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shootsun · 2 years

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Shadowpeach hit with a love potion

okay so my personal hc is that... nothing would happen, but i know that's not what you were really asking for so I'm gonna write that one and post it later

tw: alcohol, intoxicated adults, dubious consent (because of intoxication/love potion), suggestive

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Clutching a peach flavoured cooler to his chest, Wukong manages to stumble to the wall without keeling over. A small feat in and of itself, and one he rightly calls a victory in his head.

Once he’s slumped against the gilded gold wall, he glares out at the celestial host whirling around the hall, making small talk, trading barbs and picking at old wounds, all with sly smiles and sweet-sounding words, coated in poison and politics.

In other words, the centennial heavenly party; one he’d been banned from for the past thousand years or so, give or take three centuries. For good reason too, he was sure. But unfortunately, he can’t really remember it because the last big party he hadn’t been invited to keeps popping into his mind at inopportune times, damn near giving him a panic attack every two seconds.

Erlang laughs from somewhere deep in the midst of the swarm of celestials, and Wukong scowls as he shudders. That three-eyed asshole had brought his dog to the party, and the mutt had almost chased him up a pillar before Erlang had whistled for it to heel.

He hates parties, he hates Heaven, he regrets even stepping foot back in the Jade Emperor’s palace. Wukong takes another swig of his cooler and almost laughs when he recognizes the tang of immortality on his tongue.

Leave it to the gods to come up with a way to imbue immortality into shitty booze for a party. Paranoid death fearing bastards, the lot of them. Although, he’s not any better.

Wukong shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts before he’s led down yet another path filled with bad memories and sour moments. He downs the rest of his cooler and looks at the bottle with mild distaste.

“Ya ’know, I never took you for a wall flower,” A voice interrupts his solitude, and Wukong turns to see an unfamiliar god lounging a few feet beside him.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” He tries not to slur, and the god laughs.

“We’ve not met before, no.” The god admits. “I’m just some small fry deity, but you can call me Tianbao.”

“Pleasure. ‘M Sun Wu-” He starts, but the god just laughs again.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but your reputation greatly proceeds you. I’d be surprised if anyone here didn’t know who you are.” Tianbao tilts his head with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Right.” Wukong mutters.

“I just wanted to say hello, and to, well…give you this.” Tianbao holds out a champagne flute, and inside dances a shimmering gold wine, one that looks like liquid sunlight.

Wukong gingerly takes the glass by the stem, and hopes it doesn’t shatter between his clumsy fingers as he scrutinizes the sparkling wine.

“Why?” He looks back up to Tianbao, and the god blinks in surprise.

“You looked like you needed it.” Was all the god said before he turned, giving a wave as he slipped back into the throng of deities.

‘That…certainly was interesting.’ he thinks to himself as he rubs the thin glass between his fingers absentmindedly.

With a shrug, he puts the cool glass to his lips and tips his head back, swallowing the contents of the flute in one fluid motion.

Instantly, it feels like butterflies have entered his bloodstream, and he lets out a giggle before he slaps a hand over his mouth.

Wukong eyes the empty glass once more before placing it on one of the nearby tables with a muted tink.

He spins back to his hiding spot, almost hopping with how light he feels, and places his hands on the gold foil to stop himself from face planting into the wall.

The drunk monkey giggles again. As he sets back to once more recline against the wall, the shadows closest to him seem to pool and thrum with violet magic.

Wukong furrows his brows as he stares, perplexed at the shadow portal inching wider beside him, until a dark furred hand slinks out and swipes one of the puff pastries off the buffet table next to him.

He snorts quietly. Of course, Macaque would have the balls to steal from Heaven’s table. He decides to watch a moment more, a small plan quietly forming in his head.

A few more pastries quickly follow the first, and then a tiny plate loaded with pork buns disappears into the shadows. It’s only when a flute of wine, identical to the one he’d downed not minutes before, slinks into the shadow portal that he decides to intervene.

Quickly, he loads up a plate with all the things he’s seen Macaque sequester away, and flitches two more glasses of wine before he waits patiently as the still swirling portal.

Macaque’s hand once more emerges, and deposits the now empty champagne flute on the buffet table before Wukong grips the demon’s wrist and lets himself be yanked forward.

He closes his eyes as he’s engulfed in shadows, and lands solidly on his back in a pile of hay.

When he opens his eyes, a small nicker greets him, and Wukong realizes exactly where he is as he stares up at the wooden ceiling of the heavenly stables.

He almost laughs; this is exactly where he was for most of the celestial parties, what were the odds he’d end up here again?

The plate of goodies lay undisturbed on his chest, and the wine had mostly remained in its glasses, but a small amount coats his fingers, so Wukong switches hands and licks the wayward alcohol off his fur.

“What are you doing?” Macaque’s voice breaks through his mindless haze, and Wukong inhales sharply, remembering he’d had some semblance of a plan before he got distracted.

“Party was getting boring.” He shrugs, sitting up slowly, carefully moving the plate to the side. “Figured I’d spend it with someone who was actually good company.”

Macaque blinks at him with wide eyes, and Wukong notices with a twinge of fondness that he’d gotten cream from one of the puff pastries smeared on the side of his mouth.

He leans forward slowly, and Macaque freezes as he raises his hand until he cups the demon’s face, and gently thumbs away the bit of wayward dessert before bringing it back to his own mouth and tasting the vanilla-y flavour.

“You’re such a messy eater.” Wukong shakes his head, and Macaque sputters, his face turning a blistering shade of red.

“Shut up! I wasn’t exactly expecting anyone to watch me eat,” Macaque scowls, his hand coming up to wipe at the already cleaned spot at the corner of his mouth.

“Whatever lets you sleep at night,” The god shakes his head with a smile and holds one of his stolen glasses out for the demon before him.

Macaque carefully takes the wine, and before Wukong can say anything, snatches one of the puff pastries off the plate by Wukong’s side.

“Hungry?” The god raises an eyebrow and Macaque glares at him, his cheek cutely loaded with dessert.

“You try living off mortal food for a few centuries.” Macaque retorts.

“The shit they put into their bodies, ugh.” The demon shudders as Wukong laughs.

“Can’t say I would try that particular diet.” He admits. “I think I’d much prefer just…transformed hair.”

“Like you don’t do that already.” Macaque huffs. “Last I heard, the only real thing you ate was some form of peach.”

“Oh, that sweet kid and his big mouth,” Wukong grimaces.

“He’s definitely your kid.” Macaque agrees.

They fall quiet for a moment, the only noise coming from the celestial horses in the stalls around them.

“Thanks for the, uh, wine.” Macaque lifts his glass, already half empty. “And the food too, I guess.”

“Thanks for pulling me out of the party.” Wukong hums. His own glass isn’t faring much better than Macaque’s, and with every sip of the golden wine, his heart feels lighter.

He can’t help staring at Macaque, how he’s splayed out in the hay, his clothes rumpled and his tunic half undone, leaving some of his chest peeking out.

“Like what you see?” Macaque teases, canting his legs in a more enticing angle.

Wukong swallows thickly before whispering, “Yeah, I really do.”

“You gonna do anything about it or just sit there and stare?” The demon raises his chin and smirks at the god.

His wine glass rolls forgotten in the hay as he moves, throwing one leg over Macaque’s lap and pulling the dark furred monkey close by the front of his robes.

The god growls as he bites at Macaque’s lips, and the demon threads a hand through his hair before tugging at the strands.

Greedy hands and sharp claws rend delicately embroidered fabric to shreds, leaving both parties half clothed and panting by the time they break for air.

Macaque grins through red swollen lips, his eyes half lidded and filled with desire as he moves forward to capture Wukong’s mouth again.

Wukong lets Macaque push him down into the hay, and closes his eyes with a low moan as Macaque slowly kisses his way down the god’s neck.

“Mac-Macaque,” He mutters and pulls on dark fur.

“Please don’t tell me to stop,” A chin is propped up on his chest, and he can feel Macaque’s breath ghost across his fur.

“No,” Wukong breathes, “Don’t stop, I was just… I just wanted to say your name.”

There’s a gleam in Macaque’s eyes that he recognizes as a possessive need, and the demon purrs out, “Say my name again.”

“Macaque,” the god whispers, and the demon grins, wicked and sanguine before lavishing a series of bites to his chest.

“Macaque,” Wukong sighs out, his eyes fluttering shut.

There’s a smirk planted on his collarbone, and then a sharp burst of pain as teeth break skin.

“Macaque!” He yelps, and the demon in question chuckles around his mouthful of flesh.

“We’re just getting started, don’t you worry,” Macaque laughs.

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As the first rays of sunlight breach the stables, Wukong groans and throws an arm over his eyes. His body aches and he wants for nothing more than to go back to sleep.

There’s a rustling by his side, and he ignores it for all of two seconds, until faint memories of the night (and some of the earlier morning) come rushing back.

Wukong bolts up and immediately winces, clutching his head as his hangover makes itself known.

“Stop it. Sleeep.” Macaque groans from beside him, and Wukong ventures a glance down only to tilt his head back up at a breakneck speed, his cheeks flushing furiously.

The dark furred monkey is sprawled in the hay next to him, their legs half entangled, and both of them very very naked.

An arm snakes its way around his waist, and he’s pulled back down onto the hay with a startled noise.

“Just…just for a few more minutes.” Macaque mutters, and Wukong sighs as he closes his eyes.

“A few more minutes. And, and then…we have to get up.” The god yawns.

“Mhmm.” The demon tiredly hums.

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“Tu’er Shen!” A voice thunders in the Jade Palace, and Tianbao looks over his shoulder.

“Yes?” The god answers sweetly.

“How many glasses of wine did you spike last night?” A court official scolds, clutching a rather rumpled looking scroll.

“Oh, I didn’t spike the wine. That’d be morally reprehensible. I just added a little…emotional truthfulness, ya ’know?” Tianbao laughs, and the official scoffs haughtily.

“Not many are going to see it that way. You’d better lay low for a decade or two.” The official glares at him before stomping off.

The god shrugs and continues down the hall. He can’t help his grin as he passes the stables on his way out of Heaven. At least he helped some of his oldest worshipers get lucky last night.

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