#is this just the kind of shit that happens to me and only me. or is this something everyone knows about

[zorosangell]

“ I want to see Zoro’s reaction when he sees the reader with an injury that almost kills them. ”

⛥ﾟ・。 brand

synopsis: you return to the ship with a horrible injury... and zoro goes fucking berserk.

cw: angst, tiny bit of comfort i guess, ZORO DOES NOT PLAY ABOUT YOU, protective zoro, kinda sad for a christmas post ik but i was inspired

a/n: merry chrysler <3

"Stop blubbering and answer me, Usopp!" Zoro barked, roughly grabbing the sniper by his suspenders and yoking him up, attempting to shake him out of it. "Tell me what the hell happened!"

Usopp could barely breathe through his sobs, large rivulets of tears and thick globs of snot running down his face as his chest heaved, attempting to spit out an answer.

"USOPP!"

"S-S-San-Sanji!"

In an instant, Zoro's head snapped over to to the cook, eyes blazing with murderous intent.

The blonde had been sitting on the stairs of the upper deck the entire time, hands clutching his arms—like a hug—as he anxiously puffed his cigarette, his eyes becoming more hollow by the minute.

'Bastard!'

"She was with you!" the swordsman roared, storming over and harshly yanking Sanji to his feet. "What the fuck happened?!"

"Chill out, bro! It's not Sanji's fault!" Franky rushed over, shoving the two apart. "No one could've known!"

Zoro's brows furrowed at the vagueness, jaw pulling taut with frustration.

He was getting real sick of everyone beating around the bush.

"Known what?! I don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"(y/n)..." Nami sniffled, legs pulled into her chest as she sat off to the side.

When you were first brought back, she and Robin had been asked to assist Chopper in treating you.

But the moment she caught sight of your wound, she was utterly inconsolable, nothing but tears.

This, of course, left Robin alone to help the good doctor.

"How did it happen?! How bad is she hurt?!" Zoro asked, before turning his attention back to Sanji. "You were supposed to be protecting her!"

The cook's lip rolled, hoping to fight back against its wobble as the lump in his throat began to rise.

"She... told me to tell you... she's sorry..."

"I DON'T WANNA HEAR THAT SHIT FROM YOU!"

In an instant, Zoro launched himself toward him, the others rushing in to separate the two.

"Now is not the time for this!" Jimbei exclaimed, stepping between them.

"Zoro!" Usopp quickly rushed over, holding the man back, Brook and Franky jumping in to help.

"BASTARD!"

To think, the crew had been all smiles just hours ago...

Though, in all actuality... most of Zoro's anger was directed at himself.

He had a bad feeling about the day from the moment he woke up in your shared bed, an ominous presence already lingering in the air.

And the moment you said you were going ashore, he knew he should've gone with you.

But he didn't

And that was on him.

Even after that, he had a chance to pull you away from the others, to drag you off by your arm and force you to stay back with him.

But he didn't

And that was on him.

But, of course, you had to pay the price, fighting for your life against... well, he didn't even know.

What he did know, however, was that if you died, he would never be the same.

Within your hand, you held a chunk of his heart; a chunk of his mind; a chunk of his soul.

God, he didn't even get to see you smile one last time.

What kind of boyfriend was he?

What kind of man was he?

How could he—?

"Zoro..." Robin stated, somberly, her voice cutting through his spiral as she and Chopper exited the medbay.

The poor boy was clinging to her leg, sadly, tears rolling down his cheeks as he hid his face in the flesh of her calf.

In an instant, Zoro stopped all his struggling, turning to them with a slight glimmer of fear in his eye.

"You should go see her... she needs you."

The moment the words hit his ears, he was moving, completely forgetting about Sanji and the others as he rushed into the room.

Inside, it was dim, the only light being a candle on the nightstand.

On the bed, you sat upright, feet dangling over the edge and arms crossed your bare chest as you looked down at yourself, shamefully.

"(y/n)..." Zoro exhaled, swiftly shutting the door behind himself to protect your modesty. "Are you alright?"

He crossed the room in wide strides, taking only a few steps to get to you.

From what he could see, you were unharmed; nothing like what he'd imagined based on the crew's reactions.

Impaled.

Dismembered.

Maimed.

Now, it seemed as if they were over-reacting...

When you didn't answer, his brows furrowed, hand coming up to carefully cup your cheek, concern spiking in his veins when you refused to look at him.

"(y/n)?" he tried again, thumb slightly gliding over your cheek. "What happened?"

Faintly, an idea popped into his head, reigniting the embers of anger that had been burning in chest only moments ago.

"Did someone touch you?"

At that question, a few stray tears escaped the corners of your eyes, forcing you to cower further into yourself.

It all was finally starting to click.

Your shame.

Usopp's hysterics.

Why Nami and Robin were the ones asked to assist.

'No...'

"(y/n)..." Zoro started, tone dangerously low. "Turn around."

Lip quivering, you followed his orders, letting out a few sniffles as you slowly turned.

Sitting back on your knees, you swiped your hair over your shoulder, revealing something Zoro never thought he'd see again.

The Claw of a Celestial Dragon.

Being so far away from Sabaody, the swordsman had ruled it as a near impossibility.

But seeing it so clearly, so painfully etched into your skin... it was impossible to deny.

You had been kidnapped by the Celestial Dragons, and branded... just before Sanji, Usopp, and Franky could save you.

Every pass of his eyes over your seared flesh tore out another shred of his heart, breaking him down to the white meat with your every tremble.

When you two got together, Zoro had swore to himself that he'd protect you, that any weapon made against you would fall at the hand of his blade.

That was his promise.

That was his word.

And it had just been broken.

"Zoro..." you choked up, turning back around and dropping your head in his chest, hands gripping onto his robe for dear life. "It hurts..."

Your voice felt like a punch to the gut, the swordsman's calloused hands rising to rest on your shoulders, thumbs drawing soothing circles into your skin.

Though, it wasn't long after that he became eerily quiet, expression morphing into one of something... terrifying.

Carefully, he scooped you up, wary of your burn as he laid you down on your side, leaning over to whisper something important into your ear.

". . ."

At that, your eyes widened, and he placed a firm kiss on your cheek before turning to exit the room.

On his way out, he tugged his bandana off his arm, pointedly tying it over his head before shrugging off the sleeves of his robe.

As he emerged, the blood of everyone on deck ran cold, the aura floating around the swordsman nothing short of bloodthirsty.

They had seen him before a battle countless times.

Incredibly focused.

Incredibly quiet.

Incredibly calm.

But it was nothing like that.

The sheer weight of his glare made it perfectly clear that nobody in that auction house—or possibly, on the island—was going to survive.

"Luffy..." Zoro's voice rumbled, as if he was holding back a roar of fury, the man not even having to turn around to know that his captain was on the balcony behind him.

"I know," Luffy nodded, voice low and hat shading his eyes as he stood there. "Do what you have to do."

That was all the confirmation he needed.

In an instant, his swords were drawn, and before the others could even comprehend it, he was already in the air and on shore, sprinting at a near inhuman speed toward the center of he island.

The moment Zoro learned you had been hurt, he knew he would've had to kill the bastard that did it before the day was over.

But the moment he saw that damned mark, he knew that not only would he kill the bastard that did it, but anyone even remotely affiliated.

And, in the end, Luffy had to hunt him down and bring him back to senses, practically dragging him back to the Sunny as Kizaru chased behind.

Not only had Zoro killed the Celestial Dragon that branded you, but also everyone that worked at the auction... nearly destroying the entire island in the process.

[bootycallin]

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ want me that top!

꩜ .ᐟ basically; caitlyn’s that kind of top…

cw; female reader. stráp usage (r! receiving). stráp referred to as côck bc. cait is MEANNN. brief mentions of edġíng. sweáring. pet names. degrádátion but also praișe lol. dírty talk. däcryphïlia if u squint. not proofread.

a/n; never wrote for caitlyn. please do excuse any shitty writing and ooc. anyways she’s so hot

NSFW UTC.

cait’s that mean kind of top. it’s not that she doesn’t want you feeling good! it’s the opposite. she wants you feeling good for so long you’re crying and writhing, begging for her to just let you cum.

yes, cait’s the type of top that edges you for her own enjoyment. next question.

cait, contrary to vi, is that type of top that loves straps. something about dicking you down, seeing your eyes roll—she knows it’s not her dick but damn, she can cum on fucking your pussy with that dildo if it comes down to it.

cait’s that type of top to say the nastiest shit with the sweetest tone of voice. yeah? you like that, mm? i know you do, baby. such a pretty little slut for me. her praise gives you mixed signals but she doesn’t stop, because she can feel your pussy twitch every time she calls you her slut.

cait’s that type of top that has surprising self control. she doesn’t get angry with brats and she doesn’t get jealous often, as a kiramman should. that doesn’t mean she won’t show you what happens when you’re a brat.

cait’s that type of top that gets what she wants. she’s always had it all on a silver platter and that isn’t changing now, not even when it comes to you.

cait’s that type of top that will take you anywhere. and i mean, anywhere.

cait’s that type of top that spoils you rotten. be it with clothes or making you cum. when you earn it, that is. yes, she will give you the most luxurious, expensive lingerie sets in piltover, if you agree to model for her. if you act good for her, i guarantee she will give you the best orgasms of your life. there’s nothing she likes more than to see you submit.

cait’s that type of top to be mean, but she has good intentions. she can’t help herself sometimes. you’re easy to poke and pick at when you’re under her, and you’re just so cute when you cry. she loves you, though. she swears. her good girl.

“what was that, baby?”

she was making fun of you. you were babbling incoherently, royal blue strap reminiscent of her own hair color plunging in and out of you, tip repeatedly kissing your cervix until you couldn’t think anymore.

“caiiittt…!” you whine out. she’s the only thing you can think of. pretty much any other words escape you as she fucks you, moaning and whining her name over and over and over again.

“hmm? yeah? you like that, huh?” she’s smirking. it’s so cute. you’re so cute, chest heaving with every moan and whine, tears pricking at your eyes at the sheer pressure on your womb. her pelvis repeatedly rubs and smacks against your clit, sharp little stings of pleasure to the puffy nub. not enough to cum, just enough to drive you to that edge and then away again. a constant swing of being at your limit and being pulled back by caitlyn.

“look at me.” she snaps suddenly, driving her cock deep into you, tip now practically smushed against your insides as she leans up against you, legs pushed up near your sides. she slings them over her shoulders, one hand holding your knee and the other grabbing your chin to make you look straight at her. her nails bite into the skin ever so slightly, a subtle reminder.

“c’mon. tell me how you like it, baby,” she grins, her movements suddenly continuing, but slower. methodical. she just rubs into you, just barely leaving an inch of space before going back in. her tip is massaging your uterus, you can feel it, and it almost feels like you’re about to explode.

“caitlyn!” you cried, legs trembling over her shoulders, “p-pleaseee…”

“please what?” she’s not letting you get the easy way out. no way. she’s panting, the heat coiling in her stomach growing the more she sees you beg and whine and cry her name. the rubber of the strap rubs against her own cunt, a delicious, excruciating continuous stimulus that she can’t help chasing.

“please… please fuck me, please… wanna cum, please let me—“

you’re cut off by a sharp smack of skin against skin as she suddenly thrusts full force into you. “good girl.” she nearly growls, adjusting her hold on your thighs, nearly folding you just to get the deepest angle she could. her thrusts grow more erratic, harder, and she grins at the little bulge that forms in your tummy every time she thrusts back into you.

you’re moaning so loud you might as well be screaming. god spare any maid in the kiramman estate from hearing you two. caitlyn has the decency to lean forward, kissing you open-mouthed and all, swallowing allll your moans into her own. you’re blubbering incoherently, tears making your eyes glassy—which just riles her up further.

“gonna!-“

“gonna cum, yeah? come on. cum for me, baby, you’ve earned it.”

she barely gets through her sentence, as you cum over her cock, earning her a chuckle as you paint her shaft a pretty milky white. your back arched and your head flopped back, moaning out a long whine of her name.

“yeah… that’s it. make a mess. you’ve been so good for me, haven’t you? just let it all out.” she fucks you through all of your orgasm, picking up her pace a little just to see your juices gush onto her lower belly. she goes until she reaches her own orgasm. the friction driving her into a wave of pleasure that makes her nearly collapse over you.

she lets your thighs fall from her shoulders. her chest presses against yours, her movements halt inside you as she groans a curse into your neck, riding out her own high.

you both lay there for a minute or so, just catching your breath. she picks her head up, kissing your neck, up to your jaw, up to your lips.

“my flower,” she muttered, “so perfect. so good for me. i love you.”

cait’s that type of mean top… but not cruel. she’s gonna let you cum—eventually. she wants to see you cum. there’s nothing better than seeing you burst with pleasure because of her. but she’s not letting you do that, not until all you can think about is her, her, her<3

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[teomuchstuff]

This is lowkey why I hated Fiyero/elphaba relationship.

And let me say this before I start: my opinion is based completely and only in the movie, I haven't read the books neither seem the musical stage, so I have no clue of what happens in neither of them. Also I'm not Ariana fan, not that I dislike her, she's just a artist that I kinda know her work.

That being said, let's go for what I meant.

See, what is this feeling is such a materpiece act, all the nuances of melody of the song, the choice of words, sequence of scenes... it's purely sentimental, so well elaborated, it's so clear that's it's two woman in love, but they don't want to name it that way, so they decide to name as loath. It's obvious, everyone that watch that scene, even if the homophobes like these above try to deny, they know the truth and that's why the make these shit straight versions, so they can please themselves without admitting the obvious sexual tension between Glinda and Elphaba. And this is where I get to my hate against Fiyero/Elphaba ship, cause the scene they supposedly fell in love is SO-DAMN-BORING!!! Do you see any straight people reproducing that scene? NO!! CAUSE THERE'S NO TENSION, NO DEVOLOPMENT, IT'S THROWN OUT OF NOWHERE LIKE MOST STRAIGHT COUPLES ARE!!!

I'm no the type "I hate all straight couples" at all, two of the ships I love the most in medias are straight and I'd fight all the way to hell to defend them from haters. And it's not a hate directed to Fiyero as well, I liked him and even liked him with Glinda as this kind of funny couple that one is really a opposite sex version of the other, I'm a Gelphie shipper, but I truly thought they were cool together, but Fiyero and Elphaba?one of the worst couples I've ever seen hall of boredom check.

And what is all my rambling about? Just to show how even though there're two completely straight couple in the movie (like them or not), people still choose the song about two women profecing thier eternal "loath" to each other to make a straight version and admit that it's the perfect enemies to lovers song.

(Ps: Haven't seen the video of the original post, so this is not a hate post directed to them since I dont know they're intentions in making such version. This is just one of my rambles about my general discontentment with straight couples and my hate for the hypocrisy of homophobes)

Heteronormativity is a disease btw

[crispydonutninja]

Teacher’s Pet promo

Satoru would never admit it, but she was so cute when they were screaming at him. Sure, maybe his student shouldn’t be the one yelling about their safety and his need to show off putting them in danger. He scoffs internally and externally, like he’d ever let her get hurt. The ideas more idiotic than their attempts at trying to challenge him in hand-to-hand combat. His gaze lingers on their mouth a bit too long as she talks, thinking about the softness, the color, the taste. ‘Shit.’ He thinks to himself, feeling like a massive perv and freak for thinking about his student this way.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Princess.” Satoru waves a dismissive hand in their direction . “You and I both know, nothing was gonna happen to ya. But it’s so cute that you were so worried about me.” A shit eating grin forms on his face as she gets flustered and stamps their feet like a child. Only he can get this reaction from them, only he deserves to see this side of them. It’s…wrong that the anger in their voice, the flush in their cheeks and the darkness in her eyes brings a sense of joy to him. It’s not that he enjoys you feeling a constant state of anger. No, Satoru just has…a sick fascination with seeing them react to him. Maybe it’s because he needs attention and he needs her to focus as much of their on him as possible.

He’s already walking away from her by the time they start to reply. His hands slip into his pants pocket and he takes a shaky sigh as they walk back towards the edge of the barrier surrounding the alleyway they’d exorcised the curse. It disappears to reveal a busy downtown Tokyo Street. They’ve finished the job, and now the two of them will go back to school and go their separate ways. A part of Satoru knows that soon enough, she is going to be gone from his daily life entirely and all too soon. Still, he surprises himself as he calls back to her. “Cmon, let me treat my favorite student to dinner. You did good today. She bent over the counter grumbling her skirt rising up. Satoru's eyes widen as he sees her skirt hike up, revealing their cute baby pink panties. He feels a surge of heat rush through his body, his cock twitching in his pants. Fuck, those are adorable. He thinks to himself, his mind immediately going to inappropriate places. He imagines ripping those flimsy panties off with his teeth, spreading her legs and burying his face between their thighs. The thought makes him shudder.

Get it together, Gojo! He scolds himself mentally. She is his student, and an innocent one at that. He can't be having these perverted thoughts about them. And yet, he can't look away from the tantalizing view of their ass and the smooth skin of their thighs. His mouth goes dry and his pants start to feel tighter.

Satoru swallows thickly, trying to will his cock to behave. "U-Um, princess Your skirt..." He trails off, his voice cracking slightly. He's never been so flustered in his life. Not even in the heat of battle has he felt this kind of intense, primal desire. And it's all because of the sexy little minx that happened to be his student.

[phone4pills]

HUSHED RELIEF taken!chris x sneakylink!reader

𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒐 — Chris’ erection is undeniable. his girlfriend is asleep next to him but he needs you, so he makes a phone call, taking the risk for the return of his own pleasure.

specific type — smut

side effects — sexting/phone sex, cheating, kinda public, masturbation

Fuck it. He was desperate, shuffling about in the bed, trying to ignore the ache in his pants. Chris knew it was risky, his girlfriend next to him. But she could’ve give him what he wanted then and there. So he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and pressed that app. That trap. Scrolling quickly to your contact.

God, he hoped you answer the phone. Yes it was 1 am. Yes you had better things to be doing, like sleeping. But this was the one time its happen. Chris couldn’t stand not knowing what kind of relief he could’ve experienced if you just gave him what eh wanted. A minute or so later, you picked up the call, irritation laced in your hum. “What?”

You knew not to speak to Chris like that, but it was rhetorical middle of the night and he was calling you. If you’d done the same, he’d silence your calls for a week at least to teach you a lesson about interrupting quality time with his girl. And here you were, giving him exactly what he wanted.

Chris whispered back to you “Need help. My dick hurts.” You rolled your eyes, hoping that he could somehow tell over the phone how annoyed you were. Then you came to the realisation that it was a good way to get some control over him. You chuckled to yourself, planning what you were going to say in your head.

“Okay… you’re already comfy so, lift your shirt a little for me. Close your eyes and imagine me leaving small kisses around your stomach, humming, praising your body. So well-made, yeah?” Your words were laced with a sly undertone. Chris didn’t mind though, he was too focused on trying to fabricate the feeling your lips on his skin. Warm, soft and slightly wet.

“Move that hand downwards, look at that tent. So big already. Caress it nice and slow. But don’t touch that waistband, be patient.” Chris moved his hand downwards, palming desperately at the clothed erection that had been causing the ache. His breath grew heavier as you dragged the pleasure out more and more. He was tempted to disregard your instructions and just please himself already. But what was the point? It would only mean he wouldn’t get to hear your voice as long. And he loved your voice, more than he wanted to admit.

“Fuck, please…” You chuckled, tutting before you gave your next instruction. “Okay, Chris, slowly pull ‘em down.” When. This removed his bottoms, there was already a small patch of precum on his boxers, just above the bulge that had formed, bigger than he seen in a while. “Hmm, look at that wetness. You really want some relief, huh?” You teased through the device. How did you know? Who was Chris kidding, of course you knew. You knew what your voice did to him. You knew what the mere thought of you did to him.

“Shit—hurts ma, wish you were here.” He remarked in a low tone, fingers aching to rub it out. You had an idea. Quickly pulling up your top and snapping a pic, you sent Chris a picture. He opened the messages app to be met with a glimpse of your chest, surrounded by the darkness in your room. Chris bit his lip, hips bucking up. “Don’t do this to me, baby. Don’t do this.” Chris rasped, voice breaking.

Within the next few minutes, you’d sent more and more pictures, even going as far as to send him a picture that Chris himself had taken of you being so generous as you suck his dick. And now they were all in his face. And he couldn’t do anything about it. Only lay still and feel his hardness press against the warm confines of his boxers. After pleading quietly to you multiple times, you finally gave in. “Touch yourself, Chris. Make yourself feel good for me.”

Eagerly, Chris pulled his hard-on out of his plaid pants, beginning to stroke up and down the length. The pictures of you, so pretty, so full, lay plastered on his mind as he panted. Each stroke turned his tip redder and redder. It had already been angry, struggling against the fabric that previously held it down to his body, but now his length was free, being pleasure in the breeze of the dark room at night.

“Good job, look how big it is.” The boy’s head fell back against the headboard, tongue grazing over his lower lips as he neared the release that’s he’d been anticipating for so long. Suddenly, his dick began to pulse, getting more and more tight until it was pumping out white liquid all over his thighs. “Keep going Chris, don’t you dare stop there.”

It was all becoming a lot for the boy. His brain was too foggy to control the relentless movements of his hand. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Chris hissed, eyes rolling back into his head. You hummed over the phone, praising him, leading him further and further. Soon enough, he was cumming again with a strangled groan.

Suddenly, there was a small movement on the bed beside him. Chris’ girlfriend sighed, her head lifting off the pillow for a second. Quickly, he kissed the back of her shoulder, shushing her so she’d go back to sleep. Then he hung up, not even bothering to thank you for assisting with easing his tension.

Chris got out of bed, taking a few minutes to clean off in the bathroom before returning to the bed. She had now turned slightly to lay on her back, facing the ceiling. The boy sank down on warm mattress once again, cashing her to shuffle over and lay her head on his chest. Chris kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes with a low whisper. “Goodnight, babe.”

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THAT. Sorry to Chris’ girlfriend though, poor bitch doesn’t know wheats going on. And fuck you guys for being home wreckers. But honestly… me too. Also don’t actually participate in this shit it’s messed up.

- ©phone4pills

[supercap2319]

An accidental spell caused Peter and Y/M to switch bodies. Now, Y/N was in Peter's body, and Peter in Y/N's. Peter stumbled into Avengers Tower, his mind reeling. He spotted Y/N casually lounging on the couch, his phone in hand. Except... that wasn't Y/N. It was Peter, in Y/N's body. He blinked, shaking his head. "Oh my god... We switched bodies. Fuck, this is so weird."

"You're telling me. I never realized how big your ass was, Peter." Peter's cheeks flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and shock crossing his features. He quickly glanced down at his unfamiliar body. "Geez, could you maybe not comment on my physical attributes right now? We've got a bigger issue here."

"I know." Y/N stood up, now only being Peter's height of five feet and seven inches tall now. "Peter, you have my chaos magic now. You can cast spells. Use Telekinesis. Fly. And I...can crawl walls? What is it that you do?"

Peter blinked, processing Y/N's list of abilities. "I shoot webs, obviously. And climb walls. Apparently, that's not a big deal anymore in this ridiculous scenario." He sighed, running a hand through his hair—well, Y/N's hair now, "Okay, focus."

"You have magic. Use it to reverse this."

Y/N—Peter nodded, focusing his thoughts. He tried to think of a spell that would reverse the switch, using his newfound Chaos magic. "Revertus corpus!" He shouted, his hands outstretched. Nothing happened. "Fuck, it's not that simple, is it?"

"It's not." Y/N sighed. "Chaos magic takes a while to master. You can't just make up a spell and think it will work. We need another plan." Peter slumped onto the couch, frustration etched on his face. "Great, so not only am I stuck in your body, but I also can't magic my way back. Fan-fucking-tastic." He groaned, burying his face in his hands—Y/N's hands.

"Maybe I—you can convince Doctor Strange to give us a book on body switching spells without raising suspicion that something is up. Last thing we need to be is busted for this."

Peter peeked through his fingers, considering Y/N's suggestion. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, a habit he realized he'd unconsciously picked up from Y/N himself. "Alright, that's not the worst idea. Doctor Strange is used to dealing with bizarre metaphysical problems."

"But you have to act like you're me. If he catches that you're not me, then he'll tell Tony, and we'll both be in deep shit." Y/N said. Peter's eyes widened, realizing the gravity of the situation. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenge ahead. "Act like you, huh? No pressure." He attempted a chuckle, but it came out strained. "Okay, let's go over some...Y/N basics."

Y/N nods. "Say something that I would say."

Peter cleared his throat, trying to mimic Y/N's smooth, confident tone. "Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm not interested. I've got more important things to deal with than your drama." He frowned, realizing it sounded a bit too harsh ."Again. With a Sokovian accent." Y/N urged, sitting on the couch.

The Spiderman closed his eyes, focusing on the subtle accent he'd picked up from spending time with Y/N. He opened them again, his voice taking on the faint hint of a Russian lilt. "Nyet, my friend, I do not have the time for such trivialities."

Y/N smiles. "Not bad, Pete. My turn. He closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts before opening them, looking excited and full of adrenaline. "It was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened! So Mr. Stark was like, “Hey, Underoos!” and I just sort of flipped in and I stole Cap’s shield. I was like, “Hey, what’s up, everybody?” And then... Mr. Stark gave me a new suit!" Y/N mimiced Peter's excited and nerdy nature.

Peter stared at Y/N, dumbfounded. He couldn't believe how perfectly Y/N had nailed his excitable, nerdy persona. A slow grin spread across his face. "Wow, Y/N... You really do know me better than I thought."

[eczlipse]

( 수빈 ) ─ 5:28 pm.

summary ; choi soobin, your tutor has had a significant yearning for you for a while. during a session, you seem to keep answering his questions wrongly- leading to you needing a break. what happens once he suddenly feels his jeans tighten during the session and becomes bold with you?

pairing & warnings ; tutor!soobin, fem!reader. dryhumping, smut, fingering, unsafe (no mention of protection), p in the v…

you thought more about the question you’d been asked— “explain to me photosynthesis.” he repeated. your mind had gone blank, your tutor— soobin stared down at you. the way you tried to puzzle your thoughts together and questioned yourself. you were so clueless, so vulnerable he thought.

soobin quickly recognized your extreme confusion and spoke once more,

- do you want me to explain again?

in response, you hummed lightly waiting for him to continue. your exam had been coming up, the next morning would be d-day.

- photosynthesis is basically how plants make their food using sunlight, carbon dioxide, and water. they turn these into sugar for energy and release oxygen. it’s important because it helps plants grow and provides oxygen for us to breathe. okay?

you sighed and nodded, you felt down— why weren’t you understanding things as easily as every other student. your tutor could easily tell you’d been stressed, tense even. you’d been shaking you leg, fidgeting with your pencil. he gulped before speaking again,

- do you need a break ? we can talk about other things or, you should get a snack?

you slightly smiled at his attempts to help you. you nodded happily as you got up from your seat. walking away into your dorm room kitchen, finding only a bag of chips from days ago. you sighed and took them, at least it’s edible. what you hadn’t noticed was that, soobin had been staring you down as soon as you’d gotten up. the way your shorts slightly rode up, your hair swaying as you walked- he needed to calm himself down. before he could think more, you stopped his train of thought,

- hey, do you want anything? i only have some chips from like before yesterday. wanna share?

he pressed his lips together and nodded. you smiled at his expression as you brought yourself back to your initial seat, placing the bag of chips in between you both. at that, he dug his hands into the bag of chips taking a few.

although soobin was your tutor, he felt a significant yearn for you. he hated to admit it but, he kind of liked you. his close friends had told him prior to coming to your dorm to 'shoot his shot' and 'be bold'. that was in fact his plan tonight. he didn't specifically plan what he wanted to say, but he knew that he wanted you to know that he wanted you. at that, he stared at you intensely as you got up once more; washing your hands, and bringing yourself back to your seat. he loved your demeanour. he felt a sudden tightness in his pants— he couldn't help it anymore.

- what about i soothe you?

he blurted out, shutting his mouth quickly after spilling out such words. your head flicked over to his, 'did he really just say that?' you wondered.

- what do you mean?

you questioned. 'shit shit shit' was all he could tell himself. he needed to stay calm and collected, and more importantly ; 'seductive' as his friend yeonjun would say.

- i'll make your stress go away, yeah?

he gave you a significant look, hinting that his words meant more than they seemed. you knew what he meant and you were down for it. you couldn't help but admit that you felt things for him, while he would mansplain things to you, show you how things were done and more.

at that, you climbed onto soobin's lap straddling his thighs. he could feel the heat radiating off your body, the soft fabric of your panties brushing against the growing bulge in his pants. his hands instinctively went to your hips, gripping them tightly as you began to grind against him.

soobin let out a low groan, his hips bucking up to meet yours. The friction of your movements was driving him wild, his cock now fully hard and straining against his zipper. he slid his hands up your sides, under your shirt, his fingers splaying across the small of your back.

in a flurry of movement, soobin stood up, lifting you with him. he then, carried you over to the couch, laying you down gently on the soft cushions. he hovered over you, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of you- your chest heaving, your lips parted, your legs slightly spread.

his hands roamed your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of reddened marks on your skin. he tugged at your shirt impatiently, just long enough to yank it over your head and toss it aside.

soobin paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of you lying beneath him in just your bra and panties. his gaze was intense, filled with a raw, primal desire that made your heart race. 

— you're so beautiful.

he murmured, his voice filled with want. he leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts. his fingers deftly unhooked your bra, tossing it away and freeing your breasts to his greedy mouth. he took one hardened nipple between his lips, suckling and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

you arched into him, a loud moan escaping your lips as jolts of pleasure shot straight to your core. your hands fisted in his hair, holding him to your breast.

suddenly soobin's hand slid down your stomach, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties. he could feel the heat emanating from your core, the damp fabric- proof of your arousal. slowly, teasingly, he pushed your panties aside, his fingers brushing against your slick folds.

you gasped, your hips bucking up off the couch as his fingers made contact with your most sensitive spot. soobin groaned, feeling your wetness coating his fingers as he began to stroke your clit in slow, deliberate circles. his other hand continued to knead and massage your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

— soobin, you panted, your voice high and needy please, i need more.

he withdrew his hand from your panties, bringing his fingers to his mouth. he licked them clean, his tongue savouring your essence. 

with that, he hooked his fingers under your panties and tugged them down your legs, tossing them away.

soobin quickly shed his clothes, revealing his lean, muscular body, his skin flushed and glistening. he then positioned himself between your spread thighs, his hard member jutting out. with a swift thrust of his hips, he buried himself deep inside your tightness, a groan tearing from his throat.

he began to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside you, before slamming back in, burying himself in you. he set a significant pace, the couch creaking beneath you with the force of his thrusts. your breasts bounced with each powerful drive of his hips, your moans mingling with his grunts and groans.

soobin then leaned down, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering and conquering, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. his hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, rapid circles. your inner muscles began to flutter around his pounded shaft, your body tensing up the more he touched you.

then, your back began arching off the couch cushions as your climax surged through you like a tidal wave. you let a final moan, your inner walls clamping down around soobin's driving length, as you came.

with a hoarse groan, soobin slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his own peak hit. at the last second, he pulled out, his pulsing cock erupting. at that, his seed painted your stomach and breasts as he found his release, his body shuddering above you.

soobin then smirked at you before speaking once more,

— do you feel calmer now ?

[happypartytrain]

i wholeheartedly believe clay terran was the funniest (and most frustrating) motherfucker to ever grace planet earth

- would always jailbreak new phones immediately & constantly had his location set to antarctica. this made it impossible to locate him

- sometimes screamed after he popped his neck and then pretended nothing happened (in public)

- found a bottle of ketchup in his grandma’s pantry that expired in 1999. proceeded to steal it and kept it at home in his shower to confuse any guests. he only had like 1 friend & apollo can’t really do anything but wonder about it now (“he was probably fucking with me, but it slowly started getting more empty….”)

— btw, when apollo went to clean out his apartment after everything happened, the bottle was gone. yuri cosmos later found it in clay’s HAT-2 belongings. he was 100% going to target starbuck with this in space.

- had a phase where he would only use microsoft bing & said “binging it” instead of “googling it”

- he had a bit of an irrational stapler fear because he got himself once, so until he got over it he’d MAKE APOLLO STAPLE THINGS FOR HIM. this included his GYAXA application.

— he got over it one day, but he kind of started punching staplers to get the job done. clay was ballsy and would jump fences & stage sabotages but he would get nervous around staplers. (“IT’S TOO CLOSE!” grown ass man)

- was very conventionally attractive & overall kind. so “how are you still single?” was a common question at bars until clay started ranting (unprompted) about how much he hated the voice they use at crosswalks or some shit (“oh. that’s why.”)

- never really cared about winning in multiplayer games or anything. he just really really wanted to make sure a person of his choosing lost. cosmos picked the right guy for the job — sabotage was in his blood since day 1 when he was steering himself and apollo off the rails in that mario party minecart race

— btw he mained donkey kong in mario party. if you stole donkey kong from him you would be losing that game hell or high waters. he is stealing ALL YOUR STARS

- did his taxes on the last possible day (that, or apollo would do them for him because as much as he loved the guy, he really didn’t have high faith he’d get around to it. he…………. also probably did wright’s taxes while he was in the beanix phase. ….and athena’s because she didn’t know how. oh, someone please save apollo.)

[two-white-butterflies]

gave you all my best me's (ii)

Description: Aemond tries to figure out if his feelings are real. A revelation sends this house of cards crumbling down.

Pairing: (past! jacaerys velaryon/reader), aemond targaryen/reader

PART ONE ||

Aemond takes a nervous bite of his mini-Oreos. It's been a week since he introduced you to his family, and all his relatives have been sending him kind messages. However, his father has refused to return all of his calls. Nothing new, he muses.

"Are you okay, hun?" You sit beside him, and the sofa slightly shifts to accommodate your shared weight. "Yeah," he responds reluctantly. He doesn't exactly know how to feel. He sometimes looks at you and thinks about turning this relationship into a real thing, but then, he remembers your conversation with Jacaerys on the balcony...

Everything has been so blurry and difficult lately.

What if Jacaerys suddenly calls, and you pick up, and everything returns to where you left it off?

"It's just been a tough couple of weeks," he reasons.

But he knows that the feelings that thump inside of his ribcage are far too complex to explain. "Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, and he shakes his head.

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nameofficial posted to her story!

caption: with mr lover lover 😎 song: Boombastic by Shaggy

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YOU are you aight you been pushing me away lately :((

AEMOND TARGARYEN I'm a little busy with work We're releasing a new phone this month

YOU does this have something to do with the jacaerys thing?

AEMOND TARGARYEN Ofc not xx I respect you It's not like we have a 'real' relationship

seen.

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Your eyebrows merged together in fury.

It's not like we have a 'real' relationship.

You continued to stare at his message. Actually, you were glaring at your phone - until it suddenly fell on your face.

"Shit," you cursed. "Fuck," you continued.

The fact that Aemond wasn't entirely lying pierced your heart. Your feelings for him have blossomed these past few months, you didn't need a verbal reminder that this was all contractual. That he only chose to be pretend married to you because it meant inheriting his father's fortune. You are not important to him.

Thanks for the reminder, Aemond.

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You were pleasantly surprised when Alicent invited you for a cup of tea. Aemond told you that his mother kept to herself, she only talked to people inside her small circle. You remember that the only thing that she acknowledged you with were small smiles and nods, but it's good that she's finally warming up to you.

I mean...you are going to be her pretend daughter-in-law.

"I am sure that you are not unfamiliar with the way our family conducts our business," Alicent begins the conversation, taking a leisurely sip of her tea. "- it's a new age, but some of our members are still stuck in the past." She gives you a thin-lipped smile.

What was she going to say next? She voted for Hillary Clinton in the last election. "- especially my husband. He is a traditional man. Before we got married, I was in my third year of medical school. I wanted to be a pediatrician, but he gave me an ultimatum, told me it was either him or being a pedia, and I chose him." She speaks with regret.

"Pardon?" You raised an eyebrow, unaware of where this conversation was leading. "My husband knows there are charges against you by the Spanish Government, which is easy to fix, but there is a stain on your reputation. You are not the kind of woman that he finds worthy of being a member of our family. He will not allow your wedding to pull through, and if it happens, Aemond stands to inherit nothing." Alicent explains with a deep breath.

You wanted to tell her that you were no longer here for the money, but Aemond would want the inheritance, right?

Alicent reaches for her handbag, dropping an envelope of cash to cover the bill for this tea party. She reaches for your hand, holding it with both of hers. "Please stay away from my son," she begs. "- you can find another husband, but I cannot find another him." Alicent pleads, not wanting her son to fall in his ranks in society.

Reputation means everything to people like them.

"Yes, of course." You forced yourself to agree.

It's what Aemond wants.

"Please don't mention this to him. I love him, but he doesn't love me enough to abandon you." You took a deep breath. She reaches for her handbag again, writing you a check for millions of dollars but you shake your head.

"- he'll have kids in the future with a woman that isn't me, but someone that you think is proper enough for him. You won't even remember my name by then. I don't need money, Mrs. Targaryen. I'm happy to have been here." You removed your engagement ring, placing it on the table.

"Thank you," she looks up with a sad smile.

"Thank you too," you answered, leaving without looking back.

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AEMOND TARGARYEN Where are you? I bought some pad thai

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AEMOND TARGARYEN Are you still there?

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AEMOND TARGARYEN My mom told me I'm sorry Let's talk

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YOU MISSED A CALL FROM AEMOND TARGARYEN. (39)

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(ONE YEAR LATER)

WHY DID Y/N L/N DISAPPEAR?

It has been one year since singer Y/N L/N was last seen wandering around New York City. Thirteen months ago, MTV announced that her engagement with tech-CEO Aemond Targaryen had broken off. A close friend alleges that their breakup was amicable, and the couple were just heading towards different paths in life.

A year ago, Y/N L/N deactivated her social media accounts.

Six months ago, all charges by the Spanish government against her were dropped, citing that it was a third-party accounting firm that caused the mismanagement of funds. L/N was let go with a minor fine. It has been radio silence for quite some time now, but according to a few insiders, the singer is seen roaming NYC once more...

Why did she disappear? And why is she back?

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nameofficial: i stayed there.... THANK YOU FOR INVITING ME AND @luciechurchill!! @taylorswift. i love you so much ❤️

liked by 2,128,321 others

>comments

taylorswift: I'm so glad you enjoyed the era's tour 💙💙💙💙💙 - nameofficial: twas absolute cinema 🤯

Y/NSUPPORT: SHE'S BACK !!! and she's paid her taxes 🇪🇸

BigBlueEyes6: Y/N stays the queen of the revolution 🇪🇸 bella ciao bella ciao bella ciao ciao ciao 👺

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replies:

sexybaliye: I HAVE BEEF WITH HIM BECAUSE HE TOOK HER THIRD ALBUM AWAY FROM US 😭 MY ASS WILL FOREVER MOURN LOVER - applepie59: BYE...Karma by TS is Lover in a diff font - sexybaliye: Albums that will never be released LOL

hauntedasshome8: I'm not heartbroken....also me: Y/N L/N

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nameofficial: I love the crowd in Nashville. I'm so happy to be opening the ERA'S TOUR by @taylorswift. ❤️

liked by 1,329,921 others

>comments

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"How long are you going to keep attending the concerts?" Aegon sits on one of the ottomans. He gives his brother a lazy smile before callously lighting his cigarette - knowing that he wouldn't get into trouble because his grandfather owned the hotel. "Why are you so curious about it?" Aemond rolls his eyes.

"I find it kind of weird that you leave after the opener," Aegon comments. "- don't you want to talk to her?" Aegon inquires.

"She looks fine," Aemond breathes. He doesn't want to ruin your quit life just because he dreams of being in your arms again. If you've moved on, then he has no choice but to follow in your footsteps.

"I've been analyzing her note changes," Aegon puffs.

"You pay attention to that?" Aemond raises an eyebrow.

Aegon chuckles annoyingly, as if he was your biggest fan. "When she says lay on the horn, there's a slight change in her voice, which probably means that it haunts her." He quotes your lyrics. "- in one of the surprise songs, she looked really sad when singing about the snow globe spinning round and round." Aegon continues his analysis.

He looks at Aemond again, who is looking at him with a strange stare. "Men are so stupid," Aegon stands up - he rolls his eyes before leaving the room and slamming the door loudly.

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Aemond continues to watch you from the front row, he's already memorized your routine by now. He takes a sip of the beer that Aegon smuggled inside, and everyone cheers around him - seeing your faint figure begin to march towards the front stage.

"This song is going to be a part of my third studio album, I figured that I should share it with all of you first." You smile, strumming your guitar. "The apartment we won't share. I wonder what sad wife lives there." You begin your song. "Have the windows deciphered her stares? Do the bricks in the walls know to hide the affairs?" You walked around.

Freezing once you see him.

Aemond Targaryen in the flesh.

"The dog we won't have is now one I would not choose. The daughter we won't raise still waits for you." You walked past him. You could attend a million interviews after this and swear to god that you're not over him, but you'd be lying. Because you still love him. You still love all the ways that he'd massage your scalp.

"The girl I won't be is the one that's yours. I hope you shortly find what you long for." You glanced at him again. Seeing him feels like getting electrocuted. It makes you happy but at the same time really, really sad because you know that he doesn't feel the same way. "A year and some change. Isn't it strange?" You looked at him.

One word and you'll come running back to him.

"I'm sure she's beautiful and sweet." You continued strumming your guitar. "But you're the only thing I need," you change the lyrics, your voice beginning to fade in the background.

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Aemond nervously bounces his legs, and a few security guards escort him backstage - and now he's waiting for you to finish your last song. He fidgets with the engagement ring inside his palms. It's a family heirloom, a ring that Alicent gave him that came from his grandmother, Alerie.

"Aemond," you say with a reluctant voice. "Y/N," He breathes, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

"What are you doing here?" You questioned, taking in the sight of him. "Let's get back together, please," he begged, offering you the ring that was inside of his palms. "What are you talking about? I thought that wasn't part of the deal, your dad won't leave you anything." You stared deep into his eyes.

"I love you," he confesses.

"The day that you left, I wanted to tell you." He adds.

"I only left because I thought that you didn't feel the same way," your frown deepened.

A chuckle escapes your mouth, truly in disbelief at how the tides shifted in your favor.

He drops on one knee.

"Marry me," he says.

"Of course," you agree.

Meeting his lips with fiery passion.

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nameofficial: I take this magnetic force of a man to be my LOVER.

liked by 3,812,923 others

>comments

bananalols: ok what happened to hello, how are you?

helaenatargaryen: Congratulations sis and bro!! 🧡

Nour192: UMM THIS IS SO UNEXPECTED...

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aemondtargaryensapphires: Happy wedding.

liked by 123,182 others

>comments

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nameofficial: I'm so happy to make it with you ❤️

liked by 3,239,192 others

>comments

imthatbitch2: Congrats, we didn't even know that u were engaged lols

HundredBoys82: What ever makes u happy...boo?

ColossalTitan: MRS LOVER LOVER

@glame @xcinnamonmalfoyx @winxchesters @yentroucnagol @mxxny-lupin @mxtantrights @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kravitzwhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @introverbatim @flrboyd @sumsumcooluser @rebstrg @bladestark @ninihrtss @julczimozart @narahwolfqueen16

REQUESTS FOR THE BONUS FLUFF PARTS ARE AVAILABLE just send them on my inbox!!

[rafesweetie]

okay now we’ve read the sunny x race fic… let’s talk about sunny x pope hmm…

⋆˚࿔ sweetener ꥟ ˚⋆ — pope heyward x sunny!reader

“ you come through like the sweetener you are, bring the bitter taste to a halt, then you… “

cw ; smut (implied but not detailed whatsoever), instinuations of public sex on the beach. not proofread!

pope thinks of himself as such a hypocrite. a couple years ago, he was lecturing john b about bringing in a kook to the sacrid group of pogues — and now here he was, dating you on the low.

he could never tell his friends about you. but oh how he wish he could. you’re stunning, with hair that blows so gracefully in the breeze, a smile on your lips (which are usually chapped from the sun) whenever you’re around pope. he wants to talk to his friends about you for hours, you’re so sweet. but, you’re a kook.

so pope hates to say it, but he kind of uses you to get away from his stressful life. you’re blissfully ignorant to the shit he gets up to with the pogues, happy to spend your nights and days on the beach with him, tracing his abs, sucking on his bottom lip and giggling with him, smiling a bit brighter whenever he calls you “baby.” maybe ‘uses’ is the wrong word when it comes to why on earth pope spends with you, a kook, but moreso a distraction from his life.

pope had texted you half an hour ago to meet him by the beach beside the marina. no doubt he’d had a rough day and just needed to carress you for hours. you were looking forward to it greatly. but by the time you arrived, moonlight caressing your face, you frown because he’s no where to be seen. you’d never liked nightime as it is, preferring the sun, where you can see what’s rustling in the trees and what shadows are in front of you, and you like it even less when your favourite company isn’t with you.

you lay down a blanket on the sand and sit there for a bit. it’s 9:30 now, you got here at 9. with a huff, you text pope, saying, “hey pope im so sorry but i might have to go home soon because its late and chilly. where are you?”

you don’t get a chance to respond when you feel hands on your shoulders from, behind. with a shriek, assuming it’s a scary monster in the dark, you turn arouynd and cover your mouth to shut yourself up the minute you see its only pope.

“hi— sorry, pope, you scared me,” you say softly, patting the spot beside you on the. blanket. “what took so long?

“hey baby, sorry. here, my dad gave me some fries to give you ‘cause i was late,” he hands you the fries from his dads restuarant. “rough night,”

you’ve never really asked what’s wrong when pope is upset, but you assume what happened is worse than usual because he was late for you. so you ask, “what’s wrong?”

“long story,” he says, leaning back on his elbows. “have some fries,”

“i will after you tell me what’s up. you’re never late, always way too punctual. so, what’s up?”

“uh— i’ll put it simply, alright?” he checks and you nod, happy for anything. “my family has this hierloom, ‘s really valuable and historic, and some kook stole it from me and the pogues, and melted it down to sell,”

“oh. wow, um, im sorry pope, don’t even know what to say, that’s really tough,” you say gently, eyebrows furrowed a bit as you pop a fry into your mouth. “wanna cry?” that makes him smile a bit as he shakes his head.

“no, nah, baby. appreciate the offer though.” he smiles at you.

“then what do you need?”

“think you know,” is all he says.

everything else is a blur. tongues, limbs twisted together, little smiles. everything tonight is slow — gentle. nights like these are your absolute favourite.

“dunno what i’d do without you in my life, baby,” he whispers while he’s on top of you, slowly sliding in and out discreetly through your underwear in case someone is taking a late night walk. “it’d be so sour,”

[blondeaxolotl]

Thinking about how my tiger kalim probably has more of a reason to why he's always friendly and cheerful no matter what the situation is, and IT is literally because he's born a full tiger (both parents are tigers).

I think, one of the few conversations Kalim remembers the most is one he had with his mother, where she talked to him about how "you should always make yourself appear more friendly around others, let them know you're there as a friend and not a threat", since, not only will he be towering over most people, but he's way more stronger than alot as well (since, yk, big strong cat) and I'd imagine for alot of people would find that intimidating. So what better way to prevent people from being scared of you than being a happy go lucky guy, a bit of a yippee kind of fella!!

Another thing is Kalim rarely shows any negative emotions like anger, same reason as before, it's cause people wouldn't like that, they wouldn't like a big angry tiger, like what if he attacks them? It's also kinda why Kalim never saw either of his parents angry, cause pissed off tigers are scary as shit. Book 4 was probably alot more horrific to Kalim than it was in canon, not cause of the whole Jamil brainwashing him, but cause Jamil made Kalim appear more strict and angry, And after it was over. It made Kalim quietly panic like "Oh my god what if people are scared of me now" (thankfully that didn't happened since everyone was aware Kalim wasn't the one in control of his behaviour, so that mini panic didn't last long, but still it made him tweak)

Besides Kalim suppressing any negative emotions! But did you know he also has to be insanely careful with anything he's handling because he doesn't know his own strength? This isn't something his parents told him to hold back on, but he himself is instead. And it's all because when Kalim and Jamil were kids, Kalim ended up getting too excited to where he hugged Jamil so damn hard it made him scream because it basically almost hurt him. (Jamil is fine btw he doesn't remember it, it was probably just a tuesday for him) That ended up leaving a mark on Kalim so bad he's now more careful with whoever or whatever he's handling (He also hesitates on hugs alot now with anyone who isn't his family)

Okay last little yap about Kalim before we're done, but despite being a tiger, Floyd still refers to Kalim as "sea otter" and that's cause in Floyd's eyes "Kalim is so damn cheery, he's as threatening as a sea otter". Now most people would probably take this as an insult, but Kalim actually likes it a lot, since it lets him know that he isn't scary at all if he's "as threatening as a sea otter". But also in a way, Kalim probably wishes he was born as a cute, weak, small otter, instead of a scary, strong, big cat.

[bloodyinkandquill]

Venomshank x hawk-hybrid pet Reader

ok i actually asked katz-ke for help on this one because like the last one i had no ideas sorry requester, however they helped and gave me some good ideas that definitely gave me more motivation and ideas for this one in general, so thanks again katz!!! you’re amazing i adore your stuff id anyone here doesn’t know who they are go check them out, anyways onto the hcs

- How did you end up here? No genuinely you went from a pet to a deity to instead dating said deity, you’re out here living some simps dream

- You’ve always had an unusual power, hybrids weren’t rare, winged hybrids were on the rarer side, usually only stemming from receiving a blessing from one of the deities, but you were, and on top of being an avian you also could transform into an actual hawk, which was basically unheard of, you also had a rather unique coloration when in bird form, darker then your average hawk with an interesting pattern on your wings

- Which is how you ended up one day in your hawk form, chilling and enjoying being a bird, what? It’s nice to escape the responsibilities of adult life for a little while and you can eat bread a shit, you were chilling when suddenly another bird flew up next to you, at first you thought it was a crow but that didn’t seem right, a raven? No it wasn’t that either, it seemed an odd mix of both corvids but larger and, almost a dark green rather then black, but living in Crossroads you see odd shit a lot so you didn’t dwell on it

- Well that bird seemed to want you to follow it a few minutes later and it lead you to a dropped container of fries, aka the jackpot, you happily started eating them but noticed the other bird wasn’t doing anything, you shrugged it off, probably just already ate its fill and was letting you have yours, after eating you did some sort of appreciative dance, you weren’t fluent in bird language let alone weird corvid language so you hoped it conveyed your thankfulness, you were about to fly off when suddenly the bird changed into a demon, no that’s not it, into one of the Swords

- Holy shit, was all you could think as he scooped you up and started flying away with you but now in his demonoid form, alright this was happening, you must have intrigued him as a bird if he was taking you somewhere, you just let it happen and pretended to still be a regular old bird, maybe if you seemed normal he’d get bored and let you go

- Nope you were now in his temple in a, rather fancy, bird cage, this was not on your weekend itinerary, for a few days it went that he or one of his temple workers would feed you and give you toys and enrichment, you could sort of fly around the cage but it wasn’t big enough to transform back and therefore display you were not a bird, least Venomshank seemed kind enough

- After a few days stuck inside the cage he appeared and said, basically talking to himself, that he should let you out for a good fly, the second he took you out of that cage you transformed back into your demon form with an almost traumatized look on your face as you turned to look at him and his horrified expression, after a conversation he was apologetic about taking you as a pet since he didn’t really you were a demon not an actual bird, you said it was fine but gods you missed having arms

- From there you agreed to live at his temple, you had nowhere better to live and he was offering a free room in exchange for taking care of the birds that resided in the gardens surrounding it, this was one of his smaller temples but it was surrounded by gardens and therefore lots of birds, he’d stop by and check in with you and the rest of the happenings every once in a while, he slowly started to check in more and more until one day suddenly you were dating, you weren’t complaining you just weren’t fully sure how you got there honestly

- Oh my gods you never knew the wonder of preening, you’d never gotten close enough to another demon to preen your wings when in demon form, and definitely not close enough to a bird to preen you in bird form, however now that you had someone who had wings in demonoid form and could also become a bird, he knew exactly how to preen you in both forms and it was heaven, you of course preened him back which he was thankful for, with not seeing Sword as much as when he was a kid he didn’t get a chance to be preened as often so he was so thankful to have someone to help him preen again

- Maybe you didn’t quite have the corvid bird brain of gifting shiny things but you still did have a slight bird brain to the point that you did enjoy collecting and gifting small trinkets and sparklies, and Venomshank being some weird version of a corvid had that instinct but stronger, so you both end up gifting each other small things you find, especially when you go flying together in bird form, which is basically your go-to date, if either of you notice something interesting while flying you’ll dive down and grab it, give it to the other who turns demonoid for a moment to put it in their pocket then back to bird form, luckily the items don’t disappear neither of you know where any of your stuff like clothes or items go when you go bird form but you mutually agreed not to question it

- With the flying dates you also enjoy flying through one of the regions or preferably Crossroads and finding the tallest building around and flying onto the roof to look at all the beautiful lights at night, maybe you’ll switch back to demonoid form but sometimes you prefer to stay as birds where everything looks so much brighter and shinier to your bird eyes, its beautiful and it’s nice knowing that you two are maybe the only two people to ever see the views with a demon brain but bird eyes

- With living in his temple you went from a regular room to the best room in the temple, technically speaking it’s supposed to be his room but before you he almost never spent enough time in that temple to need to use the room, so it became yours and his, which does mean it’s full of a few of his things, which with your slight bird brain only means one thing, nesting, on the floor you set up a nest big enough for both of you to fit in full of pillows, blankets, clothes, and some of the items you gifted each other, and on the desk and actual bird nest, slightly comfier, still sized to fit both of you but this time in bird form, it’s less used but still nice to have

- Since he’s well, Venomshank one of the swords he has to leave for occasionally weeks at a time, which makes you more thankful for the nest to have something with his scent and feathers in for when your missing him, once he returns from his duties you’ll be in that nest for at least the next two days together, not that you mind but if anyone walks into the room they’ll see a mess of feathers and the occasional body parts making so many freaking cooing sounds

- Speaking of cooing sounds both of you make bird noises in and out of bird form, it’s more common in bird form but it’s still not uncommon to coo or squawk in demonoid form, you coo and trill with each other, make squawks and chirps, sometimes it sounds like a gods damn bird sanctuary when you’re both around, you also can sort of communicate with the bird noises which is nice as well

- He gives you a necklace or earring, with just one of his feathers, it takes you a moment to realize it’s his shiniest best feather, not quite a proposal but more of a promise ring, you wear it with pride and do the same finding your best feather to give him in exchange, he puts it in his hat and somehow when in bird form you now both have a feather, not attached to you but buried into your feathers so it doesn’t fall out, of each other’s, he has one of your hawk feathers and you have one of his… corvid feathers, neither of you understand the logistics of how that works but again you have up questioning it

hope this is good again thanks so much katz-ke for the help!! this was fun to write once i got into the groove of it honestly, alright i made a deal with myself once i wrote this id let myself reread a fanfic i love so im off to do that toodles

[graceland321]

Random Ass Headcanons

Eustess Kid is 100% the kind of guy that your parents would consider a “bad influence”, but you don’t give a single shit, you are more than happy to be an absolute menace chaos gremlin with him

Zoro and Sanji would 100% get married while drunk and not remember anything about it the next morning

You are one of the only people allowed to handle Zoro’s swords other than himself

Sanji, Killer, Zoro, Ace, Kidd, Luffy, Marco, Law, and Shanks know what it’s like to lose someone they truly loved and/or cared about, so they would be so so understanding of you still grieving a loss even years after it happened

Nami would 1,000% microchip Zoro so the Straw Hats can find his directionally challenged ass

And I quote, “sand boobs”

The image of Monkey D. Garp on his FUCKING knees in front of me is sending my brain spiraling

Wire gives absolutely zero shits, like this man. Does. Not. Give. A. Damn. He will just brush Kid off as long as it’s not a life or death situation if he doesn’t want to deal with Kid’s shit

The idea that Vinsmoke Sanji can crack a watermelon with nothing but his thighs is sending my brain SPIRALING

Law and Marco would 100% know that you’re sick before you do

[watarfallar]

*staring off into the distance remembering how 3rd Life ended* Oh, you're here too. Huh? Incorrect quotes? Oh yeah, here, have these. *continues to stare off into the distance*

Scar: Wow, great work on the Halloween decorations. Where did you get the fake skeletons? Grian: Fake?

Grian: You can’t have a gun on stage! Scar: WRONG AGAIN! I can have a gun, and I must have a gun, that’s the rule of Chekhov’s Gun: have a gun. And now that it’s been seen, I will have to shoot someone before the end of the play.

Scar: "29-34 Give a particular ecosystem and explain how could it be protected." Scar: Help. Grian: Forests, stop cutting down trees and don't hold gender reveal parties anywhere near them.

Scar: I intend to stay pissed at you forever. Scar: Even if I seem helpful. Grian: Then you're in luck. Grian: Because you don't.

Grian: Scar is forbidden from monologuing.

Grian: Help! I’m drowning! Scar: Calm down. We’re only in six feet of water! Grian: NOT ALL OF US ARE TALL!

Scar: I trusted you! Grian: Why?

Scar: Where did you get that tomato soup? Grian: It’s actually a bowl of ketchup I just microwaved.

Scar: Grian, can you help me? All of my clothes keep disappearing for some reason. Grian, wearing a hoodie that's 5 times bigger than their size: Spooky.

Grian: What's my sexuality?! I don't fucking know! I'm not straight, and that's all that matters. Well, maybe that's unfair to the straights. Some of my best friends are straight! Well, one of them. Well, I know them, and Scar is perfectly tolerable person in small doses!

Grian: I typed "bitch" into my GPS and guess what? I'm in your driveway. Scar: Grian: Vroom vroom, come out already.

Grian: You know me, Scar, I don’t take any shit. You know what I say to my haters? Scar: What? Grian: I say: “Please don’t hate me, I’m really nice.”

Grian: Do you need anything from the store? Scar: Actually, yes. I have a list. Grian, reading: Epsom salts, coconut oil, baking soda, cornstarch, lavender essential oils… citric acid…? Scar: I’m making homemade bath bombs. Grian: Smokeless gunpowder?! Scar: I want to do it right!

Grian: I love cooking breakfast. It makes the whole house smell like bacon. Scar: That’s true, but it also smells like fire and panic. Grian: You and the smoke detector need to get off my case.

Scar: Happy Scorpio season. If you have to burn a bridge, do it safely! Grian: With NAPALM.

Grian: Ew. What kind of tea is this? Scar: I boiled gatorade.

Scar: I’ve never been in a snowball fight before. I don’t know the rules. Grian: What? Scar: Is there a point system, or is it to the death?

Grian: Whatever happened to the concept of less is more? Scar: But if less is more, then just think of how much more 'more' will be!

Scar: Hey, Grian, where are you going? Grian: Well, it depends. When I die, probably hell. Grian: But right now I’m going to McDonald’s.

Scar: I’ve only ever said ‘I love you’ to two people in my entire life: Grian and a guy in a dark club who I mistook for Grian.

Scar: You’re starting to look like me more and more every day— Grian: Bursts into tears Scar: Why are you crying? Grian: You’re ugly! I don’t want to look like you! sobs

Grian and Scar enter a dive bar Grian: Look, I know you’re disappointed but could we at least have a drink. Scar, in a scuba diving suit: I would like leave, please.

Grian: I am a ninja. Scar: No, you’re not. Grian: Did you see me do that? Scar: Do what? Grian: Exactly.

Grian: I feel like everyone on this island is suspicious, Scar. Except you! Scar: But Grian, I think you're suspicious! Grian: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Scar: Cool, any other secrets? Grian: I still sleep with the blanket I had as a baby. Scar: Awww- Grian, stern: I use it as a gag when taking people’s pets hostage. Scar: Scar: There’s no punch line ‘cause it’s not a joke isn’t it?

Grian: So what are your political beliefs? Scar, awkwardly trying to impress them: Well, I think Pikachu would be a lot more powerful if he had a gun.

Grian: I try to avoid pointless group activities. You know like school Christmas Parties or Jury Duty. To me, the most awful sound in the universe is that mangled first note of your peers singing happy birthday. Scar: Cool stance. Counterpoint: these are free cupcakes. Get over yourself and take one.

[gachagon]

Hypocrisy anon here and I agree completely with your response, especially the tags.

I really hope a p:eg writer writes a fic about a Danganronpa character being plopped into Project Eden's Garden cause I feel like the dichotomy between them and the cast would be so good.

Like I could see the cast seeing Makoto as a complete anomaly with how optimistic he is even compared to Diana. With Hajime I could see many of the characters shunning him with Damon doing so too. Nagito and Kokichi I feel like would be even more wildcards than they were in their own games.

If Eva had been with any other group she either wouldn't have murdered or I think she would've won that Killing Game. The THH and SDR group were like so friendly and trusting of one another that each trial was a gut punch because they knew someone had genuinely betrayed them or felt like they had been backed into a corner into becoming one of the Blackened. (Aside from Celestia who was just straight up trying to win it lol)

I definitely think she would've won the Killing Game for THH if she befriended Naegi and still did her whole "I'm gonna frame someone else" plot. Only because I think Naegi and the others would have had too much faith in her T_T

Hajime had to vote for multiple people he actually liked so I don't think she'd have won SDR's Killing Game, but alternatively she wouldn't have murdered if she had a support group and seeing as the SDR crew were like legit besties even after the Killing Game, I could see her not resorting to murder.

V3 however, idk I feel like she would've lost. She'd have had to tell a lie so convincing that it'd trick the REAL Ultimate Liar, Kokichi Ouma and I just don't see Eva doing that. But I do think she'd bond with other characters in V3 because she wouldn't be the only person with an "unusual" talent. (That, and her ostracizing starts because she's the first to point out the naivety of believing no one would murder. The other crews I feel would've had more people who would've agreed with her openly rather than following some leader. That way she wouldn't be alone in her opinion, which sort of makes her spiral from the jump.)

Like Kirigiri and Byakuya would've agreed with her in THH, I can see Fuyuhiko and Peko backing her up on the whole "we really CAN'T trust people like that..." point, Maki and Shuichi would've also agreed with the idea of it etc...but in Eden's Garden the only person she had was Damon, and Diana agreed but not outwardly and she did just stay quiet for the most part T_T (i love Diana but I feel like Eva had a bit of a point, it's like when you're in a group of friends and they're bullying someone and you point out how they're all being kind of mean, but nothing happens bc you don't do anything personally to distance yourself from that kind of behavior.)

That, and the other crews didn't have a "leader" until like the very end. Sure there was someone to help lead the discussions of the trials, but outside of trials they didn't have someone who dictated what they did or when they did it etc. Like nobody was looking to Naegi or Shuichi or Hajime as leaders to make decisions for everyone. When Wolfgang was like "Just bring any suspicious clues to me next time Desmond" I knew that shit wouldn't fly if it was THH or something (Byakuya would've called him out on it so fast lmao)

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 9

Chapter 9: marauding Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur's mental health is kind of not so good...VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Guns and violence. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. WC: 5212 CHAPTER 9 !!! Thank you guys so much for all of your comments and replies and feedback, I've been loving it!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖 Thank you for all of the lovely asks as well, @frillydolle @emerald-ranch @teenalien-xx and anyone else who has sent an ask about this series… you guys are the best, I LOVE YOU watch out for meanie arthur AGAIN LMAO😈 Tags: no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace. some scary shit, so watch out 👀Arthur being rude as always just... low honor arthur as a warning lol

You wait for Arthur to decide what happens to your family.

It’s entirely too still in your family home. The air is as stiff and immovable, just like the man, your man as he likes to say, standing behind you. Arthur’s presence is unwavering. As always, he has a natural inclination to hold dominance, to control. He doesn’t seem bothered by this situation, not like you do, not like your parents who watch on, powerless to stop him. In fact, it’s like he’s in his element. He holds himself with that signature cockiness, not misplaced for a second.

You pant in panic, feet shuffling underneath you. You grip onto the rough hide of his coat, scratching your nails into it, as if you can hold onto him for support but you know that whatever happens is ultimately Arthur’s choice.

Both of your parents have withering glances and worried stares. Their mouths are agape in shock, they try to move closer instinctively but Arthur cocks the hammer back on his gun. You can’t move, Arthur holds you much too tight, you almost can’t breathe. Fat tears drip down the roundness of your cheeks and down your jaw.

“You let her go, she didn’t hurt nobody, she never meant anybody any harm-” Your mother is trying to speak past her worry and anger. She devolves into a strangled cry, covering her face. Arthur has a rough chuckle, it grates on you. He thinks this is amusing, an exciting development.

“Yeah, gentle as a lamb, this one. You raised a real sweet girl, really knows how to make a man feel special, don’t she?” he has a light casual tone, as if he isn’t holding a gun up to your mother. His insinuation makes your face warm in shame, casting your gaze to the ground.

“Arthur…” Pleading with him results in nothing, you only want this to be over, you wish you could sink into the floor. At least then, you wouldn’t cause your parents so much grief. You thought he cared for you but that care does not extend past you to your family. This is simply how he gets what he wants and it doesn't matter to him that it’s your parents. That you beg him not to do this. Anyone who stands in his way risks their life.

“Honey, much as I like to hear you beg for me, now ain’t the time,”

Your father’s glare is full of disdain, disgust. Arthur revels in it, you can feel his chest puff up, he stands a little taller. His aim doesn’t dip at all, keeping his gun steady. He’s calculating what to do, where to go from here. All of you wait to see what he decides. It’s terrifying how it feels like he’s done this before, pointed his gun at innocent people to get what he wants. Arthur controls every single aspect of the situation with an untroubled air.

“We haven’t very much but you could have it all if it means you leave ‘er alone,” Your father’s hands are raised in defeat and surrender. Arthur scoffs.

“You ain’t got much, that’s true. Just one thing I want,” You whine, his grip isn’t rough, only firm, reminding you of how he thinks of you. You belong to him and you always will.

“Don’t want a goddamn thing, ‘cept her. What do you think, sweetheart? I take care of you?” You blink, you flush a little, unable to contain the joy his words bring to the sick part of you that likes Arthur. You can’t stand to look up and look at your parents. Their mortified faces, their utter horror. He becomes more vulgar as you fail to answer. Pushing you to say what he wants you to say.

“She might have a big mouth when it comes to this but her mouth weren’t so goddamn big last time I checked. Couldn’t fit all of me in there, now could you, pretty girl…could only stand to take ‘bout half of me,” your father’s disdain turns into disgust, malice. He looks as if he’s about to do something, angry tears well in his eyes. You can’t stand to see your family’s faces as they hear of the depraved things you did for Arthur.

“Yes! Yes, you… you took care of me,” you practically sob, mortified and humiliated, overcome by fear and a violent pang of regret. You focus on the wood grain of the floor, vision blurring with your own tears. Your voice is a shame filled whisper.

“Just stop this Arthur; I’ll go with you, please, let’s just go,” You beg again, hoping he’ll listen, that he’ll take you with him. That you can salvage whatever is left for whatever brief moments of peace you had with Arthur.

Your father says your name between clenched teeth. “You are not going anywhere,” his face twists, he doesn’t want to see you leave with Arthur but you don’t see another choice. Another way out of this situation without Arthur hurting your parents. All you can imagine is a hole in your father’s head, like the hole in the head of the man who tried robbing your campsite. The glazed over look in his eyes. Arthur hasn’t shown you anything that makes you think he would actually pull the trigger on your parents but right now, he’s a cornered rattlesnake. Poised and ready to strike if the moment calls for it.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that just yet,” Arthur huffs. You can almost hear the way one side of his mouth lifting up to show off that prideful smirk.

“What’s that you said? Didn’t matter, as long as I took good care of her. Never even said I loved her and you was ready to send her off. Don’t sound like anybody cares for her ‘round here. You sent her out there; for what? Don't you think ol' granny's lived long enough?” you look away, a subtle pain erupts in your chest. He never did say that he loved you.

There’s a cruel edge to his voice. He talks as if he's telling a joke. He motions vaguely in the direction of your grandmother. His casually callous words do seem to strike a cord with your mother; she closes her eyes, feeling the guilt he wants to inflict.

More tears spill over your lash line. If you had just been modest, if you had fought him, maybe you wouldn’t be so ashamed, you wouldn’t have disgraced yourself like this. But what hope did you have? He overpowered you then like he overpowers you now, his heavy arms slung over your neck, any shift from you and he presses his arm tighter.

“Should’ve known your Pa was spineless. Your woman's more man than you. Had more backbone than you; were you really gonna sign your only kid away like that?”

“You’re no man; no man at all,” Your father’s outcry at Arthur hits him more than he knows. “You’re nothing, just the scum of the earth here to take what isn’t yours,” your fathers tone is panicked still but you can tell he means every word, his face screwed up in anger. He may not know it but you know his comment impacts Arthur; more than Arthur would ever let on so obviously. But his hand squeezes harder at his gun, his posture stiffens behind you as you’re pressed against his body. Arthur doesn't have any room to hear your father’s complaints, does not let them go without consequences.

A bullet shatters something on the mantle and both you and your mother scream. You sob against Arthur, shock forces you still under his arm. The gun firing in the enclosed room has your ears ringing. You think your father is dead, you feel your stomach drop and more tears drip down your face. Everything fades away for a moment. You don’t know what you'd do if your father died today.

Your father clutches his shoulder, his hand comes away with blood. Your mother checks frantically over your father while his legs tremble, groaning in pain. Then he collapses into his knee. The smell of blood and his gunfire consume the space. You sniff, acknowledging that your father isn’t gravely injured but still, you thrash until he has something to say about it.

“Calm down, it ain’t exactly fatal,” he says, as if his bullet simply grazed your father’s arm. “Should teach you to keep your mouth shut. I’m usually less polite,”

“You’re a coward, is what you are,” your father struggles to speak past his pain. Your mother presses some fabric to his injury.

“You are really startin’ to annoy me. I ain’t got a single problem with leaving your neck a bloody stump but I don’t want her to see that. Do you?” His voice drops as low as it can go, a hostility that isn’t just for show. You whine, shaking your head, pressing backwards into Arthur. It doesn’t matter what happens to you, all you want is for him to take you away, to spare your family.

“No! No, Arthur, stop, I wanna go back to your house,” you attempt to pull his attention back to you. “Pa, I-I need to be with Arthur, It’s like you always said, right?” You look at him with as genuine a smile you can pull but the ache of your circumstances pulls you down. Your father shakes his head but you nod.

“Arthur, please…” you turn over your shoulder as much as you can. You plead with him with your eyes too. Imparting your desperation in your gaze. You know that Arthur, although steadfast and stubborn, can be moved by you. Something in you, whatever has captured his attention has him wanting to please you too. You can see how he huffs, looks this way and that. But he’s giving in, letting you have your way. His anger doesn’t dissipate entirely but he drops his shoulders.

“Alright, enough of this. Think we’re done with this little family reunion, ain’t we, sweetheart?” You nod vigorously, sniffing past your tears, trying to blink them away. You’re glad that endearing yourself to Arthur is still a trick you have up your sleeve. He seems to be done with whatever fight your parents put up, there isn’t a lot of it they have to offer. They cower at the end of his revolver. Your father puts himself in front of your mother, despite his injury bleeding onto the cloth your mother gave him. But he has no weapon to defend anyone with.

“No, you don’t have to go, sweetie,” Arthur’s finger twitches at the trigger, making your mother’s desperately hopeful voice fall silent. The teary eyed smile she gives you falls like her voice does.

“I’m not sure you heard what I said. But I’ll make it easier for you to understand. She ain’t your little girl anymore; she’s her own woman,” he mocks your mothers words. “N’ she wants to come with me,” you whimper as his arm gets tighter, unconsciously expressing his possessive attitude towards you. He looks down at you, lightening up a little.

“I’m real sorry it had to be like this, wanted somethin’ different for you. But I ain’t the one who went n’ messed it all up,” the blame he puts on you has your heart sinking. If you were just a better liar, maybe he wouldn’t be here, aiming a gun at your father who is already on the ground, staunching the blood which drips out over the fabric anyway.

“Shouldn’t hafta say this but I feel that maybe I have to. You make this difficult and I leave a bigger mess for your wife to clean up, you understand?” He’s speaking only to your father. His arm eases off of you, slowly. You can feel the underlying threat in his tone.

“Now, go and grab your things, honey.” His finality and the dead silence make you hesitate, like if you move it’s official. If you move, then you can’t go back to this moment again. To this place again. But he nudges you towards your room, motioning his gun, still pointing with that deadly aim you know he has. You go to your bedroom in a trance almost, walking past your parents, you can’t bear to see them. Their terrified faces, the mournful stare they watch you with. As if you walk to your execution.

In your room, the chest is much too heavy for you to take with you. So you leave your clothes and take only things you can’t get back. The most precious things to you. A book of stories from your youth, some toys and your favorite toy, figurines your father gave to you and a shawl knitted by your grandmother. Silent tears drip as you pack them into a much smaller valise, bead of water gathering over the wool of your shawl. Your supplies for knitting and embroidering are stowed away too but you don’t take any of the unnecessary bits you have.

You snap it shut. It feels like this chapter of your life is snapping shut too, you know it, so deep inside of yourself. That you’ll never see your family again. By some miracle perhaps, but never the same way at the very least. You wipe violently at your face, picking up your suitcase, changing quickly into a fresher set of clothes before you step out.

The smile he has for you is tinged with the violence of the gleam of the silver metal in his hand. That wolfish grin, a bear's snarl more than something that reflects any true joy. You walk to him, stand at his side, the way you know he wants you too.

Your father still has that gleam in his eye, like he wants to fight against Arthur. You frown. You don’t want him getting hurt trying in vain to save you. That’s the last thing you want. You know that sacrificing yourself for the safety of your parents isn’t what your father wants but you don’t want anyone hurt here because of you.

“Please, Pa. Just leave us alone. I… I want to be with Arthur,” you murmur. It’s harder to say as you look at your father’s hand clenching over his wound. You’re not even sure if you mean it yourself. But Arthur is your reality now. Whether you like it or not.

Your mother starts to cry louder now. You blink, holding back the loud noise of your emotions. You drop your bag, hugging your family tight in one strong motion, letting them hold you tightly. Your fathers blood stains your cheek but you don’t care. Your mother brushes it off your cheek.

You want to hold them for as long as you can. Your mother shakes against you and your father kisses your hair. You separate yourself slowly. You want to keep this moment forever. Maybe you’d see them again, you’d beg and beg Arthur to take you here again. But you doubt he’d say yes. Or even worse, your family would refuse to see you, the disgrace you’d be after leaving with Arthur.

“You don’t have to go with him…” Your mother pets your hair. You shake your head.

“Yes, I do. Pa’s already hurt, I can’t-” You can’t see anymore of this. You know he’ll survive this, he has survived worse. But you don’t want anyone else getting hurt on your account. Your mother and father tell you they love you. At least someone in this room has the sentiment in them to say it to your face. You tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, sniffing quietly.

“I’ll be ok, I promise,” you bid, trying to soothe their worries but it’s like they don’t hear you at all, as if you said nothing. You back up, one step at a time before you’re taking your things in both hands again, clutching at the wooden handle of your case like it's the only thing keeping you from floating away. Arthur has his revolver in his holster now. You give them a parting look, trying to absorb as many memories of your childhood as you can, before Arthur guides you out of the door.

The cold greets you again, you pull his coat around you tighter, letting him help you up into the wagon after he places your things in the back of the cart. You hardly look at him, instead watching your parents delicately step outside to watch helplessly as you ride away with Arthur. You can hardly stand to watch as your mother falls in a heap on the cold snow. Your father looks on, a devastation is made clear in his defeated posture, his somber gaze. You bring yourself to do it anyway, looking until you can’t see them anymore.

You don’t talk with Arthur. There’s a stiff air between the both of you. Any minute amount of companionship or whatever fake love he made you feel is gone. He has told your parents what happened, and threatened to kill them if they didn’t let you go. You don’t know what you had imagined when you first arrived at your parents house but it wasn’t this. You had prayed things wouldn’t end in blood but perhaps you were too hopeful to expect Arthur to keep his nature in check.

The clouds from earlier seem to have blown away for now. The winter sun is starting to dip lower, an orange hue lights the horizon beyond the dark trunks of the bare trees.

Arthur lets you have your space and some time to stew but he’s had enough. He heaves a sigh, like he knows you’ll be upset with him. But acting as if it’s unfair that you’re not in the best mood has you just about ready to slap him; consequences be damned.

“Listen, I didn’t want things to go that way,” his voice is hardly apologetic, some stuck on emotion that isn’t sorry one bit.

“So you didn’t mean to shoot my father? Arthur, don’t…I think you’ve said and done enough today,” you warn. You don’t want to listen to him talk. It's like he just likes the sound of his own voice right now more than anything.

“What did you say to your mama anyway? You tell her I held you down? That I violated you? Or you tell her how much you like my tongue inside your-“

“Arthur! Stop it. I- I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to,” you pull your collar to the side but only slightly. You show him the mark he left on you. “She certainly understood the message,” you want to cry, to show him the angry tears dripping down your face.

“I’m just lucky you didn’t leave my father’s neck a bloody stump, aren’t I?” You spit at him. You let your tears dry, only anger left inside you. A rage you didn’t know you had. An anger you’ve shown him before in brief glimpses when you give him lip but not like this, not quite pushed to the edge as now.

You ignore how his hands tighten on the reins. How his breathing becomes heavier. His eyes track over the mark. A symbol of his supposed ownership. The iris of his eye is such a pretty blue, hidden by the narrowing of his eyes and then the dip of his head, the brim of his hat lowering over them. His body postures, like he wants to act but he holds it all back. His shoulders tense under the brown fur of his coat.

“Maybe my Pa was right, huh? You; Arthur Morgan, can act all high and mighty, but I’m not sure you’re a man at all either,” you let yourself continue, not minding Arthur’s reaction which is about to boil over on you. “I’m not sure men are supposed to act anything like-”

Your defiant tone is clipped short by his hand on your face, the fingers are tight on your cheeks. It doesn’t hurt you but he holds you in place, pinned down like a lamb to be sheared. His eyes are cold now, his face is frighteningly neutral. He makes you look him in his eyes, meeting his frosted gaze. The anger in your face dissolves like sugar in water. Replaced by the surprise of his sudden action.

“Yeah, you are lucky I didn’t blow his head off, leave his brain on the wall for your Mama to scrape off with a goddamn spoon,” his voice is rough and low, touching something in your head that drains all the anger, some old instinct in you. But not a new one, one you’ve had before. Melting into him, the way you did the first time he grabbed you, he held you against the counter. “As for my manhood; I ain’t got nothin’ to prove. But you’re all too familiar with mine, ain’t you, girl?” You burn red hot at his derisive question.

His eyes are focused in a quiet rage, but he shakes his head, as if thinking of something, of a better way to handle it. Hopefully for your sake; something not too rash. Then he moves his sharp gaze to the lonely woods behind you.

“If you want to try and run now, by all means. Be my guest,” it’s maybe the last thing you would think he’d say. It’s against everything he’s done to you, you give him a look, bewildered. No way Arthur would let you go so fast. You’re almost confused but you wait for his catch. Things with Arthur are never so easy.

“But if I catch you, you’re mine,” A strange smirk and a cruel glare are what he offers. That easy cockiness returns to him, his sure attitude, the certainty in his brow. The leather of his gloves is cold on your face still. It’s a game he wants to play with you, a challenge. As if delighted by his own idea, he grins a bit wider.

“I’ll make it fair and easy, how ‘bout it? I give you a chance to get away. And if you do, I’ll go home empty handed, hell I’ll even leave all your stuff here and send your horse back to ya.”

“But I catch you; you come home with me. And you won’t be leavin’ me,” you stare at him, unsure and afraid. He’s giving you one shot at freedom. To leave him behind and go back to your mother and father.

“Arthur, can’t you see you’ve already gotten what you wanted?” you protest lightly. The imagery of besting him, the strong and capable Arthur Morgan does call to you but something isn’t right.

“You want things to be fair; I’m makin’ them fair. You keep actin’ like you don’t want this, like you don’t want me. Now’s your chance to prove it,” Each word he says is dipped in his frustration. He isn’t quite satisfied with how things went in your family’s cabin as much as you thought he would be.

“C’mon, angel,” he sighs, he looks excited. His breath comes heavier, faster. His eyes are blown wide, eclipsing his summer blue and prairie green eyes with darkness like the coldest winter. He’s grinning, pressing into you, his hand pinches at the softness of your cheeks. Not enough to hurt you. Only to remind you of his strength, his tenacity.

His hand floats down to your neck, yours comes up to hold his wrist. He looks too excited, happy to chase you, work for you. Show you the lengths he’s willing to go to. At first you’re not too sure why. You prickle; you know something isn’t right but you’re too attracted to the thought of winning his little game.

“Cute little things like you are good at runnin’. I’ll give you a head start,” his hand leaves you and he begins counting. You’re stuck, like your back is glued to the seat of the wagon.

“Two…Three…” you turn like a brush animal, jumping from the wagon and stumbling a bit before you’re running into the woods.

The rest of the numbers ring out eerily in the quiet of the woods before they fade into the background. Your heart jumps into your throat. He’s serious about this. You pant, lungs burning with cold air, fear pushes at your heels. His coat is heavy on your shoulders but you don’t want to die of hypothermia should you toss it in your haste. You gather it up, before sprinting as fast as you can. The sun's orange light is fading fast but you pay it no mind, kicking up your legs to carry you as far away as you can.

The light snow crunches under your feet and you run into the depths of the woods, where animals sense your coming and rush off, knowing a predator is stalking. You look behind you, face screwed up in fear, adrenaline almost makes you stand still. You can’t see him and you didn’t bother to ask how much time he would give you. Arthur isn’t always the giving type but you hope he has a shred of mercy for you. You think perhaps this is the exception.

Like a deer looking up at the smallest sound. You rush off, trying to pace your running. Eventually, your legs tire, your side hurts and your nose and lungs start to ache from the cold dry air flowing through them. You lean against a tree a moment, panting, feeling warm, uncomfortable in the fur of the coat. Your thoughts run dry like a dusty river bed, all you can think of is escaping. Getting away from Arthur.

You keep going for as long as you can but fatigue pulls at the muscles of your legs and thighs. You continue, looking for somewhere to hide at least. It’s quiet, no birds, no animals, no wind to even sway the branches of the trees. All you can hear is your own blood, your own breath. The puff of your gasping into the winter air clouds up before your eyes.

You look out at the trees, black slender trunks that reach far too high for you to climb. All of the brush has decayed for the winter. You see a part of the forest that tilts downwards, perhaps a bit too steep but you don’t have another choice.

You slip down the hill, trying to stay upright. You land in somewhat of a heap, on your behind at the bottom of the hill. There’s a cropping of some rocks and you can find something to hide behind, large enough for you to stay hidden. You cover your mouth, your heart beating under your chest. like you’ve trapped a song bird in your rib cage.

You don’t know what you did to be here. Except perhaps needing help in a vulnerable moment. You kick yourself, you should have just ran down the road back home but in all of your fluster, you ran into the woods, like a scared rabbit. Just to get away. You don’t know what Arthur will do should he find you but you know it won’t be a happy reunion, not a playful meeting like two children playing hide and seek. It will be something else, much more like when a wolf corners a lost animal. A domesticated creature meeting a wild beast of prey.

You wait there for what feels like the longest hours of your life. The sunlight almost disappears, it gets much darker than before, the dusk starts to close in. Especially in the valley of this little hill you hide in. It gets colder as the light fades. Through the quiet, you can hear him, his boots crunch heavily through the snow.

“Y’know, you ain’t any good at covering your tracks,” he steps up to the top of the hill you had gone down. His voice makes your blood run cold, you tense up, as if sensing he’s looking in your direction.

“But I played fair, gave you a little while,” he grunts as he makes his way down the hill. Much less sloppier than you. Your eyes squeeze shut, you clench your hands. You had forgotten all of his hunting trophies, all of the guns he had on display. He set out already knowing he would win. You deliberate bursting from your hiding place or waiting to see if he’ll find you.

In a split second, you’re up on your feet, running in another direction. He’s after you, you’re sure of it, you know you can’t stop. You can feel the desperate noises in your throat. You try to make it as far as you can, but Arthur has his arms, corded in muscle, around your waist. You let out a strangled squeak, as he lifts you off the ground briefly with a scary amount of ease.

“There you are, princess,” he has pride, a self assured happiness. But he isn’t surprised at all. He has you on the ground, even as you struggle against him. “Been lookin for you,” you’re held down in no time at all really, even as you struggle against his grip on you. Arthur is entirely too heavy.

“Settle down, girl, it’s alright,” he’s shushing you. You exhaust yourself, feeling yourself heave and sob in his arms. Why couldn’t he be a bit scrawnier? You wish he were the kind of man who could be easily kicked off but he’s anything but. The adrenaline courses through you, making you jitter but all you can feel is the defeat. Quiet resignation calms you down, letting yourself go in his arms. He’s much too strong for you to put up any real challenge. You should have known he had this in mind, an easy win.

“I got what’s mine. My wife…” He mutters, gloved hands petting your hair. The satisfaction in his voice sends shivers down your spine, the dredges of what feeling you had for him stir, even after his treatment of you and your parents. You wiggle, whining, trying to shake his hand off if you. Your heart beats faster at his words. His wife. You don’t want it to have an effect on you but you can’t help it, wincing in embarrassment. You watch helplessly as he bites his gloves off his hands, clearly intent on feeling every bit of you with nothing between your skin and the heat of his fingertips.

“Deals a deal, sweetheart, ain’t much else to it,” he sighs, a sarcastic disappointment in his voice. His face is so close to yours, he puts some of his weight on you to keep your half hearted thrashing to a minimum. You try to give him all you can in the way of defiance. But you know Arthur. He won’t let you go. This is his commitment to you.

His hips jolt, nudge your thigh provocatively. And you just now realize how his breathing hasn’t slowed down like yours. His eyes are wild, still swallowed in the black of his pupils, a crooked smirk pushes at his lips. You should have known better than to think Arthur would lose this hunt. He was destined to win. And you were always going to be the prey he would catch.

I would like to thank Twistidkiwi over on ao3 for the arthur hunting you idea, it was just... too good 🥹🥹🥹🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ thank you queen!! i hope you guys liked it!! i would just let arthur get my ass after like 3 miinutes of chasing me LOL ohhh nooo you caught me 😳thank you so much for reading and lmk what you think !! until ch 10 😏Series Masterlist