#But I pushed through bc that’s what I do

[7nuh]

MR. CRAWLING YANDERE HEADCANONS !

CW 𓂃 gn!reader, gaslighting, canon-typical violence

AN 𓂃 ik i said i'd have HCs for all of them but this ended up being too long so... 🧍‍♀️ also unedited bc i have an exam later ill be back to edit this later pls

Mr. Crawling is the protective type. He spends half of the entire game following you wherever you go and going through great lengths to protect you from the other residents of these cursed apartments. However, I can see how that protectiveness can get twisted in the long run when you remain completely helpless and unable to defend yourself. Mr. Crawling would have no choice but to step in and make decisions for you instead because he cannot afford to lose you just like that.

Out of all the homicipher men, mr. Crawling is the one who has the most respect for your choices and boundaries. He leaves when you tell him to, patiently guides you throughout this maze, and comforts you when you are upset— and he's never violent unless threatened.

Such a sweet and gentle guy would never hurt you intentionally. He loves you too much to hurt you.

That being said, though he'll never intentionally hurt you, he doesn't realize it whenever he's being possessive and suffocating you instead. After all, having wandered these halls for so long has desensitized him to violence and made him forget all his human memories. Simply put, his concept of love is warped in its own way. He doesn't understand nor remember how to healthily love another person by societal standards, but he (usually) means well.

He may not understand love but he knows one thing for sure— you're very precious to him. You're so full of life, so kind (to him), and so persistent to find your way home despite everything. Everyone else just kind of does their own thing around there... but you need him. You give him purpose and he's ready to give himself up for you in return.

But as much as he respects you, he knows you sometimes don't know any better. You almost got yourself killed multiple times despite his numerous warnings, and he's not confident you completely understand him just yet. So whenever he feels as though something got lost in translation, he won't hesitate to push you aside or cover for you in that instance. Thankfully, you can now regenerate your limbs.

You don't know any better. This sentiment becomes a mantra that repeats itself in his head over and over again. The two of you haven't made any significant progress on finding an exit, but you've almost died more than a dozen times by now. How are you supposed to survive without him?

What even is your home like? How can he be sure that you aren't going to get yourself killed over there too? Can he follow you there too to protect you? Can't you just stay here with him instead? Would that be so terrible? Of course he wants you to find whatever you're looking for...! it's just that...

The thought of losing you only intensifies his anxiety and over-protectiveness. Whether by departure or death, he cannot stand to be apart from you. Why are you so eager to leave this place anyway?

Mr. Crawling is gentle, but love can force him to be violent. He's not as cruel as the rest, but it doesn't mean he won't be when you're put in danger, especially when his possessiveness and overprotectiveness spiral out of control. He doesn't want to restrict you in any way because he loves and respects you too much to do that, but you just keep getting yourself in trouble. He overcompensates and goes overboard instead trying to protect you, even if it means killing someone.

And the thought of you moving on and forgetting him depresses him. He knows you had a life before this, but he wants a life with you in it. He'll be selfish just this once, but never again. He'll make sure you're safe here you so don't worry about that! Just don't leave him. Just stay with him, please.

It starts little by little. He starts telling you to rest more often and misleading you farther away from the elevator. Sometimes, when you tell him to leave you alone, he pretends not to understand you anymore. When he sees that dreaded green light from a distance, he tells you there is something malicious up ahead. In times like these, he's glad you're so blindly trusting of every word he says. It's difficult for him to watch your resolve break down, but it's for the best. When you're with him, you're safe and that all that's matters.

I can see some of the others like Ms. Bride and Mr. Silvair being in on it. Ms. Bride is very excited that her wedding garments will be used for their actual purpose this time whereas Mr. Silvair finds your unconventional relationship an interesting area of study. Whenever you find yourself 'lost' (escape from Mr. Crawling), they will redirect you back to him.

Eventually, you do give up. Maybe you even become more monstrous by the day and accept that you're better off here. He loved your persistence, but maybe he can show you giving up and that staying here isn't so bad. After all, you have him. He makes sure to be extra affectionate and cuddly after you give up <3

You'll learn to accept it, won't you? For him? Whatever's beyond those elevator doors can't possibly be better than being loved unconditionally and safe within his arms. You're even free to be yourself down here! You can be as violent as you want, and Mr. Crawling will happily watch you bludgeon someone to death on the sidelines with nothing but adoration.

Alternatively, if you do find your way home, he WILL follow you whether you like it or not. But if you don't want him there... well, do expect a few inconveniences. Whatever it takes to convince you to let him stay or to convince you to come back, really. Maybe like blood on the walls spelling 'me love you' and 'me miss you' or a cold pair of arms wrapping around your waist at night.

[golden-forge]

The fear on her face…😭

Last season she took off the family ring and painted over the Noxian ships, she wants to be separated from the Medarda ways, her mother’s ways.

So in s2 we see her trying to keep the peace through diplomacy, blocking the use of force in the hunt for Jinx via hextech weaponry. She’s trying to handle the situation her way.

But things are getting worse faster than she can maneuver.

They’re attacked at the memorial which, considering that Ambessa is the one that got Renni and the other Zaunites in, I really do wonder if Mel’s methods would have worked if she had time. But her mother is pushing and pushing behind the scenes.

The incident does two things Mel did not anticipate:

It pushes Jayce to do what he didn’t want to do, make hextech weaponry (considering he almost died by Renni’s chainsaw I can see why he would feel the need to build this to fight off the shimmer fighters bc normal weapons did nothing, not even a fricking hammer). At least it seems like it was just for Cait’s crew but we’ll see.

Then Caitlyn bursts into a council meeting with hextech weaponry, throwing her family name around (catching Ambessa’s attention) and with the intent to hunt Jinx.

Meanwhile Mel’s trying to figure out her mother’s next steps and try to get an upper hand over Salo since he keeps wanting to attack Zaun. But cait’s hunt results in the explosions of paints.

Upper hand over Salo or not, the explosion would have made it harder (probably impossible) for Mel to keep insisting on non-violent methods.

She’s been to aftermaths of war. I feel like in the gifs above she can feel them slipping further down the slope into war which is exactly what she was afraid of.

(What her next steps would have been exactly I don’t know since that’s when she was snatched).

MEL MEDARDA

⸻ ARCANE season 2, episode 3 

[guilty-pleasures21]

i have this fun take that jason works his crime lord stuff at warehouse with his goons however none other bats could go in (he forbids it) except the bat theme vigilante! reader. Sometimes the reader just go there, whether visit him to help her with her cases or annoy jason bc ofc she can, well she is his best friend slash badass girlfriend. However sometimes his goons just wondering what are their relationship without prying too much on their boss’ life. I would hope you like this request (if youre in the mood to write it) and I hope that makes sense tho because english is not my first language

The warehouse

Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry I took so long, babe! I was racking my brain every night trying to come up with a coherent storyline 😅! This is fun though! I like to imagine Reader just making Jason look silly, but he allows it because he’s head over heels for her!

Warnings: implicit descriptions of sex (male x female).

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     She burst through the roof and landed on the balcony overlooking the interior of the old abandoned factory. Well, ‘abandoned’ was more like it: the space was filled with busy men who had frozen in their tracks to stare up at her in horror. X placed her hands on her hips and fixed them all with her most threatening frown. “I demand to speak to your boss!”

     “Right here, princess,” the Red Hood sighed from behind her. X turned around and her face lit up immediately when she saw him, burly arms folded across his chest, his rugged features probably arranged into an exasperated look beneath his helmet. She took a step closer to him and her brows crashed together again as she placed her hands on his bulky shoulders. 

     ��You know I don’t like it when you wear your helmet, Hood,” she whined, purposefully making her voice all high-pitched. “Why don’t you wear your mask?” 

     Jason let out another weary sigh and wrapped an arm around her to start guiding her in the direction of his office. 

     “Keep going, everyone,” he assured his henchmen, “I’ll handle this.” 

     His goons exchanged confused glances with one another, but quickly returned to their operations as their boss led the hero away. Jason locked the door behind him once they were safely inside his office, then he focused his full attention on X. “What are you doing here?” 

     She leaped onto his sofa and lay back, stretching herself out so her suit clung tightly to her every curve. Jason’s eyes followed the lines of her body, admiring her lush figure, and his hands began to ache with the need to run all over her soft skin. X grinned, completely aware of the effect she was having on the tough vigilante. 

     “I wanted to see your handsome face, Hood!” she replied, still using that ridiculously innocent tone on him. “But since you’re wearing your helmet …” 

     She pursed her lips, as if disappointed by her fruitless journey, but then she propped herself up on her elbow and lowered her eyes to his torso instead. “I guess I’ll just have to admire your delicious body instead.” 

     Jason swallowed down the saliva that gathered in his mouth at the way she licked her lips while her eyes trailed over him. Thank God he was wearing his helmet or she’d be able to see the way the tips of his ears and the back of his neck reddened otherwise. He cleared his throat and glanced away from her, calming himself down before removing his helmet. He was still wearing his mask underneath, concealing his identity from anyone who didn’t already know him, but it was enough of a glimpse of his face to keep his girlfriend happy. X grinned and rolled over onto her stomach, letting her hair fall over her shoulder. Jason pulled his gaze away from her again and cleared his throat. “You could have just waited at home, sweetheart.” 

     X pushed herself to her feet and walked over to Jason. She slid onto his lap and her fingers immediately made their way into his hair. She pulled on the strands gently, tugging his head back and forcing his lips to align with hers. Her mouth watered in anticipation of feeling the rough ridges of his wide lips brushing across hers, but she forced herself to look away and get up again. She knew she wouldn’t be able to resist kissing him if she’d glanced up and seen the way his pupils dilated whenever he was looking at her mouth. And, shit, he was such a good kisser that she always found it impossible to drag herself away from him once they got caught up in a heated makeout session. X hopped up onto the edge of Jason’s desk and pulled a thumb drive out of one of her pockets. 

     He raised an eyebrow as she held the small drive out to him, her lips twisted into a begrudging smirk. “What’s this?” 

     X crossed one leg over the other as he plugged the drive into his computer, lightly trailing the tip of her boot along the inside of his muscled thigh. “How trusting, Red Hood. How do you know I didn’t just hand you a virus I could use to hack into your computer and get all your contacts?” 

     Jason’s gaze flickered up to her and his eyes were immediately pulled to her chest, her luscious curves on full display. He pushed aside the desire rapidly pooling in his core and fixed her with a knowing look. 

     “Did you want all my contacts?” He grabbed her ankle and held her leg in place so he could sneak his thumbs beneath her tights and begin rubbing small circles along her bare skin. “You know all you’d have to do is ask, princess.”

     She closed her eyes as the low murmur of his voice danced along her bones. He was always so smooth and so put together that she relished every chance she got to have the upper hand over him. X bit down on her lip as Jason kept his grip on her foot, using the pain to distract herself from his featherlight touches, but finally, she opened her eyes to sneak a peek at him. His tongue darted out from between his lips as his hungry gaze travelled over her body and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down the saliva rapidly gathering in his mouth. He looked up at her and smirked when he caught her gaze trained intensely on him. X gulped at the smug look on his face and quickly pulled her foot away from him. 

     “I-I …” Her voice came out breathy and she mentally reprimanded herself for letting him get the upper hand. “It’s for my new case: this is all the evidence that was collected from the crime scene. I wanted you to check if I’d missed something.”

     Jason spun around to his computer and opened up the drive to start clicking through the images. His eyes widened with horror when he realised who the victim probably was - and who the likely suspect was as well: Carmine Falcone. No way would he let his precious little girlfriend get mixed up with such a notorious villain. He closed the file and turned to X with a scowl. “Who gave you this case?” 

     Her lips parted, confused by her boyfriend’s sudden change in demeanour. “I … just got stuck with it because everyone else thought it was too boring.”

     “Well, they were wrong.” Jason removed the drive from his computer and tossed it into one of his desk drawers. “You’re not taking this case, princess.”

     X furrowed her brows, caught between bewilderment and amusement: Jason could be a little overprotective of her sometimes. Not that she didn’t love having someone who was so perfectly capable of taking care of her and making her feel safe! She just found that he could be a tad dramatic sometimes … “I have a name, you know, sweetheart.”

     Jason narrowed his eyes at her overly saccharine tone. He stood up and placed his hands on either side of her. “You’re not taking this case, Nightingale.”

     X took in the threatening frown on his face, then she wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her lips out in a pout. 

     “No fair!” she complained. “Why do you always get to have all the fun, Hood?” Suddenly, her expression morphed into a devious grin and she tickled the base of his skull with her fingernails. 

     “We could solve this case together?” she suggested. “The two of us working in perfect synchrony …” She stretched up, bringing her lips to his ear so she murmur softly into it, her voice low and thick with lust. 

     “And no one would even know how good the big, bad Red Hood f*cks the city’s sweet little Nightingale to sleep in his bed every night,” she finished naughtily. 

     “F*ck.” Jason’s eyes rolled back in his head as all the blood rushed immediately to his core. Because who in their right mind would ever picture the rough and hardened vigilante running his hands and teeth and tongue all over the naked body of their sweet little superhero? Corrupting her in his bed every night while she mewled desperately for his c*ck? He dug his fingers into the table, restraining himself from touching her. He took a step back, forcing her hands to fall away from his shoulders, and the distance allowed him to finally regain control of his thoughts. “I’ll handle this case, princess. I’ll talk to Batman about it.”

     She swung her legs back and forth, trying to decide between telling him off for ordering her around and just letting him do her work for her. But she didn’t want him to take on extra work on her account, though she supposed it would be sufficient punishment for the demeaning way he was treating her right then. She folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at him.

     “I’m not a child, Hood,” she told him, the anger taking over. “But if you want to treat me as such, then don’t complain about the consequences that come with it.”

     She stalked towards the door, making to leave, but Jason jumped out of his seat and quickly caught her wrist.

     “Nightingale,” he sighed,, finally realising how his authoritative tone might have come across. X stopped, but refused to turn around and face him. “I’m just … The people involved in this case are too dangerous, sweetheart.”

     He lifted his hand to wrap his arms around her and pull her close to him, but then he hesitated. What if she pushed him aside in disgust, unwilling to forgive his mistakes any longer? He tugged her wrist to test the waters and X collapsed back into his chest, relieving all the tension from his body. He squeezed her against him, holding her tightly against his chest, and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

     “I can’t-” His voice cracked, but he recovered quickly. “I’m not going to let you get hurt, Nightingale.”

     X sighed at the earnestness in his voice and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Okay.”

     Jason patted her back gently and bent over to press another kiss to the top of her head … But then someone banged on the door.

     “Boss?!” one of his goons’ panicked voice came from the other side of the door. “Are you all right?! Has she got you?! Blink twice if the answer is ‘yes’!”

     “You idiot!” another man’s rough voice interrupted. “How are we gonna know if he’s blinking?!”

     “Oh yeah …” the first man replied. “We’re coming in, boss!”

     “No! Don’t-” Jason leaped away from his girlfriend just as his goons came barreling into the room. They zoomed straight in between the two of them and crashed into the wall at the end before landing in a crumpled heap on the ground. 

     “Shit,” Jason muttered, racing over to check on his henchmen. X followed after him, rapidly assessing the two men’s injuries: thankfully, they’d seemed to have just bruised their arms after breaking the door down and running straight into the wall - no sign of any head injuries or concussions. She straightened with a relieved smile. 

     “They should be fine,” she assured Jason. She turned around and sauntered to the door, swaying her hips teasingly. Then she stopped in the doorway and twisted around to look back at him, stretching her body in such a way to accentuate her curves. “Oh and my offer still stands, Mr Big Bad Red Hood.”

     She enunciated the words carefully and Jason’s body heated up as her eyes roved all over him beneath her mask. She grinned at the sudden tightness in his posture and swivelled back around to resume her exit. “You know where to find me if you want to take me up on it. I’ll be waiting, sweetheart.”

     Her tone was teasing - challenging - and Jason gulped as she turned back to shoot him one last wicked grin. He watched quietly as she grappled out of his warehouse, disappearing into the night, and his mind started running wild with ideas on all the positions he could possibly find her in once he returned home.

     “Um, what's she talking about, boss?” one of his men asked him, his voice slightly shaky. Jason turned to find both his goons blushing at his girlfriend's lascivious tone - except that they didn't even know that she was his girlfriend. They were just wondering why the cute and pretty hero was using what was very clearly her bedroom voice on their large and threatening boss. Jason gulped as her earlier words echoed in his mind, but he forced down his desire and drew himself to his full height.

     “Nothing. She … was just warning me about a case involving Falcone,” Jason told them. “Keep an eye on your families, boys: he doesn't seem to be in a good mood. And if he ever threatens any one of you, you come straight to me, got it?”

     The men nodded vigorously, heeding their boss’s warning: the Red Hood never steered them wrong, so they'd follow his words to the letter. “Got it, boss.”

     “Good. Let the others know.” Jason headed towards the door, but paused in the doorway, hesitating. “And go home: it's getting late. I'm calling it a day.”

     Then he left without another word.

     Spoiler landed on the rooftop next to Nightingale.

     “Hey, your location was switched off. Where’d you go?” Her tone was unconcerned, as  if she already knew exactly where Nightingale had been whilst she’d gone dark over their comms, but she waited expectantly for her response anyway. 

     X raised her eyebrows at her friend and teammate: she wasn’t buying Stephanie’s innocent tone. “Hood’s warehouse.”

     She grappled through the air, leaping from one building to the next as they began their trek back to the batcave.

     “Well, where is it?” Stephanie asked once they’d stopped for a brief break. Nightingale shot her a wry smile. 

��    “You know he doesn’t want you guys knowing where it is.” She took off again and Spoiler quickly caught up, keeping pace with her.

     “Why?” she asked, genuinely confused. “It’s not like we’re gonna … blow it up or something!”

     X laughed as they landed in front of one of the many secret entrances to the batcave. She paused to let the scanner sweep over her, then strolled between the doors when they slid open. 

     “It’s not that, it’s just …” She turned around and walked backwards as she thought about it. “He just needs his space sometimes.” 

     She swivelled back around and continued walking over to the Batcomputer. “Plus, he can’t have you guys making him look soft in front of his henchmen.”

     “Who are we making look soft in front of their henchmen?” Nightwing asked, striding into the main hall from another passageway. He removed his Escrima Sticks from the back of his suit and placed them back in their holder.

     “Jason,” Stephanie replied, removing her mask and sinking into the empty seat beside Tim. 

     “Does anyone else think it’s weird that Jason has henchmen?” Tim asked, not turning away from the Batcomputer. Dick ignored Tim’s question, snorting in amusement at X’s suggestion. 

     “The only person capable of making Jason look soft …” He paused dramatically and turned around to face her before continuing, “is you.”

     X pulled an empty chair up to Steph and hopped onto it. She spun around as she considered Dick’s statement, letting her mind wander to her sweet and caring boyfriend. He was soft though, always surprising her with cute little dates and crafting the most thoughtful handmade gifts for her. And he’d pick her up after work every day so they could have dinner together and make sure to see each other at least once a day. Her features shifted into a dreamy expression and Stephanie grinned before snapping her fingers in front of her face.

     “X? You still with us, babe?”

     Dick laughed from his own seat as he lifted his legs onto the console. 

     “Her mind’s probably still with her boyfriend in that secret warehouse of his,” he pointed out, folding his arms across his chest and huffing in irritation at the thought of Jason’s warehouse that he refused to let any of them see. Well, any of them except for his little girlfriend that he was so obviously head over heels for.

     X shook her head, forcing herself back to reality, and flashed her friends a sheepish smile. “Sorry …”

     But none of them minded - not when she was so head over heels for their brother herself. X’s phone buzzed suddenly and she opened up the notification to find a text from Jason. Her eyes widened at whatever she saw on her phone and she shot out of her seat, this time with a guilty smile. “Uh, I’m gonna head home now. Night, guys! See you tomorrow!”

     She raced off without a word and the others exchanged knowing glances with one another. Dick dropped his hands and legs and rolled over to Stephanie. “Did you do it?” 

     Stephanie responded with a devious grin. 

     “Yup.” She turned to Tim and leaned over his shoulder. “Is it working?”

     Tim pulled up a map of Gotham with a single blinking light on it moving rapidly through the city, straight towards Jason’s apartment. “Yup.” 

     Jason sucked in a breath as the white-hot pleasure buzzed through his brain. “F*ck.”

     He closed his eyes as they rolled back in his head at the sound of his girlfriend’s adorable little mewls beneath him, then he slumped over and started trying to catch his breath. He chuckled softly at the sight of X doing the same, then he bit his lip as he ran his hand down her bare, sweat-slicked back. God, she was hot. He slid his hands along her sides, tracing the outlines of her curves, then he lay down on top of her, twisting his fingers between hers. He pressed a kiss to the base of her ear, then buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her arousal. 

     “Mmm, shit,” he groaned, curling his fingers around hers. X shook her head as her mind went numb at the feeling of her large boyfriend’s warm body pressing against her. Then he began trailing his lips down the side of her neck and she hummed in contentment as his satisfied groans sank into her skin and danced along her bones. “I love you, Jay.”

     “I love you too, sweetheart.” Jason lifted himself off of X, giving her the space to twist around and snuggle up against his chest instead. He brushed her hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek softly as he admired her glowing features. Shit, she was pretty. “But you’ve gotta stop breaking into my warehouse, babygirl.”

     X furrowed her brows, her lips instinctively twisting into a pout - she always felt like a spoiled little princess whenever he took that soft tone with her.

     “Why?” she whined, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his. Jason lowered his lips to her neck and slid his hand down to her ass. He moaned softly as he curled his fingers around her, squeezing her soft flesh like she was a little pillow, then he sighed and lifted his gaze back to hers.

“‘Cause you’re making me look bad, princess. My boys are gonna think that I can just fall for any pretty girl that walks into my warehouse.”

     X narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. “And how many ‘pretty girls’ are walking into your warehouse, Jay?”

     Jason shot her an amused look: she could get a little … ‘protective’ over him sometimes, glaring down any girl who even looked at him for a second longer than she deemed appropriate. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him or anything, she just … liked staking her claim over him. His stomach buzzed with excitement at having someone who thought him amazing enough to mark their territory on. 

     “Just one.” He slung his leg over hers, pulling her closer against him. “And she can be so frustratingly distracting.” His gaze fell to her lips and he brought his mouth closer to hers.

     “Makes it difficult to get any work done,” he mumbled before sliding his hand up the back of her neck and pulling her mouth to his.

     X glided her hands all over his body as they kissed, admiring how deliciously gorgeous her boyfriend was. She wriggled against him as he teased her tongue with his, kissing and stroking her until she was breathless and dizzy with lust. Jason pulled back and laughed at the unfocused look on his girlfriend’s face. 

     “Come on,” he told her, carefully helping her get off the bed. “You've got work tomorrow. Let's get you ready for bed.”

     “Ah! I'm so excited!” Spoiler squealed over the comms unit. “How should we enter? Should we jump in through a window? Or fly through the roof? Oh! Maybe we should just knock on the door?! They'll never be expecting that!” 

     Nightingale had gone dark a while back, but the tracker Stephanie had snuck into her suit had continued blinking steadily on the map Tim had gotten Dick to watch closely after his patrol had started. The three of them raced towards the docks now, eager to catch a glimpse of Jason's super secret, probably super cool warehouse that he'd kept hidden from them for so long. Finally, they landed on the rooftop of what appeared to be an empty warehouse, taking a moment to catch their breaths.

     “There's a skylight,” Dick pointed out, gesturing to the removable glass panel that sat a few feet away from them. 

     “Busting through the roof it is.” Stephanie grinned and followed Dick over to the skylight. He pried it open easily and soon, the three of them were standing in the middle of a darkened building, all of them on guard for any wary guards. And then, “Eugh! Sick! It smells like dead fish!” 

     “I thought it smelled like three dead rats,” a low male voice chuckled from the edge of the room. Stephanie furrowed her brows at the response.

     “Uh, no, that's definitely fish.” Then she realised who had spoken. She, Tim and Dick whirled around in horror, following the sound of the voice, and their panic increased tenfold when they saw the Red Hood walking towards them, a knowing smirk on his face. 

     “Hood!” Stephanie began, stumbling over her words as she tried to come up with a response. “W-We … We were just …”

     “We got a distress call!” Tim improvised quickly.

     “And we just wanted to make sure whoever it was was okay!” Dick finished, joining into the lie. The three of them nodded eagerly, suspiciously wide smiles stretched across each of their faces. Jason rolled his eyes.

     “Did you think I didn't vet anyone who comes into my warehouse?” he asked, arms folded across his chest. “Especially someone who is almost always in close contact with the biggest snakes this side of the world?”

     “In my defence,” Nightingale supplied, dropping down from the ceiling and landing behind them, “I thought they were my friends! But I guess you can only be betrayed by those you trust.”

     She gave an exaggerated sniff and moved to stand beside Jason, curling her arms around his bicep and leaning against him.

     “Technically, we weren't betraying you,” Tim argued, his tone matter-of-fact. “We were betraying the Red Hood. Although it's not like we have any alliances with him anyway.”

     “What? You need me to sign a contract or something?” Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes at the suggestion. 

     “I trust you, Hood,” Nightingale told him, fluttering her eyelashes up at him sweetly. “I know you'd never betray me.” 

     Her gaze turned dangerous then, her smile sharpening into one laced with threats as she waited for conformation that he'd never betray her. Jason grinned and lowered his head to hers.  

     “Of course, princess,” he murmured, his voice low enough so the others wouldn't hear him. X giggled softly and Jason’s smile widened. Then he straightened and rearranged his features into a threatening expression. “If any of you ever try to pull a stunt like this again, you'll be cleaning fish guts out of your suits for a month.” 

     Tim, Steph and Dick cringed at the very thought, the bile rising to their throat as they took in another whiff of the fishy air. 

     “Ugh! Fine! You win!” Tim surrendered on behalf of all of them. “We won’t try to find your stupid warehouse again.” 

     Jason smirked in victory and waited until the three of them had left the area. “I told you it’d take them less than ten minutes after you went dark to come after you.” 

     X slid her arms around his neck as Jason’s arms came around her waist. “Fine. You win. I won’t disturb you at your warehouse anymore. Well, for the next month, at least.” 

     Jason rolled his eyes, but continued to smile. “You know they’re still going to try again, right?” 

     X shrugged, unbothered. “Then I guess we’ll just have to get the fish ready.”

[revelboo]

not a request but just wanted to let you know that bc of you I got into blokees and now I’m obsessed with them. Already got three on the way and they look so cute and the bigger figures look amazing!!! Got tfone sentinel, Optimus and Megatron but I’m eyeing g1 prowl and ratchet 👀 literally cant wait until they release one Starscream gods what have you done to me

All part of my evil master plan- get you guys to buy them so the company has to release more, new figures.

Inside Out Pt 3

TFO Starscream x Reader

• Why does it twist like a blade through his spark when you cringe away from him, a wrongness that chafes at him. Makes him want to reach out to you, soothe away the fear that he caused. It’s irrational, insane. Wings flicking up aggressively, he draws back anyway. Giving you space not so you’ll calm down, but because he wants to. Because whatever this is can’t control him, he won’t let it. He doesn’t want this, but can’t deny the urge to reach out even as he curls his servos under into fists so he won’t. “Just let me go,” you whisper, eyes shiny. “Please.” That broken plea hurts him, but also steels his resolve.

• Jaw working as he looms over you, those wings on his back fidget in little flicks. “Why would I do that?” He growls, an arm lifting, servos reaching to send your heart racing in panic. But stopping short of touching you with those servos curled almost around you, almost caging you, and to your horror there’s the urge to close that distance. Put yourself willingly in his hand. You don’t dare move, holding your breath. “You’re mine for as long as I decide to keep you.” Those words are soft, almost deceptively tender as a single servo reaches and touches your chest, slides along your throat to tip your chin up forcing you to meet his optics. Hating that his touch settles something inside you, that you want to lean into that touch as those optics narrow at you. Hating yourself and him for doing this to you.

• His words are possessive, a claim that rings in his spark. While he may not understand what this strange sense of connection is, that sense of belonging and familiarity that comes from touching you is almost intoxicating. Singing through his spark that everything will be fine, that all’s well. And your eyes are shiny, head turning away and almost against his will he reaches to stroke the tip of a servo over your cheek to wipe the tears away when they fall and he knows he’s in trouble. Feeling your little hand on him, trying to push him away, then just hanging on to his servo like you’re as helpless as he is, pressing your face against him as his spark constricts. “I don’t want this,” you whisper. Neither does he, but there’s no letting you go. He can’t lose this sense of belonging. Needs this, because it’s been so long since there’s been any sense of home. Since Cybertron was lost.

• Big servos curl around you, lifting you. There’s no fighting his grip as he lifts you and cradles you against him, his warmth and that connection spilling through you, overwhelming as you relax against your will. Feeling safe, even though you know you’re not. Just wanting to cling to him, to the trap of safety and belonging even knowing it’s a lie. “Hate me all you like, little one,” he says, rasping voice rumbling through you as a servo slides against your spine. “Despise me and rage, but you’re mine to keep.”

Previous

[ikimaru]

just wondering, do you plan on ever finishing your break my fall comic? it seems super interesting so far, but it was also posted a while ago and from what I gathered it's on hiatus? but I've also seen you answer asks saying that you won't really be drawing klance much anymore, so does that mean it's canceled? sorry for bothering you, have a great day! ♡

I finished posting the remaining pages on patreon last month, and by remaining pages I mean the 20 pages I made years ago and never posted bc it was a cliffhanger with no continuation, it's still unfinished and will remain unfinished

sometimes I think I should have pushed myself through finishing this comic instead of doing the college AU 💀 (and then having to push myself through finishing that too anyway and destroy my sanity for 2 years over it)

and yeah I can confirm for the 1000th time I'm not into klance anymore 🙏

[compressedrage]

Okay I can't not talk about this anymore– I've got a headcanon/canon-compliant au/interpretation of the Life Series events (as I'm sure many of us do) and the most recent season is working so well I just have to talk about it somewhere

sticking it under a cut, bc I just know im gonna go off and make a long post :P

(I haven't been in this fandom very long, so this is probably not very original, but I don't care! I'm having fun! anyway–)

The Life Series is a time loop. And Grian is the one who's keeping it going.

It was just meant to be a fun game, but then the Watchers found him. They warped Grian's game into their own twisted tournament, with the intent to take the winner as their champion.

They're about to take Grian again, when he reaches out with the power he'd kept locked away, and he resets the world.

Every time the bloodshed stops and the Watchers are about to reap their champion, Grian wrenches them back into the void and forces a world reset.

Except... with every reset, the world cracks a bit more. First, it was the boogey man. Is it the Watchers trying to push their influence on the players? Or is it something else? Grian isn't sure.

It goes until Secret Life. And then Grian is absolutely sure, because the world has shifted enough for the Watchers to slip their claws into it. They've gotten impatient. They want their champion. Grian tries, but there is only so much he can do with the weight of the tasks on his back. His own power is beginning to slip through too– he even manages to bring Jimmy back for a time, even if it's only a ghostly projection.

And then it's over. Grian is dead, drifting in the void.

(I have a scene in my head where he speaks with Mumbo while waiting for the end of the session. he basically tells Mumbo that he's been doing this and he doesn't know how to stop it, because he has to save them all)

And then Scar wins. And it nearly breaks him. Grian hovers over him, prepared to grab him and reset the world, when the Watchers yank Grian back into the void. It's a harsh, eldritch conflict in the void, and it's all Grian can do to hold onto his sanity, and throw his friends into the next loop.

But in it all, he momentarily forgets Scar. Still in the previous loop. He goes back to get him, but it's been an entire year for Scar. He's weary, and barely registers that Grian is real.

This new loop is the most broken yet. But Grian is still holding it all together as best he can. If it weren't for him, every weird aspect of this world would descend on his friends all at once and they would instantly die and Grian would lose track and then he would lose them���

So he holds things back, trying to keep things straight and monitor how his friends are doing. But he's starting to slip.

Mumbo knows what he's doing, and it doesn't sit right with him.

Scar is a victor. And his lonely year has given him plenty of time to regain lost memories.

Ren doesn't quite understand everything, but he knows Grian knows way more than he should.

Grian's not going to be able to hold it all together for much longer.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Idk if you do requests, but if you do,

You should write a Slash x Reader smut

Where reader is virgin, and Slash has a corruption kink

Im just gonna leave it at that. 🙏🏼

A/n: trying to get through all my slash requests bc APPARENTLY that’s all I’m good for 🙄 /j I love Slash ☺️

Warnings: smut, fingering (f receiving), corruption kink (I hope, I tried 🥹), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

No one thought he could do it, no one had ever imagined that Slash could date someone long enough to get married without sex, yet here he was.

You met between breaks in tour, it was late and he was high and starving. You were working at a pizza place down the road and helped him get back home after he lost his shoe and keys, although he was most heart broken over the loss of his pizza but that didn’t happen until after he ate it.

He was stupid and his state of mind was evidently altered, however, it only meant it was harder for him to hide how pretty he thought you were.

He came back to your place of work later that week, sober this time, and you actually got to talking which led to dating and moving in.

It happened quickly, only a few months between dating and engagement, which no one was surprised by given Slash and his lifestyle. Your family and friends were a bit shocked that you of all people ended up with him, but after seeing the way the guitarist no one could deny it.

Sure, no one questioned it when Slash announced his engagement soon after announcing his new relationship, but there was a reason.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He asked. You were in his bed, curled up against him while he played with your hair. His other hand had been slowly making its way lower and lower and you thought it was the time to tell him the truth.

“It means I’m waiting until marriage.” You explained. He paused for a moment, and he did try to convince you otherwise a few times, although he always stopped if he felt it was pushing you too far or if he thought you might say yes; you made up your mind years ago and he didn’t need that on his conscience, he loved you too much.

On top of that, he loved the idea of being your first, of being the one to take away your innocence. He wanted to marry you and have you forever, you were his and he was yours.

Which led to now, Slash planting kisses up your neck as you sat back against him. “Just relax, sweetheart, and let me know what feels good, alright?” His soft voice flowed into your ears.

You nodded and he got right to work, nipping at your sensitive skin while rubbing your sides, one hand moving down lower between your legs until he was rubbing your clit and slow circles. Your breath caught in your throat, a shiver running up your spine.

You just had to relax and melt into him turning your head to meet his lips, he didn’t pull away as you kissed him and his fingers moved faster.

His other hand moved down, pushing two fingers into you and making you gasp and moan into the kiss. He didn’t want to rush you so he just kept them there, focusing on your clit with the other hand but he could already feel your walls fluttering around his fingers.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl, just relax.” He said, not changing the pace of his fingers. “Just be a good girl and cum on my fingers for me.” Of course you listened, you couldn’t not cum with the praise that he muttered, filling your thoughts of him and his love for you.

He kissed your cheek as you came down from the high. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, eyes feeling heavy as you looked up at him. “This-this is how you feel when I…” You didn’t need to finish, he knew what you were talking about.

He chuckled and shrugged. “Kind of, feels better for you, guarantee it.” He mused.

“Do I not do a good job?” You asked, slight worry in your voice.

Slash was quick to shake his head. “No, nothing like that, no, just, like…” He sighed as he tried to think of a way to word it. “Biology..?” He said, unable to contain his laughter as he said it. “I swear I read somewhere it was better for women than it was for men.” You laughed at his explanation and moved off of his lap, laying down and nuzzling into your pillow.

Slash gave you time to recuperate, the last thing he wanted was to overstimulate you, he’d do that another time but for now he settled for flopping on top of you. “Jesus, you sound like those pig dog toys.”

“Did you just compare me to a pig and a dog toy in a single breath?” You demanded, voice coming out strained as you were being crushed under him. He really wasn’t that heavy and he wasn’t putting all his weight on you but it wasn’t easy breathing either. “And you still expect sex?”

Slash snorted at that, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m not expecting shit, I-I’m helping you sleep..?” You were married the night before and spent time travelling and sleeping on the way to your honeymoon, having woken up not long ago and feeling the need to consummate the marriage just as you’d always imagined. To a point, anyway.

He was stupid but it worked and you pushed back into him, moaning as you felt his hard cock against you. He slipped into you, drawing moans out of the both of you. He waited for you to adjust to him, his fingers had helped but it wasn’t the same. No, this was much, much better.

He began moving his hips, his thrusts quickly picking up speed until the room filled with the sound of skin on skin and your loud moans mixed with Slash’s low grunts and groans. “Fuck, listen to yourself, a virgin and already so fucking loud and needy for cock. My cock, sweetheart.”

“Yes! Yours, only yours!” You said, pulling your knees up. You were trying to get on your hands and knees, doggy style, but he put a hand on your back and kept your face mostly shoved into the pillow. Not that you mind, it just put him at that perfect angle where he repeatedly hit that spot that had you seeing stars.

“Oh, that’s a good girl, keep- fuck, keep saying that.” He said, giving your ass a quick smack. He was so pent up, he wasn’t trying to be rough with you but he couldn’t keep himself totally in control, not after all this time.

“Ngh! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Feels so good!” You whined, feeling that same knot from earlier building in your gut. Slash’s thrusts were quickly losing their rhythm as you squeezed him, sucking him in and bringing him closer to the edge as well.

He made sure you came, letting you rolled onto your stomach after he pulled out, hand going to his throbbing member so he could jerk himself off, hot strings of cum spurting onto your stomach before he flopped over beside you and pulled you to his side.

He gathered some of his cum on his fingers and brought them to your mouth, letting you lick them clean. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?” He asked breathlessly.

“Tired.” You responded after a moment, nuzzling into him.

He chuckled and nodded. “Sleep then, we’ve got the whole month and then the rest of our lives.”

[anders-holmvik]

ok need to talk about doomed bucktommy from 7x05 to 8x06 now. up top this is NOT a BT positive post and i dont want to hear any arguing rn so just scroll on by #peaceandlove

i said it in this post too but the theme of buck and tommy's relationship is "you don't know me". their relationship began in that episode and that's been the throughline the entire time. i'm gonna try to take the buddie hat off here and just talk about buck but you know its probably gonna creep in anyway

buck is a huge flirt, but he's passive in his romantic pursuits because he has abandonment issues. so he'll flirt until the other person makes a definitive move like asking him out or kissing him. once they do, he clings and overcompensates because he's deeply insecure. they deviated from this pattern with natalia but i consider that to be special circumstances bc logistics behind the scenes got in the way. and buck did break up with taylor but he clinged to her first with asking her to move in after he kissed lucy.

so we have tommy, who is NOT different at all! buck likes tommy because he's cool and confident. buck acts out and is possessive over eddie, who buck also clashed with because he was cool and confident and acted out toward because he was possessive over the 118. buck flirts with him (albeit unconsciously), and tommy kisses him. buck feels chosen, he clings. tommy is interested. tommy abandons buck when he realizes he "doesn't know him" after buck lies to eddie in front of him about their date. (EVEN THOUGH HE JUST TOLD HIM HE'S NEVER BEEN ON A DATE WITH A GUY BEFORE AND ISN'T OUT. OKAY fine) buck can't stop thinking about tommy because, again, he subconsciously thinks that being with him will allow him to absorb his "confidence." when they go for coffee, tommy points out that the two of them don't know anything about each other. they agree to start their relationship and do it "right."

they continue to misunderstand each other through the entirety of their relationship. tommy can't wrap his head around why buck wants him to dress up for the bachelor party. tommy points out buck's father is alive when he opens up about bobby. the two fundamentally dont get each other. but buck doesn't let tommy in either! he lets him call him evan (false intimacy), likely because he's too insecure to stand up for himself. until masks, when buck begins to push back.

buck brings tommy to family events, but he doesn't actually include him. tommy is quite literally not in the group chat. masks was SUCH an interesting episode about their dynamic through the billy boils story and maybe i'll make a post on it sometime but whew...

moving onto confessions...

this part has been pointed out tons but i feel the need to cover the whole ep so right up top in the episode we have buck, known gift giver in all of his relationships (freaked about getting taylor a sweater for xmas in s5, got kameron and connor a onesie for donorbaby, once bought eddie a $500 coffee maker as a "PRANK") does not get tommy a gift for their 6 month even though he's the one who brings up that it is the date. fascinating stuff there. of course then we have a callback to the basketball game when tommy gets him tickets.

like okay sure! maybe tommy just wanted to connect with him over something he's more interested in, it's a weird move to get your partner what is essentially a gift for yourself for your six month but it's not unheard of.

then the woman comes over and asks buck to take the photo, saying they're celebrating a divorce. buck does kinda check the lady out. i've said this before, but buck is usually pretty oblivious to flirting until someone crosses the line of physical contact. it happened with tommy, and it happened with the lady. once he realizes, he just becomes really uncomfortable and awkward. on a personal note i'm kinda mad that they cut tommy checking out hot waiter/making a comment about it but Whatever.

again, you dont know me: being 6 months in without having the exes talk is bonkers. they told us it was excusable on tommy's part bc of the heterosexuality performance of it all (still not a good omen for intimacy in that relationship). but buck??? that was his first real relationship, his "most transformative". it was obviously a fun coincidence that the writers realized they'd set up but if you look in universe it's crazy that they were together that long without buck bringing it up. so in the end their lack of communication is what kills them!

buck is correct about tommy being cruel/dishonest bc it turns out tommy knew for six months that their relationship wouldn't work and stayed anyway. josh misunderstood the convo and made it about performing heterosexuality. Hopefully this was just a segue-way to tip off audience to gay eddie struggle. god knows buck will not remember pre glee post glee but he will remember tommy's "i can't be your last because i'm your first".

so we cemented tommy kinda as buck's male "teacher" relationship. "i'm so comfortable with you because you're comfortable with you" buck thinks his bisexuality is wrapped up in tommy's approval of him. and the crazy thing is tommy is not comfortable with himself. but neither him nor buck ever opened up to each other enough to explore that!

Buck is gonna grieve hard because he's the Clinger but also because being with tommy made him feel confident. but not because tommy uplifted him, because he perceived tommy as confident, and that made buck feel closer to fully realizing and understanding himself. this is why coming back from s7 buck got a full gorgeous girl makeover and was totally on his game in those first few eps despite gerrard-- he felt confident. what buck needs to realize post breakup is that he can be all of that without tommy!!!

putting my buddie hat back on for a second there's a meta here about the parking spot line. it could be callback to basketball game bc after eddie's injury there was discussion of tommy's "i drove eddie and i parked close" versus buck "ill bring my car up to the court". or the parking spot out front is the easy close serendipitous option (as in tommy presenting himself as a surprise relationship for buck by kissing him) but either way tommy was the easy choice. eddie is not. but buck was willing to pull his car up to the court for eddie. buck was willing to be AN ACTIVE PARTICIPANT IN THAT RELATIONSHIP. that's a break from his pattern. crazier too when you think about how buck attached himself to eddie because he seemed cool and confident but committed harder once he actually got to know eddie and his flaws. just sayingggg..

either way i want buck to explore his sexuality by himself for a little bit because i think that's what he needs as a character in order to actually get an understanding of who he is and what he wants. and also selfishly because i want a buck speed dating montage set to girls & boys by blur.

[elainsgirl]

HELP, because im literally dead laughing.

Why did an anti say in the bonus chapter that azriel is only upset because of his brothers having mates and not him. they also mentioned he wanted elain to be his mate because his brothers got two sisters... so thats why he gets the third sister?? then they kept saying over and over he just wants a mate? but, the part that really made me laugh was "if he and elain got together and he found his mate, hE wOuLd lEaVe eLaIn, nO hEsiTaTioN. elAin wOuLd giVe uP hEr mAtE, bUt aZriEl wOulDnT. " do they hear themselves right now? WHAT ARE THEY EVEN READING, for real? they lack reading comprehension so bad!!

Hey anon 🫶

GA stans will never beat the allegations they don’t actually understand Azriel’s character outside of whatever they can twist for their ship.

If Azriel’s whole sadness simply stemmed from the fact he solely wanted a mate - his whole character arc surrounding the fact he believes he deserves and should have a mate, there was no need for Sjm to bring Elain into it. Elain wouldn’t have needed to even be mentioned in the bonus. Rhys theorised that Azriel was waiting for the bond to snap between him and Mor - THAT would have been the focus.

According to GA logic you’d get the same result. Azriel could have gone to Rhys and whined about how it wasn’t fair his brothers had mates & he didn’t, him wondering why the bond hasn’t snapped between him & Mor -> You get the same “Az only wants a mate!” Rhetoric that GA stans love to push. Gwynriel’s clearly must then believe Az is stupid and dumb. Why else would he complain over not having Elain as his mate when he knows you can only have one mating bond? Its useless. He knows elain cannot be his mate so why is he being counterproductive and wanting her to be his mate? He should still be pining and obsessing over Mor being his fated mate. It potrays Az as being illogical and childish - which ig is how GA stans show him as.

There was no need to mention Elain, the cauldron or pointing out the oddity it is to have 2/3 brothers mated to 2/3 sisters. There was no need to make Elriel attracted to each other. These are not complex romances. There is no multiple Lis or relationships. If Gwynriel is endgame- Elriel will not happen in any capacity. Yet Mass chose to include Elain. Chose to confirm that Elriel are attracted to each other, brought up the cauldron being wrong once again in the context of elucien.

“"if he and elain got together and he found his mate, hE wOuLd lEaVe eLaIn, nO hEsiTaTioN. elAin wOuLd giVe uP hEr mAtE, bUt aZriEl wOulDnT. "

What kind of Li would he be? That destroys Azriels character completely to the point of no redemption. Elain and him finally being together only for him to leave her bcs “Oh look! I have my mate now!” - Basically using Elain, discarding her the first chance he gets when his mate shows up ? The fact gwynriels genuinely believe this tells me they don’t understand Sjm’s way of writing her male Lis nor do they understand Azriel’s character- it literally makes him look superficial and fickle. Why would you want Azriel to be potrayed like that!? Its not giving romance. Its not giving sjm. This is what I expect your sterotypical misogynistic man to come up with. Men who do not care about women’s feelings. Men who see women as objects that they can use to fill the void before discarding them as if they meant nothing. Its so sad to see women coming up with these takes, Why would you want Elain to go through such heart break? Do they think Gwyn will find it romantic? Their twisted fanon Gwyn might but I’ll tell you now, If canon Gwyn ever found out Azriel broke another womans’ heart to be with her, she’d clock him in the face twice. Do they think Nesta/Feyre will Support or understand Azriel dumping their darling sister bcs “oh well he’s found his mate now so its all good” basically according to gwynriels, If Gwyn wasn’t his mate - she’d too be thrown away. The only reason Az would go after Gwyn is because she’s his mate - is this what they find romantic? Bcs it just gives me the ick. Thank God Mass would never do such a thing. Say what you want about Sjm; she values Love & choice, female empowerment & friendship above all else even a mating bond.

Gwynriels do not understand these characters and a good romance story, if this take is anything to go by. Everyone deserves better from the way GA/EL stans treat them.

This just makes me glad im on the right side of this ship war because most elriels will never ruin these characters for our ship. It also reaffirms my belief in elriel.

[kurjat]

I am curious, writers. Im a visual artist and its smth that has come to me very naturally my whole life, ive worked hard to get better at it and to learn how to observe the world but i feel like ive always had an inclination for it

Ive always wanted to write more, but it doesn't come to me as naturally as pictures

Which doesn't mean i shouldn't put in the effort of learning it, and it's somwthing i want to definetly do :D

But it made me wonder, bc i have such a solid understanding of how i approach the process of drawing (which can be different ways 2 be clear)

At writers, what are some of the ways you personally approach writing? Does it come from just opening a page and fiddling around sometimes, like doodling on a page? Do you do studies like, drawing from life but writing from life??? Or is it more the usual concept of like... a scenario pops into your mind and you start working from that?

Idk im just rambling Curiously i would rly like to push myself to write more bc. A) its a rly important skill to have b) even if i only end up using it supplimentally in my artwork, processing stuff through written pacing, drafting a story etc. Can be so. Well detrimental

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel

Chapter 1: elation

low to medium honor Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Hi, I’m unwell about him and I needed to post this bc I need people to talk to about it and I probably also need help lmao also may be a bit ooc. New to posting here 😳😖😵‍💫

Warnings: dubious consent, low honor Arthur, smut, naive reader

WC: 7504 this is so long I’m sorry boys

Tags: innocence kink, size kink, vaginal and oral sex, no TB thank god. Arthur is sweet still but has mean tendencies obviously

Arthur’s new visitor has him hot under the collar.

The snow up here is about to overtake Lucky, the loyal Clydesdale you had known since you were a girl. His legs amble forward, winds whipping his mane and tail about. Hunkering over him; gripping his reins for dear life, you try to urge him further. Your throat is tight with nerves and of course the impending reality that Lucky has been slowing down. That the weather has only been getting worse since you started riding out. The last thing isn’t worth mentioning.

As if he could hear you over the blizzard winds, you clutch tight to his reins.

“Please Lucky, you can do it, boy. You can’t leave me here,”

His hooves trudge through the snow, his big legs managing to stay above the snow fall. He falters a bit here and there, more often as you go on. Grunting and shaking at his tack. You pat along his strong neck. The cold turns the moisture in the air to ice, the heat in his breath disappearing.

“I’m sorry, Lucky…” Shuffling onward, leading him on. Frost gathers over your coat and you would think the landscape beautiful if not for the lethality of it all. You’re not sure if people are meant to survive in places like this. With nose numb and fingers creaky in your thick gloves, you know you have to stop. Scanning the horizon for anything resembling a shelter, imagining yourself curled up in Lucky’s side, you can see the soft glow from a cabin a ways down the road. The only vestige of humanity you had seen for miles on what feels like the edge of the world. Windows glow with the tell tale orange of a warm fireplace. Your foot nudges into Lucky’s side for your last push, your last chance.

“Go!” you slap the reins on his neck, working him up to a trot. You approach and see what looks to be some sort of barn. It’s a small stable, a nice place to put a horse or two, maybe a dairy cow. Another horse lazily sleeps, fresh hay for his bedding. At your entrance, he perks up but stares oddly, easing back. Lucky knickers and snorts, just happy to be inside, you think.

“I’ll be back, hopefully not too soon…” You leave him there while he starts mooching the hay laid out for his new roommate. You pat his flank and watch the ice melt from his lashes.

Braced for the cold, arms crossed over your chest, you pull your legs forward through the snow outside. It’s a fight to get through the piles of snow, clouding around your lower thighs. Finally, you're on the wooden steps of the porch, which creak a bit underneath your feet. Panting, you meekly pat on the door.

“Please, I need help,” you shout, trying to speak over the blizzard. “Is anyone there?” You can hear the crackling fire, feeling like it’s warming you already. Heavy steps come to the door.

“Who’s out there?” A gruff masculine voice answers your call. It grates over your nerves, though if you weren’t alone you might have found it to be soothing. With any luck, he’s the father of a nice family whose heart would be softened by a lone young woman near frozen to death on his front door.

“Please, sir. I promise it’s just me,” your pleading seems to have done the trick and the man opens the door. Finally hitting you with a heat you had almost forgotten. He moves to the side after sizing you up. Hesitating even for a second causes him to dip his head to direct you inside. Forcing your stiff legs to lift. He takes a moment to analyze the gap you left behind. Carefully, he shuts the door and pulls the curtain closed. Maybe he had been robbed before? Lonely homesteads were easy and preferable targets for bandits. Typically neighbors were miles away, if you had any neighbors to speak of or to.

You get a better look at him, tall and strong, chest the size of a barrel. The sleeves of his plain white shirt are rolled up and the top two buttons are undone. Leather suspenders keep his deep brown trousers up. He stands as if unsure what to do with his body besides intimidate you with it, showing not an ounce of uncertainty on his face.

There is no one else here and if there is, they’re in the other rooms of his quiet and moderate home. The house smells of coffee, a disarming smell. Salt pork and boiled potatoes too. Certainly provisions that could last through this harsh winter.

“What the hell were you doin’ out there?” His tone is accusational and judgemental. He must think you an idiot to be traveling in this weather and maybe he wasn’t all wrong. Instead of talking, your jaw clicks your teeth together. The hard look he gives you melts away and he helps you out of your coat. He's almost surprised to see you, eyes stuck on every piece of you revealed to him. Snowflakes and icy debris are shed from you and you sigh. You try your best to get your natural reactions to stop but they insist on ceasing on their own. The man huffs, stepping towards the percolator on the stove. You watch on, feeling strange that he hasn’t really invited you to sit or do much of anything else.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” he takes a seat by the fire in a big chair seemingly made just for him. He sets down the coffee before taking a match and striking it, lighting the end of a cigarette he retrieved from the table. The coffee steams gently and you take it; seeing as you're very sure he had made it for you. Jerkily, you move to sit as he sets his eyes on you. The couch is soft and warm, homely with a pretty blanket, thick and colorful patterns. While his gaze seems easy and relaxed, he watches you like a hawk.

“No, I… was getting something for my granny. She’s not feeling too good. Ma sent me to get something for her. The doctor, I suppose. Didn’t make it too far,”

He exhales. The smallest noise of amusement.

“I can imagine,” You take a sip of the coffee. Warm and sweet smelling. “What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” You stare, feeling a bit like a child being scolded by this man.

“Oh well, I-”

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed. If it weren’t for me, well…” scratching at the darker scruff that grows on his face. His hair is that same light brown, almost blond. He sucks the smoke out of the slim roll of paper. It's bitter and acrid, a contrast to the warm smoky fireplace. Your brows furrow. Deciding to change the subject before you say something out of turn, you take another sip out of the enameled cup he had given you. The smoke he inhaled releases in a cloud around his features, obscuring the knowing smile he wears.

“I’m sorry mister, but I don't think you gave me your name…” He ashes his cigarette, tossing his legs up on the table in the center of the room. The weight of him and his leather boots don’t rattle the table, he’s careful with himself.

“Arthur. You married?” His gaze is as hot and red as the cherry burning on the end of his cigarette. You almost start to feel uncomfortable. If there weren't a blizzard outside, you might consider walking out. He hadn’t even given you a chance to say your name. Your nervous look only seems to enthrall him more. You only now notice he’s looking at your hands but thick gloves still encase your fingers.

“No, I'm afraid not,” You contemplate telling him a lie but think about when you might have to remove your gloves. You’d rather not get caught in a fib. Though perhaps his rather brusque flirting might have come to an end should you have warned him of a man who would be looking after you. Being out here by yourself seems to have him convinced that no one truly was looking after you anyway.

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself? Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” The butt of his cigarette meets its end in the ashtray on the table. Your face tweaks into a small nervy smile, nodding. “You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Your fingers start to twiddle, feeling your face warm, maybe because of the flames licking at the logs on the hearth. He’s certainly not the ugliest man you’ve ever seen nor the oldest, you frown at such an oddly self deprecating comment. You’re surprised he doesn’t already have a wife and several children running around, reading stories by the fireplace that you sit in front of. You revert back to old tactics.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind too much,”

“Ain’t no trouble,” His hands seem to itch to be doing something, he also seems to twiddle his fingers. One hand propped over the arm of his chair.

“Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He stands, hands on his knees and then he’s going into the next room. It gives you a chance to evaluate the room you're in. The mantle has all sorts of strange little knick knacks, the walls, plenty of… distinctive hunting trophies and supplies. Several gleaming guns in different finishes are displayed proudly. Although pretty, they don’t seem unused. If anything, well loved and worn. You’re starting to feel every bit the lamb in the wolf’s den this man is already treating you as.

He comes out of the room, holding a pair of cotton long johns in a cream color. You’re not sure why he thinks you need them but he has been nothing but hospitable if not a bit too strong on his pleasantries and very blunt. It can be lonely out here in the country, so you offer a small smile. He stares at you, even as you awkwardly side step him and go to his bedroom. You close the door and sigh, nice to just have a moment to yourself. Away from the strange man and the cold. The warm smell of fabric and the natural musk of the wood calm you, along with the faint smell of something distinctive to him. You claw and peel at the layers of your clothing, riding gear and boots. You notice how wet your clothes are from the melting ice. Perhaps he knew better than you did.

You slip into the warm cotton of what must be his long johns. They’re nice and feel almost new. Far too big for you. That man, Arthur, did seem to be quite big. Here in the quiet room, you can remember the wind, the cut of the cold air against your cheeks, hear the wind rattle the glass. You're glad to be out of all of that.

It’s a rather modest room, a bed, an armoire, a nightstand, a cabinet. Cigarettes and a few cigars, several empty bottles of bourbon. Some old faded photographs but you're not so brave as to pick them up. The room is severely lacking in the touch of a woman department, bed pushed up against the wall. The smallest mirror adorns the wall, dusty and plain. You turn to the door and see him, standing there.

You startle and put your hand to your chest.

“You scared me Mister…” no last name to utter has you confused, he had never given you one. Your smile isn’t forced but it fades a little when you see him looking at you.

“Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” he’s really giving several once overs that feel like thrice overs, drinking you in like those bottles of bourbon. Your face feels hot again. He stares at the junction between your legs, up to your chest and then finally your face. You don’t think you've ever seen a man look at you like that; not that you spend very much time around men. The type of men at the saloons in town were no good for you, or at least that’s what Ma would say.

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” he puffs up in pride a bit, you tilt your head. Hopefully he hadn’t been watching you snoop around, or even worse, changing. You nod, a small gesture.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” he makes space for you to exit down the small hallway. You try not to brush against him but he’s so big, fills up the sparse room between you and the wall. He drops his arm on the doorframe, making you pass underneath him. Looking up at him, you can make out the color of his eyes, a pretty summer blue. His shirt and suspenders smell clean and wintery. He makes you feel miniscule, a mouse and cougar. His features; squared and rugged from weathering the elements, are set in a stony expression but there’s excitement in his eyes.

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” he says. His hands twitch again, the one in the door is a tight fist. You know that you can’t leave. And you wouldn’t beat him should he chase, you doubt you’d even make it to Lucky. Especially now that he insisted you put on his underclothes. The temptation to be in dryer clothes has trapped you here. You flinch as his hand descends to rest on your neck and collar, rubbing. His body moves forward, taking your silence as acceptance.

“Please, I-“

“I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman,” his hand squeezing at your shoulder, you don’t dare to move. Broad chested, he seems to block out all of the light from the meager lamps and the fireplace.

“Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He eases off you and guides you down the hall, your heart thumping out of your chest. Certainly not because of the romance but the claustrophobic feeling of being alone with a man such as him, big and very strong in his advances. Thankfully, not too strong. Yet, a voice in your head warns.

The weight of him thumps down the wooden floors of his home. He’s big and he seems very adept at killing things. And you think you’ve heard the name Arthur Morgan before. The very man has his big hand on your lower back, warm and firm. He guides you to sit, pulling a chair out for you at a small dining table, plates and tin cups, forks out for your dining needs. Very gentlemanly for such a gruff man.

“I already had my supper but I thought you might be hungry,” He sets down a bottle of fine brandy and a plate of steaming food. More of the potatoes and salt pork, fried in more pork fat. Your hands slowly reach for a fork. He has two small tumblers set out, in which he pours two small servings of the liquor. You don’t think you’ve had much to drink except perhaps a bit of wine. He slides one glass to you and you nod.

“Thank you-”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. Think your company is enough for me,” He stares and he watches until you finally take a slow, small bite of the food he had laid out for you. As if the name he called you wasn’t enough to make heat rise to your face. He hasn’t done anything too bad yet. But you can’t shake the feeling that something at some point may go awry. Not that you could do much about it. He’s made sure of that. Finally he takes a sip of his drink, throwing it back with no hesitation. It slips easily down his throat. You decide to taste it and it immediately begins to burn the back of your throat, you can’t help but make a displeased face at the bitter taste. You can hardly bring yourself to swallow the fiery liquid. He smirks.

“Now ain’t that cute. You ain’t never had no drink before?” Arthur’s face is smug and endeared all at once. As if he’s just seen a puppy or a litter of kittens, all snuggled up. You feel embarrassed at his reaction.

“I have; some church wine, once,” You murmur out, trying to sound brave but you only sound defensive and inexperienced. Based on what you’ve seen of him, you don’t think there isn't liquor he hasn’t tried, an animal he hasn’t shot, or a gun he hasn’t fired.

“Where you from, girl?” You finally tell him your name in, again, what is a defensive and girlish tone when you had wanted to be assertive. He quirks a brow, repeats his question and somehow your name in his mouth makes you shiver. The half smile he gives you is even more charmed. He leans over the table, pouring himself another glass of brandy.

“I’m from west of here, out by Long Pine and that abandoned lumber mill. My family has lived there a while. My Pa traps and once upon a time, he went to California to find some gold with my uncle. My ma is from round here…” He listens to you, attentively. Focused on how your mouth moves, how your fingers mess with your hair. The prongs of the fork sink into a softened piece of the potatoes he made you. He nods, watching as you take more and more bites of the food he has given you.

“Not really from nowhere, moved around a lot when I was a boy. Had to make my own life. Didn’t matter though, that all went up in smoke…” It seems as if he remembered bitter memories at your included topic of family. It's all rather secretive, no Ma or Pa to be mentioned. The crackling fire does little to fill the silence.

“Do you like living here?” You ask him, hoping to not put him in a bad mood, especially with drink involved. It was your turn to question him anyway. He looks up at you, his eyes meet yours and your stomach feels strange. It feels like he's glad you’ve asked him a question. Like your interest is unexpected.

“Well, maybe not right now, weather’s shit, long ride to town, real quiet and lonely, but I can think of a few things that have made it more bearable today,” You nod along, his voice rough and deep, you can feel how it almost touches you, over your ears and down the sides of your neck. “I’ll let ya finish, all this yammerin’ on,” you try to finish but he really has given you much more food than you had even wanted nor needed. He corks his brandy, storing it away and takes away the glass you hadn’t touched after your first sip. He finishes your glass, putting away the dishes in the basin.

You’ve eaten all you could and you stand, placing the dish with the rest.

“I ain’t the best cook but I get on okay,” He stands in the small kitchen. As you set down the plate, he corners you again.

“Might be better if you did it next time, the cookin’, I mean. Your Ma teach you to cook?” You can read the subtext. Did she teach you to cook for a man, your prospective husband and family. The idea makes you feel strange. Just what does this man think is going to happen?

“As much as any mother teaches her daughter, I suppose. Somehow I feel you wouldn’t be too hard to impress,” You let your tongue move before you think but he seems to just enjoy it. He breaks into a smile, playful but still, he has you backed into the counter.

“I like your little spitfires, girl, think I’d like your cookin’ too, more than any fancy bullshit they make in St. Denis,” You feel that shy heat in your cheeks. A compliment for your cooking and you haven't so much as boiled some water. His hands are up on you, your hips, petting and rubbing with his thumbs. “You’re just the prettiest girl, you know that?”

“Mr. Morgan…” you saying his name in a soft tone only makes him more excited, leaning in. He crowds you with his body, his broad shoulders and muscled forearms trapping you against his wooden counter.

“Y’ain’t got no boy at home, do ya? Some yellow-bellied greenhorn, trying to touch on you like this?” He’s almost angry at just the idea of you having a younger beau waiting for you at home. No man has ever called you pretty, let alone the prettiest thing he ever saw. Maybe being alone on this mountain has driven him mad. “Wouldn't blame the feller, I ain’t exactly no better,” his hands tighten, pinch into your flesh, to almost the bone.

“Sir, you must be drunk, I don’t think you mean that,” his expression becomes more annoyed at your words.

“So you do?”

“No, I don’t have anyone, Mr. Morgan,” his grip is on your waist now, just under your breasts. A satisfied smile stretches his lips, his eyes relax again.

“You can call me Arthur but I kinda like when you call me that, respectful little girl I got. N’ I ain’t the kinda man gets drunk on half a bottle,” The front of his wide frame is up against yours again, a quiet groan leaving him, something rather stiff presses into you. “Mean every damn word I’m sayin’. I look like I’m a liar?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Your voice falters slightly, “I’m sorry, I hardly know you, Mister, I shouldn’t be here, I can’t-” You sound so squeaky and whiny but you have no wherewithal to notice. Your hands come up to grab him, trying to push him away in a panic. He’s finally pushed you enough that you’ve started to squirm.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll make an honest woman outta you, said I’d never leave ya alone,” Then there’s an iron grip on your wrists. “Swear I’ll make you my wife,” He’s shushing you, calming you like a skittish mare. His lips against your ear, the scratchy stubble on his jaw against the delicate skin of your face. Your arms stop pulling so he lets you go, slowly. He takes a deep breath, thinking for a moment. He deliberates, looking down at your chest, at your face and hair. You look up, bewildered and unsure.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna take ya to bed now and I don’t want too much fuss from you, do you understand me?” His voice is hot and cold, low like a sweeping bird of prey. Your eyes well with tears. You can’t believe that this man is the one who saved your life. His hand is around your neck, so small in his hold. You can only imagine what will take place in the next moments of your life.

“I said, do you understand me,” He punches his words out one by one. Arthur’s fingers don't tighten around your neck, a small notion of his patience. He hasn’t quite ravaged you like you thought he might either, hasn’t torn your clothes and groped at you crudely. Hasn't gripped cruelly at the hair on your head. You hum and nod, trying to stay strong but you’ve never been particularly good at that. He hasn’t been too mean about this and you hope nothing you do spurs him to be meaner.

“Good girl,” he picks you up, like the bride he thinks you are, carrying you towards the bedroom you had changed in. He’s much more excited now, happy to show off his strength. His tone is proud; you think of you but you're not too sure. You think you’ll make the distinction.

“Please, Arthur, no,” You whine through your hiccups, trying not to sound too defiant but it’s hard with the word ‘no’ in your mouth. “Can’t we jus-t-t-talk more? Please…” You cling to his shoulders, aiming for his heart strings. He looks down to your face, your appeasing expression. “We haven’t even kissed yet…”

“Well, honey, I can fix that,” His smile widens, he sets you down on the bed, blankets sprawled over the mattress. His mouth is over yours as he spreads your legs and pushes the breadth of him into the space. “You're so goddamn beautiful when you look up and beg,” His lips fit over yours and start kissing, licking along the softest flesh. You squeal and hold onto his shoulders, legs kicking weakly at nothing. His lips don’t feel unpleasant, you actually quite like the feeling of him kissing you, even with the taste of liquor on him.

“My darlin’s first kiss, how special is that,” It’s piping hot and messy, his spit all over you, the strange feeling of his tongue trying to touch yours, inevitably succeeding. You gasp and grip onto him. Your heart feels like it’s going much too fast.

“As good as you look wearing my clothes, I think it’s time we take these off you,” He pulls at the buttons of the long johns you put on, fiddling and then impatiently tearing at them.

‘Christ alive’ are the words he mutters when he has the front opened, staring at your breasts. Your face is white hot and your hands reflexively move to cover your chest. However, he’s faster than you, grabbing onto you. His eyes of blazing blue warn you without a word spoken, then they scan over you, drinking in every detail. His gaze makes you burn, you can feel the reverence of every second he spends committing you to memory.

Like a furnace, he runs so hot, making you sweat. His hands are slow and gentle, rubbing the swell of them, watching the way your face reflects your feelings. You're not supposed to enjoy how a man touches you, especially a man like Arthur. But his hands are just the right texture, temperature.

You can hardly think of anything to say, listening as he pants, getting spurred on by the sight of your skin, your soft underbelly and the sensitive tips of your nipples. How to make him stop is completely lost to you. A small part of you doesn't want to find out how.

“C’mere,” he lifts your midsection to his lips with his big rough hands, helping himself to you, putting one of your nipples in his mouth. Every bit of you tingles, a million shivers rack your insides. The sound you let out makes him laugh. Each swipe of his tongue, glance of his teeth on you makes you squirm. His stubble tickles your chest and scrapes roughly. Your hands are easily held down, he catches them.

“I thought I said there weren't gonna be much fuss,” His voice is firm, scolding. “Tell me you were listenin’ to what I damn well told you,” You flinch even if he hasn't even so much as raised his voice. You nod again. “C’mon darlin’, wanna hear you say you’ll be listening to me from now on,” His hands wrench the rest of the union suit off you, down your now bare legs.

“Yes, I’ll listen,” you breathe and whisper, putting those meek airs he seemed to like in you were you not giving him lip.

“That’s better, you know how to make me happy already, don’tcha?” This time, his head lowers to tuck into your neck, biting and sucking. The feeling has you squirming away more, harrowing noises that embarrass you to the core leak from your voice box. Your fingers are in his hair, legs squeezing him as hard as they can.

“You like this, I know you do,” when you try to shake your head, his hand slaps your thigh, like a horse that needs to get. You feel betrayed almost, having convinced yourself that he wasn’t lying, that he wanted to be sweet on you, marry you. That he wouldn’t hurt you. Whimpering and a small cry, make him look at you.

“Aw, honey, don’t like when I hit ya?” You’re so confused, as if he would care, his tone only slightly mocking you. A laugh jitters his words, a deep soft sound. Warmly, he kisses you, rubbing along your thigh, spreading you open. Can hardly see when his hand dips down between your legs, his thumb grazes the little slit which usually was nothing more than your unmentionables to you. The hair that grows there is tenderly pet and laid flat by gentle strokes of his fingers, making you whine, shutting your legs. To no avail on his strong grip on your legs.

“Sometimes girls who don’t listen need a little spankin’ from their daddy, don’t they? Not all the time but only when you ain’t actin’ right,” a finger of his starts to explore the tightness of you, pushing against you. Your body feels alight, a pure pleasure filling your lower belly. A pleasure which you had always been told was for lesser women. But how did he know how to make you feel so good?

“Promise I won’t hit ya if you keep listenin’, honey, never raise a hand to your face, neither. Girl like you don’t need a violent man,” your legs are tense and your lungs stall, unevenly breathing as he takes liberties exploring your most private spots. His finger is shallowly pumping against you, testing your limits, watching your face. Your body is half relaxed and half electrified. You can hardly stand to loop up at him, shy and ashamed but not enough to stop your body from relishing in his ministrations.

“Need a gentle hand, don’t you? Like when I’m sweet to ya,” dipping his head lower, he licks down the centerline of your body, “need your man to lick your little pussy, sweetheart,” the sticky spit dries on your skin, mouthing at your belly and down to your pubic triangle, tongue parting the fattened folds. If you were being forced to do this, why couldn’t you fight anymore, couldn’t kick at him? Why could you only whine for him? Were you really so weak? You spasm and moan, thighs over his ears, his hair tickling you. Small fires are set underneath your skin, you don’t understand why your body panics but also receives him, wants him to continue, finds his touch pleasing.

Arthur spreads you wide over the edge of his bed. Your hazy eyes look at the wooden ceiling, hips moving around in search of the way he makes you feel. He licks along your slickness and drinks you in. After a minute of his exploratory advances, he finds the spot you so longed for him to touch, heaven blooming on the tip of his tongue. The loudest he’s ever gotten you, abandoning the fight to enjoy the smoothness of him moving in circles.

Everything seems to slow down, makes you feel as drunk as drinking that bottle of fine brandy might have gotten you. You can’t understand what he’s making your body feel and do, continuing his assault. There’s something building in you, the pleasure is stacking up and you’re not sure what should happen when you’ve no more room for it inside you anymore. It feels warm, sloshing against the walls of your lower belly. Something about him makes you feel protected, even as he goes against your will.

“Arthur,” it's embarrassing how uncontrollable you are, how you’ve just let it slip from you in the face of this man. Your rather lewd call of his name makes him groan, licking all that you’ve been leaking from his lips. You were warned that a sin such as this was simple to avoid but you had let Arthur do what he wanted with you. Any propriety of yours peeled off along with his union suit. You want to cry, every tingle, every pinprick of pleasure, every bead of sweat pushes you further. His hands hold you, thumbs pinning you wide open for him. An undignified moan has you covering your mouth. You don't want to caterwaul like a cat.

“Wanna hear you, honey,” backing away from you, his fingers taking the place of his tongue. They start pushing harder than they had before, trying to pull even more from your lips. Tears track down the sides of your face. You promised you’d listen so you let him hear your desperate whining. You call his name, your legs helping your hips wiggle. Guiding his fingers to the perfect place.

“Arthur, I can’t, stop,” It's a weak plea, something is happening to you, wells up inside you, and you feel fit to burst. Your face is all scrunched up, mouth drawn open to cry for him. He responds by squeezing your hand.

“I ain’t gonna stop, girl,” You thrash, his fingers slick, sliding in and out of you, faster and faster. The feeling of him defiling you is so warm and good, even as he holds you down, waiting out whatever wracks your body. Your back arches and he gives you an affirming noise, encouraging you to buck and meet him, crying out. Floods and floods of sensation make you writhe and twitch, your mind blank for just a moment, completely subject to his will. And he has surely imposed it on you, you lay at his mercy, panting, confused and so very relaxed. The most perfect feeling you’ve ever felt, and at the hands of a man who has just met you. At least he also proposed. You don’t have the courage to look down at him. When you do work yourself up into looking, he has the most satisfied smirk on his face, looking at how he’s ruined you with just the touch of his tongue and the tips of his fingers. With sweat dripping all over you, and your hair all tangled about you, you're hardly the image of beauty.

Yet the look he gives you makes you wonder just what he sees in you. All of the comments at just how pretty, beautiful he found you. His grumbles are low, a panther's purr, a wolf's growl.

“I don’t think you know what you’ve done to me,” He drags out his words, his hands unbuttoning his pants, pulling down his suspenders, leaving them dangling down his hips. There's an erotic undertone to the jingle of his belt as he unbuckles it and spreads it open. His shirt, he unbuttons in a hurry, ripping and popping at least two of the buttons off. Revealing his chest and his own belly, soft but still showing all the years a man like him has labored, kept himself upright on a horse for hours. There are scars, pale and jagged all over him and you think of him telling you where he got them. You're getting more and more nervous, you can see what you know men have going on between their legs but you haven't seen one so close.

Arthur is only happy to show you, rather proud looking of his manhood, standing at the edge of the bed. Your skin is damp but you can’t bring yourself to complain about the temperature. His hand comes to caress it, slow motions over the entire length, while watching your face, staring into your eyes.

“C’mere,” Husky and slow, his command moves you, makes you sit up and let him pet your hair, your cheeks. “Give it a kiss, honey, right there on the tip,” Putting your mouth on him makes you shiver, sure that this isn’t what husband and wife do behind closed doors but who were you to argue? Impolitely, you can’t tear your eyes away from him, staring at the small slit at the very tip, the veiny texture, the red and pink flush to the skin. Wiry hair crowns the bottom, the same dark blond of his stubble. His hand only covers some of it and you had thought that his hands were big. His hips inch forwards, eager to get you to lick and kiss him. Something in your throat makes you gulp.

“Be a good girl, ‘fore I lose my goddamn patience,” Rushing to appease his rather short tone, you nod and approach, trying not to seem so tense. You're sure your face gives it away anyhow but he seems unbothered, gladly holding your hair, fingers rubbing along your scalp.

“There’s my girl,” He sighs as you kiss, gentle and timid, a small peck at the very tip and center of him. It's warm but you don't taste anything with your lips closed.

“Do you… want another?” Hushed words fall from your mouth and he gives you another smug look. Looking down at you, at the way you tremble, your nude form. He must know that he has you right where he wants you, naked on his bed, about to do unholy things with him, despite your reluctance just twenty minutes ago. Easy and whore-like. You thought good men don't like women like that. Maybe he’s not such a good man.

“Mmhm, then you can open that sweet little mouth of yours,” You kiss and ease your mouth open, a groan escaping him at your tongue brushing against his smooth tip. Your mouth obediently widens to fit him over the width of your tongue, salt and the natural smell of him on your taste buds. “Take me, jus’ like that, sweetheart,” you’ve never thought in your whole life that this could happen to you, a man holding you and making you take him in your mouth. You struggle to inhale around him, trying not to retch as he pushes forward. He looks down at you, breathing heavily at the mere sight of you. Could swear there's some type of love in his eyes, some softness that gives way for you. Even if you think he’s mad.

“Don’t know how I got on without ya, darlin’, won't be able to after this,” Arthur pants out his words. His rough noises of pleasure spur you on, relaxing your jaw for him. He grunts when he hits the back of your mouth and throat and you whine, holding yourself open for him, flushed with heat. Your fingers go to touch his thighs, feeling skin you’ve never felt before. The hairs and marks on his skin are completely novel to you. The first time you’ve actually touched him. His words lull you, soothe you more than you want them to, considering he could still prove them to be empty promises.

Very suddenly, he pulls himself away from your mouth, a debaucherous line of your saliva dripping down to the floor, the weight of it pulling between you two. You feel dazed, gone from the world until Arthur pulls your attention back up, tilting your face to look upon him. He looks smitten, a thumb pulling across your lips, wet with the deed you’ve just done.

“Was gonna finish in your mouth, tha’s how good y’are, make a man like me finish from just the sight of ya, chokin’ on me,” He hitches you up the bed, so there's more space to take up more of it. You know what’s next but at the same time, have no idea what to expect.

“Look at what you’ve done, just by walkin’ in here, lookin’ like you do,” He strokes along himself again, spreads your legs, like he’s meant to be there. “Drove me damn near crazy, teasin’me, actin’ all sweet. Can tell you just need a man to be sweet to,” Your face is hot at his usual heavy flattery, not nearly close to used to it. Even after he had talked all his talk. His hands are on your hips, squeezing your waist. Then the tip of him is pressed flush to the slit between your legs. He sees the way you tense up.

“Relax, darlin’, can’t fill you up if you’re shut tighter than a frog's ass,” He chuckles and you wince at his peculiar and crude comment. “Aw, I’m just messin’, c’mon, show me that pretty little spot,” reluctantly, your legs open and you relax again, letting him cover you, press into you. “There she is, I know what you need, girl,” The push of just the tip of him makes you whimper, panicking and clenching your thighs on him. He fights to gain control of you, his voice in your ear to shush you.

He’s lost in his own pleasure for a moment, letting you cling to his chest and shoulders, pumping shallowly inside of you. The most obscene slick-wet sounds fill up the room, along with his groans, your squeaky whines. You're frightened at how quickly your body accepts the feeling of him officially taking your innocence away, turning the uncomfortable stretch into the most toe-curling warmth inside of you, the sweetest pain. Every loose part of you bounces to the rhythm of his slow rocking.

“Lemme hear how good you feel, honey,”

‘Arthur…Please,” you cry and beg for him, not entirely deciding on what you want him to do. He seems to know anyway, pushing harder and faster. Arthur may not be your husband and you not his wife, but he treats you so well, kissing you, reassuring you, holding you so tight.

“Who do you belong to?” He pants between his pleasured grunting, rocking his hips and slamming against the most sensitive parts of you. “Y’ain’t listenin’, girl,” He smacks your inner thigh, making you squeal again, clenching down tight.

“I said, who do you belong to?” His hand is on your throat, there's the smallest squeeze, right between his thumb and middle finger. The growl in his words makes you swallow, letting him feel the effect he has on you.

“You, Arthur,” Your answer is soft and just what he wanted to hear, a hazy smile breaking his straight face.

“That’s right, only man you need,” Slinging your legs up on his elbows, he makes it feel as if he’s been going easy on you, the frame of his bed almost scraping against the wooden floors. “Ain’t gonna last much longer, you’ve got the tightest little pussy,” You certainly feel as if he’s stretching you on him, the thickness and length pressing into. So delicious, you roll your hips, even if you don't notice it until he’s smirking down at you, all smug and Arthur-like.

“Gonna make yourself finish on me, sweetheart? Makin’ yourself feel good?” He lets out his gruff laugh, which compels you to stop your movements on him, shy and embarrassed. Your little pout makes him grab at your face. His wolfish grin doesn't falter, even as he grunts and forces himself as deep as he can, into the squeeze of your walls.

“Keep goin’, don’t you stop now,” He holds your face, not too harshly, you grind into him, the dirty slap of his hips into your thighs so obscene. Shivering and bucking against him, you feel that euphoria spread down your muscles, boiling your blood. Your moan has him groaning and holding you down, grabbing your hips so tight. Your spasms don’t stop him from rutting his hips into yours.

“Ah, shit, darlin’-” In a hurry, he pulls away. You whine, your body missing him, missing the stretch of him within you, the fire it sends racing up your spine. Your grip is practically tearing into his arms and shoulders. The sound he makes is like nothing you've ever heard before, a growl of what sounds like so much pleasure it's painful. Something hot and messy splatters against your skin, all over the softness of your belly. His face shows his relief, his brows are still drawn together, Arthur’s arm wipes sweat from his forehead.

He gasps for air, watching as you ease and relax. The pads of his fingertips pet down your face, so soothing and mindful. It's truly suffocating now, the heat in the room makes you wish you could open a window. You're exhausted out of your mind, limbs numb. He hums, turning you over gently, kissing along your neck and lips. ‘So good for me, honey’s and sweetheart’s and darling’s’ tumble from his lips, slow and easy praises. He licks at you like you're made of honey, down your neck and chest. Drifting off, you murmur and sigh.

If you made it, thanks for reading and pls send feedback 💝😭

[blarefordaglare]

Grandmothers and Soup

Or: Wild and Wind’s grandma make soup together, chaos ensues because that’s what I live for.

_____

“So, you cook for my grandson?” The older women looked at the champion, his knife slicing through the fish. Her wings held a similar sandy blue to the sailor, yet faded with time.

“Yup,” 

“Are you making soup?”

“Yup,” The cubed bass made its way to the skillet, along with a couple of vegetables, courtesy of the villager’s welcoming. 

The grandmother’s eyes squinted, “You’re making it wrong.” She saw the cook’s grip harden around the knife, but still continued, “Really wrong.” 

“Well,” Wild chose his words carefully,   the familiar phrase ‘respect your elders’ ringing in his mind, “How should I cook it?” 

The older woman grabbed the spoon, smiling, “Glad you asked.” Opening the cupboard, a small jar, holding spices with aromas that mix in ever the perfect shape, “You need this, it’s the secret ingredient.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” 

“Of course I’m sure,” the woman smiled as she handed Link the bowl of soup, “There is plenty to go around.” 

Link grinned, chiming a quick ‘thank you’ before heading back to his waiting family. 

“I got an extra bowl of soup for you!” He grinned as he presented the warm bowl to his sister, “You wanted it, right?” 

The younger girl in question smiled, “Thank you!” Link nodded in accomplishment, watching the other’s wings sparkle with a cheery hue, before dimming again, “Is it true you’re going to the castle?” 

Link’s smile temporarily faltered, before forcing it back up again, “Yeah, but I’ll be back before you know it! It’s not like I’m going to die there.”

The two share a laugh. 

“So see you later?” 

“See you later!” 

…

Link Wild’s eyes flashed back into reality as he stared blankly at the older women, “And here I thought I was the only one who had senior moments,” she laughed, “You’re still young, but then again time flies for heroes like you.” 

Wild gave a small smile as he gazed back at the pot, “Soup’s done?”

“Not quite yet, we need to let it sit, have I introduced you to Aryll yet?” The grandmother placed the dirty cookware in the sink, preparing to wash later.

“No, you haven’t,” His head shook, “Wind- ah, Link’s sister, right?” 

“That’s right,” she agreed, “Aryll, come say hi to our guest!” 

Hyrule watched as the pair walked away, and then gazed back at the soup. Taking the ladle, he slowly parted his lips to try the warm liquid, “Something’s off…” 

Opening his pouch, he took some spare wood bark -that’s what cinnamon was made of, right?- gazing at it before chucking it in the pot. The soup also didn’t seem too thick, so he also grabbed an ear of corn, for some cornstarch.

Cornstarch thickened things up, right?

A couple rocks could also be used for minerals as well… 

A few extra ingredients later, and the soup looked fixed. The traveler smiled in accomplishment before ladling the soup in bowls, so it could cool off.

A delicious soup indeed.

Bonus:

Wind’s grandma + wild: Here’s the soup!

Wind: This soup tastes like s[REDACTED]

Warriors: *somehow teleports into the scene, holding a bar of soap* WHAT DID I JUST HEAR???

——

second fanfic will be posted later tonight

[rambles-about-minecraft-ocs]

one of my favorite things about zedaph is that on a server full of people that find strange and oft-overlooked minecraft mechanics or rare events and then see just how far they can push them in the name of spectacle or efficiency or world-breaking, zed is over here finding these mechanics in order to do the weirdest things he can think of in as entertaining a manner as possible

like i 100% have faith in zedaph's theoretical ability to be just as efficient or spectacular or world-breaking. if he wanted to do that stuff, i trust that he absolutely could. but thats so far from being his priority. instead, hes going to spend around a week of irl time focused entirely on eventually having the good luck to spawn in something insanely rare so that he can convert it into something even rarer, the result of which being something that 99% of the server reacts with complete and utter shock that it even exists in the first place, just because its zany and funny and he wanted to. and i love that

[starry-bi-sky]

yall ever think Shen Yuan went through like, internet withdrawal after being transmigrated into Shen Qingqiu? Like, he's canonically a NEET shut-in who did nothing but spend his time online, you can't tell me that for the first week or first few weeks of being SQQ he wasn't twitchy.

Like, reaching instinctively to his pockets for a phone that wasn't there, having an obsessive itch in the back of his mind that he should check and see if X or Y novel or webcomic has updated -- only to realize he can't anymore and being irritated by it. Wanting to go and see if there's new posts about this or that, but again realizing that he can't.

When he's bored or uncomfortable or just feels like wanting to escape he tries to go for his phone to distract himself, but oops! Not there anymore, and now he has to find a new and different way to distract himself from his feelings. And going through system notifications, quests, etc only does so much.

And there's that Tetris Effect too. SQQ makes a mistake while writing and instinctively goes to backspace on it except hey-ho that's not a keyboard and now he just dipped his pinkie into a bottle of ink or on a still-drying letter.

With him scrambling to fix his reputation and learn how to be a peak lord, I think his abrupt cold-turkey from all things internet would just be another straw on the camel's back that he promptly Ignores until it goes away on its own after he acclimates to his new surroundings.

[casualavocados]

Learn from who? Learn from you? You are still a brat. What do you know? You're only three years older. Like you are any better than me. You're 21, and still a virgin. What are you proud of? I think you can't do it.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 06

[ineed-to-sleep]

*me immediately after going through a terrifying and traumatic experience* haha yeah I guess it was rough but I'm fine now like I'm totally chill. It was kinda funny actually if you think about it