!" She plucked it out of his hand and pressed a few buttons. "The battery's dead."

"Stark gave it to me, but I find it rather unnecessary."

"Well, now that you have your freedom, you might want to rethink that."

"Oh?"

She looked up at him. "Do you know how to use it?"

"It's rather a primitive piece of technology."

"Oh, right. Well, we could talk when we're not together with this. And text." She turned the little black device over in her hands thoughtfully, then looked up at him. "I'd like to."

"Mm. I suppose that would be useful." He pushed her hair back from her face, running his fingers through it slowly. "Though I'm not planning to be separated from you anytime soon."

That seemed to surprise her. "Really?"

"Mm." He took one of her hands and drew it under the covers by way of explanation.

"Oh!" Her fingers curled around him. "You're hard again."

"I am."

She stroked him absently. "You haven't really thought about the possibilities, clearly."

"Possibilities?" he repeated as her fingers slipped through the moisture beading at the tip of his cock.

"Yeah. With the cell phone."

"You'll have to be more specific," he said, watching her breasts press together as her arm moved between their bodies.

She chuckled. "Charge it up and take it with you next time you leave. I'll give you a demonstration."

"I told you, I'm not going anywhere."

"You'll have to eventually," she murmured, "And I'll have to go home at some point."

Loki reached down to touch her hand, guiding her fingers along his shaft, down and then up again, squeezing gently. "I disagree."

"You disagree?" She laughed. "I have a life, Loki. I can't just lounge around here letting you ravish me all day. Especially considering the whole...impending alien war thing."

Loki stilled. "There's no reason you can't stay here," he insisted. "Stark will give you another job. Besides, you'll be safest here when Thanos arrives."

Bella tilted her head back to look at him, brown eyes limpid. "Earlier today you seemed pretty sure that no place was safe from Thanos."

He scowled. "Would you rather be alone in your little house when he arrives?"

Her expression didn't falter. She was reading him like a damned book, he realized. He'd let his guard down.

"We've only been together for a day, Loki. You really want me to move in?"

Yes, dammit. He wanted her here, close. Safe. Warming his bed every night.

Her fingers tightened on his cock and she started stroking him again in that same leisurely fashion. "What about Sebastian?"

"Your cat can stay, too."

"What if we drive you crazy?"

He laughed. "I lived with Thor for over a thousand years."

"Yeah, but Thor doesn't need to be kissed and cuddled every day, and told that he looks pretty."

"Well, not by me, he doesn't."

She giggled.

"There are other rooms if you'd prefer to have your own," he offered.

She wiggled closer and held his cock against her belly, stroking him like that. "What will your people think about me living here?"

Loki flexed into her, rocking gently. Her belly was warm and deliciously smooth. "They'll adore you."

"What makes you so sure?" she asked skeptically.

"Because I adore you."

Her hand paused. She looked up at him.

"Does that surprise you?" he asked, amused.

Her hand started moving again, "It surprises me that you'd say it out loud."

"I adore you," he repeated, watching her face this time.

She flushed a little. Cute.

"Please stay here with me."

She rolled her eyes, but the blush persisted. "Fine. I'll go home and get my cat tomorrow."

"I've already arranged for someone to pick up your things in the morning."

Her mouth dropped open. "You–!" she let go of his cock and slapped his chest loudly. "You arrogant son of a bitch!"

"Bella," he interrupted.

She drew her hand back to slap him again and he grabbed her wrist.

"I would not have been so proprietary if the circumstances were different."

"What if I had said no?" she demanded.

"You didn't say no, Bella. I knew you wouldn't."

Her mouth compressed. "You are unbelievable."

"It's your choice to stay. I haven't forced you."

She frowned at his chest.

Loki decided to take a page from her book: total honesty. She deserved that.

"We may not have much time together," he murmured. "Even without the threat of Thanos."

Brown eyes lifted to his face. "What does that mean?"

"I mean," he gritted his teeth a little, hating the truth, "I'm the God of Lies. We're different species. It can hardly be expected to last between us."

There was a pause and then she said quietly, "I'm not prepared to make any projections at this early point in our relationship."

"I will live to be over five thousand years old," he said stubbornly.

Her answer stunned him.

"Well then, it should be no great sacrifice to give me the next sixty years or so."

Loki pulled back to look at her. "Do you actually mean that?"

Her gaze slid away. "I'm not proposing marriage, if that's what you're asking."

He just lay there, speechless, heart beating loudly.

"I'm also not saying I'm in love with you, because that would be patently idiotic after only one day–"

By the Gods, was she...?

"–but I'm also not going to say I'm not, or at least that I won't be at some point, or more specifically that I couldn't be, provided things continue as they have been–"

"How long?" Loki interrupted.

"What?" Her sweet little face turned up to him, eyes wide.

"How long until you can say it?"

She sort of froze then, mouth half open, stunned.

"Next year?" he demanded. "If Thanos doesn't kill us?"

She licked her lips and took a breath, but no words came.

"Next month?" he asked, more softly.

She shook her head. "Loki..."

"How about tomorrow?"

Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth and she worried it furiously.

"Tomorrow is excellent for me," he murmured. "I can't think of a better time to receive an honest profession of love."

"This is not fair," she mumbled.

"You think not?" he pulled her closer, still hard, tucking his erection into the hollow of her hip. "You know what I feel all the time."

"Are you talking about your cock? Because an erection is not a clear indication of romantic feeling."

He laughed. "You know damn well I'm not."

"Yesterday your feelings for me were very conflicted."

"And just a minute ago I told you I adore you. Twice. A lot can change in a day."

It was true, he realized. She'd stood by him today, defended him. Not that he needed her to defend him–or anyone for that matter. But her trust meant a great deal. The fact that she paid attention, read between the lines. Saw in him what even his own brother couldn't see...

He wanted her love, now that he realized he could have it.

Bella gave a deep, martyred sigh.

He fought not to smile. "Thanos and his armies could arrive at any moment, Bella. If you wait too long, you may not get the chance to tell me at all."

She made a low sound of derision. "I hope you don't think its funny to use that against me. Every time you say his name I feel like I'm going to vomit."

Humor faltering, he stroked her hair, drew her tight against his chest. "I'm sorry. You're right."

Some of the tension left her. She sighed again, warm breath tickling his throat. "It sort of freaks me out when you're so nice."

"Nice?" No one had ever called him that before.

"Yeah," she said, muffled. "You apologized. And you said you like me. And you're cuddling me in the best possible way."

"I said I adore you. And this is not cuddling," he returned with exaggerated disdain. "This is a form of seduction. Foreplay, if you will." To prove his point, he flexed his erection against her.

"Hmm. Well, it's working." Her hand slipped between them and started stroking him again.

Gratified, he lay quietly for a few minutes, focusing on the pleasure of her touch.

Finally, he said, "If you keep doing that, the sheets really will get dirty,"

To his surprise, she ducked her head and wiggled down under the blankets.

"What are you–-ah!"

She was sucking him, mouth hot and wet, taking him deep, small hand pumping at his base.

"Bella," he growled, fighting the desire to thrust, "Slow down."

She made a little sound of denial and the vibration of it against his cock was exquisite.

"You have about thirty seconds before I come if you keep that up," he warned, hearing the strain in his own voice.

This time the sound she made was one of approval.

The little minx wanted to drink him.

He flipped the blankets back and looked down at her. There was something terribly erotic about the sight of it–-her naked shoulders and the curve of her back. Pink lips stretched around him, long lashes fanned against her cheeks. She sucked him like she found the taste and texture of his cock delicious, hot little tongue swirling over the head, tickling his opening, making him groan.

He touched her hair, thrusting a little despite himself, fingers slipping down to cup her nape.

She pulled back then and his cock popped out of her mouth as she looked up.

"Hold me," she murmured.

Voice airy and rough he said, "I am holding you."

Her fingers were still working him, keeping him wound tight with pleasure.

"Fuck my mouth," she whispered, flushing.

All the remaining blood in his body seemed to rush downward, swelling in her hands.

"Alright," he replied gruffly.

And then he pulled her head back into place and pushed into her mouth, bringing his other hand down to hold her steady, both hands tangled in her hair.

When he began to thrust–-slow and careful-–she groaned around him and squeezed his shaft, sucking hard. Egging him on.

"Bella," he groaned. "Bloody hell." He thrust harder and she opened up to him, throat working. Tongue writhing.

"Coming," he hissed, watching her meet each thrust with incredible eagerness, head of his cock nudging her tonsils. Listening to the wet sounds and her little whimpers of encouragement.

"Bella, Gods, yes! Suck me," he growled, orgasm pouring out into the back of her throat, watching her swallow his pleasure as though it were pure ambrosia.

She held on tight while his cock jerked in her mouth, swallowing and swallowing, pressing herself against his legs. And when he let her go she suckled him a little longer, very gently, and he watched in a haze of satisfaction, stroking her silky hair all the while.

She seemed content to keep going, rolling his softening flesh in her mouth, but he pulled her up to his chest again and kissed her soundly, tasting himself on her tongue.

"That was divine," he murmured.

"You're welcome."

Loki smiled. "I'll be happy to return the favor."

"That's okay," she murmured, settling into his body. "I'm really tired." And then she proved it by yawning hugely.

"I forget sometimes that you're human," he replied apologetically, stroking her back. "I'm running you ragged."

"Mmm. I like it," she mumbled drowsily. "I like this new nice Loki, too."

He chuckled. "It is generally advisable to be nice to one's girlfriend, is it not?"

"Only if one wishes to keep her."

"Well," he began mildly, "I'm not saying I'm in love with you–"

She stiffened in his arms.

"But I'm also not saying I'm not. Or that I won't be, at some point. Because I certainly could be, provided things continue as they have. So... I suppose that means I do want to keep you."

After a moment–-during which Loki's heart fluttered traitorously–-she said, "Is that supposed to be funny?"

He wanted to make light of it, because that would be easier, but her tone demanded honesty, so he made himself say simply, "No."

"Because it seemed like maybe you were mocking me." She sounded angry. A little hurt.

"Must I constantly remind you that you are a telepath?" he countered, irritated.

"Said the God of Lies."

He sighed. "What possible reason could I have to lie to you now?"

To prove his point, he opened his mind to her.

She lay very still for the space of a few heartbeats, listening. Reading him. And then she pressed her face into his chest and gave a sharp, shuddering sigh of surrender.

"Oh dear. Are you crying?" he asked, amused, trying to get a look at her face. She held onto him stubbornly.

Her answer was quite muffled, but it sounded very much like, Absolutely not.

"Excellent, because that would be terribly awkward for me."

She giggled wetly.

Loki tucked the blanket around her and settled into the mattress with a deep sense of satisfaction. It was tempered with dread of course, but he shoved away the creeping sense of doom.

Just this one night, he thought. Just this one moment of peace. That's not too much to ask, is it?

"Loki..."

"Mm?"

She shifted against him, soft fingers tracing his spine, warm lips tickling his collarbone.

When she spoke, the words were low and laden with feeling–-burdened with a sort of unexpected finality that made little sense to him.

Like the period at the end of a sentence he'd expected to go on forever.

"You deserve to be happy, you know."

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rewordthis · 2 months

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Watching En En no Shouboutai be like:

Bro. I have only read the manga up to what will be covered in episode 19 and so far the only things that were stuck in my mind were the scrapyard, the twin hammers and generally the buildings.

Out of all the characters, I had completely forgotten everyone that appeared after the “Investigation of the 1st” and onwards.

Hence why there are weird moments for me during the episodes and I absolutely can’t remember jack about the battles, but I will probably rant about the series more after I finish them… so, that’s your warning I guess. :P

Also, before I forget to mention that, I can’t possibly forgive Hibana and those little twin fox twins for calling my man musclebound idiot, like what the heck?! Do you really not see beyond his jacked form? Nothing about his kindness? His soft smile? The fact that he’s so fucking strong and resilient even as a non-ability user in a world of people sparking fire out of their farts??? REALLY??? 👀😭 These girls are all such basic MC harem, I’m being mad about it for no reason! Huuuuh~ 😮‍💨😑

Anyway, I have thoughts about Arthur and Joker, too but I want to get the whole first season finished before doing a longer (😈) rant post about it.

For now, have a screenshot of my beloved!

#en en no shōbōtai #episode rant #fandom talk

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nifedick · 1 year

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im not sure how to put this into words exactly but theres something about how anti-trans rhetoric really skews perceptions of trans people. Like. We know it erases trans men in favor of attacking trans women, as exemplified in the hand-wringing over terms like “birthing-person or people who menstruate” which are re-framed as trans women’s attack on “real womanhood” as opposed to acknowledging the real purpose of those terms (acknowledging the reality that there are men and nonbinary people who menstruate and give birth).

Really virulent transphobia positions trans women as always older. “Adult men!! invading womens spaces! Grooming children!” And so on and so on. It is always the spectre of some shambling grotesque man who fraudulently positions himself as a woman. I’m not saying trans women are not adults and cannot be adults, but rather that most of us are adults, and adulthood and maturity is merely a fact about us, not something that needs to be emphasized in conversations about what bathroom we are using.

On the flipside, there’s very little acknowledgement of trans men at all. So much so that liberals use them as a gotcha quite frequently. “You want THIS guy *insert picture of beardy, musclebound trans man* in your womens bathroom?”

But I familiarize myself with quite a bit of anti-trans rhetoric, and one of the talking points is actually often young girls. Young girls of course here actually meaning trans men, but the strawman, detransitioner-narrative version.

“Young girls are mutilating themselves” (men are having top surgery)

“Young girls are deluded into taking hormones and calling themselves boys” (men are taking hormones to align their bodies with their identities)

It’s no accident that transphobia positions trans women in an immutable position of adulthood, aggression, maturity, and sexual deviancy, and no accident that it positions trans men as virginial, unrealized, bewildered and preyed upon innocents. This is because transphobia is informed by and irreparably linked to misogyny, to the forms of misogyny that position white women as fragile, precious and valuable but ultimately short-sighted and idiotic--and in positioning them in a role of perpetual victimhood, enables and justifies racist rhetoric, including but hardly limited to the black male aggressor, the angry black woman, the strong black woman who needs no care, and on and on and on.

I say any of this partially just to make sense of it, but also because even if you consider yourself a trans ally, and even if you yourself are trans, we are inundated by anti-trans rhetoric at the moment, and it comes from all directions and all sides. So it is vital to be aware of the motives and inconsistencies of these arguments.

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activatingaggro · 1 year

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Another ball WIP - Kua’s type is usually “musclebound idiots”, but sometimes you make an exception for the ditzy fucking twigs for diversity’s sake.

#calico kuanfu #wip #I was like - enthusiastically! earnestly! with stars in my eyes! -#'I am going to write up all of my replies and I'll post up META!'#did my replies and then said fuck the meta let's have a little art instead

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contrarywiseizybel · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022

Day 7: Fenrir Greyback/Teddy Lupin (Age Difference)

Getting into a bar was comically easy as a shapeshifter. The hardest part had been finding someone who was both overage and worth looking like. He wasn’t going to pick a form he didn’t enjoy, especially if he didn’t get a chance to return to his preferred shape. But after a few weeks of searching he found a seventh year Slytherin with a legal Muggle ID, an appealing form, and the desire to fuck Teddy.

He couldn’t have asked for a better combo.

Sure, he had to then go and fuck the guy for his plan to work, and wasn’t that the most annoying part of it all. Old two pump chump had finished and passed out before Teddy even got hard. He retaliated by stealing the Slytherin’s stash of booze and his nice dragon hide belt. It seemed like a fair exchange for the idiot wasting his time.

But the true prize was the ID card, proving to the world that he was in fact a legal adult who could legally go into bars.

Step one, complete.

He was less sure of step two, until he received a very coded letter from his uncle Dung. No one else in the family liked Mundungus Fletcher, except maybe George Weasley, and even then only when they weren’t at George’s store. But Teddy loved the eccentric wizard. When his godfather took Teddy into the Auror office so Harry could finish “just a few reports, sorry kiddo, you know how it is”, Teddy always made a point of peeking into the holding cells for his favorite uncle.

It was Dung who had taught him to pick locks, both magically and the muggle way. It was Dung who taught him how to turn invisible without a cloak. It was Dung who taught him how to balance being a prefect with being an absolute terror.

And of course it was Dung who taught him the secret tunnel out of Hogwarts that not even Harry Potter knew about.

The tunnel, located in one of the less monitored stone ovens, required a fire proof spell and a lot of nerve, but it also lead straight pass the wards that prevented apparation. From there it was a matter of focusing on the mental image of the biker bar Dung had found for him.

The pub had been set up in an old mechanic garage, and even on the street Teddy could smell motor oil and gas. There weren’t many people thanks to it being an early evening and a Tuesday at that. But a bouncer was stationed at the front door, smoking a joint in clear disregard for the local laws. A bouncer who barely glanced at Teddy’s ID.

‘Could have just used my own for all he cared.’ Teddy grumbled to himself.

The thought was quickly dispelled as he hunted for his target. Lesbian couple making out in the corner, nope. Obviously depressed man at the height of his midlife crisis, nope. Underage bartender doing homework behind the counter, nope. Insanely hot, musclebound Adonis nursing a mug of icy beer in a corner booth, hell yes.

Teddy didn’t stop to think up a plan. That was how people talked themselves out of things. Instead he strutted up to the booth, shifting his hair back to his preferred turquoise, though a little duller in deference to the setting. His eyes went pale gray, and he added a few beauty marks to his face. Not enough to be mistaken for a Weasley, just a small cluster of marks under each eye.

‘Cute!’ He preened as he passed the reflective windows.

Cool as possible, Teddy slipped into the booth and turned a cheeky smile at the giant man. A heavy brow lifted and under his course beard the man smirked just so. Oh yeah, no on could resist Teddy when he was at maximum cuteness.

“Fenrir, right?” He asked, sticking out one hand towards the wall of muscle. “I’m Edwards Remus Lupin. Folks call me Teddy though. Nice to finally met you.”

The smirk turned confused, but didn’t stop. “Remus’ boy, huh?”

“Yes sir.” Teddy rested his cheek on the back of his hand, aiming for an overall coy and youthful look. It tended to disarm older men easily enough. “You turned my dad, didn’t you?”

He growled low, possibly an unconscious reaction, and Teddy quickly shook his head.

“No, no, sorry, I’m not like on a vengeance quest or anything. Merlin, that’d be stupid.”

If nothing else that got a chuckle from the famous werewolf. Not that Teddy thought he had been scared or anything. No, a werewolf as old and as strong as Fenrir wouldn’t be afraid of a sixth year Hufflepuff. And while many people thought Teddy was stupid, and maybe he was, he wasn’t suicidal.

“Then whaddya want?” His words seemed to rumble out of his chest, his very broad chest. His lower canines were sharper than a normal person’s, and probably made it annoying to enunciate. Not that Teddy was complaining in the slightest.

“You were my boogeyman growing up, you know?” Teddy shared, legs swinging carelessly under the worn down table. “My grandmum Andy, Andromeda Black if you know of her, she would tell me about my dad and how you stole him out of his bed and savaged him. Said something about it being payback for his dad doing something? Don’t know, I didn’t really care about those parts of the story. But she’d talk about you like you weren’t just a werewolf. She talked about you like you were a monster.”

Fenrir’s long nails, more like claws than any nails Teddy had seen before, tapped out a little rhythm while he listened. His golden eyes had moved to scope out the bar, maybe looking to see if Teddy had brought back up, but he was obviously listening. “Want me to apologize for your granny’s bad taste in bedtime stories?”

Teddy laughed, clear and delighted, “Not in the slightest. Villains and monsters, they’re the best part of any story. And you? You were always my favorite monster.”

The old wolf lifted a brow again, curiosity appearing to win out over caution. “Your favorite then?”

“Don’t suppose you’ll consider giving me an autograph?” Teddy teased.

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

“AUGH!”

Teddy couldn’t help the scream, which seemed to get caught in his throat as he was all but slammed into the brick wall behind him. Heavy hands pawed at him, dragging him up against the wall, the brick ripping at his shirt and his skin. The bar’s music drowned out his needy gasps as he clung to Fenrir’s shoulders and all but wept.

“Please, please, oh fuck, Fen please-”

Hot lips pressed against his own, radiating warmth first from their kiss and then from the sharp nibbles and bites. His beard rubbed harshly against Teddy’s smooth skin and Teddy prayed there would be a burn there tomorrow.

“Needy little pup, ain’t cha?” Sharp claws caught at his trousers, yanking them down harsh enough to tear the fabric. In the back of his mind Teddy wondered if he should have worn a skirt for easier access, but to be completely honest he hadn’t planned on fucking Fenrir in the dark alley behind a trashy dive bar.

Mostly because Teddy wasn’t the type to plan.

A frankly terrifying bulge in Fenrir’s jeans rutted against Teddy’s arse, warning to things to come. And if Teddy was lucky he’d be one of those things. He giggled with hysteric excitement, marveling at the muscled shoulders that he was allowed to dig his nails into.

He hadn’t been kidding about Andromeda’s use of Fenrir when it was story time at the Tonks household. Originally it had been just to answer Teddy’s endless questions when as a child he’d just wanted to know more about his parents. Did his mom really shapeshift like him? Was his dad really a werewolf? Why wasn’t Teddy a werewolf? How did one become a werewolf?

Okay, most of his questions were ultimately about werewolves.

And maybe Andromeda had seen her own heritage in her grandson, that Black madness that came in starts and fits. Her sister had been lost to it. Her cousins had both been lost to it. Maybe even her daughter had been lost to it. And in her desperation to keep her grandson safe Andromeda had warned little Teddy about the prowling beast that was Fenrir Greyback. The monster who had savaged hundreds of wizards and muggles. A beast who preferred to hunt down defenseless children like Teddy, who would snap their bones and gobble them up. A creature who had twice followed the Dark Lord who’s war took Teddy’s parents away.

But Teddy hadn’t been kidding when he said Fenrir was his favorite monster. Maybe it was the Black madness, or maybe it was the tiny bit of wolf in him.

Whatever it was Teddy was just glad it had led him to this dirty alleyway.

“Fen, please c’mon, just fuck me please, please-” Teddy groaned as a heavy hand landed on his dick, twisting and pulling with enough strength that he jumped straight from moaning to crying.

Fenrir seemed to be thinking, maybe trying to figure out if he’d actually kill the slight boy. Teddy couldn’t have that, not when his goal was so close. He wiggled some, Fenrir’s thick finger moving up his crack towards his asshole. And with a determined shove he allowed Fenrir inside him, grinning wickedly at the wolf’s shocked expression.

“Did you know my mum was a metamorphmagus?” He teased, allowing his hair to lengthen and his eyes to mirror Fenrir’s golden gaze. “Did you know with enough practice people like me can shift any part of us.”

The old wolf just laughed, deep and low and reverberating through his chest and into the tips of Teddy’s fingers. “Just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Rather be full of you.” Teddy pouted, fucking himself dry on Fenrir’s finger. The older man, despite his obvious enjoyment of the sight, pulled away leaving Teddy to whine.

With Teddy still trapped between the brick wall and the brick body, Fenrir took his time fishing his cock out of his jeans. It wasn’t much, but even he appeared to have standards, spitting onto his hand as a makeshift lube. “This’ll still hurt, pup.”

But the school boy just grinned, wild and free and hungry. “Good.”

Without preamble Fenrir thrust upwards, slamming his cock into Teddy. He shifting meant he wouldn’t tear or rupture anything, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a tight fit. Fenrir snapped his hips, thrusting at breakneck speed without any build up. One hand settled on Teddy’s hip, claws digging into soft skin. His other hand circled Teddy’s neck, occasionally squeezing but mostly just trapping the boy against the wall.

“Fuck, Fen, oh fuck, oh fuck-” The mouthy Hufflepuff found words abandoning him, found himself getting lost in the oh so full feeling and the delicious drag of his own cock, trapped between their bodies. “Fenrir!”

The hand around his neck disappeared, replaced with sharp teeth that dragged dangerously across his skin. “Was this what you wanted, little boy? Wanted to see if the big bad wolf would gobble you up?”

“Please, please, Fen please-” Teddy wasn’t sure what he was begging for. To come? To get fucked harder? To become a wolf? None of that mattered, his focus only on the glorious stretch and burn, the pain and the pleasure.

And all through it Fenrir continued to thrust, skin slapping together obscenely, not at all hidden under the sounds of the city at night. Teddy couldn’t care, refused to care.

With a teasing kiss to Teddy’s neck Fenrir made his decision, free hand reaching down to jerk Teddy to completion. The boy screamed, head thrown back against the brick and body seizing around Fenrir. The werewolf didn’t last much longer, flooding Teddy’s arse and leaving claw marks on his hip. Even finished he continued to thrust, mostly just to enjoy the lewd noise, only stopping when Teddy whined to be let down.

In a show of wandless magic Fenrir cleaned them up, though Teddy was secretly pleased that the bastard hadn’t bothered cleaning inside of him.

‘A little souvenir for the road.’ He thought. Though he wasn’t at all pleased at the state of his trousers. They would get him back to the school but only barely.

Before he could think of something clever to say Fenrir caught Teddy’s wrist, pulling him into a heated, and filthy kiss. By the end Teddy could barely stand, once again relying on the brick wall to keep him upright.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime.” Fenrir said with a pleased smirk. And like that he was off, leaving Teddy alone in the alley, smelling of sex and blood.

“That,” Teddy mused to himself, “went so much better than I thought it would.”

And as he gathered up his energy to apparate back to Hogwarts he took a moment to appreciate the twinge of pain at his hips. Maybe if he was lucky those claw marks would scar over, leaving him with a reminder of the best night of his life.

“Close enough to an autograph anyway.” Teddy laughed, vanishing from the alley in between his giggles.

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fenrir greyback/teddy lupin

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postalninja · 2 years

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What this about an Octopath enemies to lovers AU? 👀

I have 28 pages for this story that I wrote while I was taking a break from The Head That Wears The Crown for a few months. It's H'aanberic (of course), and the premise is that Hornburg and S'warkii are at war. Olberic is on a mission in the Woodlands and gets separated from his fellow knights, when he is unexpectedly attacked by a huntress! He manages to get the better of her and take her captive, deciding to bring her back to Hornburg as a prize and potential source of information on the enemy's tactics. Olberic thinks she's a filthy savage, and H'aanit thinks he's a musclebound idiot. There is a lot of quality banter (sassy H'aanit FTW) and of course they will get to know one another better as they travel, and perhaps their opinion of each other will change in time? *Fun fact: I had quite a bit more written for this story, but I lost a big chunk of it when my old laptop died. Yay. (to be fair, I wasn't all that happy with a lot of what I ended up losing, so I know it'll end up better once I do it again)*

Here's a snippet:

“Do not think so little of the knights of Hornburg, savage,” he warned softly, “for we may surprise you.”

“Surprisen me with the intensity of thy stench, perhaps,” she growled, her eyes glinting angrily.

“Enough of this,” Olberic replied impatiently. “I did not come here to be taunted by a barbarian like you.”

“So, killen me, then,” she spat in challenge.

“Oh no...” he countered with a malicious grin, “You are now my prisoner, and I will be taking you back to Hornburg.”

#alynnl #wip ask game #octopath traveler #h'aanberic #enemies to lovers #work in progress

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lady-of-the-lotus · 3 years

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Drink, No Drink

xuexiao - M for violence - 4.9k - AO3!

In which Xiao Xingchen drunkely flirts with an oblivious Xue Yang ____________________________

They come by once a month on average, sometimes twice. Once, about eleven months after Xue Yang came to Yi City, three come at once, but that's a group and Xue Yang, always fair, counts them as one.

Still three times the fun to kill, of course.

The men step into the Coffin House courtyard at noon, just ten minutes after Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing had left to buy groceries.

Xue Yang is busy dumping fresh dirt into a raised bed. He and Xiao Xingchen have built raised beds throughout the courtyard to plant vegetables in. Xiao Xingchen had wanted flowers, but Xue Yang had vetoed the idea, flowers being useless, and the daozhang isn’t one to argue.

He looks up as the men step into the courtyard. “Who are you?”

The leader of the group, a tall, brutish-looking man with a cauliflower ear and broken nose, seems almost angry at the question. “Where is he?”

Xue Yang dusts his hands off. And here he thought he’d be bored until the daozhang returned. “Who is this ‘he’?”

“The blind cultivator in white! Xiao Xingchen! We know he lives here!”

Xue Yang taps his chin. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

The musclebound man on the right steps forward, seconds away from grabbing Xue Yang by the collar and losing a hand. “We were told there’s a blind cultivator living here!”

“Ohhh, I thought you meant the other blind cultivator in white. I lose track. What do you want from him?”

“To take a strip out of his hide!”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “Let me guess, you committed some crime once upon a time, and he got you in trouble for it, and now that he’s blind you want your revenge.”

“How did—”

“It’s all very original.” Xue Yang’s knife is in his hand. He tosses in the air, catching it deftly. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

The skinny little man on the left shrugs. “Not reall—”

He never finishes his sentence. A flash of silver blade, and Xue Yang’s knife is sprouting from his eye. Shrieking, he falls backwards into a vegetable bed, yanking the knife out of his face.

Xue Yang shakes his head. “Don’t you know not to pull a knife out of a wound? Trust me on that one, I should know. Look, now you’re bleeding all over the place.” He produces a second knife and turns to face the other two men, who stand gaping at him in slack-jawed shock. “How about you two? Up for some first aid practice?”

“You—you—”

“Got any weapons? Get them out. It’s more fun that way.”

Still looking confused, the leader draws his own knife out and stands there, blinking, while the other man drops to his knees beside his companion, who’s writhing in the dirt and shrieking like a wounded fox.

Xue Yang makes a face. “Can you shut him up? He’s going to give me a headache at this rate.”

“He—he—”

Xue Yang floats over and slices the man’s tongue out with a practiced twist of his blade, but the man continues to emit bone-chilling scream from deep inside his throat.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—” Another twist of the blade, and the man falls silent. Permanently. “You’d think he’d never been stabbed in the eyeball before.”

“You killed him—”

“Like you were going to do to the daozhang?” Xue Yang flies back over near the leader. “And for what, arresting you? You clearly escaped whatever the charges are. Grow up and let it go.”

The leader’s hand tightens on his knife. “The magistrate beat me so badly I couldn’t get honest work again as a porter—”

“Your back, your arms, your legs, what was the problem?”

“My left leg was broken so badly it—”

Xue Yang jams his heel into the man’s left kneecap, shattering it. Howling, the man collapses, knife falling from his spasming fingers. “Like I want your life’s story?” He hauls the man up by his collar and flies him over to one of the raised beds, dumping him in the dirt. Dislocates the man’s shoulder, just to be safe, and nicks the side of the man’s throat so that he bleed out into the soil.

Best kind of fertilizer, or so he’d been given to believe.

Then he turns to the third man, who’s cowering on his knees, forehead pressed to the dirt. “How about you? Going to put up more of a fight, I hope? I mean, what were you three arrested for, anyway? Couldn’t have been anything requiring actual fighting skills. Tax fraud?”

“Forgive me—forgive me—I won’t harm Xiao Xingchen! I swear I’ll leave here, I’ll never speak of this—”

“A bit late for that, I’d think.” Xue Yang tilts his head down at him. He likes seeing the man grovel. Kowtow, really. A trembling heap of peasant clothes and greasy hair, not half as good as if it had been the daozhang or one of the self-righteous cultivators who’d dogged him half his life, but it still fills him with heady tingling pleasure. “You should never have come here.”

“It wasn’t my idea—I swear it wasn’t!”

“Great, a spineless lackey. Even better. Now, the question is how to kill you.” He crouches before the man, patting his trembling cheek with his knife while he thinks. “I usually go for something more creative, but we need to wrap this up before the daozhang gets home, and more than two beds needs fertilizing, so here we go.”

The man makes a feeble effort to resist, taking an easily-dodged swing at Xue Yang's jaw. A flick of his hand, and Xue Yang’s knife is suddenly plunged deep into the man’s throat. Grabbing him by the hair, he hauls the man into the neighboring vegetable bed and gives the knife an experimental jiggle, then wiggles it a bit farther up his throat. A delicate balance, this—he needs the man alive to pump out as much blood as possible, but can't resist playing with him a bit. Of course Xue Yang could always rip out his intestines and bury them in the dirt, but that would be messy, and Xue Yang hasn't time to clean up.

A sigh, and the man bleeding out from his eye socket expires.

Xue Yang hesitates, then removes his outer robes and flies the man over the back wall of the courtyard, dumping him in the forest outside the city.

The second man has died by the time he returns. Xue Yang flies him out, then the third man when he too dies.

He stands beneath the trees, eying his handiwork.

Not a bad day’s work.

If only the daozhang knew that Xue Yang, his worst enemy, had been saving his life for the past eleven months. Knew how deeply indebted he is to the delinquent from Kuizhou.

But the daozhang can’t know.

Not just yet.

He’d probably make me stop, Xue Yang thinks, no matter what the personal risk. He’d insist on arresting all these opportunistic degenerates and bringing them to justice, as if such a thing exists.

The idiot. Xue Yang finds himself smiling at the thought. The sanctimonious idiot, blind in more ways than one. For all Xue Yang knows, he might even hear the men out—“Oh, your leg was broken? The scoundrels!” and embark on a journey to track down the magistrate who’d wronged the criminal degenerates—

A vulture approaches, drawn by the scent of blood, startling Xue Yang out of his thoughts.

“Wait your turn,” he tells the bird. “It’s first come, first serve around here.” Chuckles to himself—too bad the daozhang is completely unsuited for the day’s activities. He knows Xiao Xingchen would have appreciated the afternoon’s humor—maybe even relished the irony of watching Xue Yang, the man who was going to one day kill the daozhang, protect him—

Well, perhaps not that. But he could have gotten a few laughs, at least.

Xue Yang cuts a lock of hair from each of the men, just as he has for the last thirteen criminals who’d come after Xiao Xingchen, removes their tongues, and flies back over the wall.

He can take care of the bodies later, if the vultures don’t handle them for him.

He places the tongues in jars he sets inside a coffin painted with preservation sigils. Then, grabbing a rake, he begins mixing the blood-soaked earth, evenly dividing it among the dozen raised beds that take up half the courtyard and patting the soil down in preparation for tomorrow’s sowing. He’s just finishing up when Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing return.

The first thing out of the daozhang’s mouth is, “What’s that smell?”

“What smell?”

“Smells like blood,” says A-Qing, who can always be counted on to say the wrong thing.

Xue Yang fights the urge to tell the daozhang the truth, see the look on his face. “I got bored without you, and went for a walk in the woods, and found a fierce corpse.”

Xiao Xingchen’s face softens at the words without you. Xue Yang is still at a loss to explain how readily Xiao Xingchen displays his feelings. Surely letting another person know that you value their companionship is a dangerous show of weakness?

Xue Yang has learned to reveal nothing that can be used against him in the future.

What Chengmei says to the daozhang is different. His esteem for the blind white fool is all an act, and there is no way a lie might harm him.

“I have the beds all ready for planting,” he tells Xiao Xingchen.

Xiao Xingchen moves towards him as A-Qing runs inside with the groceries. “Were you wounded?”

“By what, tripping and falling on the rake?”

“The blood smells fresh. Did the fierce corpse manage to hurt you? That’s unlike you, Chengmei.” He lays a hand on Xue Yang’s chest, eyebrows rising slightly at the feel of Xue Yang’s thin, silky inner robe beneath his hand instead of his textured outer robes. “I know you, Chengmei. You wouldn’t tell me you were hurt, even if you were.” Slowly, he runs his hands over Xue Yang’s chest, pats his arms, feels his waist.

Xue Yang swallows hard, freezing.

From the touching, he tells himself. Not from the display of concern. It’s hard not to tense up when touched, given how often past touch has been something bad.

Truly it means nothing, the daozhang’s concern. Xue Yang knows this. Has always known it.

What good is the compassion of a man who only cares because he doesn’t know the truth?

Xiao Xingchen rests his hand briefly on his hip, but seems unwilling to go any lower and check Xue Yang’s legs. “You’d tell me if you were hurt, right?”

Xue Yang’s heart is pounding. “….I wouldn’t lie to you…”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Seeming to realize how close they're standing, Xiao Xingchen moves away. “I’ll go help A-Qing make dinner. We'll keep the seeds from tonight’s vegetables, we can plant tomorrow…”

Xue Yang slips his outer robes back on but doesn’t head back into the house. He’s cursing himself for having lost his composure for even a second, especially in front of Xiao Xingchen, of all people.

It’s not like he noticed. You sounded normal, and he’s blind, for fuck’s sake.

The reddish gold sun has sunk beneath the courtyard walls when Xiao Xingchen comes out onto the porch. He looks blue in the twilight, slender and beautiful and somehow soft despite the boniness of his long slim body.

“Chengmei? Dinner’s ready.”

Hesitating, though he’s not sure why, Xue Yang heads inside. Xiao Xingchen hands out the bowls and chopsticks while A-Qing serves.

Xue Yang is silent during dinner, mechanically shoveling rice into his mouth.

Xiao Xingchen does most of the talking, as if sensing Xue Yang is in a strange mood. He talks about the past, places he’s seen, people he’s met. He’s a poor storyteller, with a laughable memory of details, but his tendency to ramble from one story to the next without finishing any of them is amusing in its own way, and A-Qing's interjections of her own more colorful experiences keep any heavy silence at bay.

After the meal, Xue Yang removes Xiao Xingchen’s horsetail whisk from where he keeps it on a shelf in the corner.

“Just combing it,” he says when A-Qing, who has even better hearing than the daozhang and an uncanny knack for getting in his way, asks him what the hell he thinks he’s doing. “It’s getting tangled.”

“Tangled. Right.”

Normally Xue Yang would bicker back, but he doesn’t have the energy tonight. He sits on the steps, the horsetail whisk in his lap, while A-Qing lies on a blanket, staring up at the dazzling carpet of stars as if she can see, and Xiao Xingchen polishes his sword beside him.

Xue Yang knots the locks of hair he’d taken from the three convicts into the flowing mane of the whisk, streaks of black staining the pure white.

A little ritual he’d developed after the first would-be murderer had come to Yi City. Watching the daozhang parade around with a murder trophy tucked under thin white arm was endlessly entertaining.

Now…

It’s still a good joke, Xue Yang tells himself. Still good fun to see the streaks of black against the white. But it’s become a symbol of something else, now, too.

Of what, Xue Yang isn’t entirely sure.

But of something.

The eggplant is starting to sprout when, five weeks later, another convict comes to the Coffin House searching for Xiao Xingchen.

Xiao Xingchen is inside the house making dinner with A-Qing. Xue Yang had just stepped outside to fetch more water when he sees a shadow detach itself from behind a coffin and slither across the courtyard, a flash of silver in its hand.

Jiangzai is out before Xue Yang can even think.

Footsteps.

Xue Yang flies across the courtyard and grabs the shadow by the throat. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Xiao Xing—”

Xue Yang cuts his throat before the man can finish, flying him over the wall before so much as a drop of blood can splash onto the stones of the courtyard.

A shame to waste the fertilizer on the trees of the forest, but Xiao Xingchen is expecting him back any second now.

He’ll fetch the tongue later.

“Thank you, Chengmei,” Xiao Xingchen says when he returns, accepting the bucket of water. “Do you mind chopping the potatoes? The oil should be hot enough any minute now.”

“Fried potato? Not boiled? Do my ears deceive me?” His pulse is reverberating through his skull, so that’s very possible. The quickness of the kill had done nothing to diminish the euphoria that always accompanies it. If anything, it had heightened it, a half-hour’s torture compressed into an intense dose of power and pleasure and blood.

“I figured I would fry it, as a treat. It’s been a year since…well, it’s been a year since we all came to the Coffin House.” Xiao Xingchen turns to the stove, blushing slightly, as if almost ashamed to have kept track of the anniversary, as if he doesn’t think it's as important to Xue Yang as it is to him.

Xue Yang doesn’t speak. A-Qing is glancing at the floor, looking uncharacteristically solemn.

“I know it’s foolish—” Xiao Xingchen begins again, but Xue Yang shakes his head, forgetting for a moment that he can’t see him.

“It’s never foolish to fry potatoes,” he says emphatically. “That boiled stuff is for the dogs. Anything else?”

Xiao Xingchen smiles. “I bought nian gao at the market today.”

“Now you have my attention.” He slices the potatoes swiftly, hand shaking slightly. Lingering euphoria from his recent kill, most likely. “The sweet cake kind, right? Not that vegetable stuff.”

Xiao Xingchen affects chagrin. “Do you take me for an amateur?”

Xue Yang discovers that he’s grinning.

Still from the murder, no doubt. It’s been a while since he’d killed anything larger than the rats that sneak into the Coffin House.

It’s not that he needs to kill. Enjoys it, yes. Who wouldn’t enjoy holding complete and utter power over another human being? Being the most important thing in their world, if only for those final moments? The pleasant exercise of the fight, the witty banter, the desperation in the victim’s eyes as they bleed out?

But, if he’s being entirely honest, he hasn’t thought about it much these past few weeks.

A-Qing turns in early that night, having eaten too much fried food and nian gao, leaving Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang alone on the porch. Xue Yang plays with the dead man’s hair in the horsetail whisk while Xiao Xingchen sits beside him, just a little too close, knee almost touching his, having misjudged the distance. It’s odd, how the daozhang can spin through the forest to sever a fierce corpse’s throat without disturbing a single leaf or blade of grass, but he’s rather clumsy around Xue Yang, stumbling into him at times, brushing his hand with his while handing him something, mistakenly letting his shoulder touch his as he passes.

“I have a surprise,” says Xiao Xingchen.

“We’re getting a puppy.”

“We can, if you want."

“Just joking.” Briefly, Xue Yang wonders what a dog would make of the corpses popping up around the Coffin House.

Well, it would be one way to dispose of the bodies, and save on buying dog food.

He grins to himself at the idea. It's a real shame he can’t share some of his best thoughts with Xiao Xingchen.

Who’s tilting his head at him expectantly. “Chengmei?”

“You’re buying us a new house. A-Qing found a husband. We have an invitation to Jinlintai.”

Xiao Xingchen smiles. “I feel quite inadequate, now. I bought some of this.” He draws two wine jars from his sleeve. “Or rather, traded some protection talismans for it with the local weaver.”

“Is the daozhang a secret wino?” Xue Yang accepts the small white jar. He’s not one for drinking, but he can’t turn Xiao Xingchen down. “Is that what you’re really doing during your private meditation sessions?”

Instead of being offended, Xiao Xingchen smiles. “Given how many great poets were drunks—going by their poetry—I could do well to follow their example.

‘Life in the world is but a big dream;

I will not spoil it by any labor or care.

So saying, I was drunk all the day,

Lying helpless at the porch in front of my door—’ ”

“A tripping hazard for A-Qing.”

“ ‘When I awoke, I blinked at the garden-lawn;

A lonely bird was singing amid the flowers.

I asked myself,

Had the day been wet or fine? ’ ”

Xue Yang struggles to keep a straight face despite the fact that Xaio Xingcheng can’t see him. “Baoshan Sanren teaches cultivating by way of winemaking? No wonder she has to hide on her mountain. Every cultivator for miles around would be trying to sign on with her.”

Xiao Xingchen laughs. “Given how many classic poems are about drinking wine, I wouldn’t be surprised if such a thing existed...at least the poems in Shifu’s collection. She didn’t focus much on classical poetry.” He pulls the stopper from his jar, sniffing it. “So…I just…drink it? Is there some kind of…I don’t know…”

“A wine-drinking ritual? Like you walk in a circle three times, flapping your arms—”

“…do you think we can forgo it, just this once?”

Xue Yang is the one to laugh this time, though he’s not sure if Xiao Xingchen is joking. “You just drink, from what I’ve seen.”

“From what you’ve seen?”

“I don’t drink.” He instantly regrets his words at the look on Xiao Xingchen’s face. “I mean…”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to make—”

“I mean—” And suddenly he hears himself saying, “I could never afford to be…impaired in any way. For…my own safety, I mean. I was just never…look, it’s…” And then, just as suddenly, he’s uncorking his jar and taking a deep draft.

It burns unpleasantly in his throat, but it’s worth it for the smile on Xiao Xingchen’s face at the silent admission that he feels safe here.

That Chengemi does, at any rate.

“How does it taste?”

“Good, I think,”Xue Yang lies.

Xiao Xingchen sips delicately at his jar, then wrinkles his nose. “The poems made me think it would be a lot more like drinking moonbeams and lotus blossoms.”

“More poems about passing out on the lawn?” Xue Yang asks. Poetry is just as useless as he’s always imagined it to be, but it sounds nice coming from Xiao Xingchen. Melodic. Kind of like singing...

...Must be the wine, that idiotic thought.

" 'A cup of wine, under the flowering trees;

I drink alone, for no friend is near.

Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,

For he, with my shadow, will make three men.’ ”

Xue Yang frowns slightly. “I’m sitting right here, daozhang.”

Xiao Xingchen smiles. “So you are.”

Xue Yang shakes his momentary pique away. “Four men, then. Five, counting my shadow. You know, I don’t think those poets knew what the hell they were talking about, like with anything.”

“That’s not true…well, not entirely…there are some very pretty poems about nature…”

“How about a drinking game: I say something untrue, and if you correctly guess that it’s a lie, then I have to drink.”

“Alright.” By Xiao Xingchen’s amused smile, it’s clear he doesn’t think Xue Yang can successfully lie to him.

“I’m ugly. Hideous. Ladies pull their skirts away from me in the street and I frighten children and old people.”

Xiao Xingchen laughs, misjudging the distance between them again and touching his arm by mistake. “Not going by what I’ve heard.”

Smirking, Xue Yang takes a drink. “Your turn.”

“I…I have two heads.”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “That the best you can do?”

“I’m not accustomed to falsehoods!”

The pretentious way he put that should have made Xue Yang roll his eyes again, but the strong wine has mellowed him. “Drink. I hate candy.”

“Drink!”

“See, it’s not fun if it’s something too obvious.”

“Fine. I want that puppy you mentioned.”

“…drink?”

Xiao Xingchen raises his jar. “No drink! I wouldn't mind a puppy."

“You seem more like a cat person.”

“I like all animals. Would you rather a cat? You seem like a cat person. Like…” Xiao Xingchen hesitates. “Takes a while to warm up, independent, but loyal once you know you can tru…” He trails off, as if sensing he’s gone too far.

Biting his lip, Xue Yang looks out over the beds of budding vegetables, silver in the starlight. He’s never imagined anyone examining him in any way other than to evaluate him as a threat. Certainly not to comment on any traits in a tone Xue Yang tells himself is definitely not one of fondness, no matter how much it sounds that way. “Well, I have always liked cats better.”

“My favorite food is congee.”

“No drink, for reasons I’ll never understand.”

“You can add anything to it, and you have a nice warm meal!”

Xue Yang shakes his head. “I killed a man today for trespassing.”

“Oh, that’s terrible, Chengmei! Drink….”

It’s late when Xiao Xingchen's wine jars are empty. He'd had another two tucked away in his long white sleeve, and grown melancholy as the night wore on.

“I did everything I could to ruin my friend’s life,” he says, raising the last of his wine to the moon.

Xue Yang glances at him sharply. He’s kept his head better than Xiao Xingchen, only pretending to drink most of the time. “You what?”

“Song Lan. Zichen. The destruction of his temple was all my fault…” Head drooping, he slides sideways, cheek resting on Xue Yang’s shoulder. “All my fault, his eyes, all me…”

Xue Yang sits very still. Xiao Xingchen is warm against him, his breath soft on his neck. Then, very delicately, he pries Xiao Xingchen’s fingers from the wine jar and sets it beside them on the step.

“That was not your fault,” he says, and feels a thrill at his own words, because of course it was Xiao Xingchen’s fault, it was all his fault, and one day Xue Yang will get to throw it all in his face—

But not tonight.

“You did more than most would,” he says instead. “You gave him your eyes.” And he took them, the fucker! he wants to add. You do-gooding moron, mutilating yourself in service of that plodding lump of self-righteousness—

“My fault, my fault…”

“For what, doing your duty?” Xue Yang’s throat is beginning to tighten. He’s not sure why Xiao Xingchen would be telling him something so personal. For all his friendly, open nature, Xiao Xingchen is guarded when it comes to anything too revealing, to the point that Xue Yang sometimes feels as if he only half knows him. “You’re not responsible for that madman’s actions.”

Xiao Xingchen moves slightly, eyelashes brushing Xue Yang’s throat. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” says Xue Yang, and then, mentally, Drink!

And suddenly Xiao Xingchen is all smiles again, straightening up. “You always know just what to say to cheer me up. You—you wouldn’t leave me like Zichen did, would you? Not even if…I…” He hiccups. “I’d…I’d miss you too much…”

“Drink,” Xue Yang says automatically.

“No drink.”

Xue Yang glances away. Xiao Xingchen chooses this moment to pitch forward, to be caught by Xue Yang moments before he sprawls forward onto the stairs.

“I might be a little tipsy,” he mumbles into the hollow of Xue Yang’s throat.

Xue Yang tightens his grip. It feels…it feels wrong to be holding a person that isn’t a corpse.

A warm, living person, who seems to want to be in his arms.

Not hate being there, at least.

Or so he thinks. Xue Yang has never embraced another person before and isn’t quite sure how people are supposed to behave. Surely Xiao Xingchen would have pushed him away if he found his touch detestable—?

“You really can’t hold your liquor, can you,” he says before he can think into it too much. Gently, he scoops up Xiao Xingchen and half-carries him into the house. He weighs almost nothing, and Xue Yang thinks, I should get him to eat more, then chases the ridiculous thought away and bleaches the spot it had rested.

Xiao Xingchen grips the front of his robe as Xue Yang lays him down on the Coffin House's single bed. “Stay with me. Talk to me.”

Xue Yang hesitates, glancing over at his coffin in the corner of the room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Xiao Xingchen almost pouts. Drunk daozhang is a petulant daozhang, it seems. “Just for a little while.”

The feeling of wrongness increases as Xue Yang crawls into bed beside Xiao Xingchen, keeping on top of the covers.

It shouldn’t be like this.

It’s not as if he hasn’t pictured sharing a bed with the daozhang. Who wouldn’t, if they had only a claustrophobic coffin to sleep in? But he’s never imagined an inebriated Xiao Xingchen curling into him, picking up his good hand, playing with it. Tracing the scars, running his fingertip between his fingers, brushing the palm with his thumb.

Soft, harmless touch that makes Xue Yang freeze, every nerve in his body screaming at him to snatch up Jiangzai.

“You have nice hands,” says Xiao Xingchen, voice thick with alcohol, almost giddy, and Xue Yang, focusing on the familiar voice, feels himself relaxing.

He’s safe, here. Safe with the daozhang.

The daozhang would never hurt Chengmei. And Xue Yang is Chengmei, for now.

The daozhang cares about Chengmei.

And in turn—

And in turn, the daozhang belongs to him.

Xiao Xingchen, the man who despises Xue Yang more than anyone else, now owes him more than he can ever repay in a single lifetime. He has saved Xiao Xingchen’s life a dozen times over without him having so much as suspected his life was ever in danger.

True, Chengmei could have killed the unsuspecting daozhang hundreds of times over the past year.

But this is different somehow.

Better.

Xue Yang is the guardian of the man he hates most in this world. Has held his life in the palm of his hand and chosen not only to let him live, but to actively destroy his enemies.

A delicious perversion of what he knows will come on the day he tears off his mask and reveals everything to Xiao Xingchen.

Finally takes his life, after preserving it for so long.

Xiao Xingchen rolls over, soft black hair in Xue Yang’s face, still holding Xue Yang’s hand in his.

Xue Yang wonders what Xiao Xingchen will say in the morning. If he’ll be embarrassed or realize that this was all simply the wine. If Xue Yang should pretend to have been too drunk to remember, or if he should say something, maybe crawl under the covers tomorrow night before Xiao Xingchen gets into bed, see what happens…

The bed is far more comfortable than the coffin, after all.

Will be warmer in winter, too…

He winces at the thought. He should go back to his coffin, stop whatever this is.

"You don't really want me here," he says.

“Drink,” Xiao Xingchen mumbles, and drops off into slumber.

Xue Yang takes a deep breath. He wants to free his hand but is afraid of waking the daozhang. As if sensing this even in sleep, Xiao Xingchen tightens his grip on his hand.

Xue Yang stares up at the ceiling, mind settling, the last of his tension fading.

He thinks he’ll go into town tomorrow and buy some flower seeds.

_______________________

thanks for reading! Spare a reblog? AO3

#mdzsnet #theuntameddaily #fytheuntamed #drink no drink #xuexiao #xue yang #xiao xingchen #a-qing #yi city #lotus writes #aside for the violence this is basically G rated

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menofcolorswitchbodiestoo · 3 years

Text

Episode:

-The Other Side of the Tracks-

''Rash of burglaries in neighborhoods has homeowners on high alert and the police has still no lead.''

Said the headline of the newspaper of the paper on the kitchen table.

‘’What a joke!’’

This is my fourth house in two days and still, nobody has even a clue who I am and where I will strike next. The cops are such idiots that I feel almost sorry for them, almost. My ''business plan'' is quite simple I break into the homes of rich people in daylight because those rich bastards are by then all gone, to their work.

‘’Now what do we got here?’’ I opened the drawer and pulled out a golden necklace with some weird mask.

‘’Looks like an antique, I could sell this shit easily to some pawnshop only the weight in gold could be worth a lot! Hahaha, this is a good day everything goes as planned just how I like it.’’

‘’What are you doing in my house?!’’ A tall muscular man had caught me in the middle of my work, he had seen my face what was I going to do? He had a gun in his hand holding me at gunpoint.

‘’Oh is this your house I thought it was my house you know how al these homes look like on another, right?’’

‘’Stop this nonsense and put down my properties especially that necklace! I have already called the cops they are already on their way I fought you would eventually end up here. Boy, it's time for you to learn you have to work hard for your money instead of stealing it from others! Now take that necklace of this is your last chance!’’

‘’You're really attached to this old crap aren't you huh, I grinned. Sorry sugar daddy but not everyone is as lucky to be so rich as you! I wish you could see how it is on the other side of the tracks, wondering if you would still act like such a big guy! The necklace started to glow with a strange bright glow and then there was a flash.’’

‘’NO STOP YOU IDIOT...’’

...

‘’Ugh, my head! What happened, how long was I out?!’’

I pulled my hands to my throat. Wait what's wrong with my voice it's so deep! I tried to stand up I felt so heavy did that flash made me nuts? I walked towards a mirror but instead of my own reflection, it was...

It was that musclebound sugar daddy! Holy fucking shit that crazy necklace! I wished I could see his side of the tracks but now I am him, damn biceps are huge! I felt the grey hairs on ‘’my’’ face, ‘’this is so freaky Friday bruh!’’ But if I'm in his body then where...

‘’Oooh... M-must 'a B-blacked out, feel so... so... No this can't be! What have you done to me you thief I'm in your body! I'm Richard Ford, not some criminal! I have to have to restore this. The necklace provides only one wish per customer! I will make you pay for this kid after this is over!’’

''I wish I was Richard Ford again!''

''No, you won't, gimme that!'' I shouted and gripped the necklace and pulled it off his neck and pushed him against the wall with my new body's strength.

''Huh? I-I'm still you! But why...?'' My old self yelled while I hold him down with one hand while holding the necklace with the other.

‘’Hey, I get it it's like you said the necklace provides only one wish per customer, and ''my body'' already made his wish but I with Richard Ford's body didn't! HAHAHAHAHA not so smart now right huh sugar daddy or should I call you now sugar thief?!’’

''Make your wish you punk, switch us back!''

''Haha, not a chance I'm giving up this wealthy lifestyle!''

''You don't leave me a choice, this will hurt you more than me!'' Richard said and then he kicked my fucking balls!

''AAAAAAHHH you piece of shit!'' I fell to my knees, ''Yeesh you smashed my balls bro Uuugggghhh Shhit!''

*click*

I turned around and saw my old body with Mr. Ford in it holding me at gunpoint.

''Don't worry asshole you won't have to carry MY damn balls anymore! Now last chance to make your wish and switch us back!''

''Alright alright don't shoot! I will make that stupid wish." I heard police cars approaching.

''What are you waiting for know?! Do it NOW!''

''I wish...''

''Police open the door!''

''I wish... I wish I got ALL your knowledge and you got mine!''

''You little R....!''

The necklace started to glow and the room was lighted up by a flash again.

The Police busted into the kitchen. ''Police drop your weapon! Drop your weapon!''

''Are you alright Mr. Ford you called?'' A cop asked me.

''Yes, I'm feeling fine just a little dizzy. This street rat tried to rob me I think he is the one who did all those burglaries in the neighborhoods lately.''

The cops had already handcuffed the real Richard in my body.

‘’No, he is lying I'm Richard Ford not him’!’

''What a joke if you are Richard Ford what is my birthdate huh? I asked the old Ford.

''Uhm it's... I don't remember!''

How much can I lift? Oh, but if you are ''Mr. Ford'' you should know what my favorite cheat meal is right?

''I...I don't remember anything''... ''

‘’255 to 275 lbs and fresh cream cheesecake with blueberries'', I answered with a smile on my handsome face.’’

''Officers, please, believe me! He used that necklace over there to switch our bodies, and then he stole all my knowledge including everything I know about myself!''

''But of course, never heard this excuse from a suspect they sure get weirder by the day if you asked me''. Said a cop when they took Richard into custody.

A few months passed and I'm living my new jet-set-life went smoothly and was kicking my (legal) job with Ford's knowledge and money I could do anything, I even maintained my amazing physique. I looked at the paper at the dinner table...

''Burglar who terrorized neighborhoods has been convicted 20 YEARS in prison!’’

It just like I told you sugar daddy not everyone is as lucky to be so rich as you were! I guess not such a big guy after all.

''It's a good day just how I like it, now let's get back to work.''

#male body swap #Black x Black #old to young #young to old #rich to poor #poor to rich #criminal #menofcolorswitchbodiestoo

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joycrispy · 4 years

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If Caleb can’t have an evil wizard bf then let caduceus have one!!

GOD the potential of this. I’ve been yearning for Matt to have an NPC get the hots for Cad, and I’ve specifically prayed for it to be some musclebound idiot...and yet I never considered this...

#cr spoilers #I don't Eodwulf is technically a prodigy but that doesn't mean he isn't an idiot #Caduceus Clay #Critical Role #Anonymous #**I know #goddamn typos

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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Look I knew from things my friend reblogged that you have A Gift but now I'm following you and crying every time you post because it is ALWAYS top quality and I am but a poor little goblin with Feelings. You are my favorite and I love you. (also "oh what a hairy valley it is" is fucking hilarious I laugh every time I read it)

You are my new favourite and I love you too! Especially because you find “oh what a hairy valley it is” funny. As thanks, I hope you like a bit of a twist on the Witcher Wolf Pack and their Bard in a modern setting.

Street life was harsh but the wolves had learned how to play the game over the decades. Witchers had become nothing more than myths and they had died out. Or rather, they faded from visible existence and found ways to get with the times. But nobody really wanted grizzly, musclebound men with facial scars so the wolves of Kaer Morhen were left behind by society. It wasn’t like they could get paperwork and ID needed for work and rent, so they lived on the fringes, accepted the ‘help’ of a sorcerer. It wasn’t much better, living on the streets as wolves most idiots mistook for large dogs. But at least they could slink around relatively undisturbed. They could shift forms as they needed but most of the time, they remained four legged.

They had a whole system worked out, honourable as much as thieves could be. Because they needed to steal, needed food and money to survive. The back alley that they’d pulled blankets and cardboard boxes to had become home. But they couldn’t live off things they fished out of the dumpster all the time. It was how they ended up with a range of schemes and ploys.

Easiest was the sad, scared puppy game. It was one that Lambert excelled at, looking vulnerable. If he rolled in a puddle first, he could look exceptionally pitiful. His scars showed up the least too and, as the youngest, he often got the most response. Some days he would hang around outside a food shop and whimper at those going in. The more generous humans would emerge with their shopping plus a little something for him. When something was thrown his way, Lambert would snatch it out of the air and run, hide the stash until he could haul his trophies home to share.

More elaborate was the teamwork of Vesemir and Eskel. They didn’t pull it off often because it was much more dangerous for them both. At some traffic lights where cars were slowing down, Eskel would step in front of a car and get clipped. He’d perfected the art of just getting a glancing bruise on his shoulder but it sounded impressive enough. Once the car stopped, Vesemir, in his grizzled old glory, would fling himself in front of the car with a whimpering howl. That usually got everyone’s attention, the poor old dog, shaking and quivering on the floor. It was enough of a distraction for Eskel to shift to human form and dive into the car, pulling anything of value out. They had to be so careful, not taking anything from those who obviously were in need. That was on top of the constant worry that Eskel could actually get hurt or Vesemir would get carted off to the pound. But the few times they did it, they often got enough things to pawn or, once, a shopping bag full of party food.

Geralt was too bulky to look sad in front of a shop, he got chased with a broom more often than not. He also didn’t have Eskel’s light fingers to steal from cars or Vesemir’s gravitas to look convincingly injured. What he could do though was pickpocket and steal bags. It was so easy to walk pad through a square, a stray dog nobody paid attention to. A snout in a passing pocket resulted in a mouthful of wallet. And the times someone put a bag down to look at their phone or, rarely, to pet him, he could pick up the bag and trot off without much fuss. The other thing Geralt did was trail buskers. He learned about them, knew those who were busking for fun and those who needed the coins tossed at them. Those who did it for a hobby, Geralt had no qualms about ambling up to and snuffling their things. It usually earned him a pat on the head and a laugh. It meant he could curl up with whoever it was playing and, at the end of their stint, Geralt could snuffled a little more under the pretence of curiosity. Nobody ever thought to look in his mouth to find the coins they could have sworn were there.

It was a great ploy until a new busker turned up. Geralt couldn’t get a read on him. The man looked and acted like a peacock but he smelled tired and hurting. Before Geralt could even approach him to investigate, the man was setting his instrument to the side and reaching out in invitation for Geralt to join him.

“You might need a bit of rest.” The man said and pulled a water bottle from his pack. Shoving his handwritten sign of gratitude from the plastic container, it was filled up with water instead. “It’s a warm day, I doubt there are puddles around for you.”

It turned out, the man chattered a lot when he wasn’t playing. He was called Jaskier, had no real family to speak of and loved singing. There was an art to speaking a lot without saying much and Geralt knew Jaskier was a master. In the evening, when Jaskier packed up, Geralt couldn’t bring himself to take any of his coin.

“If you’re ever in the area, you’ll always have a blanket to rest on with me,” Jaskier promised and waved to Geralt. It was only then that Geralt realised that not once did Jaskier touch him.

Once a week, Geralt sought Jaskier out. It was oddly relaxing and on his third visit, Geralt found he had actually fallen into a deep sleep, trusting this stranger to keep him protected. Of course, the others teased him about it relentlessly. Late at night when they were all sprawled in their alley with a rare treat of beer Eskel had managed to snag, they laughed about Geralt’s crush.

“Fine. You go see if you can do better,” he grumbled.

From then on, the wolves took turns and each came back suitably cowed. Eskel had taken the first chance to go see Jaskier for himself. He’d come back subdued and quiet. “He told be about his White Wolf,” he’d said. “How I must be his brother because I’m just as handsome.”

There was nothing handsome about Eskel, or so he thought. His scarring in wolf and human form had his lip pulled up and, as a wolf, he looked like he was continually snarling, teeth bared.

“He wasn’t scared,” Eskel whispered in wonder.

Unable to believe it all, Lambert went to see Jaskier next. He only came back late at night and refused to say anything. It was only later the next night that he whispered to Eskel that he’d tried to goad Jaskier into hurting him, to prove a point. And he got belly rubs instead. Which were a lot nicer than anything Lambert had experienced in a long time, so he had to slink off and think for a few hours before returning home.

Vesemir still had his doubts. His three pups might have been taken in by the singing stranger but he was suspicious. Determined to get to the bottom of their infatuation, Vesemir set out to spy on Jaskier. It didn’t go as well as planned because he was spotted and beckoned over. Even worse, there were freshly bought treats in Jaskier’s pocket, coming out to appease him.

“You look like you could be their father,” Jaskier prattled, handing over another treat. “The same noble, ancient look they’ve got. Living on the streets is no easy feat and I imagine you’ve done it your whole lives. But your pack seem wonderful. You ought to be proud of your boys.”

Vesemir would have thought it all some great, cunning plan were it not for the fact that he could smell the street on Jaskier. Obviously he’d been sleeping in hostels or the like until recently. And yet there he was with the best treats he could afford for a bunch of stray dogs who he knew to be wolves.

From then on, Jaskier enjoyed the company of a wolf beside him for four of the seven days of the week. Geralt slept on the blanket, running and eating in his sleep. By contrast, Lambert was needy, demanding attention and petting, constantly by Jaskier’s feet. Eskel liked to lie calmly and watch, sometimes he’d howl along and get laughs. Occasionally trotting off and coming back with a snack or a drink for them, clutched carefully in his mouth. The first time he presented Jaskier with a sandwich, he man had looked both scandalised and then blissed out as he bit into it like he was starving. Vesemir was by far the calmest, he watched Jaskier rather than the crowds around them, keeping track of how things changed.

“He sleeps on the streets,” he told his pups one night. “I worry for him.”

They couldn’t find Jaskier though, it was a large city and there were a lot of places to hide. By pure luck, they were settling down into a tangle of limbs, tails and fur when they heard voices.

“Just hand it over and you’ll live.” A menacing voice growled.

“I can’t give you that. It’s how I make what little money I have. I’ve already offered you everything I can!” That was definitely Jaskier.

“Along these parts, our word is law. You’ve not paid your dues and now we’re raising fees.”

There was the soft thump of someone being struck and the smell of blood. The wolves were up on their feet as one, quietly padding closer to investigate. Jaskier was on his knees, guitar behind him along with his usual pack which looked like it had been rifled through already. Opposite him were three men, one of them with a nail studded baseball bat.

“I think you need to be taught a lesson,” the man snarled and raised the bat. It arced through the air and there was the sound of it striking flesh and a sharp whine of a wolf in pain rang through the alley.

“What the fuck?”

Geralt was laid flat on the floor and panting, white fur staining red. The other three wolves were snapping and growling at the attackers while Jaskier knelt and watched in awe. Lambert jumped first, jaw latching around the wrist holding the bat and shaking his head.

In two minutes, the attackers were running, bleeding and cursing and the alley was silent save for the panting of the wolves. Eskel and Vesemir shared a look as they approached Geralt. They shifted, ignoring the gasp of surprise from Jaskier.

“You need to shift, pup,” Vesemir stroked over Geralt’s head. “Let us get a better look.”

It took a moment longer but Geralt was human once again and wheezing.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hands clenched in fists.

“Let them sort it,” Lambert murmured from just behind Jaskier, making him jump. “It’ll be okay. Geralt’s just a drama queen.”

“A drama queen with broken ribs,” Eskel grumbled. “At least the nails didn’t puncture his lung.”

In all of that, Jaskier was quiet and surprisingly unafraid. Puzzled, most definitely but he didn’t panic or run.

“Will he be okay?” he asked, soft and worried.

“He’s a strong one, survived a lot worse.” The reassurance from Vesemir lifted a little of the tension. “Why aren’t you running and screaming?”

“Why should I? You saved my life and you’re the wolves I’ve known for weeks now. It’s nice that you can talk back now.”

That seemed to settle matters somehow. And the wolves got a fourth act in their repertoire. Now, Jaskier sang and busked with the protection of a wolf by his side at all times. And, when he returned back to the alley, he always shared his bounty with the others.

“And when I get famous, you’re all coming with me. We’ll tour the world together,” he promised each night from the centre of the wolf pile. It usually earned at least one tail thump or a chuffed out wolf-y laugh. The wolves might have indulged him in such fantasies but they were the ones who had to eat their words. A talent scout did indeed pick Jaskier up. Along with his four wolves who became his bodyguards.

Part 2 here.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #vesemir #witcher wolf pack #hurt/comfort #modern au #long post #tldr: the witcher wolf pack adopts busker jaskier #cw: mild injury #shifter au

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