#real men chop wood

[georgiapeach30513]

@princessphilly thanks for telling me about these 🤤

[dirt-str1der]

Is there a word for harem but for guys who like a guy or is it still called a reverse harem or is it the haremee who decides whether its reverse or not (guy’s harem = harem vs girl’s harem = reverse harem)

[mentally-a-slut]

Staring Problem (Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader)

Rating: M (a little spicy, nothing too bad)

Summary: An innocent staring problem evolves into something out of your most romantic fantasies.

Note: Okay, so I just whipped this up to show y'all what my writing would look like, it's really last minute and unedited so don't expect too much, but I hope you like it! It's a little messy because I just kinda started writing with no real idea, but please leave feedback! Also, if enough people want it, I am open to doing a smutty part two :) enjoy!

You hadn't thought you were being obvious with your staring, but were very quickly proved wrong when Mary-Beth slid up next to you, giggling. "Enjoyin' the show?"

You spluttered and blushed at the young woman's implication, lightly shoving her. "I'm not staring!"

She giggled again and gave you a look. "I don't blame you, I do it all the time. Nothing better to do than watch the men chop wood, especially if I'm supposed to be doing chores."

"Mary-Beth! Where is that girl?"

Mary-Beth gasped. "Oops! Gotta go!"

She scuttled off back to her table, frantically fiddling with the needle and thread to make it look like she was sewing. You sighed as you tore your gaze from her, eyes settling back on the man in front of you.

Of course, you were staring. Pretty damn hard, too. But hey, when Arthur Morgan is swinging an axe in the blazing sun, sleeves bunched up around his elbows, you just have to stare.

You knew you should at least be more subtle about it, instead of standing there uselessly leaning on a wagon, but whenever your eyes snagged on him, it was almost impossible to tear them away.

You'd lost all shame anyway, ever since he sort of confronted you about your crush. It had been an awkward conversation, one filled with stuttering and apologies. He hadn't expressed any discomfort, though, and simply acknowledged the fact that you liked to stare. He didn't outright reject you, but you knew better than to read into things. And even if he wasn't interested, who were you to deny yourself a show if he didn't mind giving one?

You only tore your gaze away when you heard Miss Grimshaw turning the corner, and you hurriedly tried to look busy. It usually worked, and you were back to staring as soon as she was out of sight.

You inwardly sighed when he sent the axe splitting through the last log. Show's over.

Even as he leaned the axe against the stump and turned to leave, you couldn't avert your gaze. The light was hitting him just right, golden rays bathing his tanned skin and making him look like an angel. Your face burned when he turned and met your gaze, and he simply tipped his hat with a smile. Sometimes you wished he would straight up say something about it instead of letting you ogle him. The heat that rushed to your face every time you were caught was stifling.

You had to resist the urge to follow him and see what he was getting up to next, instead settling on joining Mary-Beth. She looked up at you with a teasing smirk when you sat down, glancing behind you at the man who held your attention. "Show's over, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, sighing. "...Yeah."

She burst into giggled at your confession, dainty fingers going up to cover her mouth. "What's so funny?"

You started at his voice, the closeness of it surprising you. You turned to look at him, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You could've sworn there was a knowing smirk on his lips, but you chalked it up to the sun in your eyes. Even though you were facing away from the sun.

"Nothing!" you said too quickly.

"We was just talking about how she was staring at you chopping that wood."

You whipped your stare around to Mary-Beth. She just giggled and shrugged, acting innocent. "I- I wasn't-"

"S'alright, I know you were."

His words only made you want to shrink into yourself, never to see the light of day again. Mary-Beth took her leave, teasingly waving goodbye. She had just left you alone, with Arthur, a blushing mess.

"I don't- you-"

You all but yelped when he sat next to you on the log bench, close enough for your legs to brush. "If I didn't like it, I wouldn't let you do it."

"I didn't mean to stare!"

He chuckled, a low noise that traveled through your body and left goosebumps in its wake. "Yeah, you did."

You tried to come up with a valid explanation that wasn't 'I think you're really hot,' but came up short. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No need. I think it's cute, your little staring problem."

You didn't think you could blush anymore, but there he went, making you lightheaded with his words. "You... me, cute?"

His eyes met yours, and you had to stop yourself from swooning. His eyes were so blue, like shining crystals in the sunlight. "Yes, you. I thought it was obvious."

"What was obvious?"

He rolled his eyes affectionately, calloused hand brushing against yours. "That I'm sweet on you."

All coherent thought disappeared from your brain at that moment. "Huh?"

Your skin tingled as his hand grasped yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours. "I like you, sweetheart."

"Is this a joke?"

He chuckled. "No. I know I didn't really go about it right before, but what I meant to say was that I feel the same. It just... didn't come out right."

Your whole body was on fire, overwhelmed at the feeling of him so close to you. "So... you've liked me back, this whole time?"

"Mhm."

"Oh. That's... good."

"Just good?"

Your eyes found his, shining with emotion. "You know what I mean. I just can't believe..."

He stared at you, eyes shining with what must have been admiration. With his hand still holding yours, he stood, tugging you with him. "C'mere."

You stumbled after him, too awestruck to think. He led you to the spot you liked to stare at him from, the wagon obscuring the two of you from the rest of camp. Your back was to the wagon, his frame towering over you and he stood in front of you. He was close, close enough for you to lean forward and be chest to chest.

"When you stand here all clueless, drooling over me like nobody's watching," the hand that wasn't holding yours came up to rest against your cheek, "I have to force myself to keep working and not march over to you and kiss you til you can't breath."

You let out a strangled sound, breath hitching as he leaned closer. You were now trapped against the wagon, his body resting against yours. It was the best trap you'd ever been caught in.

"And when you look at me with those big, lovestruck eyes, I just wanna grab onto you and never let go."

A sigh that sounded more like a whine escaped your lips, knees threatening to give out beneath you. "Keep going."

He chuckled at your words, brushing his lips so, so close to yours.

"When you're concentrating on something, and you make those cute little noises, all I can think about is how I wanna bend you over and see what pretty little sounds I can get out of you."

"Holy shit," you whispered, eyes fluttering as his lips barely brushed against yours.

With a shaky sigh, you grabbed his collar and pulled him toward you, crashing your lips together. He let go of your hand, gripping your waist and holding you close. His lips were warm against yours, gently molding against yours. You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his short strands. An involuntary whine slipped from your lips, and it was swallowed by his increasingly desperate kiss. His hand slowly moved to your back, pressing you closer.

When his tongue brushed against your lip, you gasped, and he hummed against you as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You recovered quickly, meeting his tongue with yours with matching desperation. Your fingers closed in his hair, tugging lightly. He groaned softly, and the sound traveled straight to your core.

When he pulled back for air, he kept his face close to yours, blue eyes darkened as he looked down at you. "You're so pretty like this, all whiny and desperate."

His praise elicited another whine from your lips and you pulled him back against your lips. This time he kept pulling away from you in between kisses, chuckling as you chased after him. He mumbled soft words against your lips, each one making you want him more and more.

"Pretty girl."

"So good for me."

"So needy."

You whined in frustration and kissed him roughly, hands running over his body. When his hands ran over your ass and gripped your thighs tightly, you jumped up and he pressed you up against the wagon. The angle was torture, your core level with his, and the heat of your arousal was overwhelming. Your hips struggled to meet his, seeking the friction you craved, but Arthur just chuckled against your lips and held you still. "Not yet, darlin'."

You would have been embarrassed by the whine you let out if you weren't clouded with lust. You continued to wriggle against his grip, whining as he tortured you with slow, passionate kisses.

"Arthur!"

He pulled back with a groan when someone called his name, his forehead resting against yours. "Yeah?"

"Got a job for you!"

He sighed. "Be right there!"

You sighed and let your head fall against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby."

You hid your face in his neck, trying to hide the blush his words caused. "S'okay."

He gently set you down, hands settling on your waist. He lifted your face to his, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. When your eyes fluttered open, you were met with his darkened eyes that held a promise for things to come.

"We'll finish this later."

[honeybeedrabble]

Kintober Day Six: Dubcon- Kars x AFAB!Reader.

CW: Dubcon (fear tactics and power imbalance), kars x AFAB! Reader, degradation, piv (unprotected), fingering, slapping, cream pie (don’t be stupid), breeder!kars

18+ MDNI !!!

You had heard rumors of three gods running around and stealing women from your village circulating. While they called themselves gods they were anything but that, your mother referred to them as devils. They were fearsome, those who had run into them never came back into town the same, frozen in terror from the battle for their lives, never to speak again. Everyone was frightened, terrified of what they would do to their mothers, sister and daughters. And even more terrified of what they’d do to the men who’d try to stop those evil gods from taking them away.

It was an unspoken rule in most households that people would return home before it was too late, or else be met with the same fate as all the other missing persons. You weren’t afraid, you almost laughed at the idea of these “gods” or “devils” existence. You chopped it up to a few parents trying to scare their children into going to bed on time. However this couldn’t be anything but wrong.

You went out one night with a few friends, sneaking out late to go dancing at a small bar in the corner of town near the villages entrance. You had realized you had gotten far too tipsy and decided to walk home alone, that way the rest of the group could have their own fun. You stumbled around, the nights air still hot from the summers heat. You walked up to the cobblestone wall that was the entrance of the village and leaned against it looking out towards the nearby forest. You exhaled amusingly, rolling your eyes at the thought of a few men running around without any clothes on and stealing girls and men to eat- or “worse”.

“Sure, cause why not?” You laughed to yourself. You had enough courage- or stupidity- to walk over to the small forest, ditching the idea of going home. You didn’t really care about getting home, besides, you needed to clear your mind.

You felt the leaves crunching under your footsteps, moonlight seeping through the gaps of branches in the trees. You looked up at it, it was a beautiful, clear night! You couldn’t help yourself but to venture further in and get an even deeper appreciation for the forest everyone refused to go into.

“What a bunch of pussies,” you snickered, kicking a small rock along the side of a short stream. You followed the stream up until you accidentally kicked the rock into the water. You groaned, then looked around for a log to turn over and maybe sit and meditate at for a while.

As you kept looking around the area, you noticed a small house in the middle of the forest. You were intrigued, remembering how there was an old couple rumored to have lived there before they had been eaten or killed- whichever came first.

You walked up the small stone path that led to the house, sure that it must’ve been abondoned years ago to look this awful. As you approached the broken door you heard some rustling in the trees above. You froze, thoughts of the gods flooding your mind.

“No… t-they’re not real. They can’t be.” You told yourself.

“Who isn’t real, tell me mortal?” Came a gravely voice from behind your ear. You froze, staring at the door in front of you with worry. You closed your eyes, hoping you would wake up from whatever drunken dream you had found yourself in.

You felt a large hand wrap around your jaw, forcing you to look over your shoulder. You kept your eyes shut tight.

“Open your eyes, small one. Show some respect.” His voice reverberated in the woods and your legs felt weak, shaking underneath you in fear.

You slowly opened your eyes, looking in the face of the large man behind you. His eyes were a piercing red, illuminated by the full moon. He had large, bulging muscles, with his hair wrapped in a sort of black headdress, a dark curl draped over his forehead. You let out a gasp, the man smirked.

“Y-You’re…” Your eyes started to well with tears, heart beating a million miles an hour.

“You’re shaking.” He said. grabbing your jaw harsher and turning you around to face him. You fell down on your ass hard, you let out a grunt as you hit the ground. “Tell me why you’ve come out here so late. Don’t your people know not to go looking for trouble by now? Or do I have to make an example out of you?” He grumbled, lowering down to your level, his face inches away from yours.

“I…” You breathed out, the most you could muster.

“Speak when spoken to!” He barked, teeth almost bared.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know… honestly.” You felt tears fall down your cheeks and you couldn’t stop them from flowing, fear confusing you entirely. “Please… please just don’t eat me.” The reality of your mortality being at stake was thrown in your face as he pushed your head back into the grassy dirt.

“Eat you? Now why would I do that?”

“B-Because you’re the devil,” you sniffed. He smirked, teeth flashing at you. He ducked down to your face, you could feel his breath against your skin. His tongue came out of his lips and caressed your cheek, tasting your salty tears.

“On second thoughts, maybe I should. You taste sweet.” He laughed as he watched you squirm underneath him, for some reason you were getting turned on.

“Make no mistake, human. I am no mere devil, I am a god. I am a pillarman. I am Kars. Your kind was able to seal me away and wake me up. My kind is far beyond your time and even father beyond your comprehension.” His hand was placed on your thigh, it hiked itself up slowly.

“With time comes the need for growth. And because of my peoples erasure, there are no pillarwomen to reproduce with. My brothers and I have been able to a capture a few of your women, yet they couldn’t handle what we gave them.” Kars’ hand was under your long skirt now, your thigh quivering under his touch.

“We couldn’t have just let them go, we have an image to maintain- soon to be humanity’s most perfect beings.”

“W-What happened to them?” You asked through tears. He chuckled.

“You’re soon to find out.” His hand shot up, ripping your panties off of you and rubbing a circle along your engorged clit. You let out a whimper, he quickly covered your mouth.

“Quiet. My brothers are inside that building you’ve found. Do you want them to come out here and do this to you as well?” He asked, eyes staring daggers into you. You shook your head viciously. “That’s what I thought.” He picked you up bridal style and brought you further into the woods. You felt terrified, unsure of your fate. Yet entirely aroused due to his gorgeous being and opulent touches.

Kars set you down on the ground, in a small patch of flowers. He looked at you with a smirk.

“How pretty.” He said softly, licking your cheeks for more of your delicious tears. “The women from your village had almost died in fear the moment we set eyes on them. You however are different. Maybe you can handle the strength of a pillarman. Maybe you’ll be a perfect specimen to bare our children.” Your blood ran cold.

His hand attacked your clit again, flicking your bud with little to no effort while you panted heavily, moans escaping your lips. His fingers slowly dipped down, prodding your hole before his thick didgets thrusted into you.

“AH!” You threw your head back, your back arching deeply as you lightly pushed your hips down on his hand.

“I guess I was right, mortal. You are a perfect specimen. Nice and tight… warm… wet…” he trailed off as he pumped his fingers inside of you, feeling your velvety walls clamp down in bliss as if you were real estate. “I’d bet you’re fertile, nobody could possibly be this wet already.”

“P-Please… Kars, don’t get me pregnant,” you felt so embarrassed saying that, tears forming out of embarrassment now.

“Shut up, human!” He snapped, slapping your clit. You yipped, pleasure and pain surrounding you entirely as his hand retracted from your pussy. “I could always just eat you instead, would you rather that?” He asked with a smirk on his face.

“No! P-Please don’t my god…” you cried. Kars let out a booming laugh, going back to rubbing your clit.

“How amusing…” He sighed humorously. Kars sat up tearing your clothes off of you and your nipples hardened in the air. You shuddered, the air that once felt warm now feels cold after the night had gotten longer. “Cold, are we?” He asked. You nodded.

Kars had taken off his headdress, a giant mass of curly hair came falling beautifully down his shoulders and muscular back. You could see his horn even better now. His hair created almost a wall around you, keeping your body warmth in that area. He adjusted his loin cloth and you looked down. His cock sprang out and hit his chiseled abs. You looked at its menacing menacing girth with fear and put a hand on his abdomen trying to push him away.

“You’ve been so good, don’t ruin it, mortal.” Kars sighed with disappointment. He flashed his teeth at you and out of fear you withdrew your hand. “Oh, look at that? You can listen.” he hummed.

He grabbed the base of his thick cock and ran it along your folds, eliciting a mewl out of you. Kars smirked, then thrusted into you with an incomparable force. You let out a scream, feeling his length pummel into you with a blissfully agonizing stretch.

“What a nice cocksleeve you are. In all my years i’ve never had a pussy this tight.“ He parted you almost violently.

He set the pace hard and fast, opening you up with his rod. Kars pounded you, watching how you bobbed up and down on his length, shifting under the grassy flowers with each thrust. He grabbed your hips with such force you were sure his fingertips could’ve bruised you. He held you in place while he drilled you, your eyes had rolled back and you gripped the dewy grass underneath you for stability.

Your moans filled the air and your walls fluttered around him, your slick painting his length as the sounds of his skin slapping against yours filled your ears. You felt a pool of drool slip past the corner of your mouth as you whimpered underneath his giant frame. Kars down at your face and smiled wide.

“Oohhh, that’s nice… how wicked. Enjoying how i’m taking you in these woods, mortal? I knew you had it in you…” Kars smiled.

His lips crashed into yours and his tongue parted your lips hungrily. He tasted your spit, coating his tongue in the drool you had. His strong tongue felt heavenly against yours and you suddenly felt an intense hunger for it. You lifted your head up and tangled your tongue with his, occasionally choking on the mixed saliva as your breaths became shallower and your moans became more frequent.

His tongue made love to yours while his cock pummels you til your hilt with all the sexual frustration of 2000 years had built up inside of him.

“Such a good whore, all i had to do was discipline you a little and already you’re far more obedient than the ones that came before you. In fact, I think you’re starting to like this.” Kars’ hips snapped against your even harder, although sloppier. You had a feeling he was going to cum.

“Haah-“ You moaned, before he shoved his tongue back into your mouth, swirling with yours. He withdrew it again, a string of saliva keeping you two together.

“Such a perfect hole… Well worth the wait. After all this fucking you still can barely take me, quite the feat if you ask me.” He purred, sucking a part of your neck into his mouth.

You were seeing stars as he trusted deep into you, cumming around his thick cock and strangling his length. Kars grunted, fucking you even harder through your orgasm until he was letting his own moans slip through his lips and spill his huge load of hot cum deep into your abused pussy.

Both of your bodies were covered in sweat when he picked your naked form up in his arms. He plunged a finger inside of you to keep his seed in as he started to bring you towards the house.

“I quite like you mortal, I’ll keep you as my own. I’ll have to fight Ecidici and Wamuu to keep them off of you. Those fools would probably ruin you, they have no clue how to take care of their things.” He looked down at you, watching you shake under his gaze.

“Don’t be fooled, this doesn’t mean you’ll be getting away free. You’ll be my new fucktoy, with only the purpose of taking my cock and baring me new heirs. We’ll have to do this every day, over and over until you get all swollen with my children. And even then, you’ll probably still be irresistible.”

AN: still catching up my bad guys lol.

tag list: @fuckmachine42069 @pasdasin @alien-girl-violet

(Next) Day seven: Stuck in a wall- obito x reader

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Round Three Round Up!

In Round Three we were seeing double as 6 out of our 8 pairs were put against their alternative selves and we asked why not pit two bad bitches against each other ?

In the only match-up where the newer version won out we lost another one of our tournament's Mr Knightleys as you declared that riding through rain, willing to ride through worse was not enough to win your hearts - instead he must have a proper understanding of muslin! And so Mr Tilney (2007) became our first Quarter-finalist.

Mr Knightley (1996) was not alone in taking his leave of us as your votes decided that Johnny Flynn's Mr Knightley (2020) was too blonde badly done compared to Mr Knightley (2009) and must go!

Mr Elliot (2022) will be likely soon spotted in town with a Mrs Clay on his arm as though he may have proved himself the hottest of the Persuasion (2022) men he was no match for Colonel Brandon (1995). Joining him in bad-boy exile is Willoughby (2008) who could not beat the man best known as Emma Thompson's husband leaving Willoughby (1995) as the last libertine standing.

In another win for Sense and Sensibility (1995) Edward Ferrars (1995) proved that while a Wet Shirt scene written by Andrew Davies might have worked once, Dan Stevens chopping wood in the rain was too blonde not enough to prevail against Hugh Grant and the power of being married to Emma Thompson in any universe, real or imagined.

Captain Wentworth (1995) also sailed through against his 2007 counterpart as the voters told us once again that they hated blonde men if it was made in '95 that man was staying alive for another round and so Captain Wentworth (2007) becomes only a gallant Captain Wentworth, in a small paragraph at one corner of the newspapers.

In one of our tightest run polls that went back and forth several times it was Bingley Vs Bingley but in another win for the '95 contingent - the curly hair clinched it and Mr Bingley (1995) proved the victor.

And of course I must end with the biggest poll of the week, breaching the walls of our little tournament to be voted on by 28,987 tumblr users, the poll that ended in a most well deserved 50/50 split, Mr Darcy Vs Mr Darcy. How could anyone vote for THAT Mr Darcy you yelled at each other - HAND FLEX! WET SHIRT! you cried! But when push came to shove despite 14,484 of you declaring that you loved him most ardently 14,503 of you had decided he was the last man on earth who you could ever be prevailed upon to marry and left that wet cat out in the rain. And so, though we offer him a most cordial curtsey we must say goodbye to a very worthy loser Mr Darcy (2005).

Thank you for all the excellent propaganda sent in - I will be taking a days break before putting up the Quarter-final polls, giving you until Thursday to send in any propaganda you want included on the main poll posts and me time to add it! But for now we must once again say...

Farewell Gentlemen!

[wingsdippedingold]

I saw someone making a tik tok of Feyre talking to Nesta to an audio of Lexi and Meredith from Grey’s anatomy, and omg some of these Feyre fans have selective reading 😭😭

"I forgive you for treating me like crap” That’s fair, she was mean to you, and you don’t owe her forgiveness for that.

“I forgive you for letting me go into the woods” Nesta didn’t let Feyre go into the woods and I’m sick of people pretending like she did. Feyre did it on her own, which because she was a child was not her responsibility. You know who else was a child? Nesta. And I’m willing to bet that if Feyre didn’t, Nesta would find a way to put food on the table, because she was the one chopping wood, and I’m pretty sure Elain and Papa Archeron weren’t the ones taking care of the house.

“I don’t know how you get up in the morning, I honestly don’t” you know what? Neither do I. Nesta has been through so much, all of you have and y’all continue to treat her like she hasn’t done anything for y’all. She’s stronger than I am.

“Our dad abandoned you and our mom by all accounts was the meanest person ever, and you can’t love Cassian and it really really sucks” yeah it does suck. It really does, because Cassian forced her into a hike with no regard for her safety, forced her into intensive training, isolated her, locked her in a house, and was an overall shitty person to her. Forgive Nesta if she has a hard time liking him.

“But ever since I knew you existed, I had this fantasy about my older sister, and you failed on every occasion to live up to that fantasy” Oh my fucking god Feyre, did she fail when she trekked up a mountain to find you? Did she fail when she saved your life because your mate couldn’t be bothered to think about potential dangers of having a child beforehand? Did she fail when she sacrificed her own happiness and body to seduce men three times her her age so that you and your family could be better off? Maybe she was mean to you, but that is some real shit.

Obviously it’s not that serious and the poster needed it to match the audio, but it makes me so annoyed when people throw Nesta off a cliff

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

40 Years Super Hot Body Ready for Party • Aries Taurus Gemini Cancer Leo Virgo Libra and Scorpio Sagittarius Capricorn Aquarius Pisces Fart Song • Butterflies Scared My Cat When I Was Burping in Your Face on Wednesday Morning • Drunk Log out with Spooky Music Settings on My Firm Tits Pictures • Grandpa Says Fuck While Grandma Screams What Repeated Several Times • Grumpy Trumpy Python Toddler Taxi with False News and Emotions • Hugging Blood Thirsty Vampires with a Transylvanian Accent and Slapped Butts • I Farted as an Official Statement Against Global Warming, Expressing My Worries! • I’m Handsome When Wearing a Bag on My Head, Said the Horny Motherfuckers Politely • Is That Cellulite or Just Your Ugly Face? • Kindergarten Farting Fanfare Discussed with Disgusting Asian Clay Warriors Terracotta Song • Leaking Ladies Xylophone Solo Learning with Lusty Lashes Song • Lisping on Penis Peyote Creaking Mirth Radio, Let’s Lisp! Song • Lowering My Filthy Boobs to the Height of Your Curly Chest Hair with Freckles • Mom’s Cleaning Closet Looks Like a Women’s Porn Stash • My Gay Expense Combination Password Gore Seeking Battle Was Sinning • My Hangover Got Hung over by a Hung Guy from Hungary • My Horoscope Sign Is Poop and Yours Is Farts • Nearly Touching Myself with Your Girlfriend’s Hands While Doing the Dishes • Peeing a Farting Swearing Shouting and Pooping in Different Languages Made Me Famous Song • Petite Girls Liked My Fat Farts in Skinny Jeans with Justice • Pooping a Masterpiece in the Little Boys Room on National TV Broadcast • Puerto Del Penis Summer Holiday with Topless Sun Bathing and Surfing Fun • Puking Girls Are Holding Each Others Hair While Selling Butter to Pregnant Vomiting Men • Real Sharks Was a Great Accessory for My Swimming Pool Party Massacre • Relaxing Music for Penis Boys and Vagina Girls, I Have Money Cash, Yes! • Rescuing My Penis from Your Vagina at the Last Minute, Whoah! • Scary Music and Naked Ladies Cemetery Collection Flickering Through Growth • Shaking Sausages in the Men’s Room and Dangling Coconuts • Short Temper Anus Removal with Lipstick on the Collar • Shouting Poopers to Girls While a Crying Man Is Pooping Poop, How Adorable Screaming Babies Are! • Silly Talking Childish Macho Man Thanking Prayers for God’s Food Yes Hello! • Skinny Bitch, Fat Bitch, Rich Bitch, Poor Bitch, All Bitches Poop! • Smelling That Pussy in the Air at the Private Night Club Farting Room • Smudging Chocolate over the Toilet, So Everyone Would Think I Pooped • Sneaking Beans into Your Butthole While U Talk to a Handsome Stranger • Snuggling in Satan’s Satin Sheets with Shattered Dreams and No Boner Song • Solitary Fighting My Big Toe with the Desolate Strangler • Spoiling Desert by Pulling Your Finger Thirteen Times in a Row • Strolling with Morning Wood in the Woods While Mourning to This Song • Stutter and Chinese Food Destroyed My Artwork in the Toilet Bowl Coffee Shop • Sunny Morning Boner at the Beach Gym Towel Rental Song • Surprisingly Soft Boobs on the Milf Statue in the Garden of Jugs, Oh It Was Your Mom Sorry! •

Taming My Daughter’s Boyfriend with Booze and Fists of Agony • Teleporting My Cock to the Urinals Hurts When Peeing Penis Action • That Penis Is Not Mine, Stop Accusing Me of Curing Your Cancer! What • The Brothel Cup Cake Dispenser Had a Variety of Chocolate Brownies Too • The Giggling Killer Was Invited for Tea and Mustard with a Former Laughing Idiot • The Headache Fuckers with Migraine Were Chopping Fucking Painkillers • The Itchy Vampire Vagina Was a Gothic Curse from Medieval Times Song • The Lying Bitch Hermit Ducking Group Was Insisting on Bitch Slaps • The Penis Teens Shouting Squad Declared War on the Vagina Milfs Departure • The Pussy Cock Was Meowing and Cock-a-Doodle-Dooing with Glance • The Singing Orgy Group Remembered My Fancy Birthday Party, Super! • The Sock on My Penis Shook the Genuine Spokesman While Crying Song • The Syphilis Motown Singers Were Blowing Deranged Adultery at Me Song • The Toy Collector’s Mature Attitude Otter Raised Homeland Security Breach • The Triangle of Pussy and Clipping Smoothies Burping Smootch • Typical Asian Food Poured into the Purse of an European Hooker Prostitute Igloo • Under Water Farting Wiz Nick Y Minaj Naked Twerking Shower Saloon Barf Thong • Updating My Profile Picture While Pooping Macaroni with Japanese Subtitles • Using Mother´s Panther Underwear Because of Broken Shopping Bag to the Store • Washing Hamburgers with Dirty Sauce in Leather Pants While Howling • What Ugly Shit on Your Finger! Oh, It’s Your Wedding Ring? It’s Very Nice! • Whistling and Farting a Heavenly Polyphonic Song for Dying Virgins • Violin Licking Sounds by a Hard Baritone Dick Song Licker • Young Girls Selling Old Men´s Boxers in Thongs with Soulful Tutti-Frutti • Your Butthole Swallowed My Telephone, Will It Come out from the Mouth Then? • Your Mom´s Butt Massage Seems Innocent at First, Before Handing out Religious Leaflets

Spotify ♪ Youtube

[themiserablechick]

Die your daughter

God…please forgive me

Inspired by @starfxkr lamb!reader and @swiftiekisses “Divine Figures.”

Uses some real Bible verses and a line from one gospel song.

Slight implication of sex in like one line

I’m not sure if cross service is something many churches do but I went to one and I felt it in my bones

I also don’t know if everyone wears black in Good Friday

Um if this sucks… pretend it doesn’t!!!

✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟ ✟

You stood and stared at a picture of Jesus that lived on the walls of Tannyhill waiting for Rafe in your black sheath dress, you were mourning.

You wanted him to say something to reach out and touch you. You tilted your head up and closed your eyes waiting for a sign when you felt a hand on the small of your back you jumped out of your skin.

“Jesus, it’s just me.” Rafe half smiled

“Hey! You hit his arm. “Don’t say the lords name in vain.” He rolled his eyes but you still scolded him

“Why aren’t you wearing black”

Rafes eyebrows scrunched “why are you?”

You turned to the picture again “because Jesus died today we’re mourning,change.”

It was Good Friday- cross services. One of the most important days in your family. Today your father would go up on a stage, relay the story of Jesus and build a cross, live in front of all of figure 8. He’s done this every year for as long as you could remember. It made you feel sick this year knowing the man your father was knowing why you were even in Tannyhill, knowing why you were with Rafe in the first place.

The men you love, full of sin

Repent

Repent

Rafe came next to you now in a black dress shirt and laid a hand on the small of your back again “we’re late, let’s go”

Your father gave the service and you sat behind him in the choir, he chopped the wood of the cross at a nauseating pace.It made you flinch, made your mind wander to unholy acts you had committed with Rafe.

Repent.

Admittedly you had zoned out for half the service but what you did pick up on was your father talking about the sacrificial lamb you only truly payed attention because he looked in your eyes.

“God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt sacrifice, my son.”

His voice booming to the more than a hundred people in the audience but he only spoke to you.He compared the lamb’s sacrifice to Jesus’ how he was crucified for our sin , so we could be pure.

He wasn’t talking to you, no it was far beyond that. He was talking about you. You were the sacrificial lamb, you were Christ. Sacrificed to the Cameron’s to pay for your families sins.

“A gift from God” your father would call you.He often compared you the story of Abraham. A miracle baby delivered from God,but you were not Abraham, you were the sacrifice. You would die on the mountain top.

You looked to Rafe in the crowd, uninterested like he always seemed in church. He didn’t understand like you, how important this all was how could he, you knew Jesus more intimately than most he consumed your waking thoughts.

Repent

Repent

Sometimes you swore you heard God.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made.” Your head snapped up as you heard your father repeat the verse. You wondered what your own father could possibly know about God, how he could fathom “the word”

Once your father finished his service the cross was built and erected before you as you were called to sing about “the never ending overwhelming reckless love of God”

As you sang with the cross in front of you and you understood now, although you weren’t hanging from the cross this was your crucification, this was the end of your life as the preachers daughter you would become something new. You wore black on Good Friday because you were mourning but on Sunday, you will wear white and be born new.

[immajustvibehere]

Can we get fem shy and awkward reader with more LH Arthur flirting with her and being cocky? :>

Need

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

summary: You accidentaly made Arthur Morgan fall in love with you. While he struggles to approach you seriously about this, weeks of teasing go by before he decides to make a move.

warning: low to mid honor Arthur, hinted sexual themes, also I feel like I haven't done the request justice but I do only use your requests as inspiration and well - this is what my mind spit out. hope you enjoy anyway and thanks for the request <3

2100 words, 11 minutes reading time

You were able to pinpoint the exact moment Arthur had taken an interest in you. You had been aware of your more complicated and deeper feelings towards him for a while now, but for him it had started when he returned from a hunting trip with Hosea. This had been a few weeks ago, when the gang was still camping at Horseshoe Overlook.

Arthur had returned with scratches all over him. You helped patching him up, as you were one of the only ones still awake when the two men had returned late at night. It was a strange moment really. First, he didn't accepted your help willingly, implying that he would rather lie down with many wounds still open and bleeding. But even he stopped opposing when you grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the chair and lantern in his tent, a box full of medical supplies tucked under your arm. As much as he was annoyed by your insistence, he found amusement in your worried expression and struggle to move him.

However, his sour mood returned when he had sat down and had to patiently hold still. The fact that the bear had harmed him more than he had the chance to harm it back was something he couldn't get over, and he didn't shut up about it. You, all the while, did your best to disinfect his wounds without hurting him too much. His curses were whispered and directed at the bear - not at you. Though when you pressed a piece of alcohol-soaked cloth to his wound underneath his eye, his swearing became louder and more impulsive. But after a while he had gone silent and while you were busy with a deeper scratch on his shoulder, you felt his gaze on you. When a particular suggestive sigh escaped his lips you paused, afraid you had hurt him, but he only implored you to go on.

From this night onwards he secretly began wishing for your company more often. Though, his need of having you close was not something he could keep secret. He'd watch you chop wood for a few minutes before he interfered, pushing you aside with a snarling "C'mon...let me do that." While you struggled carrying one hay bale through camp, he'd pick up two at once and surpass you with a click of his tongue. He'd always be around and only a few steps away whenever he saw you struggling with something. Couldn't open a can of peaches? He'd reach over your shoulder and open it, muttering something inaudible. Bill would bully you with some harmless comments? Arthur would yell a "Bill, let the woman alone!" through camp.

Not a day went by without Arthur mocking you or bragging with helping you, just to show you that you need him. You never had a smart answer to his comments, you'd just stand there and blush awkwardly, but Arthur enjoyed this most of all. Seeing what a blushing mess you became every time he'd appear close to you. He felt like he was in control of the situation, when...in reality, he was simply too shy to make a real move. He could shoot, kill and slit throats all day long; but he damn well didn't manage to go further with you than this sweet banter. For Christ's sake, he loved seeing you blush and get all flustered for him, but he wouldn't be able to take the rejection if you came to the conclusion that he was too bad of a man too handle for you.

Ever since he had felt your delicate fingers on his skin, tending his wounds as carefully as you could have possibly managed, he found himself longing for your touch, wanting more. But even if he would have wanted to, that's nothing he could just demand from you for the fear of you rejecting him or thinking the worse of him. Arthur was sitting on a chair on a table, absentmindedly stabbing his stew around, thinking about this. All the while, his eyes were again glued to you. He watched you as you had a lively conversation with Sean next to the campfire. You looked so careless when around other people. You didn't tense up like you did when he talked with you, neither did you seem to have any problems with touching Sean all over, giving him friendly pats on his arm or pinching his side when he was teasing you. Of course, the only reason you were so cautious around Arthur was because you liked him and you weren't sure if you overstepped a line by treating him like you did Sean and Lenny. Arthur was not only bigger and could be more menacing, but he also had a more authoritative status in the gang. This is why you often didn't feel allowed to act quite so freely. That aside, you didn't think you'd have the courage to confess that you liked him.

Arthur left his stew behind and instead picked up a beer bottle and joined you and Sean at the campfire. "Hope I'm not interrupting something", Arthur announced his arrival.

There it was again - you blushed even though he had barely done anything. "Of course not, Mr. Morgan", you smiled, secretly happy about him joining you. "Ahhh Arther! Finally joinin' us. Heard my interestin' story and thought ye'd like te hear it too?", Sean directed his attention to him.

"Why, Mr. MacGuire, that's exactly why I'm here", Arthur answered sarcastically. Barely a few moments passed before Karen and then Uncle and Swanson decide to join your little sit-together. Neither you nor Arthur talked much - you were the ones that listened. You tried your best to look at Sean or Karen, or anyone who was saying something, really. But whenever you just as much as glanced at Arthur, you'd find his eyes on you.

It was different from the days before. Before that, he had only watched you. Often probably while thinking about something else. This time however, his gaze was fixed on you. Like a hunter who had found his prey. His eyes were all over, roaming your body as if it was his already. Something told you he won't give up so easily today. You had been craving it too...the silence of the night and the peaceful air after Arthur had muttered his curses about the bear...just the two of you, with you looking out for him. This one time you had been able to do something for him. He didn't heave your horse's saddle off your horse because you're too small for that, neither did he have to help you open a can. No - you patched him up, cleansed the wound on his shoulder because he couldn't have done it alone.

The conversation - which by now was a banter between Karen and Sean with Uncle's occasional comments - would do without you. So you shot a shy smile at Arthur, who still was watching you, and left. You poured yourself a coffee before you headed to the trees a bit outside of camp. Even prey wouldn't surrender to its hunter that easily.

As you stood there, the already half-empty mug in your hands and looking out at the moon's reflection in the lake, you heard firm steps. You didn't have to look up - you knew it would be Arthur. You expected a "Hello" or an "It's Arthur", instead he caught you completely off guard. He walked up behind you and before you had as much as yelped in surprise, one of his hands had found a place on your hips to rest on, pulling you close to him.

"Wha- Arthur!? D-don't you think your hand-", you stuttered sheepishly.

"I think my hand is right where it belongs", came Arthur's firm voice behind you.

You had no smart answer to that. The touch felt electric, the warmth of his hand seeping through your clothes until you felt it on your skin.

"Yer look really beautiful, y/n."

You barely managed to stutter a thank you. You were completely at loss over his compliment. Arthur himself wondered where his sudden courage had come from, but at the same time he knew that when he had left the campfire to follow you, he would have to shoot his shot. He had always thought of you as a beautiful woman, but in his mind, girl's in camp had always been off limits. He had never acted upon it - until now. A silence followed in which you blushed over the fact that you could hear your own hitched breath. Your heart almost beat out of your chest and you could have sworn the people back in camp could hear it.

"Ya know...if ya tell me to leave-", Arthur offered. Threatening to murder someone wasn't as uncomfortable as the thought of offering you his blessing to send him away. He had come so far by being decent...or even considerate (except for the staring maybe - but he couldn't have helped himself) so giving you this option was, in Arthur's mind, the right thing to do. Even if it meant possible retreat.

"No, please!", you quickly pleaded. You blurted out so suddenly, your voice was higher than normal, and it made you blush even stronger.

As if Arthur had been surprised by your quick answer, he was silent for a couple of seconds. Then you heard a warm chuckle behind you. Leaning to your ear he whispered a "Glad to hear that" and when you almost shivered at the intimacy the grip on your hip tightened. "I love how ya get all flustered when I'm around."

You smiled slightly. The bashful behavior you displayed with Arthur around is not something you had control over. However, it relieved you to hear that he was okay with that, because you had feared more than once that you came across as awkward and weak.

"I don't know what to say", you admitted, "thank you?" The phrase of gratitude almost came out a bit bold and challenging. Arthur smiled. He knew he had won. He had achieved what he had wanted; you in his arms. Slowly he turned you around, so you would face him. Your only source of light was the moon, which was standing high and bright on the night sky. It was more than enough to make out each other's features, but barely bright enough for Arthur to see your red cheeks. With a meditating grumble, Arthur took the mug out of your hand and emptied the coffee on the ground before he dropped the mug on the ground next to you. You had neither permission nor reason to complain about that. The man in front of you demanded both of your hands to be free, because he now placed one on his shoulder, where the fabric of his shirt hid a well healed bear scratch and the other he took in his hand; his thumb slowly stroking the back of your hand.

He had placed your hand on his shoulder as tribute to the night which had haunted him for the last few weeks. He had sworn to himself, in the privacy of his tent at late hours, he'd show you just how well his wound had healed thanks to you. But Arthur knew this moment hadn't come yet. He'd be patient for a few more weeks...or days maybe - since having you so close to him now made it even more tempting to speed things up a bit. Feeling your fingers on his skin...it was a thought he couldn't shake for weeks and hours at a time.

"I suggest ya stay with me from now on", was Arthur's sloppy attempt of asking you out.

"Had no intention of going anywhere", you smiled. Your heart was still racing horses, but you were content beyond understanding.

"Good."

Arthur had been eying your lips hungrily for the last few moments and you weren't even sure if he did it consciously. Something in his stance and attitude suggested he wouldn't act upon it.

You knew Arthur was a man who could get himself what he wanted. You also were aware that he isn't one to be reasoned with neither is it a good idea to make him angry. But something about his restraint manner made you confident that some teasing would go unpunished. So you stood on your tip-toes, leaned forward and kissed his cheek. His gulp was clearly audible and your hand he held in his was tightly pressed as he tried to process what had just happened.

"Shall we head back, then?", you suggested all innocently. Arthur's eyes finally found yours again. He contemplated you for a second before he finally said:

"No. Not just yet, darlin'."

[blurredcolour]

You Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under | Part Three

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Dick Winters x Female SOE Agent!Reader

For the first time since you met, fate seems to be conspiring to keep you and Dick apart, forcing you to find new ways to remain connected to one another.

Warnings: Military Violence, Discussion of Injuries and Death, Separation, Fear, Discussion of Nazi Atrocities, PTSD, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Language, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Note: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal of Dick Winters by Damian Lewis. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within. Non-English is denoted in italics.

Word Count: 4568

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

Bastogne – December 21, 1944

Grasping the handle of your F-S knife, Dick chopped at the thick layer of ice in the ammunition box braced between his knees, revealing the frigid water beneath. He planted the blade into the dirt at the edge of his foxhole, starting to spread shaving cream onto his cheeks as his friend Nixon threw back the tarp covering the next hole over.

He emerged into the milky light, the fog still thickly besetting the Bois Jacques, as he stumbled over holding out your scarf. Dick motioned with his head for him to set it on the ground beside him and Nixon simply sat down there himself. “Thanks for lending it to me.”

“You were shivering so much after your recon I could hear your bones rattling.” He muttered as he dragged his razor over his stubble, flinching at the chill of the blade each time it met his skin.

Nixon gave him a lopsided smirk. “Sure your girl won’t mind me borrowing it? It still smells real nice.”

Dick glared at him out of the corner of his eye. “I have half a mind to stab you with her knife.”

Nixon’s grin only widened. “The poetry of it would not be lost on me, I assure you.”

With an affectionate roll of his eyes, Dick quickly finished shaving before retrieving the scarf from his friend’s hand and wrapping it tightly around his neck, tucking it beneath the collar of his ODs. Nixon was right, there was still a hint of your scent woven into the fibres and he could only hope to hold onto it. Merely nine days ago he had left you on the platform in Paris, and not three days ago he had stood at the crossroads outside Bastogne, staring back to where he knew you slept safely in your bed, making a vow to keep it that way. Your body bore enough scars from this war, he would not permit the accumulation of any more.

His hands found their way into his pockets, lips twitching as his fingers brushed against the edge of your cap badge stowed inside the right one. Pressing it between his thumb and forefinger, his heart warmed somewhat against the chill of the morning. The eerie silence was broken by Lipton’s shouted warning of ‘incoming!’ and he and Nixon quickly threw themselves into the bottom of the foxhole to take cover as yet another barrage of artillery rained down on their position. Working the pad of his thumb along the grooves of the maple leaves, he took slow, steady breaths, focusing on each ridge, on the raised lettering, using it as a tool to ground him amidst the maelstrom that filled the woods.

As the chaos eased off, the men slowly began to emerge from their cover, and Dick took stock of the dead and wounded. It was a tedious and heart-rending routine they had fallen into since taking up this position. Reports given and calm restored for the time-being, Dick took advantage of the rare moment with no demands on him to delve his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket and retrieve your letter. The creases were becoming well worn, the words nearly memorized, but the solace it brought him was no less profound.

When, at last, supplies reached them after Patton broke through the German lines, Dick was both taken aback and yet somehow unsurprised when his correspondence from regiment included a bound packet of letters bearing your handwriting. You were a determined woman, and true to your word it seemed you had been writing almost daily. With your posting in Paris, and connections at Allied HQ, your letters had been delivered through military channels rather than civilian ones.

Ordering the runner to wait, he quickly dashed off a reply to you. He kept the message free of sentiment, knowing that it would be read by numerous people along the way, but was desperate to send something to you all the same. Folding it carefully, he addressed it to you care of Major Wilkes at Allied HQ, aware that he might receive a reprimand, but after everything he’d just endured the idea of that really held no fear for him.

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

Paris – January 7, 1945

It had been an agonizing three-and-a-half weeks. More accurately, the last two-and-a-half had been pure torture while the first had simply been filled with longing. As promised, you had written letters almost every day and sent them through the Allied post office. Letters about the weather, the book you were reading, the cat that lived in the courtyard of your building. Mundane topics that would pass by the censors and were in no way what you had actually wished to talk about, but you had done your best to keep the contents light as all the magazine articles recommended a lady ought to do.

And sometimes it felt like you needed advice on the subject. On how to field strip a Sten gun? Absolutely not – you could and had done that in the dark with your eyes closed. But supporting a man in the fight while you remained in the relative comfort and safety of Paris had been an entirely new experience for you.

The news of the German assault through the Ardennes, however, had put an abrupt halt on the festive feeling that had been unfurling across a city ready to celebrate its first liberated Christmas. It had not been necessary for Major Wilkes to ask you to stay late that first night, rifling through any and all decoded intelligence awaiting your translation from German into English, desperate to find out just how they had blindsided everyone. Late nights had run into early mornings, with copious amounts of artificially sweetened coffee consumed to keep you alert, thinking back wistfully to the Benzedrine tablets you would have carried if you were still a fully functional SOE operative.

The news had been dire – 2nd Battalion of the 101st surrounded in the Bois Jacques above Foy in the brutal cold, woefully undersupplied, under near-constant artillery fire. It had been all you could do to keep Dick’s face out of your mind as your eyes had raked over page after page of German, writing your preliminary translations in pencil before sending them to be typed up in order of importance. There had not been enough of importance in front of you to make a difference, it seemed.

A knock on the door to your small, windowless office had sent you scrambling to cover up the avalanche of paper covering your desk, but Major Wilkes had stepped into the room with a reassuring smile.

“At ease, Sergeant, it’s only me.” He had set a new cup of coffee on your desk, making you blink up at him owlishly before you had murmured your thanks. “I wanted to bring you word that the 101st continues to hold the line. Your Captain and his men are doing an excellent job.”

You had pressed your lips together shyly to hear the Major refer to Dick as ‘your Captain’ but had managed a nod of thanks. Your commanding officer had been slipping you bits and pieces of information as they came in, continuing to impress you with the fact that he never seemed to miss a thing. He had barely run into you and Dick at that restaurant over a week ago and yet he had retained that information and since taken the time to keep you updated on Dick’s situation.

“I understand you visit the post office almost daily on your lunch?” He asked.

Looking to him sharply, it had become even clearer to you just how astute Major Wilkes truly was. You had known him to be an acquaintance of Colonel Buckmaster, head of SOE’s F Section, for that was the reason why you had been placed under his command when you insisted on continuing to make yourself useful following the explosives incident in Normandy. But it had become increasingly apparent that Buckmaster and Wilkes may have spent a great deal of time together in similar fields to your own.

“I do sir, yes.” You had replied, taking a sip of the fresh coffee he had delivered even though your stomach had rolled in protest; you had needed the caffeine to keep working.

“Might I suggest you bring the letters to me, and I will send them internally. God knows when the actual post will reach them.”

“Sir I…” You had stuttered, taken aback by the generosity of his offer.

“I see you in here sixteen hours a day, Sergeant. Don’t you think your letters will help him just as much?” He had raised an eyebrow and you had nodded slowly.

“Good, I expect to see the first one on my desk tomorrow at 0900 for mail call. And don’t stay past midnight tonight, you’ve done that for the last three days.” He had looked to you firmly and you had nodded rapidly.

“Yes, sir.”

The news of Patton’s break through had brought with it some sense of relief but it paled in comparison to that brought by the tattered scrap of paper which found its way onto your desk that day in early January.

Two sentences scrawled in pencil upon paper bearing all manner of stains and splotches that reduced you to tears of the sweetest relief. Dick was alive. Yes, the reports all said so but to see something addressed to you in his handwriting made it real.

The pace of the war seemed to change after that – time and troop movements speeding up immeasurably. The promised arrival of six fresh-faced CWACs taking up residence in your apartment, needing constant supervision on the worldly Parisian streets only served to blur your perception of time even further. Certainly, they had arrived with a captain and sergeant of their own, but not one of them had set foot outside Canada before, save a brief stint in England, and relied heavily on you to ensure they were able to make their way to and from their posting – mercifully in the same building as yours.

Feeling not unlike a mother goose with a trail of goslings behind her, you did your best to keep them out of trouble with locals, and soldiers alike, leaving you little time to enjoy your now regular correspondence with Dick. Nor the privacy, for their Sergeant shared your bed with another girl on a single cot crammed in the corner of the room, the other four girls sharing the second bedroom. Their feminine influence did prove useful in finally eradicating your habit of cursing, however, which you had been trying to accomplish for Dick’s sake anyway.

One evening in late February, the sound of Glenn Miller and his orchestra echoed from the kitchen, accompanied by their bright laughter as they cleaned up from dinner. The girls were more than a little distracted by practicing their dance steps with each other to prepare for a dance hall outing the following night. Shaking your head fondly you signed off on your latest letter to Dick, sealing the envelope with a few dabs of glue before walking to the front hall to slip it into your shoulder bag to post tomorrow. The sound of heavy boots on the stairs set the hairs on the back of your neck on end, even in liberated Paris, while the subsequent knock on the apartment door had your heart skittering against your ribs.

Several of the girls appeared in the doorway to the kitchen but you stopped them with the firm gesture of your palm, raising up on your toes to take near-silent steps before glancing through the peep hole of the door. The sight of the Officer’s Airborne patch on the garrison cap of the man outside had you clutching at the letter still in your hand tightly, but as he swivelled his head you were startled to see dark brown hair rather than the ruddy red you had been hoping for.

Pulling at the chain before unlocking the deadbolt, you tried to deny the feeling of your heart sinking through the floor. If something had happened, the reports would have told you. Major Wilkes would have told you. You exhaled shakily as you opened the door to see Lieutenant – No, Captain Nixon – standing on your doorstep with the distinct shape of a paper wrapped bouquet tucked into the crook of his arm and an envelope pinched between his fingers.

“Good evening, Captain Nixon.” You assembled what you hoped was a calm smile on your face.

“Ma’am.” He smiled in return, and you couldn’t help but note that the youthful softness he’d had about him in Normandy seemed to have been etched from his features. “With Major Richard Davis Winter’s compliments and regrets.”

At the sound of his voice, the girls flooded into the foyer behind you with all the subtlety of a herd of cattle, making you bite the inside of your cheek as you accepted the offered flowers and envelope.

“Thank you very much, Captain. Please convey my gratitude and understanding.” You swallowed, realizing now that though his battalion had been pulled back to Mourmelon-le-Grand for well-earned rest, it seemed you were not going to have the chance to lay eyes on Dick for quite some time.

“Of course.” He grinned, eyes dropping to the letter still clutched in your other hand. “Is there anything I might deliver to him in return?” He prompted with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh…oh!” You swallowed and quickly held it out to him. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“My pleasure.” He nodded. “Have a good night. Ladies.” He nodded to the cluster of women behind you, earning a chorus of giggles and farewells before disappearing down the stairs.

Tucking the letter into the pocket of your skirt, away from prying eyes, you lay the bouquet on the dining table to gingerly unwrap the paper, revealing a dozen red roses. A collective gasp sounded from all seven of your mouths at the surely astronomical cost. The amount of personal funds that Captain Nixon added to the sum Dick had sent with him on his leave to Paris would be a secret he kept well beyond the end of war. The worn enamel pitcher from the kitchen suddenly appeared on the table in front of you along with a paring knife, the girls settling into the chairs and begging for you to tell them all about your Major and the handsome Captain he had sent with flowers in his stead.

Carefully trimming the end of each rose stem before placing it into the makeshift vase, you spun a tale of an accidental collision with then-Captain Winters at the train station. His friend Captain Nixon had been there too, and you had shown them around Paris to make up for causing such a ruckus on their arrival. Partially based in truth, by the time you got to the dinner and dancing, dreamy sighs reached your ears. Nestling the last rose in amongst the rest of the bouquet you smiled softly at how lovely the dining room suddenly looked, but the letter was fairly burning a hole in your pocket.

You were unspeakably grateful when their sergeant interrupted their barrage of questions with a firm reminder that the kitchen was still in a state of disarray, and though they let out a collective moan, they trudged back in to finish cleaning up. Mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ in her direction, you quickly slipped off to your room, shutting the door and tearing into the envelope somewhat savagely.

The personal tone of his letter, a clear indication of the level of trust he held in Captain Nixon to carry around such honest words, made your heart ache fondly. You wished that the letter you had placed in his friend’s hand was comparatively tender, but you had written it, as always, with the expectation that several others would be privy to its contents before it reached him. Re-reading it several times before tucking it away safely in the false bottom of your suitcase, you knew it was a piece of him you would hold onto for the rest of your life.

More surprises lay in store for you that month when the girls took it upon themselves to write to their superiors in London, recommending you for a promotion. A King’s crown was soon in place of your sergeant’s stripes to denote your position of Company 47’s Sergeant Major. It was a promotion which amused Major Wilkes greatly, seeing as you’d gained it through honest means, while your place as a CWAC most certainly was not.

As the Allies advanced into Germany in the early spring, however, it proved to be one of the few sources of amusement in your office. Certainly, the promise of an ever-closer victory in Europe was a spot of radiance on the horizon, but the flood of paper being returned for translation was unveiling a darker and darker truth of just what had happened under Nazi rule. You had heard the rumors, and seen their violence firsthand, but the liberations of the camps, the cold and calculated way in which these things were discussed in the documents before you – it was taking a toll.

The news of the German surrender had brought with it riotous celebration throughout the streets of Paris, but you had only felt a moment a quiet relief that Dick would no longer be subjected to enemy fire – for now. The battle of the Pacific still raged for the American army, and you could not help but dread the possibility of his redeployment there. Major Wilkes startled you on your way back into the office with just two days later with some news.

“I’m sorry to say, Sergeant Major, you won’t be remaining with your company much longer.” His eyes held their usual spark of mischief as they did whenever he spoke of your ‘company’ but you tilted your head curiously at his words.

“Sir?”

“Plans have been in place for the eventuality to see justice done in the face of the heinous acts I know you have been busy translating.”

You swallowed dryly and nodded in reply.

“We are to move into Germany as soon as possible, please return to your lodgings and pack your things and report back to me immediately.”

“Yes sir.”

It was easier said than done, navigating the streets still in the throes of celebration, but you managed nonetheless to gather your belongings and leave a note of farewell to the girls. By the time you returned to the office with your suitcase, the clerks had nearly finished packing everything into boxes and the twenty of you working directly under Major Wilkes made your way down to a transport truck to begin the long drive. Settling in for an uncomfortable ride, you did not concern yourself with the precise destination like many of the other staff who were whispering amongst themselves. ‘Germany’ would suffice for now.

It wasn’t until mid afternoon the next day when you arrived in Nuremberg, with pockets of the city relatively untouched by the air raids and invasion, that your curiosity was piqued.

“Nuremberg, sir?” You asked him as you worked together to unpack into a new set of offices.

“A hunch.” He said with a knowing grin, and you had a feeling there was an awful lot more to it than that.

Spring wore on into summer, the documents you worked on grew more disturbing, and the London Conference convened proposing an International Military Tribunal to take place in Nuremberg, confirming your suspicions about Major Wilke’s ‘hunch.’ Dick, it seemed, was enjoying his time as an occupation commander in the Alps – not four hours away and yet duty still managed to keep you apart. The office was growing busier, more cramped as men no longer required for the fight were able to return behind desks and take up the work of translation alongside you and your colleagues.

Despite the increasing volume of personnel under his command, Major Wilkes still managed to keep an eye on you, not missing the way you had developed a tendency to stare vacantly off into the corner of the room from time to time. Physically present yet taken back to some moment in time you’d been forced to bury for the sake of carrying on with the tasks before you – the face of the German soldier as he drove his bayonet into your side, the ten second plunge into the inky blackness from the belly of a silent plane, the wailing of that boy’s mother when you’d returned with her dead son draped across your shoulders.

“Sergeant Major?” He interrupted one such moment in mid-July, making you sit up straighter as you were caught red-handed.

“Yes sir?”

“My office.”

You stood quickly, feet briefly snagging on the legs of your chair making you struggle awkwardly before you were able to follow him into his office.

“Close the door.” He said firmly and you were quick to do so. “This is long overdue.” He muttered and held out a piece of a paper. “Seventy-two-hour pass to Austria. My apologies for the length of time it took to arrange it, as well as the short notice.”

You stared at it openly before he thrust it a little closer in your direction and you stepped forward to take it from him. “Th…thank you very much Major Wilkes.” You gulped roughly, holding it between both hands as though to protect it.

“Now I have it on good authority there is a supply truck departing for Zell Am See at 1030 whose driver would not be opposed to a passenger. You’ll find the address tucked inside of your pass. It will most likely not be so easy to make your way back, which is why you have seventy-two hours. You’d best be on your way, Sergeant Major.” He smirked, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

You could not help the smile that stretched from ear to ear, nodding rapidly. “Sir, yes sir, absolutely I will be back on time I swear it. Thank you very much, sir.” Turning quickly, you nearly raced out of the door before reminding yourself to walk at a calm pace in front of your colleagues. You grabbed your shoulder bag from the bottom drawer of your desk, locking up the documents you had been working on, and snagged your uniform jacket from the back of your chair before making out way out through the main door of the office.

It was only once you were out in the hall that you began a mad dash for the entrance, not even having the time to return to your billet for a bag. You checked the address on the slip of paper inside your pass before running almost all the way there, drawing far too much attention to yourself – and not caring in the least. You arrived with ten minutes to spare, a sticky mess beneath your woollen uniform, finding the driver who helped you into the cab of the supply truck. He was a gruff, middle-aged man, but after you caught your breath, a few well placed questions easily drew him into telling his life story, filling the time as you wound your way higher into the mountains that Dick had described in his letters.

It was mid-afternoon by the time you arrived at the supply depot in Zell Am See, but you still had yet to reach Dick’s lodgings. Truth be told, you hadn’t even told him you were coming; there was a chance he might not even be there. Walking down the side of the road toward the hotel you knew they had requisitioned, you swallowed as you heard a jeep pull up beside you, rather missing the reassuring weight of your knife at your hip.

“If that man doesn’t sing you ‘Kiss Me Goodnight, Sergeant Major’, he’s just not living his life to the fullest.” Your eyes widened as Captain Nixon grinned up at you from the driver’s seat.

You let out a bark of laughter, though the accompanying smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m impressed you recognize my rank badge…” You couldn’t help but admit.

“Used to be my job to know things.” He muttered, a touch of sadness in his voice.

“Not all it’s cracked up to be, knowing things.” You trailed off in a similar tone.

“I apologize I don’t have any flowers on me this time.” He tilted his head with a smirk, breaking through your melancholy silence. “But climb in, I’ll drive you the rest of the way.”

You quickly slid into the front seat beside him, thanking him profusely as he took you up the winding road to the hotel and through the checkpoint with ease. You followed him inside the building, removing your cap with its replacement badge, and up the stairs before he gestured at the door to room 308. Feeling suddenly nervous, you glanced over to Captain Nixon only to see him walking away down the hall.

“Captain Nixon where are you going?” You whispered after him anxiously.

“Trust me, he’s seen enough of my face.” He winked and disappeared into another room a few doors down.

Taking a fortifying breath, you raised your hand to knock.

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

Read Part Four

Your Arms Pull Me In Like The Tide Pulls Me Under Masterlist

Tag list: @allthingsimagines, @bcon24

[jacksprostate]

When God himself informs you your contract has been passed on to a third party, you might wonder where you're headed.

My regiment of angels waved me off. A man with a split lip and holy glow, he said, this was out of our hands, sir. We'll try to follow you. Sir.

The first few weeks I was at the asylum, I got taken off all my pills. Mount Massive was not Heaven. Divine figures shrunk back into shrinks. They paid special care to the rough chop of scar tissue spread across my face. I was a corpse laid fresh on an anthill.

The thing is, when you come off a cocktail of benzos and antipsychotics and mood stabilizers and SSRIs meant to keep you from blowing up the World Trade Center, you have withdrawals. The thing is, it was very apparent that is what the doctors ordered.

The Engine.

I was out of my gourd, when they primed me for it. The therapy, you'd think they'd never seen a car crash before. I could hear all the other men screaming. The sensation, it was insomnia before support groups all over again.

I know what you want. On the way back to my cell, I talked.

"Do you?"

You want him back.

"Do we, or do you?" My false father figure in all his hazmat glory liked to lead his questions.

Of course I want him back. I'd watch their Z-list snuff films twenty four seven if it meant he'd come back.

Why does Murkoff want Tyler?

My shrink, he said, "Have you considered, what is amazing about Tyler is not him, but the fact that you could make him?"

So I learned, this was a Jesus sort of thing. Or maybe God. I told my shrink, you can't teach God anything.

The Engine.

That was a bit more like lye. My keepers, they wanted Tyler. They wanted me pissing on the Blarney Stone. They wanted my palace of many doors. My inner cave. They wanted what my mind could do, they wanted me to craft them their very own God.

The Engine showed me blond hair. Red leather. Chipped teeth.

Oh, my compliance was a scientist's wet dream.

It's only natural that when Tyler returned, everything collapsed like the soggy wood of the mansion under monkey feet.

Like a schoolgirl sold on love at first sight, I want to believe I felt it when he crawled back inside my head and out the door of my subconscious. In truth, I spent the first night of the riot hidden away, under my bed. Awake. The howls I heard. I knew it'd been too long since I'd been to fight club. I'd die like a fool.

Tyler, though.

When I wake up, I'm in an office. In a closet, really. The desk arranged just like the one I woke up at with gasoline on my hands.

Rejoice.

Tyler, I know he keeps coming around, because the hulking, mutated, beaten men I pass by start nodding at me. I know because I wake up with badly done stitches. I know because I'm not seeing him, and he's all the more real since I'm not.

I wonder what the other patients think. Skinny guys fight til they're burger. I wonder if Tyler's siren call works as well in a land already past bottom.

I wake up in different rooms. My cell. That office. A kitchen, with a dead man laid out, head inside a microwave. Tyler left a sticky note on him.

You are what you eat!

The bodies around tell the story. The flesh that speaks.

When the carcass is gone, we stop moving. The burners are clear and the fridge is full of glycerin.

Tyler Durden, creature of habit.

I make no habit of roaming. These men, their eyes are open. They know I'm Tyler. They know I'm his. These things are different. Property, ownership. Things that can be stolen.

I like to fall asleep to the caterwauls of all these lost apes.

The prodigal son returns, finally, when the church burns. You know what they say, Hell is empty, all the devils are here.

Tyler, I say.

He looks at me. It's so easy to be pinned like a worm under a dissecting microscope. I try to imagine him with his brains blown out. With the massacre of a face I have.

Tyler.

"And so Adam was sent from the garden," Tyler says. "And so, the devil ran amuk."

He looks like he's thriving.

The next man I see calls me sir.

[evansbby]

No bc I actually need a man that’s fucking manly and not a literal fucking wimp but they are nowhere to be found like why can’t more men be like Ari (not literally insane or white savior but you know what I mean)

I know what you mean 😭😭😭

Men these days are out here doing tiktok dances and posting thirst traps and following 28382828 women on Instagram whilst also posting a lot on Instagram 🥲🥲

I need a REAL man who has 60 followers on Instagram, one blurry pic of his dog, empty dms, inactive af… actually even better if he doesn’t even HAVE an Instagram or tiktok 😭😭

I just want a real rugged Ari looking man 😭 I just know Ari wouldn’t have an instagram bc he doesn’t care, he’d spend his days being manly, working and making money and being rich, but also keeping himself strong and fit and manly by chopping wood and working out 🥵🥵

[absurdthirst]

Breaking Point {Werewolf!Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: NON-CON mentions, pregnancy, voyeurism, masturbation, mentions of oral, werewolf fucking, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Pero is slowly losing his mind around his mate, craving her as the full moon looms close. Trying to resist the animalistic urges of the monster. Until he finds her in the woods, in the spot where he had planted the babe in her belly and that night the wolf takes control again. 

**Thank you @wheresarizona for the lovely beta!

DEAD DOVE - DO NOT EAT: This is a monster fucking fic. If you can’t handle the fact that non-con is a part of this, please roll on by. 

|| The Wolf Series MasterList || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

He smells her everywhere. That scent permeates his nostrils, both as the beast and as a man until he finds himself going mad. Cloying and sweet, often laced with the tangy scent of a wet cunt, arousal. Making his cock stiffen and his countenance even gloomier as he tries to ignore it. To pretend that he doesn’t smell her pheromones rolling off of her in waves. Like a siren beckoning sailors to their water graves on the craggy rocks. He had never believed his kind were real, so why could sirens not be? 

Guilt keeps him from acknowledging it. Guilt, and the fear that it is not actually what she wants. The wolf, he knows it, his presence under Pero’s skin shimmers, urging him to take his woman. To provide what the air is telling him so clearly what she needs. To satiate her on his cock and fill her womb again and again until the air is permanently mixed with a combination of their fluids. Until it marks every corner of the clearing and fills her cabin so that no other creature would think that she was not his. 

He has never been a man who was easy to get along with. His friend, his only friend - William, having to put up with his sarcastic humor and often dark temperament. He had a hard life, as did many others, and it had not made him a gentle man. 

Like many of his kind, he had killed for survival from a young age, stealing and scraping his way through his younger years until he was taught the art of war. Illiterate men are useful when they have a face that makes others wary and can swing an axe with his skill. He follows the coins, the squabbling of rich men never concerned him much beyond who would pay the most. 

Survival was what mattered. Coins to buy food to fill his belly, occasionally pay for a tumble with a woman when his hand no longer sufficed for pleasure. He was a rough, simple man who had not expected to live to see his fortieth year. 

When he had been attacked, when the change had occurred, those needs changed. He had become more animalistic, even though he had never filled another woman on his rare treks to the village. He had been unwilling to risk this. A child or creature born of his curse. Yet the wolf had now decided for him. 

She is carrying his child. His offspring would be born soon. The need to improve the little space that she carves out for herself every day drives him to work tirelessly. The wolf gives him strength and stamina that he hadn’t had when he was a mercenary. He could only imagine the coins he would have if he had been, although his monthly change would have gotten him killed eventually. 

Still, he chopped wood and expanded the clearing of her cottage. Stacking cords of kindling in neat rows and grunting in satisfaction every time the thud of the axe rang out in the forest. The deer and rabbits no longer nibbled in her vegetable garden. The little nuisances kept clear once he had marked the area. She had babbled at him one day about it, how she can’t believe that she isn't losing any crops this season. 

Moss was shoved into the chinks in the logs of her home with his dagger. Stuffing them full so that the fierce winds would not blow in when they came. The cave would have been better, he knows that no wind will get inside, she would be warm and safe, but he couldn’t demand that she leaves her home. This cottage was her safety, she was comfortable here and he can’t make his mate worry. Not in her condition. 

Mate. He tries to rationalize the word. She had never said she would be his. The wolf had decided, taken her for his own. Still, Pero tried to resist. To cling to the remaining humanity he possesses and keep his distance while she grows round with his child.  

When she leaves the clearing of the cottage he follows her. Never seen, he stays back, giving her the space she deserves but he would never leave her unprotected. Not when there are other things in the forest that could hurt her or the babe. He watches over her as gathers berries for the mouthwatering jams and fruit pies that she makes. Her little cellar is overflowing and he’s already planning on digging her out another one. 

He never disturbs her, never wanting her to feel as if she doesn’t have her freedom. It’s more that the wolf that is inside him screams to protect her. As if his mere presence will prevent her from falling and twisting an ankle. 

****

Silence, the woods around him are always filled with silence. His mere presence means that not a creature dared to stir near him. He could smell them, the rabbits and other small creatures that made the woods home. All hiding in their dens as if he were on the prowl with the moon shining overhead.

Maybe that’s why she slipped from his sight. He was too busy listening to the silence. Or maybe it was because he was caught up in the heady thoughts of how she had taken him, in his wolf form. Or how she had unfurled for him like the most delicate flower under the hot laps of his tongue. Just thinking of her brought the taste to his lips, making him lick the dry skin. 

When his head turns, he doesn’t see her. His entire body stiffening and every well honed sense comes alive as the creature inside him demands to know where his mate is. Clawing to get out with the coming moon. 

It doesn’t take long to find her. While his senses are never as sharp as when he becomes the monster that lurks under his skin, it is still better than when he had been a mere man. Following the hunger that lingers in the air, another wave of arousal hits his nose and makes his cock twitch painfully beneath the breeches that chafe since he has started wearing them more. 

When it had just been him around his cave, he had spent several days after his night as the wolf just wearing his skin. Settling back into himself. He hadn’t wanted her to be uncomfortable with his nudity. Not when he had shown up at her doorstep bare assed and announcing that he was the wolf that had impregnated her. 

Tovar slips through the wood quietly. His footsteps are sure and light, barely stirring any of the foliage that litters the floor and no sticks breaking give away his position or approach. He moves like the mist through the trees and in the past he would have been proud of his ability to move so undetected. He could have charged more coin for his skills. 

Now it doesn’t matter. Not when his eyes land on her. Widening slightly as his nostrils flare. Both exhaling harshly at the sight and inhaling deeply, reveling in the way that her sweet cunt seems to saturate the very air in the clearing. 

She is lying on the forest floor. He would have feared that she had fallen and hurt herself if it was not for her position. Legs splayed and skirt and shift pushed up over her swollen belly, her fingers between her thighs. Rubbing that little bundle of nerves that was so responsive to his touch the last time he had lapped at it with his tongue. 

His mouth waters, cock throbbing and twitching as he watches. He shouldn’t, just like he shouldn’t have done a lot of things to her, but he doesn’t even blink. Listening to her soft moans, her eyes closed and biting at her lip until it is plump and swollen as she tries to quiet herself. 

Her belly is in the way, making her hitch her legs higher, spreading them wider so that she can reach her cunt like she wants. He swallows harshly, reaching down and squeezing himself through the leather pants as she dips her fingers into her cunt, wishing that he was sliding inside her as he was now. 

He remembers how it felt around the monster’s cock. Oft wondering how she would take him as he is right now. Would she feel as tight, as hot as she had that night when she cried out so loudly that the heavens heard. His groan is quiet, not disturbing her as her hips start to move, aiding her fingers. 

“Pero…” His eyes pop open, expecting to see her staring at him in horror, but her eyes are still shut, brow knitted in concentration as she stuffs her cunt full of her fingers and pump them in and out frantically. “Pero. Fuck- more.” 

She is thinking about him. His heart pounds in his chest and he wants to rush into the clearing and sink into her. To take her again and this time look in her eyes when she cums on his cock. He doesn’t, instead he watches while she whines and fingers her cunt, working herself closer to cumming with every roll of her wrist. 

It’s beautiful, wild and base. His growl surprises him, rumbling out softly and he feels the part of him that he can’t control clawing to the surface, itching to get out just as soon as the fat, waxy moon breaks. 

He doesn’t feel bad about watching her pleasure herself, instead he’s proud that it’s his name that is pouring from her lips in small gasps. That what he is doesn’t make her fear him. He had honestly expected fear or revulsion, but she is different. The idea that it is because she is his mate is one that the werewolf inside him tries to continuously drive home. 

His breathing is uneven as he hears the wetness of her cunt, tasting it in the air as she pulls her fingers out of her little hole and starts rubbing her clit again. Her pants echo in his ears, calling for him and he remembers the sweet sound of her screaming her pleasure both times he had heard them. 

Her cry of pleasure is soft, slow and he knows that she isn’t fulfilled. She had bucked and screamed under his body and then last month - his tongue. The small tremor of her body wasn’t enough of his inner beast demands that he take care of his mate. 

Still, he doesn’t make his presence known, keeping silent as she stands slowly and lowers her skirts down again. Knowing that moment had been for her and he didn’t want to embarrass her. Watching her walk off into the woods towards the cottage. 

As soon as he can no longer hear her, Pero is moving. Rushing out from the trees that had given him cover and over to the patch of mossy floor that she had just lain on, his fingers rip at his breeches. The smell of her cum is overwhelming, filling his nostrils and flooding his senses as he pulls his aching cock out. 

Pero doesn’t even spit in his hand, just starts to furiously stroke his cock, pulling his foreskin down and using the precum that has coated the tip for some slickness. It’s drier than her cunt would be but he doesn’t mind, prefers it as he tugs on it with quick, hurried motions of his hand. So built up it doesn’t take more than a dozen strokes before he is cumming. 

Spilling onto the ground where she had touched herself, Pero marks it. Ropes of cum spurting out onto the moss and the dirt while he growls out her name to himself in the forest. Panting slightly while his hand starts to slow down, making sure every drop of his seed is worked out of his cock and falls into the earth. 

He tucks his softening cock away and wipes away a few drops of his cum on the leaves of a fallen tree before he turns to make his way towards the river. He doesn’t want her to see him come from the same area that she had been in, and wanting to wash properly so the scent of his cum was not covering her sweet smell. Pero huffs to himself as he treks through the forest. The hour of the wolf is creeping closer. 

****

“You must stay inside.” Pero repeats the same words he had spoken last month. Ignoring the way that she huffs and rolls her eyes as her hands stroke the roundness of her belly. “Do not come out until I have changed.” 

“Pero…” His skin quakes when she murmurs his name, remembering how she had cried it just this afternoon when she had cum on her fingers thinking of him. The beast growls, making his eyes flash yellow instead of his normal brown.

His mate falls silent, obviously feeling nervous about what she was going to say. It makes Pero huff slightly, and step closer to her. He doesn’t touch her often, never wanting her to feel uncomfortable with him. To pull away from him. Now though, he reaches out to cup her belly and then her cheek. “I will not risk hurting you or the babe.” He reminds her, his heart racing when she nuzzles slightly into his hand. “Leave your shift off so I do not rip it.” 

The sounds she makes is nearly a whimper, making his stomach clench and his cock twitch in the breeches he still wears. He will strip bare before he starts to change, unwilling to ruin them as his body and bones break and reknit together in the form of the beast. Her breath catches and he nods when he sees that she understands. Her own eyes blowing wide in anticipation and his hand flexes against her face for a moment before his touch softens again. 

She wants it. The knowledge of her lust for him makes him burn, anticipating the change with an eagerness he’s never experienced before. The pain would be worth it, every agonizing second of his transformation will be worth it to have her want him. 

The sun is starting to lower in the sky and he sighs softly before he drops his hand from her cheek. “Go inside.” He orders, not wanting her to see his transformation into the werewolf. He has no idea how it would look to someone, the only living being that has witnessed it is his horse and he cannot speak. His other fear is to somehow hurt her. Even if the beast is protective of her, he is not in complete control of himself. 

He watches as she obeys him. Turning and walking towards her cottage and the safety within. Grunting to himself as he starts to strip down. The absence of the material on his skin feels better and he folds the clothing neatly to set in his camp area. 

Minutes tick by, his heart pounding and he hears her move around inside the cottage. He wants to see what she is doing, see her as she moves about her tasks. Is she stripping down like he is now? Is she waiting until he scratches at the door like he had last month?

Oftentimes the idea of domesticity makes his heart ache. The simple tasks that the two of you manage for the other days of the month and yet it is not enough. He wants to watch you wake up, see you smile at him when your eyes open and to caress the rounded skin of your stomach while you sleep. 

His heart speeds up, sweat breaking out over his skin and the hairs on the back of his neck start to raise. The tell-tale signs that the cursed moon was about to break over the horizon. The beast is eager to be released, to be free to move about in his skin and to guard his mate, believing that he needs to take care of her better. 

The ringing in his ears starts, making him gasp as the first wave of pain crashes over him. Making him understand that the wolf would be tearing through quickly and he looks towards the door one last time through his human eyes, wondering if she is ready for the beast.

****

Sharp claws scratch, slowly to not gouge the wood too deeply, he throws his head back and howls. Proclaiming the woods and everything in them are his once again. Sending out a warning for all that lived in the woods to be wary tonight and seek their dens. 

Except for her. The door opens and his yellow eyes focus on her with the same intensity that he had watched her that first night. His cock already hardening when he sees that she is naked just like he had told her would be best. The tangy scent of her wet cunt makes him lick his chops, but he doesn’t push her to the ground like he had before. He was eager to taste her, but there was more that he wanted. 

He wanted her again. Her stomach is swollen, the evidence of his potent seed showing and making him growl as he leans in, his nose bumping up against the flesh and sniffing the babe that is resting in her womb. It’s growing, nurtured in her body under her breast and his tongue drags over her skin for one moment to taste it before he turns and starts to walk away from her. 

“Pero!” He growls, deep in his chest when she calls out to him, turning his head and seeing her confusion written on her face. It’s heavy enough in the air that the distress is rolling off of her in waves. Making him stand straight and stalk towards her. 

For her part, she doesn’t step back in fear. Her nipples are hard and her breathing heavy, but it’s not fear that has her panting. Her eyes are fixed between his legs where his cock had stirred and hardened. Her pretty lips parted and the whites of her eyes larger than normal. It makes the very human part of the beast imagine her lips around his length. 

That will not happen though. He has a destination in mind. Hands - claws, gently reach for her. Mindful that his mate is delicate, that she would not bear his marks if it could be helped. Her gasp is loud in his sensitive ears as he lift her, her weight nothing as he starts to carry her into the woods. 

He wants her back in that spot. The clearing that he had watched her just this morning. The mossy floor where he had fucked his seed into her womb would see the werewolf again. Not the man who had spilled his release over the ground earlier, but the wolf who had taken her so many moons ago. The howls and screams different this time. 

He moves swiftly, sensing that she is confused but her heartbeat pounds in his ears as if he had one pressed to her chest. It’s fluttering in her chest and her fingers brush over the coarse fur that covers his body. Tentative and then almost stroking it as if she were petting him. Another little rumble vibrates in his chest, pleased that she is curious. 

His cock swings wildly, still hard and the tip leaking as he breaks through the trees and sets her down. It aches and he wants nothing more that to push her to her knees and drive his cock deep into that tight cunt again, howling in pleasure the entire time. 

He won’t though. This time, the need to protect to comfort is greater that his own. He won’t risk harming the babe in her belly with his harsh thrusts. He’ll let her use him if she wishes. 

Laying down in the same spot she had just hours before, the werewolf settles on his back. His cock rests against his stomach and his yellow eyes watch as she bites her lip and flusters at obviously being back in this spot with him. 

“You- why did you bring me here?” She asks quietly, stepping forward and looking around while one hand drifts towards her stomach. She does that a lot, rubbing the babe when she is thinking or going about her day. He can’t answer her with words but his cock twitches and there is another low grumble in his chest. 

She should know why he brought here her. He tasted her cunt last full moon and then left her to rest, hunting for another deer to process when he had changed back into his human form. She had awoken to find him already working, processing the animal to save for the coming snows that were just a month shy of arriving. Soon it would be too cold to be nude out in the forest, and she would be too large with the babe. It was already surprising that it has stayed warm for as long as it has.

He wants to satisfy her needs. Her body screams for pleasure and it’s his duty to provide it for her. Memories of her fingers deep in her cunt makes him growl, his cock leaping up and another thick pearl of liquid seeping down into his fur and darkening it. 

Those eyes drift back down to his cock and his own narrow, pleased that he sees desire pooling in their depth as she licks her lips and inches forward again. “I- “ She doesn’t finish what she is thinking and he just watches her. Waits for her to move forward again. This is her choice.

It doesn’t take long for her to move beside him. Slowly creeping forward and finally touching his side with her leg. He grunts, making her eyes leave his throbbing cock, one that she had felt inside her, and move up to his face. 

He bares his teeth, not to scare her, but show his throat. Stretching it out, he shows her weakness. His most vulnerable place being presented to her as he sniffs the air. The slight crispness in the air added to the scent of lying leaves and bark, mixed with the earthy, loamy forest floor. Mixed with her arousal, now shiny and sliding down the inside of her thighs, it is intoxicating. 

It takes long minutes of staying still, not moving a muscle before she is on her knees beside him. Her fingers flexing as they reach out, freezing in midair before she touches him again. Fingers sinking into his fur and sliding down along the natural grain as she inches towards his cock. 

He growls again, making her freeze but his cock jerks up and she inhales sharply. Looking up at him again. “I- I have thought about this.” She confesses, making his chest swell slightly with pride. He knows she has, but admitting it to the wolf is brave. His mate is brave, taking him like she had and then allowing him to care for her. Now this. “Wondered what the cock that split me open looked like.” 

He grunts, watching her carefully and nudging his chin forward. She can explore if she wants, touch him however she wishes and use the cock that is hard for her pleasure. His growl turns to a low whine those fingers wrap around him. Tentative at first and then firmer, squeezing him and stroking up and down his overheated skin covering the stiff length. 

Still he doesn’t move. Letting her move at her own pace. Even if he huffs, bracing his body to attack her to flip her over and mount her again. His teeth snap together and his claws dig into the earth underneath him. 

Her moan at his restraint makes him whine, desperate for her hot cunt around him. Or even allowing him to lick her again. Something to satisfy this ache that is clawing inside him and making him want to bay at the moon. 

The wolf snarls when her leg lifts, swinging over his torso and sliding down to where his cock butts up against her ass. She doesn’t freeze this time, too needy to be fearful now that he hasn’t moved while she stroked his cock beyond the slight shift of his hips that had thrilled her. 

When she lifts her hips up, the wolf tenses again, anticipating that moment where the thick, slick head of his cock slides through her folds. He’s larger than her, he could cover her and overpower her at any moment but right now he watches as she lines him up and slowly starts to sink down on his thick, monstrous cock. 

Her moan fills his ears, panted out with every inch of flesh that she takes. Her cunt lips are stretched wide and he sees that it looks like she couldn’t possibly take him. But she can, he knows that she has and it was far less gentle that right now. He doesn’t thrust up even though instinct demands that he does. The need to protect his mate overrules it. 

Only when she is fully sat on his cock does he howl. Loud and long, his howl rings through the trees and the forest for all to hear. Calling out that he has been claimed this time, rather than being claimed. 

Growling and snarling, he watches her move. Lifting and lowering herself on his cock under her own power. Wanting to have him inside her. Wanting the wolf. 

Her cries start soft, pinched with slight pain as his girth stretches her out. Slowly getting louder as her inner muscles relax, the frown between her brows smoothing out and her mouth dropping open while her hands brace on his chest, tangling into his hair. 

His mate is riding him. Grumbling out happily while his hips shift up just once, making her bounce and another loud moan ripping out of her throat. Rocking back and thrusting her tits out while her belly stands out between them. Still he doesn’t take over. The monster content to let her use him, craving the hot clench of her cunt, the slickness of her cunt when she cums. 

She bounces on him, her own pace getting rougher and faster. Gasping out mewls that fill the air and sound desperate while her fingers dig into his flesh. It would look incredible if the wolf didn’t know that they were alone in the forest for miles. A large grey werewolf on his back while a smaller human fucks herself on his cock. He growls and watches as she reaches up to gently cup her breasts. 

Slowly his claws slide toward her skin, careful not to slice into her as they grip her body. Holding onto her hips as he starts to take over. She’s getting tired, her pace faltering and he can feel her cunt fluttering while she gallops towards an orgasm. 

His thrusts take over, making her wail out and nearly collapses down onto his chest. Only her burgeoning belly prevents it, but he doesn’t stop. Feeling her cunt lock down around his cock and flood it with heat and slick while he snarls loudly, rocking up into her harder. Instinct taking over and the need to cum all that is present in his mind. 

Feeling her shudder around him while his own need sharpens, panting out snarls and growling in exquisite pleasure for another have dozen thrusts before he is bucking up and holding her tight, another howl - softer this time - dragged out of him in the same pulsing tempo of his cock twitching. 

Flooding her already occupied womb with another torrent of his seed, the wolf huffs. He had reached his breaking point, giving into the desires of the monster and the human - although he tried to deny it. Pleased that he had satisfied his mate. 

[azures-bazar]

To His Eyes

Here's a one shot following the lovely request of @bubblegumbitchs-world ! The plot was that buff female!reader was insecure about her body, and Arthur is here to comfort her !

I added a few things to the plot, like Micah being mean (as always). Please excuse all these mistakes or non-sense English terms, some of them make sense in French lol

Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader 

Word count : 2.8k

Short summary : You always had a stronger build, as far as you could remember. And Arthur is probably your number one supporter whenever you feel down about it ! 

Tags : Buff woman, Chapter 2, insecurity, cute, you’re beautiful, your muscles are astonishing, Arthur admires and loves you, post Sean’s return party, Micah being mean

"Y/N !" Lenny shouted from the other side of the camp while getting to his horse. "Could you chop some wood ? I have to head to town and can’t do it now ! I’ll pay you back !"

"I’m on it !" 

You put down your morning coffee and headed over to the pile of wood Lenny had left for you. You did not mind trading tasks since you knew how busy Lenny could be at times. Charles was away hunting with Arthur, John was still not feeling well, and Sean… well let’s say your favourite Irish Terrier was too busy sleeping it off after last night’s party before his guard duty. You were the only fella suitable for a task you somewhat enjoyed at times. Wearing one of Arthur’s shirts and a plain grey skirt, you obliged. 

As far as you could recall, you always had a strong build. You had been stronger than the vast majority of children since a very young age, always carrying the weakest ones around the streets of your town. Dutch found you by chance somewhere in 1894 while you were having some hard time finishing a brawl after a drunk man, displaying a cruel lack of decency, had tried courting you by dragging you close to him. You had pushed him away, resulting in a fist fight, which then escalated to a brawl in the entire saloon. Dutch had dragged you out of the pit and took you to his hideout without questioning anything about your bruise-covered face. 

"We need another pair of strong arms, this lady right here will do the trick !" you heard him laugh as you were left with Arthur 

Morgan had spent a few hours trying to stitch your wounds, which was something you obviously hated. He had tried catching your attention by getting to know your name, calmly reminding you that you were safe with him, joking about his current torture in order to make you smile. It took you two weeks to get back on your feet and work with the rest of the gang members, performing chores that were mostly assigned to men due to your strength. Arthur unexpectedly fell for you while you were carrying sacks to Mr. Pearson’s wagon, dropping them nearby before adjusting your hair. 

Arthur had often found himself staring at you, sketching your movements in his journal while contemplating your beauty. He admired your strength, your shape, your beautiful traits, the way you could easily cut Bill’s speeches about women being inferior to men. Even Davey and Mac respected you for that ! Arthur was quick to find himself dreaming about you, waking up shaken and almost sad since nothing he had seen earlier was real. He had made a very first awkward move to tell you how beautiful you were by slipping a drawing on your cot with a note inviting you to meet him in the middle of the night outside camp. His confession was the sweetest thing you had ever heard as you could tell this brawny man, looking so threatening at times with his heavy Southern accent and rowdy behaviour, was as adorable as a puppy whenever he was around you ! 

Your affair had started just a few weeks prior to Blackwater’s ferry heist. Arthur often took you to town, enjoying spending time with you at the saloon or taking you to the tailor for you to get better clothes. Your shape was different than the rest of the girls, and you deserved more than a full ocean of gold according to Arthur. Your stay at Colter, holding onto each-other on his bed had brought the two of you close enough to lead you to share his tent at Horseshoe Overlook. At least, neither you nor him would have to walk through the entirety of the camp to see one another ! Surprisingly enough, it was Dutch’s idea to to bring the two of you together, for the better… and the worse, since you were not this quiet most of the nights.

As you finished your chopping wood, you walked around the hideout to carry a few sacks to Pearson’s wagon before stumbling upon Micah, who had left his chair to head to you, smoking his cigarette with a large smile. You crossed your arms on your chest as you wanted him to move aside, but whenever you tried stepping near him, Micah would move and block your way. Meeting his gaze made you regret not begging Arthur to leave him in Strawberry. 

"And here’s our strong lady." Micah smirked. "How does it feel to have your clothes directly borrowed from Arthur’s stash ?" 

"Get lost." you said as you noticed Karen nearby, who was quick to stop her guard duty as soon as she noticed you

"Must be hard being a lady and having to buy men’s clothes since women’s are too tight."

Ever since the day Dutch brought him in, Micah’s favourite hobby had been to tease everyone around camp, often provoking women. You were his favourite target since you could easily fight back, he had adored the first punch you gave him after witnessing him acting inappropriate towards Mary-Beth. 

"'Em big arms are good for a man, but for a lady…-" Micah laughed

"Shut up." Karen said, interrupting him as she noticed you trying to hold yourself from punching him 

"In my opinion, ladies built like men shouldn’t be called…-"

"No one cares ‘bout your opinion. Leave her alone." 

Micah smirked and walked away as Karen carefully placed her riffle on the ground, taking your hands between hers. Being Micah’s second favourite target due to her overall behaviour, she could not help but feel empathy towards you.  

"Are you okay ?" she asked. "Micah’s always a dick with us ladies." 

"I’m alright." you smiled. "I… I should get back to my chores."

You quickly walked away from Karen, grabbing a few more bags while making your way to Pearson’s wagon, doing your best to avoid Micah who kept looking at you from his seat. His sole remark about your arms made you vanish under a wave of insecurity towards your own body. You looked at the girls, analysing their beauty while they were apparently stitching a skirt. 

It had always been easy to notice that your body type was a little different from theirs. Your muscles were more defined and larger, you were in a perfect shape since you were active most of the time, only sitting down three times a day as you were doing so many things around camp. When you were not doing chores or hunting, you could be sent outside to rob some shops. You were never truly resting, always being active, which caused your muscles to remain as defined as they were. 

"Damn." you grumbled

You found yourself envying the girl’s various body shapes. From Karen’s beautiful curves to Tilly’s thin corseted waist, the way Molly held herself, how sweet Mary-Beth appeared… Micah had made you highly doubt yourself, despite your overall shape never caused you any trouble earlier. In fact, you were proud of it, despite having to borrow some of Arthur’s tightest shirts at times since the ones the girls were wearing were not fitting or could be uncomfortable for your daily tasks. Your body was different and, despite you felt insecure about it, everyone loved the way you looked. 

The girls admired you, you were strong and beautiful ! You were kind and so sweet, with a precious porcelain heart anyone could notice. Men around camp adored your implication into chores, you often demanded more to keep up, frequently asking anyone if they needed help. Even Bill was always amazed by the way you could do things the rest of the girl couldn’t. But your number one admirer and probably best support was Arthur, and nobody could deny it. 

You were his everything, his sweetest girl, his darling lady he would love until his last breath. He loved having you rest into his arms, drawing circles on your back, massaging your scalp while whistling a few old melodies his father had taught him decades ago. He adored the sight of you wearing his shirts since most of them were too large for you, drawing your portraits by night when you were asleep. He loved seeing you wear pants and skirts, dresses or even rags. Every single thing you were wearing suited you, and he was quick to remind it.

"M’lady, you could wear a tent as a dress and a flower pot as a hat, everything suits you !" he often said 

You kept doing a few chores around camp, barely noticing Arthur and Charles were back from hunting. After giving some meat to Pearson, Arthur’s very first gesture was to gently kiss your forehead. Instead of spending time with him, knowing that your chores were done, you decided to withdraw inside your tent to get some rest and untie your corset, wanting to take it of for the rest of the day. 

Since he came back to camp, Arthur could not take his eyes away from you. He could easily notice something was wrong, he could feel it. Just by the way you held yourself, or how quickly you headed to your tent, closing its flaps behind you. Whenever he would come back, even after a few hours, you would spend the rest of the day with him, sitting on his knees by the fire, singing old ballads with him, kissing him under the ocean of stars above your head… but not that day. 

Arthur had left his current conversation with Javier and Sean to head to your shared tent, calmly clearing out his voice before entering, not wanting to walk in while you were getting dressed. Indeed, he had seen you naked more than once, but he did not want to have anyone look inside the tent while passing behind him, just out of curiosity. Sean was quick to do it at times, but no one had the right to see your body bare but Arthur. 

"Can I come in ?" he asked 

"Yes." 

You sighed as you took your shirt off, moving your arms back to reach the laces of your corset. Ms. Grimshaw had given it to you a few days after you arrived, she had worn it years ago when her shape was a little similar to yours. It fitted you perfectly, but you wanted to take it off, feeling the need to wander around camp without it for a few minutes. A dress and one of Arthur’s shirts would certainly do the trick ! 

"Hey sweetheart." Arthur said, walking inside as you were untying your corset. "What’s wrong ?"

"Are my arms really this big ?" you asked, dropping your corset on the ground

"What ?" 

"Am I built like a man ?"

"What the hell are you talkin’ about ?" 

You turned back to Arthur while dragging a skirt out of your chest, putting it on over your chemise as he approached you, looking concerned. You stepped back, wishing for an answer first. You could easily spot Arthur’s confusion as his eyes were quick to speak for him. You proceeded putting on one of your shirts you usually would wear for the evening. It was a tailor-made blue blouse Arthur had bought you back in Blackwater. Your favourite. 

"Just… just tell me if I’m built like a man." you asked, being suddenly brought to tears 

"Of course you ain’t !" Arthur laughed, believing you were joking. "What the hell, Y/N ? Haven’t seen a man lookin' as feminine as you yet !"

Arthur’s reaction made you chuckle, but tears were quick to make their way out of your eyes. You hid your face behind your shaking hands as you started crying, doing your best to mute yourself. Micah’s comments were repeating themselves in your poor mind, causing you to break down into pieces despite knowing how beautiful you were, and how amazingly you were built. 

"Oh, princess… c’mere." Arthur said, opening his arms to greet you

"I’m sorry, I’m…-" 

"C’mere."

You walked forward and threw yourself into Arthur’s embrace, burying your head in his shirt, allowing yourself to cry against him. One of his large hands made its way to your hair while the other one kept caressing your back. He kissed the top of your head and closed his eyes. 

"Lemme guess… Micah’s been sayin’ shit." 

"Mmmm-mmmm…" you hiccuped

"I’m so sorry he’s such a bastard…" 

"It ain’t y-your f-fault…"

Arthur kissed the top of your head, feeling deeply saddened about your the way you felt. He was sorry for leaving you alone with Micah, he was sorry for bringing him back to camp after what they did in Strawberry. On a few occasions, Arthur would deeply wish to go back in time and stop Dutch from leaving camp on the day he would encounter Micah. Life might have been easier without him around, the Blackwater’s botched heist would never had taken place, and you would not be crying into his embrace by now. However, there was one thing which made him outrageously devastated, one single thing which was quick to bring him to tears : witnessing you being insecure about your body. 

"It’s alright, sweetheart." Arthur whispered to your ear as you clung onto his shirt. "I got you."

Needless to say, Arthur adored your body. He would run his fingers on your toned arms, on your back, on your calves, and often admire how beautiful you were. You were his main subject when it came to sketching people. You were so inspiring, inside and outside ! Whatever you were doing, Arthur loved it. To his eyes, you were the most beautiful woman in the world. A large shining sun which was blinding him with love. You were the beautifulest gem of his crown, his pride and most certainly one of the main reasons why he was still alive. There were no other women like you, so sweet, kind and caring, so gentle and so strong, eager to help anyone, whatever the situation was. He loved you for who you were, and the rest of the world did not matter as long as he had you by his side. 

It took him about five minutes to calm you down. You left his embrace after some time, he firmly held you by the shoulders, looking into you eyes with a large smile. You could easily feel lost when your eyes would meet his, they were the main reason why you fell in love. His puppy glance won you over so often that you could not even count the number of times you had forgiven Arthur’s attitude and manners. His beautiful green eyes were quick to show you all the support you needed, you knew Arthur was quick when he had to cheer you up, just like you were with him. 

"You don’t have large arms, and you ain’t built like a man." Arthur smiled. "You’re literally a greek goddess or somethin’. You’re perfect."

"You’re saying it because you like me." 

"First of, I ain’t likin’ you, I love. And secondly, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, period. I love your body, I love bittin’ your well-shaped muscles when we’re in bed, run my fingers on your body… I love you, as a whole." 

"Arthur, I…-" 

"If you don’t believe me, lemme try something. SEAN !" 

You gasped, hiding behind Arthur while buttoning your shirt above your chemise as Morgan called for Sean a second time, you heard him scream from the other side of the camp. He was probably eating some stew or was drinking a whiskey before going on guard duty, and would not hesitate to look between your tent flaps if needed ! 

"Oi ! What’s it, English ?!" Sean shouted 

"Ain’t Y/N beautiful ?!" Arthur asked 

"Oh, ya ! One of the most beautiful women of that damn country with Miss Jones !"

"Shut up, Sean !" Karen laughed behind your tent 

"See ?"

This overall interaction made you laugh. Arthur turned his head back to you and gently lifted your chin up for you to meet his gaze one more time. This time, he was blushing. Just the sight of you smiling at him was quick to make him believe some butterflies were flying in his stomach. You were such a gorgeous woman, even Sean, being in love with Karen, was quick to confirm it !

"Darlin’, you know you’re so beautiful when you smile." he mumbled 

"Thank you, Arthur." 

Don’t ever let Micah make you feel like that. You’re a beautiful woman, the most beautiful I know. Nobody should convince you otherwise. 

You nodded, allowing Arthur to drop a soft kiss on your lips before embracing you one more time. Your confidence was still hurt, but Morgan’s words were so encouraging and genuinely filled with love that Micah’s comments were quick to be forgotten. You nuzzled your head into Arthur’s neck, allowing him to kiss your forehead. You felt protected, you felt loved. You did not need anything but Arthur at this moment.

To his eyes, you were beautiful. And nothing would change his mind, nothing. 

Nothing. 

Nothing.

[woodaba]

We Wouldn't Have Alan Wake II Without Quantum Break

Remember Quantum Break? The first game announced for the Xbox One? The link between cult classic Alan Wake and surprising studio-saving hit Control? That prominently features Lance Reddick, the much-missed actor who was frequently one of the most electric screen presences of our time?

Don't worry, I barely do either, and I played the game yesterday.

So, a refresher. Quantum Break, announced in 2013 alongside the Xbox One and released three years later, is a third-person shooter starring Shawn Ashmore aka Iceman from the X-Men movies as Jack Joyce (and not Jake Joyce as I constantly remembered him as. In my defense, it's a better name, if only because then his superhero name could be Quantum Jake...), who, after being turned into A Remedy Entertainment Protagonist after a time-travel experiment gone wrong, battles against fellow Remedy Entertainment Protagonist Aidan Gillen aka Doctor Pavel I'm CIA as Paul Serene, over what to do about an imminent apocalypse after Time starts Breaking because of the aforementioned time-travel experiment.

As a rehabilitating former Doctor Who obsessive, I'm particularly open to this kind of time-travel nonsense, but Quantum Break is frustratingly unwilling to capitalize on its own premise. Interesting things happen, sure: people get stuck in causality loops, confront and become acausal time monsters, and live entire second lives in the past after time-traveling, but almost none of it occurs to Jack Joyce: he just spends his time just shooting guys in a series of warehouses and offices. Quantum Break is a potentially interesting story that we don't really get to see anything of, instead anything compelling in the narrative is relayed to us second-hand, by the myriad emails and documents scattered throughout the gunfights, or over the radio, and, of course, Remedy's now-signature multimedia ambitions.

In between acts of the video game Quantum Break, you'll be treated to episodes of the TV show Quantum Break, a live-action c-tier circa-2009 network TV production starring some of the big(ish) names that headline the game Quantum Break, but mostly follows a cast of extras who navigate around the events of the game while working for baddie Paul Serene's Evil Corporation, Monarch.

It's in the TV show that what Quantum Break actually is begins to take shape. Remedy, as a studio, has always been interested - and unusually adept at - pastiche, whether it's the noir comic stylings of their still-astonishing Max Payne duology or the rickety but deeply charming Stephen King love-in that is Alan Wake. And here, they do a genuinely stellar job at replicating the look, feel, and sensibilities of a 2008-2013 network TV Lost/Fringe rip-off that gets canceled after one season.

That may sound backhanded, but I assure you it isn't. I've long been a fan of Remedy, in spite of, or perhaps because I don't think they've made a truly great game since Max Payne 2. In a medium that often pillages relentlessly from Film and TV, Remedy set themselves apart from their competition with the depth of their understanding of the production of film, bringing into games a deftness of set construction and filmic pacing that blows their contemporaries out of the water. Even more-lauded names like Naughty Dog and Rockstar come up short against Alan Wake's hauntingly gorgeous misty woods, best illustrated with Rockstar's Max Payne 3, which matched Remedy's cinematographical flair in the cutscenes, but fell far short of their level design chops and breadth of influences.

Quantum Break is, in aesthetics and production, a genuinely extremely well-considered pastiche of this period of sci-fi television that is now comfortably in the rear-view mirror, the time since its release having given it a real nostalgic charm that would have been dulled at the time of release. It really reminded me of the years I spent watching shows like Heroes, or Flash/Forward, shows that may not have been very good, but are intoxicatingly emblematic of their time and place, hiding just beneath the floorboards of the shows that would actually get to be remembered.

It's a shame, then, that it just fails to really compel on any level beyond appreciation for the pastiche.

Much like the gameplay, the TV episodes of Quantum Break feel almost ancillary to another, better story that we never get to see. The stars of the game feel wasted here - particularly Lance Reddick, one of my favorite actors, who steals the show every time he appears, but is given vanishingly little to do in comparison with a group of wafer-thin characters that struggle to manifest a single dimension, with relational at best connection to the concerns of the narrative. It looks like a particularly budget-strapped episode of Warehouse 13, sure, but it doesn't really feel like one, as the episodes - until the last one, which is a noticeable improvement - are shockingly paceless and devoid of the arcs that would make a singular episode of television compelling. They are, ultimately, primarily dreary, overlong, and constantly highlighting the fact that they are largely interstitial filler.

It would be wrong to accuse Remedy of not having their heart in Quantum Break, as there is too much evident passion to discount, but I do feel like they struggle to find a core to this idea, something that they truly want to explore. Whether I'm playing the game or watching the show, QB leaves everything on the surface, with nothing to really find beneath the surface. It's notable that the game is absolutely filled with constant allusions to Alan Wake - including a full-blown trailer found on a TV moments after starting the game that bears startling resemblance to the eventual plot of this year's Alan Wake II - and that the game started life as a pitch to Microsoft for Alan Wake II: one suspects that they would much rather be making that game at this moment in time than Quantum Break, or that the game is a test-bed of ideas for the studio's future, the act of throwing a thousand darts at a quantum dartboard, and seeing which ones find their mark. It's just that for this effort, precious few of them do.

And yet, the surprise is that by the end, I truly felt like Remedy was genuinely onto something with the spirit of Quantum Break's ideas, if not the execution of them. The television show is the thing that makes Quantum Break live, that marks it out as something worth remembering in a sea of slick third-person shooters with cinematic ambitions. It is the icon of the foundational belief of the Xbox One, that the future of games lay in a synthesis with television, a dead-end future that had already worn out by the time the game was actually released. What remains is little more than a gimmick, sure, but it is one that, by the end, is oddly compelling, even if most of it is terrifically boring to actually experience.

There is a genuine thrill to seeing characters in both video game graphics and live-action forms, shifting between the two seamlessly thanks to some genuinely well-realized digitized actors that still look good today, a shift that blends well with the time-space bending of the plot. Do I care about Jack Joyce, as a person? Not even slightly. Did I still grin when I saw Actual Shawn Ashmore briefly appear in the TV episodes after controlling Virtual Shawn Ashmore? Absolutely. It's the same kind of shallow thrill you get from Cheers allumni showing up for a visit in Frasier, or when the Torchwood crew talk around the presence of Mr. Doctor Who, Esq, but as something that works with what the game is doing rather than distracting your attention elsewhere.

The gameplay portions represent time breaking down with (genuinely cool, if shallow) shards of space and glass and stuttering loops of physical time, but the collision of the Real and the Virtual feels so much more effective in communicating the idea of time and space shattering and colliding into one another. I just wish it played in this space more, focusing on Ashmore, Reddick, Monaghan, and Hope, rather than the cast of goons and extras who feel wholly separated from the game until the final mission.

I'd like to say that I'd love Remedy to take another crack at this idea, with the lessons they've learned from Control and Alan Wake II, but that already feels like a fool's hope. The ballooning costs of video game development make the idea of filming an entire TV mini-series alongside it feel laughable. Sure, Control's live-action segments were plentiful and superbly produced, but they were also far more restrained than Quantum Break, focusing on short segments with one non-big-name actor each in a couple of highly reusable sets. With both this and its open-world, side-questing structure with plenty of loot and upgrades to collect, Control is something largely in line with the realities and productions of modern game development

Quantum Break isn't rooted in reality for even a second. It's a time-locked instant, the most 2015 game ever made, which makes it all the better that it came out in 2016. There's no future in what Quantum Break envisions. It's a failed experiment, something to shrug at and move on. And yet, it compels me regardless, despite the fact that I don't really like it.

We need games like this, I feel. Historical curios like this show that the shifting landscape of the medium isn't a straight line, it splits off into splintered fraying timelines, some leading to nothing, but others spilling back in unexpected ways. After all, Courtney Hope, who played Beth Wilder here, returned for the starring role in Control, and that game feels so keenly like the product of lessons learned from QB, with everything from the live-action segments, the document-reading, and the combat feeling like a progression from Remedy's previous work. In particular, my complaints about QB's narrative taking place almost entirely off-screen evolves into a hugely compelling aspect of Control, with the genuine highlight of that game being reading the endless documents detailing the horrors and nightmares of America transcribed into corporate mundanity.

And while I've only played a taster of Alan Wake II, there's no doubt in my mind that that game, a bona-fide critical darling the likes of which Remedy hasn't had since Max Payne 2, owes a great debt to QB. Not least because its engine provides the framework for the game, but also because, well, it's been in there, this whole time.

Waiting for The Return.

[yowyowyaoi]

Sasodei Christmas Headcanons

❄️ Deidara insists on a real tree, not artificial, every year. Sasori agrees and takes him out into the woods to chop one down. But once they’re out there Deidara fawns over how “perfect” each tree is and “feels bad” about cutting them down. Day ends with a trip to the store for a nice plastic tree. Sasori would prefer keeping the light and ornament scheme monochromatic, but Deidara prefers a helter-skelter of colors and ornaments and lights and tinsel. Sasori always lets him have his way because of how cute he looks when he’s excited.

❄️ They don’t really buy presents for each other, but they spend a lot of time picking out gifts for the others in the Akatsuki. Their “gift” for each other is planning a nice vacation to take together after the holidays.

❄️ Sasori doesn’t like Christmas decorations going up until December 1st at the earliest. Deidara starts sneaking things out of storage the day after Halloween.

❄️ Deidara starts a “tradition” where from Dec 1 to Dec 25 he and Sasori watch one Christmas movie a night. During this time they’re not allowed to check their phones or work on their hobbies or do anything at all other than spend time together. At first Sasori didn’t like this but he eventually grew into it when he saw how excited Dei would get each night when it was time for the movie to start. 

❄️ Sasori makes absolutely delicious Christmas cookies. He gets many special requests from other people to bake them for parties and get-togethers. He can’t eat but he remembers baking with his mother during the holiday season, and he has Dei there to taste-test all of his creations. His specialty are gingerbread men dressed up/made to look almost like carbon-copies of the person he’s making them for.

❄️ Sasori’s favorite thing in the world is to sit in a room that’s totally dark except for the lights of the tree, with Deidara’s head in his lap, as the two quietly tell each other about their days.

❄️ Deidara’s mother would make what she called a Christmas Scrapbook every year. It would start on December 1st and end on December 25th. In it would be pictures of the two of them together, and the different fun things they would do that month. Deidara’s mother died when he was around 12, and the scrapbooks stopped. He told Sasori about it when they had been dating for about 3 years, and thought nothing more about it. Then on Christmas of that year Deidara found himself unwrapping a beautifully put together scrapbook of the two of them together, and all the things they did that month. On the very last page Sasori taped a Diamond ring and wrote “To Be Continued?” underneath. Deidara sobbed. They got married 5 months later, a week after Deidara’s birthday.

❄️ Sasori absolutely loves wrapping presents. He likes making the packages look perfect and uniformed, and adding ribbons and bows to everything when he gets a chance. Deidara hates wrapping gifts; he’s all thumbs and most of the time more tape gets stuck to him than the wrapping paper. So he’ll usually convince Sasori to wrap up his gifts for him.

❄️ Both of them like Christmas music when they’re listening at home or in the car, but for some reason their love turns to hate when they hear it played in public places. If they’re in a store where that music is playing, they’ll purposely (and obnoxiously) talk so loudly that it drowns the tunes out. Or Deidara will change the lyrics of the songs to be “funny” aka inappropriate. They’ve been asked to leave several places due to this behavior. It becomes a bit of a competition with them, to see how many stores they can be kicked out of before December 25th rolls around.

❄️ The day before Christmas Eve is spent visiting/exchanging gifts with Sasori’s grandmother. She almost always knits them sweaters. Sasori hides his in the back of his closet but Deidara loves his, often wearing them until they fall off his body. 

❄️ Christmas Eve is spent with the other members of the Akatsuki. They exchange gifts with each other and they also do a Secret Santa on top of that, but the gift they get for the person they draw is supposed to be silly/funny. Sasori will give gifts according to each person’s tastes, but Deidara will give sculptures. Every time. Whether they explode or not depends on whether Deidara feels the person has been Naughty or Nice that year.

❄️ Christmas Day is just the two of them. They watch movies and Sasori makes Dei a lovely Christmas dinner. That he eats WAY too much of, and usually ends up with a stomachache. Deidara is a bit like a dog when it comes to food; he has a complete lack of self-control. If you put a whole turkey in front of him, forget taking a few slices, he will attempt to eat the. whole. turkey.

❄️When they have kids, Elf on the Shelf becomes like an Olympic event for the two of them. They take turns each night competing to see who can have the elf in funnier poses. Sasori’s best was filling the sink full of cereal, placing the elf sitting over the sink next to a jug of milk, holding a large spoon and a note that said “Sorry, I couldn’t find a big enough bowl!” Deidara’s best was the elf sitting on the kitchen counter next to a can of ginger surrounded by slices of bread, with a note that read “Surprise! I made you a gingerbread house!” Their kids love this tradition and can’t wait to wake up each day to see what the elf has done.