#snow king maker

[gritsandbrits]

Azaleasdoll is a WITCH to go through on mobile -_-

Anyways here is my reference of Abel that I made in Snow King. It makes sense if Adam is a main character so should his kids. I also want to give Abel a personality because he never really gets to shine.

I gave him traits not seen much on Disney princes & Hazbin men in general, so facial hair and ✨curls✨

Facial hair especially to spite the ending of Barbie's Nutcracker - more animated heroes with beards please!!

Gave him a tan complexion to SHOW he's POC, but could also be rationalized as being out in the sun all the time. Essentially we're doing away with that hideous gray skin.

Brown eyes to show his down to earth nature (and again, a trait not seen in Hazbin characters)

Blue & gold to complement of his father, with touch of purple to represent nighttime

Red rose over heart to symbolize blood, since he was the first human to die

Simple instrument made out of wood to show his preference for a simple lifestyle + contrast his father's gold guitar

Gold or Purple cape with starry designs

Blue halo representing sadness over what became of his family

Brown shoes resembling hooves, based on his job as a shepherd

Carries a brown and gold hook staff with a matching purple sash

Friendly, almost worried expression because he is constantly getting his dad out of trouble, as well as anxiety over losing his herd

Has a bard theming to his father's rockstar

Herds Counting Sheep but his favored of the bunch is a recently born and mischievous lamb he names Little Cloud.

Now for writing: Abel becomes a guardian of sleep, literally the whole counting sheep schtick. While he loves his father he doesn't agree with his whole Sinner vs. Winner mentality and especially disappointed in him when he finds out about the exterminations. But doesn't say anything out of fear of disappointing his dad.

After Adam's death Abel decides to go to Earth to process his grief; he ends up in Florida where he encounters nightmares imps attacking Avaline in her dreams. He manages to stop them but in the process Avaline wakes up. Abel escapes but accidentally leaves one of his lamb behind.

The next day Avaline is gerring ready for school when she sees rhe lamb roaming in her house; she tires to lool for the owner and meets Abel - who disguised himself as a human and tries to pass it off as a misunderstanding. Abel senses something odd about her, later he learns about Evangeline and Ava being her sister, and that Ava may also possesses Power. So he convinces Sera to assign him as her guardian angel until the mess is sorted out.

Where Charlie is a disney princess Abel is a disney prince minus the romance. His friendship with Ava becomes a key part in hsi journey of self rediscovery & familial bonding.

[leeknow-thoughts]

ELF TOY TESTING

rating : mature!!! (mdni)

tw(s) : enemies to fwb, switch!reader, switch!minho, reader and minho are both elves in Santa's workshop, mommy!minho towards the end!??!, all kinds of sex toys, petnames, praise and degrading, pegging, mean!minho, p in v, dom!reader for like 2 seconds

"It's either this or go back to that horrid job in toddler toys," Hyunjin tries to make you feel better.

You sigh, "what do they even do in Adult Gift Fulfillment?"

"Whatever it is, I'd choose it over my job training Dasher. I swear if he kicks me again I'm going to apply to work as a scout elf," Hyunjin rambles.

Your feet crunch against the snow as he walks you to the gingerbread house dedicated to the Adult Gift Fulfillment Center. "You'll do great, apparently this job is heavily sought after," Hyunjin tries to find the bright side.

You huff, "but apparently my business partner is a pain in the-"

"-It'll be okay! Promise you'll tell me all about it later tonight," Hyunjin cuts you off.

You finally notice you're in front of the large gingerbread house, you take a deep breath, trying to get rid of your nerves. You push open the door, instead of huge assembly lines and wrapping stations, you see desks where elves are reading papers and working on computers. "Oh I'm y/n, I'm the transfer," you say to the nearest elf.

"Oh hi, you're working in the product testing department I think?" the girl says with a confused look, "I'll show you the way."

You follow her up the stairs made of wafers onto the second floor. She stops and nods to the door of the Testing Department. "Just right in there!" she smiles with sympathy.

She must know how bad my new partner is you think.

You nod and thank her, open the door. It's unlike the large room downstairs, only a few desks with many rooms in the background. "Hi you're the new hire right?" A smiley elf with blonde hair, freckles, and kind eyes asks.

"Yeah, y/n, that's me," you smile at him.

"Felix," he pauses, hesitating what he's gonna say next, "this job is great, but uhm your partner is a little uhm..."

You interrupt him while he tries to find the words, "of an ass?"

"Yeah, you could say that," he chuckles awkwardly, "so I'm assuming you're a virgin?"

Your eyes bug out of your head, your jaw falling onto the floor, "a... huh? Excuse me?"

"A virgin?" he stops, "are you one?"

You feel your face heat up, unable to speak, nodding yes instead. He nods in understanding, "then I'll ask the toy makers to give you something easy, not too overwhelming y'know?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean?" he shoots back.

"Like what did," you lower your voice, "my virginity... have to do with testing toys?"

He stares at you blankly for a second before he starts chuckling, "they're adult toys, y'know like vibrators and butt plugs?"

You feel like you're going to faint, "WHAT?" you scream.

"Well yeah, this entire department's job is testing sex toys," he says with an incredulous smile plastered on his, rather handsome, face.

He gives you a soft smile, "it'll be fine, you can hopefully do your first testing by yourself, maybe get used to it before you start testing couple's toys with your partner."

"I-I mean is anyone going to watch me?" you stutter.

"Unless you're testing with Minho no, all you have to do is test it and then answer some questions afterwards," Felix explains, "here let me show you to your desk," he smiles.

He takes you through the office space, unlocking a door into one of the rooms in the back of the office space, "here's your testing office," he opens the door and hands you the keys.

You take the silver keys from him, you look inside the room. Felix steps inside and you follow. Inside is a king size bed with two nightstands, one on each side. A television on the opposite wall from the bed. A chute on the wall to the right of the bed. "Inside the nightstands are lube and condoms just so you know, and after you're done y'know... doing whatever... you put the toy down the chute and the TV will put questions on the screen and you just use the TV remote to answer them. And that's it, it's pretty easy. Also you can watch porn on the TV if you need to to you know... feel... anything," he says the last part awkwardly.

"Seems simple I guess? Oh wait, where do the toys get delivered to me from?" you question.

"There," he points to the indention in the wall with a light overhead it that you hadn't noticed yet.

"Oh well thank you Felix, you seem really nice," you compliment.

"So do you," he smiles, "also if you want to you can keep the toys you test. Just so you know," he winks.

You feel heat in your cheeks. "Well my testing room is next door, so if you ever need anything let me know, bye y/n," Felix says with a bubbly voice as he walks out of the room.

After the door shuts behind him you look back at the room, it is cozy, the dim lighting and comfortable feel are enchanting. The light above the wall indention blinks three times. You walk towards it. A small piece of the wall slides down, a box sized hole in the wall is all that's left, another elf holds the box out to you through the hole, "here you go, since it's your first day I figured I'd give you things pretty easy," the elf's kind voice says, "but later today you do have to do a testing with your partner Minho, we'll just send him to your room," they wait for you to take the box from their hands.

You do, "thank you," you reply.

The other elf removes their hands and then the piece of the wall slides back to cover the gap. You fiddle with the box in your hands. Deciding to open it after staring at it for a good few minutes.

Inside something that looks similar to a rose, on the top a small opening. You press the 'on' button, a small humming is heard. The TV automatically changes to a video of a woman sitting on her bed, the camera leveled with her core as she spreads her legs. Her bare pussy taking over the screen.

You scramble to remove your clothes, but hesitate when removing your underwear. "So this is supposed to suck on your clit," the girl on the screen says.

You watch hesitantly while sitting criss-crossed on the bed, wearing nothing but your bra and panties with the toy in your right hand. You watch the girl on screen turn the toy on, before she places it on her clit.

Apparently it must have felt good because she let out an erotic moan. You sigh, breathing out all your nerves, you lay back.

Spreading your legs, you move your underwear to the side. You hesitantly rub your pussy, fuck, were you supposed to be that wet?

You hold the toy in your right hand and you copy what the girl from the video does, you place it on the throbbing bud above your dripping hole.

Oh. Oh.

That's why so many elves want this job.

~~

You finished answering the last question with the TV remote, you decided to keep that toy for yourself.

You heard moans and whines from the room beside you, Felix, you recognized his deep voice.

You giggle to yourself. You found yourself still in a state of ecstasy.

A knock on your door before it opened up, you scurried to cover yourself with the bed sheets. The elf swiftly closed the door behind himself. His cat-like features were illuminated by the soft glow of lights in the room.

He takes one look at you and he smirks, "I'm Minho," he introduces himself smugly.

"I'm naked," you reply, "would you mind not looking at me?"

He rolls his eyes, but obliges. "You have nice tits," he comments whilst facing the wall.

"Excuse me?" you gaff.

"You heard, I said you have nice tits, and probably a pretty pussy too," he clarifies.

Your face is blank. There was no way they expected you to fuck him.

That was your first time meeting Minho, and it certainly wasn't your last.

The second time you met Minho you were testing a couple's toy, a strap on dildo. Minho was annoyed at you as he laid face down - ass up on the center of the bed, fingering his ass open. "God you really are incompetent, you don't even know how to finger someone. They could've at least not given me the Virgin Mary," he sighs as his fingers thrust in and out of his own ass.

The least you could do was jerk him off, you moved your hand down to his thick, long cock. "Squeeze it tighter around the tip," he critiques.

You follow his instructions, paying closer attention to his flared, dark brown cockhead. "Shit, maybe you're more of a slut than I thought you were," he rasps.

You continue your movements, until Minho stops you, "you can put it in now."

You grab the lube and squirt it on the dildo before you shift behind him on the bed, he looks back and guides the tip of the silicone toy into his throbbing asshole.

Once you bottom out in him you start moving, an awkward learning process, "God you dumb bitch, you don't even know how to fuck right!" he spits venom with his words.

You had enough, "shut up. I didn't ask you how you liked to be fucked did I?" you spit back.

You thrust your hips harder against him. Knocking the wind out of his lungs and the words out of his throat. You build up a rhythm for your hip movements.

"Huh? I want an answer Minho," you request.

His whines and moans grow louder as you thrust deeper and deeper inside him. "Huh? Too dumb to reply," you coo, "dumb little bitch."

Your hand comes down and you slap his ass. The action causes him to moan, "I-cumming-"

"Yeah, cum on my cock like the dumb bitch you are," you seeth.

The third time you had to test a toy with Minho he was having to wear a vibrating cock ring.

"Sure you can take it?" he raises his brow.

You scoff, but soon regret it when he starts moving. The constriction on his cock causing it to swell so deliciously. "Oh there you go, be nice and dumb for me," he mutters.

You throw your head back, you could feel all the ridges and veins of his fat cock inside your sensitive pussy. Everything felt surreal, so sensitive.

"Be a dumb little bitch for me," he smirked, "next time just come to me, I'll make you feel better than any of these stupid toys ever could."

And you were just a dumb bitch for him. Just for those moments though.

That's what you told yourself.

Yet here you were, your face shoved in Minho's couch pillows, while Minho landed a hard slap on your sensitive pussy.

"That's it, such a good whore, you like when mommy abuses your sloppy pussy?" he coos.

Circling his fingers around your clit, pinching it with his index finger and his thumb. Rubbing away all the discomfort in tight circles around your clit. "You have such a cute little clit," he muses with sugar in his voice.

So everytime you were still needy even after a day of testing sex toys, you could always swing by Minho's house. Taking his cock in whatever position he'd give it to you in.

[jackoshadows]

I think we don't talk enough about how Jon Snow secretly had a sword made for Arya at Winterfell - without anyone knowing! And that this was something he was planning on for a while, with the intention to teach Arya some fundamental sword skills - without anyone knowing!!

It reminds me about how much Arya must have poured out her heart and soul to Jon Snow about EVERYTHING, considering how much Jon knows about her. The very best of confidantes who guarded their secrets with each other and are the most loyal of siblings.

It was to Jon Snow that Arya goes, after being bullied for her looks, worried that she too was a bastard and Jon who consoled her (ignoring his own pain at being one). It's Jon who praises her as pretty and clever and understands that deep curiosity and ambition in her.

It's Jon who understands that Arya is interested in something different and that this is also deserving of attention. The ONLY person in the whole of Winterfell - not her parents, her other siblings, her teacher. Only Jon Snow.

I can imagine Jon and Arya just hanging out in a quiet corner of the Godswood, under the weirwood, with Arya pouring out her frustrations and chatting about playing with the serving girls and Jon talking about his day practicing the sword. They know each other so well, that they are famous for finishing each other's thoughts. They share such a singular bond that he even got her sword name right!!

Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together: "Needle!" The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north. - Jon, AGoT

Making Needle wouldn't have been easy considering it had to be done secretly. Clearly Jon thought that both his father and Catelyn wouldn't have been happy if they knew that the bastard was having swords made for their daughter.

"Give it to me." Reluctantly Arya surrendered her sword, wondering if she would ever hold it again. Her father turned it in the light, examining both sides of the blade. He tested the point with his thumb. "A bravo's blade," he said. "Yet it seems to me that I know this maker's mark. This is Mikken's work." Lord Eddard Stark sighed. "My nine-year-old daughter is being armed from my own forge, and I know nothing of it. The Hand of the King is expected to rule the Seven Kingdoms, yet it seems I cannot even rule my own household. How is it that you come to own a sword, Arya? Where did you get this?" - Arya, AGoT

Jon Snow took the time to research swords that Arya could hold and handle. He must have been up in Maester Luwin's turret looking through books for the design and asked questions of the Winterfell master-at-arms Rodrik Cassel about Braavosi swords.

She giggled at him. "It's so skinny." "So are you," Jon told her. "I had Mikken make this special. The bravos use swords like this in Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're fast enough." - Jon, AGoT

He'd had Mikken make a sword for Arya once, a bravo's blade, made small to fit her hand. Needle. He wondered if she still had it. Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her, but if she tried to stick the Bastard, it could mean her life. - Jon, ADwD

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl. - Jon, ADwD

After getting the idea of what kind of sword works for Arya's small hands, Jon then goes to Mikken, requesting that he make a small Bravo's blade. I feel certain that Mikken had no idea that he was secretly having a sword made for the Lord of Winterfell's daughter. I wonder what Mikken's thoughts were on Jon Snow wanting that specific blade made. He clearly did not think it important to mention to Ned. And no one knew - not Robb or Theon or even the Winterfell master-at-arms!

Given how sudden the whole deal was with Ned leaving for King's Landing, IMO, it's clear that Jon was planning on secret rendezvous with Arya where he could show her the basics of using a sword. Jon is certainly no Syrio Forel and Arya certainly learned more from an actual Bravo master fencer than from Jon Snow.

And yet just knowing that Jon had Needle secretly made and was planning on secret lessons for Arya because he knew just how desperate she was to learn something different, something unacceptable for Winterfell's daughter and that he did so at the great risk of displeasing a father he looked up to and the Lady Catelyn Stark who already wanted him gone.

He truly is Lyanna's son in every way that mattered.

[greenwitchcrafts]

December 2023 witch guide

Full moon: December 26th

New moon: December 12th

Sabbats: Yule December 21st-January 1st

December Cold Moon

Known as: Drift Clearing Moon, Frost Exploding Tree Moon, Moon of the Popping Trees, Hoar Frost Moon, Snow Moon, Winter, Aerra Geola, Maker Moon, Heilagmanoth, Long Night's Moon, Oak Moon, Wintermonat, Moon of the Long Night, Little Spirit Moon, Wolf Moon & When the Deer Shed Their Antlers Moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Sagittarius & Capricorn

Nature spirits: Snow, Storm, & Winter Tree faeries

Deities: Athena, Fates, Hades, Hathor, Hecate, Ixchel, Minerva, Neith, Norns, Osiris & Persephone

Animals: Bear, deer, horse & mouse

Birds: Robin, rook & snowy owl

Trees: Fir, Holly & Pine

Herbs: Bay, cedar, chamomile, cinnamon, English ivy, evergreen, fir, frankincense, holly, mistletoe, myrrh, pine & sage

Flowers: Christmas catus, holly & poinsettia

Scents: Cedar, cinnamon, frankincense, ginger, lilac, myrrh, nutmeg, patchouli, pine, rose geranium, rosemary, saffron, violet & wintergreen

Stones: Bloodstone, blue topaz, cat's eye, garnet, jacinth, obsidian, peridot, turquoise, zircon, ruby & serpentine

Colors: Black, blood red, gold, green, red, silver, black & white

Energy: Alchemy, darkness, endurance, death & re-birth, higher education, publications, reaching out to others, religion, spiritual paths, travel & truth

Today, December’s full Moon is most commonly known as the Cold Moon—a Mohawk name that conveys the frigid conditions of this time of year, when cold weather truly begins to grip us.

This full Moon has also been called the Long Night Moon (Mohican), as it rises during the “longest” nights of the year, near the December winter solstice. This name is doubly fitting because December’s full Moon shines above the horizon for a more extended period than most full Moons.

In Europe, ancient pagans called the December full Moon the “Moon Before Yule,” in honor of the Yuletide festival celebrating the return of the sun heralded by winter solstice.

Yule

Also known as: Alban, Arthan & Winter Solstice

Season: Winter

Symbols: Baskets of clove studded fruit, Christmas catus,  decorated evergreen trees, evergreen boughs, gifts, gold pillar candles, hung mistletoe, poinsettias, wreaths & Yule logs/small Yule log with three candles

Colors: Gold, green, orange, red, silver, white &yellow

Oils/incense: Bayberry, cedar, cinnamon, frankincense. Myrrh & pine

Animals: Bear, boar, deer (stag), pig, squirrel & tiger

Birds: Eagle, goose, kingfisher, lapwing, owl robin & wren

Stones: Bloodstone, garnet, ruby, alexandrite, blue topaz,  cat's eye, citrine, clear quartz, diamond, emerald, green tourmaline, jet, kunzite & pearl

Foods: Caraway cakes, cookies, eggnog, fruits, ginger tea, nuts, pork, spiced cider, turkey, wassail & lamb's wool (ale,  sugar, nutmeg & roasted apples)

Herbs/plants: Bay, bayberry, birch, blessed thistle, cedar, chestnut, cinnamon, evergreens, fir, frankincense, ginger, holly, ivy, juniper, mistletoe, moss, myrrh, oak, pine, rosemary, sage, valerian & yellow cedar

Flowers: Chamomile, poinsettia & yarrow

Goddesses: Alcyone, Aphrodite, Ameratasu, Bona Dea, Brighid, Cailleach Bheur, Demeter, Diana, Fortuna, Frau Holle, Frau Perchta, Frigga, Gaia, Hel, Great Mother, Idunn, Isis, Ishtar, Kolyada, La Befana, Maat & Tiamat

Gods: Apollo, Attis, Balder, Bragi, Dionysus, Divine Child, Green Man, Helios, Holly King, Horned one, Horus, Janus, Lord of Misrule, Lugh, Mabon, Marduk, Mithras, Odin, Ra, Saturn & Surya

Issues Intentions & Powers: Darkness, divination, light, messages/omens, purification, rebirth/renewal & transformation

Spellwork: Earth magick, happiness, harmony, love & peace

Activities:

• Set up & decorate a Yule altar

• Clean, organize & cleanse before decorating your home

• Make witch's balls to hang on your tree (protective & pretty!)

• Decorate & bless & Yule tree

• Stay awake until dawn to observe the cycles of nature

• Give gifts tomyour family & friends

• Donate your time or helpful items to charity

• Go caroling

• Hang mistletoe in your doorways

• Make Wassail

• Prepare a Yule Log

• Host a Yule feast

• Craft your own decorative wreath

• Decorate your house with Yule colored candles

• Welcome the Sun

• Go on nature walks & leave offerings to nature

• Meditate & reflect on the passing year

“Yule” comes from Old English geol, which shares a history with the equivalent word from Old Norse, jól. Both these words referred to a midwinter festival centered around the winter solstice, which traditionally marked the halfway point of the winter season. After the solstice—the shortest day of the year—the days again begin to grow longer, so it’s thought that Yule was a celebration of the re-appearance of the Sun &the fertile land’s rebirth. 

The celebration of Yule is one of the oldest winter celebrations in the world. Ancient people were hunters & spent most of their time outdoors. The seasons & weather played a significant part in their lives. The customs and traditions associated with it vary widely.

Scholars have connected the original celebrations of Yule to the Wild Hunt, the god Odin, and the heathen Anglo-Saxon Mōdraniht ("Mothers' Night")

Some believe it marks the rebirth of the Sun (the God) from the Earth (the Goddess) & the cold days of winter will soon begin to wane. The Goddess is seen in her virgin Maiden aspect

In towns and cities throughout Sweden during the Christmas season, large goats are constructed out of straw. It is thought that the tradition originated in ancient times, perhaps as a tribute to the god Thor, who was said to ride in a chariot pulled by goats. In Sweden the goat came to be associated with the Christmas celebration, and the Yule goat is now considered by many to be a companion or counterpart to Santa Claus.

Related festivals:

Christmas- An annual festival commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ as the son of God, primarily observed on December 25th

Hanukkah- A Jewish festival commemorating the recovery of Jerusalem & subsequent rededication of the Second Temple at the beginning of the Maccabean Revolt against the Seleucid Empire in the 2nd century BCE.

Hanukkah is observed for eight nights & days, starting on the 25th day of Kislev according to the Hebrew calendar, which may occur at any time from late November to late December in the Gregorian calendar. The festival is observed by lighting the candles of a candelabrum with nine branches, commonly called a menorah or hanukkiah. 

Kwanzaa- An annual celebration of African-American culture from December 26 to January 1st, culminating in a communal feast called Karamu, usually on the sixth day. It was created by activist Maulana Karenga, based on African harvest festival traditions from various parts of West & Southeast Africa. Kwanzaa was first celebrated in 1966. 

A Kwanzaa ceremony may include drumming and musical selections, libations, a reading of the African Pledge & the Principles of Blackness, reflection on the Pan-African colors, a discussion of the African principle of the day or a chapter in African history, a candle-lighting ritual, artistic performance & finally, a feast of faith (Karamu Ya Imani).

Saturnalia-

is an ancient Roman festival and holiday in honour of the god Saturn, held on 17 December of the Julian calendar & later expanded with festivities through to 23 December. The holiday was celebrated with a sacrifice at the Temple of Saturn, in the Roman Forum & a public banquet, followed by private gift-giving, continual partying & a carnival atmosphere that overturned Roman social norms: gambling was permitted & masters provided table service for their slaves as it was seen as a time of liberty for both slaves and freedmen alike.

 A common custom was the election of a "King of the Saturnalia", who gave orders to people, which were followed & presided over the merrymaking. The gifts exchanged were usually gag gifts or small figurines made of wax or pottery known as sigillaria. The poet Catullus called it "the best of days".

Other celebrations:

Feast of Epona-

Eponalia is the feast day of Gaulish Goddess Epona, the Divine Mare & in the time of the Roman Empire it was celebrated on December 18th.

Epona is known to be one of a very few Gaulish deities whose names were spread to the rest of the Roman Empire. This seems to have happened because Roman cavalry units stationed in Gaul followed Her & adopted her as their Patroness. This may have started because many of the cavalry troops were conscripted from Gaul as they were superb horsemen. From Gaul the Romans took Epona with them including to Rome where She was given her own feast day on the 18 December. They worshipped her as Epona Augusta or Epona Regina & invoked her on behalf of the Emperor. She even had a shrine in the barracks of the Imperial Bodyguard.

Hunting of the Wren-

A traditional custom carried out on the Isle of Man on the 26 December, St. Stephen's Day. It consists of groups of people going around villages and towns singing and dancing a traditional song and dance around a decorated wren pole.

The earliest and most common folklore story accounting for the origin of hunt the wren tells of a fairy/enchantress/witch whose beauty lures the men of the Isle of Man to harm, for which she is chased and is changed into the form of a wren. It is therefore in punishment for her actions that the wren is hunted on St. Stephen's Day

Sources:

Farmersalmanac.com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Llewellyn's 2023 magical almanac: practical magic for everyday living

Wikipedia

Encyclopedia Britannica

[221bshrlocked]

breaking point

Pairings: Wrecker x afab!Reader

Words: 16707 (it wasn't meant to be this long but it ran away from me)

Warnings: So much fluff! Wrecker goes into 'protective mode' real hard. The old "skin-to-skin contact to stay alive' trope because why not. Slight dub-con but not really, not at all actually. Love confessions. Dirty Talk...or at least this is how I think Wrecker would sound when he's fucking your brains out. Fingering. Oral sex (female and male receiving). Safeword because I think it would be needed with someone as big and strong as Wrecker. Brief anal play. Squirting. Penetrative, Unprotected Sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong people). Manhandling. Creampie/Breeding Kink. Size Kink because let's face it, this is Wrecker we're talking about.

Prompt: "Let me see those eyes."

Summary: You and Wrecker are stuck in a storm when Wrecker leads the two of you into an abandoned cabin. The both of you try to keep warm until Hunter and Tech find a way to come to you without crashing the Marauder. You manage to get some rest, but it seems that your bodies crave each other even while you're sleeping. And to no one's surprise, it's your breaking point.

A/N: @imarvelatthestars, I promised you one last one and here it is. It's so so late and I do apologize for that. I am a sucker for this trope to be honest and I feel you you'll enjoy it too. @cloneficgiftexchange I apologize to you as well for posting this way past the deadline but I wanted to tag you any way because being a part of this gift exchange really pushed me to write more, for characters that I haven't written for before and I thought I would never write for, and I am beyond thankful for that. Do let me know if the characterization is not right and I'll make those changes.

If one of his brothers told him a day ago that you would be relying on him to survive, Wrecker would have laughed until he was crying on the ground. He would have said it wouldn’t happen in a million rotations before walking away to try and find you so you can laugh at the joke as well. But the truth of the matter was, your survival did depend on him now, not because he was smarter or had a better plan, but because of the sheer strength he could exert to get you out of a tough situation. 

Which is what was happening now. 

He glances to the side to ensure you’re still breathing, and he frowns deeply when he sees how blue your face is turning from the snow surrounding the two of you. He pushes harder through the thick layer of white preventing the two of you from reaching the cabin you spotted before the snow picked up. Kriff, if it were anyone else, Wrecker would not have been this worried about the inconvenient circumstances he found himself in. He would not have been as tense and he would have already started to complain about the lecture he was sure Hunter was going to give him upon his return to the group.

But it wasn’t just anyone. It was you. And the others would have every right to blame him if something dire were to happen to you.

None of that mattered to Wrecker though. The only thing that he cared about was your safety, and what he could do to ensure you make it through the night. He looks back again and curses when he sees you slowing down. Not thinking of how more difficult it will be for him to make a path to the cabin, Wrecker turns around and takes three large steps towards you. 

“Come here,” he doesn’t leave any room for discussion, leaning down and picking you up with ease, and grumbling to himself when he finds you too weak to argue with him. 

Maker, you were worse than he thought.

“You’re going to stay awake for me, right an’edee?” Wrecker shakes you in his arms, waiting until your eyes flutter open before he begins walking towards the cabin again. 

“Th-that bett-tter not be a- a….kriff, an ins-sult!” Your teeth shudder through the warning, and if Wrecker wasn’t so worried about the frozen tear streaks on your cheek or the dark shade of bluish purple your skin is quickly becoming, he would have laughed at the pathetic comment and joked about how little you could do to him if he were actually insulting you. Wrecker doesn’t respond, no matter how much he wishes he can tell you that he wouldn’t stand the mere thought of you dying in his arms. This was not the time to bring up his emotions, and he wouldn’t want to put you in an awkward position since it looked like you were going to be alone for the next rotation or so. 

He curses the weather, hating that Hunter was right in telling him to find shelter soon since they wouldn’t be able to come and take them. The Marauder was kriffed up as is and this weather would certainly put them all under if they were to come and rescue the two of you now. 

No, the best option was to wait it out and hope some type of miracle happens where you stay alive and the rest of the Batch comes in time to leave the planet with the two of you still breathing. 

“We’re almost there, don’t- don’t fall asleep on me.” Wrecker says as he holds you up with one arm and uses his blaster to push down on the snow and make room for his legs to do the rest. He normally had great stamina, but the weather conditions, mixed with holding you in his arms, puts a strain on his muscles. It wasn’t that you were heavy, far from it. You were always light to him as a matter of fact. No, it was the fact that you were holding on to him like he was your life line, and the proximity between your chests was sending him into a frenzy. There was armor and piles of clothes separating the two of you, but Wrecker was hyper aware of having you so close to him, and with each little harsh breath you took, he felt his cheeks flush a deeper shade of red because he can feel it so close to his jaw. 

“Wake up, doc!” He notices that your eyes have been closed for longer than a minute, and when they flutter open and frown at him, he sighs in relief. It was better to have you angry with him than dead in his arms. 

Fuck, don’t think of her dead. 

“W-wreck, if you k-keep yell-lling in m-my ears, I- I…I’ll- st-top making you t-those coo-cookies you l-like so muh-much.” A strong gust of wind passes through, making you sob in his arms and nuzzle closer into his neck, the only bit of skin you had access to. Wrecker growls in anger, the sounds emitting from your mouth making him wish the group never agreed to Cid’s stupid mission. 

Feeling you shake violently in his arms, Wrecker musters up all the energy left in his body and trudges through the mountain of snow, not paying any attention to the extreme fatigue his body was feeling as he moved faster towards the safety of the small house. 

“I can live with that, mesh’la…as long as you’re still alive.” He isn’t really paying attention to what he’s saying, and he vaguely hears you gasp at his response. Wrecker looks down and sees your eyes widen in surprise, and he shakes his head in irritation because he already knows you were still planning on joking, even now when you were quickly becoming a human popsicle. 

“W-who are you ‘nd wh-what hav-ve you done with m-my Wr-wrecker?” If he wasn’t trying to bring you to safety, Wrecker would have fallen to the ground at the sound of you calling him yours. Never in his life did he imagine he’d hear such a sentiment from you, and he hated that it happened now of all times. Your little slip is enough to push him those last few steps and when he gets to the cabin, he brushes the datapad on the side and tries to push the buttons, his patience wearing out in an instance when he notices that it was frozen over. Without bothering to find a solution to the problem, Wrecker punches the keypad twice, breaking it into pieces in an instant. He hears the sound of the metal door unlocking and he apologizes as he sets you down on your feet so he can try to slide the door open. It takes him seconds to make enough space for the two of you to enter and he pushes you through quickly before following along, immediately closing the door behind him and turning around to look for any covers. 

He sees you huddled on the ground and reaches for you right away, holding you up in his arms again as he walks around to find a place to lay you down. He notices a fireplace and wonders briefly where the owners of this house were, but he doesn’t dwell too long on that thought, prioritizing your safety over propriety. When he finds a small bed against one of the walls, he sets you down near the fireplace and moves quickly to pull the mattress from the bed, knowing that you’ll need to be as warm as possible to survive the night. He brings it near the fireplace and carries you again, setting you down on it softly before looking around to see how he can start the fire. 

“O-over th…there,” you point at the lighter on the ground near the hole in the wall and Wrecker grabs it immediately, thanking the maker that the two of you were somewhat lucky in finding this home. He sees some wood on the grate and quietly whispers his gratitude to the universe for offering him a break, and for leaving him the tools that may just keep you alive through the night. Setting aside his weapons, Wrecker takes the lighter and collects as many things lying around as he can, throwing them over the wood to get it to start burning quicker. He glances back at you and feels his heart clench tightly at the sight of your shivering form. 

Within a matter of minutes, he has the fire going, its heat reaching you enough without setting the worn-down mattress on fire. He looks for anything to cover your body with, and when he finds a bunch of sheets lying around, he brings them all over and throws them over your shuddering body. Wrecker tries his best to cocoon you beneath the sheets, but when you don’t stop shuddering, his anxiety spikes dramatically and he paces around the small space to find anything that can help him keep you warm. 

“W-wreck?”

“I’m here, just- just looking for…ahhh karabast, there’s nothing here.” His anger seeps through his worries, and he can’t find a single care to pay attention to his own cold skin, wanting to ensure you are taken care of first before he worries about himself. 

“C-come here, pl-please.” Your teeth click through the request, and Wrecker sighs heavily before making his way back to you, he sits down beside your body and pouts when he notices that you weren’t getting any warmer. 

“I don’t know how to make you feel better. I’m trying, an’edee. I really am.” His eyes are tearing up, and if it weren’t for the fact that he clearly looked extremely in distress about you and the circumstances the both of you have found yourselves in, you would have teased him about being so sensitive, and thanked him for caring so much. But he didn’t seem like he’d enjoy that now, so you try to think through several options to see if anything could be helpful now. You’re quiet for a long time, but when you feel Wrecker reach for your shoulder and massage your skin through the multitude of sheets, you remember what one of your trainers told you about extreme climates and how minimal resources can still be useful. 

“Wrecker, I- I hav-ve an id-dea.” His face lights up in an instant only to fall in a frown when he sees you begin to push away the covers from your body.

“No, you have to stay warm.” He pushes you down and shoves the covers above you again, but you shake your head and hold onto his wrists to get him to listen to you. 

“Wreck, we…we need t-to sha-are body he-heat. This will…oh kriff, we’ll b-both be wah-warm.” He gives you a strange look before studying his own body, his eyes shifting down to see how he could possibly help you right now. 

“But…the armor is cold. How will that help you?” His question is genuine, and you simultaneously love and hate how innocent he continues to be even now. 

“You n-need to tah-take off your-r arm-or ‘nd…and clothes. S-so do I.” 

The world stills as soon as Wrecker understands what you’re telling him, and he removes his hand from your shoulders, unsure of how he should go about this new predicament. He turns away from you, wiping the tears from his eyes before searching the room one last time to see if he missed anything. He feels one of your hands reach for his own from beneath the covers, but he doesn’t dare look your way, afraid of what he’ll find if he meets your gaze. 

“Wrecker, s-sweetheart.”

His breath hitches in his throat at the pet name, but he continues to avoid you, knowing that he will break down immediately if he were to look into your eyes now and see how vulnerable you’re being with him. 

“Let me see those eyes.” He can never deny you any request. It was something he learned to accept early on ever since you were brought on as a medic to his group. Whatever you asked of him, he would do in an instance, not wanting to give you any trouble and wishing you could see the dedication and adoration he constantly held for you. 

With the utmost reluctance, Wrecker looks down at you and finds you smiling deeply at him. He hates that you’re still doing your job and trying to support him through his panic. You weren’t the one supposed to take care of him now, but the opposite. 

“Tr-trust me?” You whisper the question, waiting until he nods in response before you kick the covers away and begin to take your clothes off, layer by excruciating layer. Just as you remove your gloves, Wrecker stands to his height and makes quick work of his armor. When he’s down to his long sleeve shirt and cargo pants, he pauses and looks down at you, only to find you still very much clothed. 

“W-what’s wrong?” He asks while studying your muscles, hating the way you smile reassuriangly at him yet again to calm him down. 

“I- I can’t se-eem to t-take off m..my clothes. Yo-you’ll have to- to he-lp me.” 

In his defense, he reacted much less dramatically than he thought he would if he were to ever hear you request such a thing from him. Without meaning to, Wrecker drops the last piece of armor to the ground as soon as he registers your words, the harsh, loud sound of plastoid hitting the hard floor making you jump and frown up at him. He vaguely hears you curse beneath your breath before you shake your head and move your hands in a gesture that is meant to make him move quicker. 

“A-are you sure?” Wrecker knows it’s a stupid question. He was literally about to cuddle with you, so this didn’t really matter. But he wants to make sure he understands you clearly so he doesn’t think over his actions later on and wonder if he accidentally did something that made you uncomfortable with him. 

“Wreck…hu-rry up and strip s-so you ca-n he-help me.” You whine at him, shivering violently on the mattress when the sound of the wind picks up and begins to shake the house. Wrecker swallows the lump in throat before he listens to you and removes his clothes. 

So busy trying to think of anything else but the feeling he will have to endure when he has you in his arms, Wrecker doesn’t notice the way your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when he takes his shirt and pants off to reveal his muscular, gigantic build to you. It was no surprise that the man was big. Hell, you often relied on his size and how easy it is for him to do something as mundane as carry an entire crate of weapons by himself. But looking at him now, in nothing but a pair of tight underpants, you can help but gawk at him hungrily, your heart threatening to freeze in your ribcage at the sight of his muscles tensing and flexing with each small movement he makes. His gorgeous skin is littered with scars, ones you wish you could spend your time healing so he doesn’t feel any more pain from them. But perhaps the worst of it all, you realize you don’t really want to fix any of them because they made him so perfect, so special and unique to you. 

It’s what made you favor him out of the others.

The fact that he was hurt so many times and still kept that optimistic, humorous side of him shining brighter than the trauma and pain he’s dealt with throughout his entire life. You had it bad for him from the beginning, from the first time he joked about your height and how you couldn’t possibly be a medic because of how cute you looked.

Kriff, you didn’t think this through. 

You were about to feel him wrap his entire body around you and you would have to sit there and deal with the impure thoughts and your own body’s reactions to being so close to him. You would have to keep yourself in check through an entire night of having skin-to-skin contact with the one man in this universe that you longed to feel more intimately. Everywhere. 

“Hey, you okay?” Wrecker’s gruff voice snaps you out of your haze and you nod frantically at him before motioning for him to come and help you with your clothes. When he kneels down beside you, you do your best to avoid eye-fucking him any further, a task that becomes difficult with each second he spends kneeling beside you and giving you a perfect view of his thick thighs and muscular arms, and those kriffing tight underpants that leave nothing to the imagination. 

You shift your attention to his fingers as they undo the fastenings on your clothes, and you think that his hands might be shaking as he begins to remove your outer robes but you brush the thought aside. No, it couldn’t be. He was probably just nervous for you, maybe even cold now that he was nearly naked, nothing more. He definitely didn’t share your feelings. 

As he begins to reveal your skin to the harsh, cold air, your teeth tap against each other more violently, making him whisper the softest of apologies to you each time he removes a layer from your shivering body. It’s only when he has you down in nothing but a shirt and the thermal leggings you wore beneath your cargo pants that he stops touching you and removes his hands from your body. 

“W-what’s the matt-tter?” You ask hesitantly, afraid he was seeing something that you weren’t aware of. 

“I uhh, I wanted to ask if you’re sure about this. Before I- before I take off any more of your clothes.” If you weren’t near hypothermia, you would have told him that he was such an adorable gentleman for wanting to receive consent from you one last time. But with each second that passes and you shudder in your own skin, your patience thins out. So you do the only thing you know will get him to see how much you need him. 

You beg. 

“Please…Wrecker, I- I need you. N-need your war-rmth, need to f-feel you ag-ainst me.” You reach out for his hands and bring them to your shirt once more, barely holding back from sobbing when you see his expression shift instantly to one of-

Well, you weren’t actually sure of the look he was giving you now. 

It doesn’t matter, however, because Wrecker jumps into action right away, dragging the edge of your shirt above your arms and throwing it aside before getting to work on your pants. You clench your thighs when you hear the sound of the zipper coming undone, but remember that you don’t want to make him uncomfortable by how unholy your thoughts were.

Little did you know that as Wrecker pulled down your pants and chucked them aside, he was having similar thoughts as you. With each bit of skin he revealed to his gaze, he had to think of anything other than how soft you’d feel against his skin. He can feel his cock harden in his underpants, and the last thing he wanted was to make this night worse by looking like a creep who just wanted to take advantage of a wounded woman in his arms. Wrecker bites into his cheek to focus on anything but how pretty you looked. It’s only when he hears you whine his name again that he snaps out of his haze and looks down at you. 

Fuck. 

He should have been more careful when he tugged the shirt above your head. 

“Uhhh is- is that supposed to be this loose?” Wrecker points at the chest band slowly unraveling from around your breasts and he turns away immediately when you look down and see what he’s referring to. 

“For k-kriff’s sake Wreck, I- I’m about to d-die and you…you’re wor-rried about my b-boobs?” He has every right to be embarrassed. He knows that. You know that. The stupid winds outside know that. But unfortunately for him, you often cracked jokes when you also felt embarrassed, and this situation was definitely the worst moment in your life. 

Never in your life did you think Wrecker would take your clothes of so you can stay alive and not to fuck your brains out. 

Thankfully, the house creaking and shaking brings the two of you back to reality and Wrecker looks down at your body once more, quietly studying you for a moment before growling something beneath his breath as he moves beside you. He makes sure that he’s on your right side and not your left so you can have access to the fireplace, and you nearly cry from how thoughtful he’s being. But then you feel his skin slide against your own and your flesh erupts in goosebumps, ones that you know Wrecker will notice and wonder why they weren’t present before. He slips beside you and puts his arm out, shutting his eyes in pain when you immediately turn in his arms and cuddle your whole body into his side. He can feel your hair tickle his inner arm and he smiles to himself for a moment, pretending that you were currently laying nearly on top of him because you wanted to and not because you had to. 

Then you bring your whole lower body against him and slip your leg in between his thighs and he almost jumps out of the bed and away towards the fire. 

“Ah karabast, you’re so cold!!” He yells dramatically, looking down at you and regretting his comment when he sees the guilty look that overtakes your pretty features. You remove your hand from him and begin to turn away, but he is much quicker than you, grasping your wrist and bringing you back against his chest until you’ve settled down again. 

“I’m sorry an’edee, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His apology is too sweet to your ears, and you brush it aside to keep a hold on yourself. Wrecker mistakes your avoidance for discomfort and he feels bad for being stuck with you. He may have only had one eye but he wasn’t blind to your reactions, or those of the women the batch often came in contact with. 

Everyone loved Hunter, it was hard not to. His brother was arguably the best looking, and even Crosshair got more attention back during the war. Women tended to like the bad-body aura they both exuded. But him…no, he rarely received a second glance. People would complain either about his size or how childish he was. They were never interested in him. 

And he hated that this wasn’t any different now. Wrecker pouts as he slowly wraps the arm you’re resting your cheek on around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his chest so you don’t see the sad look he is sure he is sporting now. He quickly pulls the covers above the two of you, tucking you in to the best of his abilities before looking up at the ceiling to avoid any eye contact with you. 

You’re still shaking in his arms, but as time goes by, Wrecker feels you relax in his arms and grow warmer. Before the end of the hour, your feet and legs are nowhere near as cold as they were when he came into bed with you. He thanks the maker that your plan worked, and although he’s a little cold himself, he thinks nothing of it and checks on you every once in a while, sneaking a few glances at you to see if you’re still awake. 

“Maker, I thought I’d never feel my toes again.” You break the silence all of a sudden, making Wrecker look down at you and smile when he feels you wiggle your feet against his calves. Even now he’s much taller than you, and you have to tilt your head back farther than normal to get a proper look at him. 

“Thank you Wreck, you saved my life.” You smile at him, nuzzling into his biceps when he returns the expression and taps your shoulder twice to let you know that he didn’t mind. 

“It was nothing, mesh’la. I’m just glad you’re still alive and breathing.” There it goes again, the slip of the tongue he always experienced when you looked at him with those beautiful, innocent eyes of yours. 

“What do those words mean?” You don’t realize you’re drawing random patterns on his chest until you ask him the question and he completely misses it, his focus never wavering away from your fingers or his chest. 

“Huh?”

“I’m assuming they’re Mando’a, but I don’t know what they mean.” At the mention of his native language, Wrecker’s eyes widen in horror and he turns away from you, choosing to stare at the opposite wall as if it was much more interesting than the conversation now. 

“It’s uhhh, it’s nothing. Don’t- don’t worry about it.” Wrecker attempts to distract you, but you’re determined to know what they mean. Something about the way his tone of voice turns gentler when he says those words makes you think that they’re special nicknames, perhaps even ones that a lover would call his significant other to convey how much they care. 

“If you’re calling me something bad, I swear I won’t talk to you anymore.” You mean to joke with him, tease him a little to get him to tell you what those words mean. But Wrecker takes your response to heart, and he meets your gaze suddenly, his eyes swimming with an anxiety that rivaled his worries for you hours ago. He squeezes your shoulder tightly, and you know he isn’t aware of what he’s doing because he turns fully in your arms and makes sure you’re staring right at him before he replies. 

“I would never call you something bad. You have to know that! I- I just…I can’t tell you what they mean.” His voice is filled with panic, and you feel bad for teasing him too much. Before he can throw himself in a frenzy again, you reach out and cup his cheek softly, rubbing the corner of his lips with your thumb to soothe his worries away. 

“I was only kidding Wrecker, I didn’t mean it. I know you’d never say anything bad about me, I was just joking.” You enunciate every syllable, wanting to make sure he fully accepts that you were only messing around with him and don’t actually believe he’d say something rude to you. 

“You promise?”

“Yeah, yeah I promise.” 

You look into his eyes for what feels like hours, and as you lean into his space, eyes searching his own for any hesitation to how close you’re moving into him, a loud cackling sound emits from the fireplace and scares the two of you. Wrecker goes into protective mode instantly, pulling you harder into his chest and wrapping his other arm around your back to keep you safe. He doesn’t mean to be aggressive in the way he handles you, but when he takes hold of the back of your neck and shoves you into the space between his shoulder and his neck, you gasp at how easy it is for him to take control of you, how natural it felt to touch him so intimately and have him grab you with such intensity. Instead of reassuring him that you’re fine, you give in to the moment and wrap your arm around his waist, not bothering to get it around his whole back and instead choosing to roam your hand over the muscles contracting and flexing beneath his skin. He remains still for a while, and you smile when you realize it’s probably because he wants to make sure that the fire wasn’t about to spill out and burn the whole place down. 

Taking in a deep breath, you rub your thighs together when the scent of his musk, mixed with whatever soap he uses to wash himself, hits your senses, nearly driving you into a lust filled haze because of how spicy and sweet his smell is to your desperate senses. You’re about to stick your tongue out and lick across his jugular when Wrecker pulls you back and rests you on the mattress again. He’s still eyeing the fireplace, but when he looks down and meets your eyes, his nervousness comes crashing down with a force of a thousand battle droids. He stops breathing immediately, taking in the sight of your dilated pupils and parted lips, and wishing you were reacting this way because he held you in his arms and not because you were afraid of the fire cackling behind you. 

His eyes move to your lips for a split second, but he remembers his plan of not being creepy with you and decides to lay back down again. You clear your throat and rest your cheek on his chest once more, avoiding any and all eye contact with him so you don’t accidentally do something that crosses the boundaries between the two of you and makes him regret every helping you out. 

“Get some rest, an-” he stops himself before he says the rest of the pet name, shaking his head before turning his attention to the ceiling again. “Get some rest, doc.”

“Good night, Wreck.” You whisper against his skin, accidentally grazing your lips against his pectorals and sending a fresh wave of arousal down his spine, one that shoots straight to his cock and hardens him in a matter of seconds. He thanks the heavens that he isn’t spooning you now, knowing that you would probably feel his hard-on if you were in a more compromising position than the one you chose. 

“Hmm.” Wrecker doesn’t dare try to speak again, knowing that if he were to attempt and form a longer response, he’d either give in and confess his feelings, or throw all caution aside and show you what he’s been thinking of doing to you ever since he met you. 

He shuts his eyes to get some rest, but as the night goes on, and the wind doesn’t stop howling outside, Wrecker barely manages to sleep. Even worse, each breath you take sends a shiver down his spine, and he looks at you every once in a while, unable to hold himself back from enjoying the close proximity to you. He can feel your skin growing warmer as time goes by, and he thanks the Force for allowing him to be the one helping you. 

Then his eyes trail down and see the top of your breasts and the smile drops from his face. Wrecker swallows the lump in his throat, and he unintentionally squeezes your shoulder tightly to bring you closer to him. The action makes you groan, and Wrecker fears that he’s woken you. He stops breathing, afraid that the slightest motion of his chest rising and falling will wake you up. A few minutes pass by and when he’s sure you’re still asleep, he forces his muscles to relax, only for his entire body to go rigid again as soon as you let go of him and roll on your back. 

His eyes widen in horror when he notices the band around your chest sliding down your breasts and revealing more of your soft skin to him. Wrecker turns away immediately, not wanting to take advantage of the trust you clearly had in him. He slams his hand over his eyes, silently wishing for a miracle to happen so his mind doesn’t go insane. He has you so close to him, touching him where he dreamt for so long, but you were still out of reach. 

The sudden movement of your whole body makes him panic and he looks down in time to see you turn around and face the fire. You nearly topple from the mattress towards the source of heat, but Wrecker quickly wraps his arm around your waist to keep you from accidentally burning yourself. You stop moving for a moment, and he sighs in relief, wondering to himself how you managed to stay alive all this time when you were so clumsy. He tries to slide his arm away from your stomach but your hand is immediately on him, pulling him back against you. Wrecker grumbles to himself, tugging his arm a little harshly so this night remains in tact, more or less, but you’re even more aggressive in your sleep, and without caring for the strain you’re putting on the man behind you, you grab his arm and pull it hard, sending his entire body crashing into your back and engulfing you in his heat. 

Wrecker can’t believe what’s happening to him, and he sits up on his elbow to see if you were awake and just playing a joke on him. But as he suspected, you’re fast asleep, snoring lightly and enjoying the heat you were receiving from all sides. He looks around to see if there’s anything he can place between your backside and his crotch, knowing that the longer he remains this close to you, the more his body will react to your proximity without thinking much of the consequences. He lays back down and puts as much space between your bodies as he can, and it works for a while too. Wrecker is on high alert now, knowing he won’t get an ounce of sleep out of fear of doing something to you while he’s unconscious. 

The loud thundering of the snowstorm makes you jolt in his arms, and he’s about to check on you to make sure you’re alright when you scoot closer to him, until there isn’t an inch between your back and his front. Wrecker frowns, slamming his head down on the pillow and willing himself to think of anything but how perfect and warm and soft you feel in his arms. To make matters worse, you hug his arm and bring it to your face, nuzzling into his wrist as sleep continues to overtake your mind and torture the poor soul trying to keep you alive. Wrecker can almost feel the rise and fall of your breasts with each breath you take, and he shivers when your breath roams over the sensitive skin of his wrist every couple of seconds. You’ve completely taken over his mind and body, and you weren’t even aware.

“Kriff,” he whispers to himself, regretting ever coming on this mission with you. Before tonight, he had to conjure up dreams of having you the way he always wanted to. But after this night, he’d have to live on as if he didn’t know exactly how you felt in his arms, how sweet you smelled to him, how easy it would have been to tease you until you’re awake before begging you to touch him the way he wished. He’d have to pretend that tonight didn’t mean the world to him. 

The nostalgia that hits him is unbearable, and it’s enough to calm his body, as if the thoughts of the future built a wall between him and you, one that was convincing enough to have him not react so viscerally to you. 

Wrecker shuts his eyes, surrendering himself to the floral scent of your hair and allowing your warmth to finally lull him to sleep. 

It’s hours later, but too soon for him, when he finally jolts awake from the best sleep he’s ever gotten in his life. A quick glance outside lets Wrecker know that it may be the morning but the storm was very much still roaring outside. He looks behind him to see if he’s received any coms from Hunter, and when he doesn’t see any flashing lights signaling a message from him, he rests back down and yawns tiredly, shutting his eyes once more to try and steal some rest again. 

A soft moan fills the silent room, and although it is barely audible, it sounds like an alarm to Wrecker’s ears. He’s wide awake in an instant, his mind trying to understand whatever sound just emitted from you, and when he decides that it may have been a figment of his imagination, you roll your ass against him and push your lips into his wrist, groaning into the damp skin too lewdly for the man behind you to ignore. 

Wrecker freezes, his muscles tensing painfully beneath his taut skin as soon as he feels you grind into him harder. For a brief moment, he thinks this may just all be a dream, a beautiful, unadulterated sensation his mind was conjuring up in his sleep because of the proximity he held with you. But then your tongue sweeps over the pulse point on his wrist and Wrecker knows he’s wide awake. 

He’s wide awake, and you are touching him as if he belonged to you. 

As if you belonged to him. 

The hand on your hip squeezes you, sending a jolt of hot energy down your spine and making you push your body into Wrecker’s front even more. 

“Kriff,” he swears beneath his breath, shutting his eyes and surrendering to the pleasure for a second. 

But the second becomes two…then three…then four.

And before he knows it, Wrecker is rolling his clothed, hard cock into the curve of your ass, biting into his cheek to silence himself from spilling compliments of how perfect you feel against him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be taking advantage of your unconscious form as you unintentionally used him to please yourself. Wrecker knows, more than anything, that he should remove himself from you and wake you up so things don’t become awkward between the two of you. 

 But you feel so kriffing good against him, and he’s only dreamt of having you like this for hundreds of rotations. 

“Hmm, please….W-wreck, I need more.” 

The whispered words are all he needs to snap out of the haze you’ve thrown him into, and without meaning to, Wrecker pushes up on his elbows and questions what you just said rather loudly. 

“What was that?” 

The sound of his gruff, booming voice wakes you in an instant, and you sit up quickly, immediately grabbing for the nearest object you can find to defend yourself from whatever is happening. You look around confusingly, adjusting your eyes to the reddened darkness around you. When you realize nothing is trying to kill you, you turn around and look at Wrecker to ask him why he nearly made you deaf. 

All questions roaming around your mind evaporate into thin air when you look him over and take in the disheveled state he’s in. His skin is glistening with sweat, and you wonder briefly if it is because he runs hot in general or if this was because of how close you were to him for the past few hours. You blink the sleep from your eyes as you study him further, and before you can remind yourself that you shouldn’t be ogling him so openly, your attention shifts south and you notice a prominent tent in his underpants, one that sends your heart fluttering wildly in a matter of seconds. 

Maker, you knew the man must have been proportional, but nothing could have prepared you for how blessed he is. 

The thought of touching him, feeling him beneath the palm of your hands as you made him whimper your name in ecstasy, instantly reminds you of what you were dreaming. You feel your face flush with heat as you recall the filthy images your mind conjured up while you were asleep. You knew being in his arms would probably throw you into a horny frenzy, but you didn’t think it would be so instantaneous, so vivid. You could almost feel his cock push against your pulsing core, and you clench your thighs together to alleviate the pressure building inside you. It’s only when you hear Wrecker clear his throat that you remind yourself to keep it together. The last thing you want is to give him any inclination of what you were dreaming of, and you knew for a fact there would be no escaping the awkwardness any time soon, not until the rest of the Batch rescued you. 

“Umm, you- you should fix your-” Wrecker doesn’t finish the sentence, and you blink at him for a few seconds, wondering what he could possibly be going on about. You follow where he’s pointing, and nearly fall backwards in horror when you look down and see the chest binding no longer covering your breasts. You cross your arms around your chest instantly, all the while trying to figure out how to fix the band without giving Wrecker an eyeful of your skin. 

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look.” Wrecker breaks through the frantic movement, and you look up to see if he was being genuine or teasing. You can tell immediately how apologetic he is from the way he’s staring down at the sheets beneath you, and the pout he was unintentionally seducing you with. 

“It’s okay, it’s not like you tugged on them or anything.” You try to diffuse the tension with a chuckle, but Wrecker continues to avoid you, his frown only deepening the longer you try to fix the binding. 

“Wrecker, is everything okay?” You give up on covering yourself, and instead drag the sheets from around you, wrapping them haphazardly around your shoulders to hide the effects your body is undergoing from being so close to Wrecker. 

“I’m sorry an’edee,” if you didn’t know better, you’d think Wrecker was apologizing for the predicament you found yourselves in. But from the way he was avoiding your gaze, and how tense his muscles remained even now, you know there’s something else on his mind. 

“For what?”

“I touched you…while you were sleeping. I- I didn’t mean to, I swear. It’s just…you felt so good, so warm and…perfect. I tried to stop, believe me I did…but you kept moving against me and teasing me with those sweet sounds, and I nearly lost it. Then you moaned my name and told me you wanted more and I-...I just wanted to feel you.” Wrecker looks up for a second, and when he sees the way your eyes are glazed over in shock, perhaps even disgust, he turns his sight away and hunches over to make himself appear smaller so you don’t think he’ll try anything with you. 

It’s quiet for longer than he likes, but Wrecker swears he won’t try to make any more excuses, especially since it wasn’t really your fault that you were touching him so intimately in your sleep. It didn’t take a genius to know that no one is ever truly in control of their dreams, so he couldn’t fault you for what you were doing. 

He was the one who was awake. He had full control of himself and you. 

And he chose to betray your trust. 

Regret and turmoil roll off of him in violent waves, making you wish you were brave enough to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. You aren’t sure what exactly he did while you were sleeping, but you know that he didn’t cross any lines you’d consider awfully inappropriate. As far as you were concerned, his underpants were still on, and so were yours. He even apologized for looking at your chest while trying to warn you about your binding. There was no way he wouldn’t tell you if he did something more. 

You trusted him that much. 

A hundred responses brush through your mind, but you know he won’t feel better until he’s made aware of the reason behind your own behavior. There was no way out of this that wouldn’t be awkward for you, or him, or worse…both of you. 

“It’s not your fault, Wrecker.”

“I was awake, and you were sleeping. It is my fault.” He furrows his eyebrows as he looks up at you, only for his body to relax completely when he sees you biting your lower lip and slowly letting go of the sheets around you. He glances to the side to give you some bit of privacy, swallowing the lump in his throat when you shift around until you’re kneeling in front of him, completely nude except for the fabric covering your lower half. He can almost see your skin from his periphery, but he keeps his gaze away from you, afraid of how he’d react if he were to look upon you again. 

“But…I was the one dreaming of you Wreck. I- I was the one moaning your name to try and get you to fuck me harder in my dream.” The words fall from your lips easily, and you feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders as soon as Wrecker slowly turns to look at you, disbelief and hope etched on his beautiful features as his mind registers what you just confessed to him. 

“I was the one begging you to make me cum…gods, I needed it so badly Wrecker, and I could feel you bringing me close to that sweet pleasure. I was so close, but then you woke me.” You hope you aren’t making a mistake by revealing to him your heart’s desires, mostly because you’re not sure what you would do if he turned you down now. 

Like everything else, it takes a second for Wrecker to react, but he doesn’t respond the way you think he would. He looks in between your eyes as he slowly reaches for your hands. You look down to see what he’ll do, and nearly feel your heart leap out of your chest when he brings both of your palms to his cheeks and shuts his eyes. 

“I didn’t think you wanted me…not- not in the way I wanted you.” For a man who always had a lot to say, you’re surprised he responds with such a simple confession of his own and not something more dramatic. 

“How could I not want you? You’re amazing.” You don’t hesitate, not in your words, nor in the way you move closer to him until you’re straddling his thighs. Wrecker’s breath hitches, and you smirk at him as you throw your arms over his broad shoulders and kiss the corner of his mouth. 

His arms are around you soon after, nearly crushing you with the weight and strength of them as they wrap tightly around you and bring you flush against him. You feel your nipples harden as the hair across Wrecker’s chest slides against your breasts, and before you can say anything else, Wrecker smashes his lips with your own, swallowing your surprised moans as he shoves his tongue in your mouth and finally tastes you. 

You’re shocked by how forward he suddenly becomes, but you don’t dare question the spike of confidence coursing through his veins, knowing that he might turn shy again if he so much as smells reluctance on you. Giving into his possessive touches, you part your lips and let him have full control of every inch of you. The passion he offers you is overwhelming, but you don’t dare ask him to calm down, the need to feel him overpowering you and taking everything he wants from you outgrowing any thoughts you had regarding your safety. 

Wrecker can’t believe you’re in his lap, grinding down on him as you allow him to kiss you just as he dreamt he would if he ever had you naked and willing in his arms. He breaks the kiss to allow the two of you to breathe, but as he’s about to lunge for you again, his eyes roam down your body and watch as a bead of sweat rolls down your neck, to your sternum, until it slows down in between your heaving breasts. He forgets how to breathe for a moment, the sight of your hardened nipples awakening something deep inside him, something that whispers for him to bite and lick across your chest until you’re screaming his name. 

Without a warning, Wrecker leans down and licks across your breast before taking your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting on the sensitive peak until he feels your nails rake across his shoulders, down the muscles of his arms. He growls at your touch, grazing his teeth over your flushed skin until you’re moaning his name again. 

“Oh my maker, W-wreck…your mouth feels so good.” You throw your head back, giving Wrecker more access to your skin so he can mark it as he likes. Wrecker doesn’t waste a second, leaving marks with his teeth and hands over every inch he can reach, and before you know it, he’s laying you down and settling in between your thighs. You grab the sheets beneath you in an attempt to hold onto whatever sanity is still left in you, but as Wrecker drags his calloused palms down your body and over your thighs, you can’t help but think of how he’d feel when he finally takes you. 

“Wreck…I need you. Need you to fuck me, please.” You open your eyes far enough to look down and watch as Wrecker digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs and stomach, waiting until visible marks appear on your skin before he moves to another part of you that isn’t bearing his mark just yet. He looks up and meets your eyes for a second, and you think he’s finally going to put you out of your misery and take what he wants. 

But he doesn’t move a muscle, waiting until he has your undivided attention before he speaks again. 

“I need to get you ready for me an’edee…then I’ll give you what you want.” The words fall from his lips like sin, and if your mind wasn’t completely engrossed in the sensations Wrecker was bringing to your body, you would have asked him where he learned to talk like that. 

And you’re about to inquire after that too, but you feel his fingers slip beneath your panties and slowly tug them down, and you cease to breathe, watching closely as Wrecker doesn’t break eye contact while rolling the article of clothing down your legs before discarding them behind him. Neither of you say anything for what feels like forever, but as soon as Wrecker begins to lean down, you reach for his chin and hold it in the palm of your hand. 

“Wait.”

“You- you don’t want me to-”

“It’s not that.” You cut him off before he thinks you’re having any doubting thoughts of what the two of you are doing.

Wrecker stares at you with nothing but confusion, and you hate how such a simple, boyish expression can bring you to your knees if you weren’t already on your back. 

“I want to taste you too.” You bite into your lower lip in an attempt to hide the embarrassing admission. If Wrecker is surprised by what you just said, he doesn’t say anything, instead sitting back up and grabbing your legs so he could roll you on top of him. You squeal in shock at the sudden movement, but say nothing as he lays down where you were a second ago, with you straddling his hips. 

“Wrecker?”

“Turn around for me an’edee.” He orders with a glint of mischief in his eyes, making you look down at him with furrowed eyebrows. You’re not sure what he’s planning, and Wrecker sits up on his elbows to get a better look at you. 

“You said you wanted to taste me, and I won’t give up what I had in mind either. So, turn around for me.” He states again, as if the brief description was all you needed to understand what he wants from you. It’s only when he tilts his head to the side as he slowly brings the palm of his hand in between your thighs do you finally catch on to what he’s thinking. Your eyes widen in horror at the position Wrecker wants you to get into, mostly because you never thought he’d be the type of person to be so open with what he’d like to try, let alone have you so bare and exposed to him. The man was always particularly shy around you, something you noticed early on when he’d hesitate before chatting up with you. You never thought he would be so forward now, especially since this was new terrain for the both of you. 

“You mean you…you want me to- you know,” you point at his face and support your weight on his chest when he pushes you up with his hips to get you to move more quickly.

“Sit on my face baby, let me get you nice and wet for me.” Wrecker growls the order one last time, smiling wickedly at you when you swallow the lump in your throat as you begin to move atop him. He waits patiently for you to turn around and straddle his waist again but facing away from him. As much as he wants to grab your ass and pull you on his face, he waits until you get comfortable with the new position before he slides his fingers down your back to the top of your glutes.

It’s too soon for you, but not nearly soon enough for Wrecker, when you finally reach down and lay your hands over his thighs. The tent on his underpants is more painfully prominent at this point, and you feel bad for dragging out this moment this much. 

Wrecker massages your skin, and when he’s sure you won’t jump away from his touch, he slowly pulls your body towards him until your thighs perfectly frame his face. 

Whatever he pictured in his mind comes nowhere near what he is gazing upon now, and he forces himself to reel back the comments threatening to flow from his mouth so he doesn’t end up scaring you with how much he wants you. It’s when he takes a long whiff of your scent that he finally registers your small fingers tracing the length of him through the fabric keeping him from your eyes. He groans your name with a low whisper, equal parts turned on by nearly tasting you on his tongue and the sensation you were currently bringing upon him. 

“Please baby,” you’re not sure if he’s begging you to take him in your mouth or asking you to bring yourself closer to him so he can taste you, but you don’t find it in yourself to care, not when you finally had Wrecker so enthusiastic and excited beneath you, ready to cause havoc on your willing body. Without wasting another second, you slip your fingers beneath the elastic band of the edge of his briefs and push them as far down as he allows you to, aggressively tugging on the sides as well until the material is around his thighs and away from where you’re dying to have him. 

“Oh fuck me!” 

Like earlier, you are perfectly aware that Wrecker must have been packing a dangerous weapon. No man his size wouldn’t be, especially with how confidently he carried himself all the time. But nothing would have prepared you for the sheer girth and length of him. Slowly bringing your hands to his cock, you chuckle to yourself when you realize you can’t even wrap your fingers around the whole of him, the laugh turning into a long sigh as you notice just how much he was going to stretch you, how deep he was going to claim you when he finally fucks you like you dreamt. 

“That’s the plan sweetheart!” Wrecker mumbles from in between your thighs, his breath sending a fresh wave of arousal across your body and making you wish he was already fucking you within an inch of your life. You’re about to retort in kind when you feel his tongue swipe across your folds, the rough muscle sending spikes of heat up your spine and making you fall unceremoniously into his dick. You let out a sigh of relief, mumbling incoherently when Wrecker chuckles, presumably with pride, at the effect he was having on you just by the mere touch of his tongue against your engorged clit. He pulls away for a brief second, commanding you to take him in your mouth before going back to it again and slowly fucking you with his tongue 

“Wrap your pretty lips around my cock, an’edee.” He barely enunciates before he’s diving into your cunt again, ripping a guttural cry of pleasure from your throat, one that makes you realize he needn’t do much to have you at his will. With as much confidence as your body can muster up, you lean over and purse your lips until enough saliva collects on your tongue. Parting them slightly, you watch as your drool stretches from your mouth to the head of his cock, coating the angry tip of his dick before sliding down his length. It must be a surprise to Wrecker because he unintentionally bucks his hips into the air, sending his cock just a little closer to your mouth. Taking advantage of his momentarily distracted mind, you lean down and open your lips as wide as possible, barely managing to engulf them around him. 

Wrecker growls his pleasure, throwing his head back for a second before returning his assault on your pussy with blind determination. You nearly forget you’re meant to be pleasuring him as well when you feel his teeth graze your clit, and as he starts sucking on the bundle of nerves violently, you can’t help but whine around his cock. The sound is music to his ears, and he widens his legs even more before bending his knees and resting his feet flat against the beat-up mattress. His stance scares you briefly, but you realize that he isn’t moving his hips or trying to push his cock deeper, his self-awareness somehow making you wish he would take advantage of the control he has on you and fuck your face until you choke around him. 

The thought doesn’t leave your mind as you swirl your tongue around the bulbous head of his dick, and you stretch your palms to try and wrap them around him, hoping that you can pleasure the length of him without your mouth. His chest shakes beneath your stomach, and you don’t realize you’re rolling your hips on his tongue until Wrecker whispers how good you taste and how perfect you’re being for him. 

You want him to feel equally satiated, and as you lower one of your hands to cup his balls, Wrecker forgets he’s meant to be controlling his touches and thrusts up into your mouth, sending more drool down your chin and onto his cock with how far back he managed to reached. He knows what he’s done immediately, and he pulls you off of him, resting his hips back down so he’s far away from your mouth. 

“Fuck, I- I’m so sorry love. You just s-surprised me and- I didn’t mean it. I swear I would never try to-”

“Wreck…” The sound of his name falling sinfully from your lips manages to shut him up quickly, and he waits until you break the silence so he doesn’t misunderstand your moans. 

“I want you to fuck my face!” You claim with determination, nearly laughing at the way Wrecker curses beneath his breath from the sudden outburst. 

“What? It’s not…I don’t want to hurt you baby.”

“You won’t hurt me Wreck. I promise. I just really really want you to fuck my face…want you to use me for your pleasure…I want to feel you down my throat baby, so far down that when you come, I can barely taste you from how wide you’re stretch my mouth.” Wrecker could choke on air if he wasn’t already holding his breath and listening to every word intently. He can’t believe his ears, mostly because you were never one to be so bold and forward, let along unwise in your choices. 

“But…you’ll get hurt.”

“Hmm, okay h-how about this? Let’s have a safeword, yeah?”

“A safeword?” You can feel his breath on your wet cunt, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were trying to meet his concerns with a solution, you would have pushed your ass back down and rode him until you came on his tongue. 

“Yeah, a safeword. Or in this case, a gesture that equals a safeword. Since my mouth will be full of your cock, I won’t be able to speak. But if I tap your thighs three times, you pull out and let me breathe. Same goes to you of course. If I’m suffocating you or anything, you tap three times on…on-” You’re trying your hardest to keep your thoughts from going astray, but with each moment you waste, you can’t help but regret how good his dick would feel marking your throat. 

“Your ass?” You know the question is genuine, but you can’t help but laugh when it comes off a little more enthusiastic than he would like. 

“S-sure. Tap three times on my ass and I’ll get off.”

“Oh you’ll be getting off alright…on my tongue, with my fingers stretching your pretty little pussy so I can fuck you like you want.” You should have known that Wrecker would make jokes now of all times, but you clear your throat and pinch his thigh to get him back on track. 

“Focus big boy…now, and only because I don’t think I’ll have the mind capacity to think of one later, the safeword will be ‘grenade.’ Does that sound good?” You ask one last time, hoping he could answer you soon so you can get back to tasting him. 

“My kinda girl.” He laughs loudly before smacking your ass once, and just as you’re about to complain over the sudden action, Wrecker wraps both of his arms over your lower back and brings you down to his mouth again, not bothering to let up as he goes back to worshiping your cunt. 

“Oh ffff-fuck,” you scream when he wraps his lips over your clit and sucks as hard as possible while teasing your clit with his tongue. So invested in the sensations he was pushing over your body, you don’t realize he’s moving one of his arms until you feel it reach for your neck and push it down on his cock. You make a mental note of telling him later that the simple action could have brought you to your knees if you weren’t already sitting on him. For some reason, knowing that he can reach you now, since he was so much bigger and broader and taller than you, set your inside on fire, and before you can truly think over how easily he can have his way with you whenever he wants, Wrecker pushes your cheek to the side until your lips hover over his length. 

Taking in a deep breath, you prepare yourself for the onslaught Wrecker was ready to bring upon your willing form. Without thinking much of how challenging it will be to speak later, you slowly lower your mouth over his cock and stop when you think you can no longer fit him in your mouth. Proving to be a rather impressive multi-tasker, Wrecker begins to pass his tongue back and forth against your wet folds while bringing his hand to the back of your head. It’s the only warning you get before he shoves his hips up into you while pushing on your head. You can already feel the oxygen refusing to enter your system soon after, and you shut your eyes to calm yourself so you don’t freak him out. 

And just as you asked, Wrecker doesn’t hold back, immediately setting a pace that has you tearing up and choking on his dick in record time. You wrap your hands around the base of his cock, massaging his balls and pumping the rest of his length that will never feel the heat of your mouth. You’re making a complete mess of his crotch, but it seems that Wrecker rather enjoys it, only fucking your mouth harder when he begins to hear your noises increasing in sound. He doesn’t let up on you once though, keeping you against him while moving the arm your back so he can touch you better. 

You don’t expect what he does next, but as you feel his thumb circle the ring of muscle just above your cunt, you accidentally close your mouth over him, your teeth grazing the length of him ever so slightly, but hard enough to the point where Wrecker has to let go of your head to grab onto your ass. You pull off of him instantly, afraid that you’d hurt and he was about to tap out. But when his ministrations increase, and his thumb teases you even more, you decide to repay in kindness and get back to it. Kissing the tip of his cock, you lick the veins stretching up and down his length until you can catch your breath, and when you think you are ready again, you blindly reach for his hand, silently asking him to return it to your head again. 

“Are you sure?” He mumbles the question, and you moan his name once reassuringly, the only answer he requires to do as he is told. Waiting until he feels your mouth on him again, Wrecker wraps his hand over the back of your neck and pushes you down again, all the while shoving his cock with shallow thrusts into your mouth. He doesn’t go nearly as deep as earlier, but he does quicken his pace, and you realize it may be because he is desperate to finally come. You will yourself to relax your throat, not wanting to interrupt him again as he chases his orgasm. 

Wrecker is as promising in his touches as you are, and when he feels the knot in his stomach begin to unravel, he removes his fingers from your ass and sloppily collects the juices on his face before bringing two of his fingers against your entrance. As soon as he pushes his digits into your cunt, he feels your entire body melt against him completely. He smiles to himself as he matches the pace of his fingers fucking in and out of your tight pussy with the rhythm his cock slid across your heated throat. He continues for what feels like hours to you, until he knows he has you tethering between pain and pleasure. The harder you pump his length, the hotter Wrecker feels, and before he knows it, he’s adding another finger into your cunt, not caring for how abused your folds look as he shoves his thick digits far enough until you’re keeping the length of them in your sweet hole. 

He times the halt with the assault he’s bringing onto your mouth, shoving your head down and refusing to move his hips so he can relish in the way your throat constricts and clenches around his dick. 

Wrecker knows this must be what being suspended into thin air feels like, so blissful and hot and absolutely kriffing perfect. 

He refuses to push you any harder though, letting go of your head and lowering his hips down until the only thing your mouth kisses is the crown of his length. Before you can question him though, he spreads your ass cheeks apart and lunges for your clit, roughly passing his tongue back and forth on it while he continues to fuck you with his fingers. The sudden assault must be a surprise to you because Wrecker feels your hands squeeze him tightly, and before he knows it, he’s pushing his cock just a little deeper into your mouth, muscles vibrating with energy as he shoots his cum deep into your throat and coats your mouth with his seed. He’s twitching and growling beneath you, but he doesn’t ignore your pleasure, wanting you to come on his face along with him. 

He knows what to do, and as you hum around him, silently telling him that you’re pleased with how he tastes, Wrecker drags your essence across to your asshole, circling it a few times before pushing the tip of his thumb inside you. He groans over his release, and as he curls his fingers up to massage the deepest corner he can reach inside your pussy, your whole body seizes up above him and you arch your back in ecstasy, pulling off of his cock and praying his name over and over again while he makes you cum on his face. The clone wonders briefly if you’ve actually reached climax or not, unsure of your reaction since you weren’t doing much except lay your weight on him. He doesn’t wait much until he receives an answer in the form of your whole form shaking violently above him. Wrecker shuts his eyes tightly as he laps up the juices rolling on his chin, and before he knows it, he feels a stream of liquid coat his mouth and neck, one that continues baptizing him until he stops moving his fingers. You’re still twitching above him long after he paused his ministrations, and when he tries to pull out his fingers, you dig your nails into his thighs and beg him to slow down. 

“S-softly…please- oh fuck…please be g-gentle.” You whisper your requests to him, sighing in relief when he obeys your comments and slowly eases out of your weeping cunt. What shocks you instantly is how empty you feel all of a sudden. You didn’t have his cock in your mouth or his fingers in your cunt, and before you know it, your core is screaming for release once more, itching even to get filled yet again, but this time with something bigger and harder. 

Opening your eyes, you look down and notice the mess you made of Wrecker’s dick when you parted your lips after he came. Not caring for how shameless you’re being, you lean down and lick his cum off of his navel, swallowing the taste of him immediately so you don’t let any of it go to waste. Wrecker is about to ask you if you’re okay when he feels the kitten licks across his skin, and before he can warn you, his cock is twitching harshly and hitting your cheeks yet again. 

“F-fuck Wrecker, you’re still so hard.” He can hear the surprised smile on your features, and he chuckles embarrassingly from his refractory period. Normally, he felt proud at being ready to go in a matter of seconds, but lying beneath you now, Wrecker realizes you might think he just wants to take advantage of you. He’s about to apologize when you move off of him and roll to the side, throwing your head back and stretching your limbs to get some feeling back into them. Wrecker sits up on his elbows and studies you closely, unable to hold back from eye-fucking you when he notices how hard your nipples are, how shiny your face and chin are from the mess you were making of the both of you. He turns away when he catches you smiling at him, and he massages his lower stomach to try and get his cock to calm down a little. 

You notice the shift in his demeanor almost immediately, and knowing that he was probably overthinking this whole ordeal, you will yourself to sit up and go to him. Wrecker doesn’t expect you to fall into his arms so soon, so dramatically even, and he hums in pleasure when you immediately reach to kiss his mouth. You can taste both of your cum on each other, the thought nearly sending you and Wrecker into unimaginable bliss all over again. As Wrecker relaxes back into the bed, you struggle to maneuver yourself around, but in no time, you’re straddling his hips and supporting your weight on his chest. 

Wrecker looks up at you with wide-blown eyes, unsure of what it is you are trying to accomplish. He thought you would call it a night, perhaps even tell him that this felt nice but you’d need to rest before you do anything else. But like always, you surprise Wrecker with a dangerous glint to your eyes, slowly rolling your hips back and forth until his cock nestles perfectly between your wet folds. 

“An’edee?”

“Please Wreck…want you to fuck me now. Fuck me hard…stretch me wide on your cock, until I can’t speak anymore.” You roam your hands across his chest, marveling at the muscles rippling and flexing beneath the palms of your hands. Wrecker grabs onto your hips instantly, stopping you from moving any further and sending him into a frenzy. 

“I- I don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage…or that I want to hurt you.” He says, avoiding your gaze altogether and choosing to look anywhere else but your glistening body. You’ve always been beautiful to him, but you’re even more gorgeous in his eyes now, with your sweaty skin and your bruised body that he marked with his teeth and his seed. 

“What if I want you to take advantage…what if- what if I want you to hurt me?” You ask, leaning over and kissing over his chest, glancing up at him and waiting until he meets your eyes before nipping at the skin near one of his nipples. He hisses in warning, narrowing his eyes at you and praying you understand that he only means to take care of you. 

“What if I want the others to know what we’ve done here tonight? Smile at them when they notice traces of your touch all over me. What if…oh maker Wrecker, what if I want to leave this planet with so much of your cum deep inside me that it leaks out of me?” You’re not sure what’s making you whisper such filthy confessions to him. All you know is, the more you reveal to him your wishes, the harder his cock twitches against you. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, and you raise yourself until you’re sitting high above him, with a perfect view of all his glorious skin. 

When he says nothing right away, you regret ever telling him your thoughts, and slowly begin to get off of him. But Wrecker is faster than you, and he squeezes your hips tightly to prevent you from going anywhere. You know you’ll look at yourself in the mirror days from now and find imprints of his hands all over your skin, the thought of which makes you wetter than you can care to admit. You’re about to apologize when he finally puts you out of your misery and nods his consent. 

Afraid that he’s only agreeing because of your need for him, you lean down and kiss his cheeks, hoping he’d understand that you don’t ever want to force him to do anything. But Wrecker sees right through you, wrapping one arm around your back to keep you as flush to him as possible while his other hand reaches down and takes hold of his cock. You feel him tease your entrance with the head of his dick, parting your lips in a silent plea to have him finally fill you to the brim. But he doesn’t give you what you want just yet, sliding his cock along your wet folds several times until he coats his length with your juices. 

“Please Wreck.”

“You want me to fuck you pretty girl?” 

“Y-yes, please.” You breathe against his lips, nearly tasting the salt of his sweat on your tongue as you grow closer to him. 

“Hmm, you want me to train your pussy…show you how to take me?” His voice is hoarse, and you realize it may be the first time you hear him speak so softly, so sweetly to you. 

“Desperately.”

“Kriff,” he hesitates for a moment, but as he looks into your eyes, and feels the wet heat of your pussy coax him into you, Wrecker decides to break the last barrier between the two of you and speak his desires freely, “you- you want me to cum inside you and fill you up until Hunter can smell me on your cunt?” 

The question surprises you, mostly because you thought Wrecker would be too shy to mention something everyone seldom speaks of, something so inherently filthy that lures a fresh wave of desire from your body. You gaze at Wrecker through heavy-lidded eyes, torn between wanting him to tease you more and finally taking you how you always dreamt. You gulp nervously, leaning down and laying a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth before breathing a soft, quick plea against him. 

“Please.” 

Wrecker laughs at your sudden shy demeanor, wondering whether he could play with you a little bit more before he fucks you raw. It’s a difficult decision, but he makes up his mind when he pushes the head of his cock along your slit and finds you soaking for him. 

“Remember your safeword an’edee,” the arm around your back holds you tightly against his heaving chest, and you lose yourself in his touch as soon as he wraps his lips around your own and gently eases himself inside you. The confidence of his words turns you on way more than it should, but you don’t dwell on that thought for too long, already finding it difficult to get used to the sheer size of him. He’s done his due diligence in preparing you for his dick, but you somehow still struggle to take him without hissing in pain. 

“Fuck baby, your pussy feels so warm around my cock.” Wrecker mouths against the column of your neck, his hands clutching on your skin for dear life as he slowly continues to push his length along your tight walls. 

“O-ohhhh,” you moan as you feel him throb deep inside your cunt, and Wrecker mistakes the pleasure for pain, stopping his journey in an instant and stretching his head back until he can get a better look at you. 

“A-am I hurting you? Should I p-”

“No, n-no please don’t…don’t pull out Wreck, please. I just need to g-get used to you.” You cut him off before he even thinks about leaving you, and when you flutter your eyes open and meet his beautiful, mismatched ones, you can’t help smile and kiss the corner of his mouth, hoping that the sentiment distracts him long enough until the stretch of his cock sends more pleasure than discomfort down your spine. 

“Mesh’la,” Wrecker warns warmly, seeing through you immediately and loosening the hold he has on your hips so you don’t think he’ll prioritize his needs over your comfort. He can feel your pussy clench around him the more he roams his hands across your back, and when he rests his hand over your ass, you roll your hips almost on queue, your body already wishing to chase that little high as if he didn’t just make you cum a moment ago. 

“I know, I- oh maker, I know…you’re so thick and hard Wrecker, I feel so- so full.” 

“And you’re so fucking tight love. I want you to move when- when you’re ready.” He knows he should try to persuade you to get some rest, but with every little breath-hitch he hears, and the filthy words streaming from your mouth and washing over him like lukewarm water, Wrecker knows he’s already gone. 

Then you move your hips once, just a little bit, until you can feel the veins along his cock slide deliciously against your tight walls, and Wrecked knows any chances of him letting go of you now are gone.

“Shit.” You swear as you slowly sit up and flatten your palms over his broad chest, supporting your weight and setting a soft pace as you begin to ride him.

“That’s it, fuck yourself on my cock…nice and slow sweetheart. Nice and slow.” He hums at you as he meets your place and thrusts up into you. There is a lilt of pride in his voice, one that sets your body on fire. When you can finally open your eyes and look down, you see Wrecker’s gaze set on where you’re joined. His chest rumbles with a growl as he moves you along his dick and juts his hips up into you, and it’s only when he meets your eyes that you realize why he’s suddenly so unhinged, so willing to give you what you want. 

The man has a size kink. And from the looks of it, it was going to manifest itself pretty soon. 

“Hmmm.” You sigh when you feel his cock hit a deep corner inside you that paints stars across your sight. You want to ask him if it pleases him so much that you can take him without pain, if his dick hardens at knowing that he’s clearly the biggest you’ve ever fucked.

But with every rough push and pull, with every little touch Wrecker brings upon your body, your mind frizzles into nothing, leaving you a heaving mess that grows more needy for him with every kiss he places on your skin.

“The sounds you make, an’edee. Oh fuck, I- I could just keep you here forever. Fuck you all night long to keep you warm. Would you like that?” Wrecker is breathless, and you feel proud at being the reason behind such a reaction. You’ve seen him fight and run for hours on end in the battlefield, but he seldom ran out of breath, let alone looked fatigued. You weren’t sure if this was because he was straining himself so he could hold back, or because he felt for you. Either way, the harsh breaths and growled moans emitting from his mouth were music to your ears, making you yearn for more. 

“Wre-eecker,” you dig your nails into his chest, gasping for air at a particularly hard thrust that nearly sends you flying off of him. A part of you wishes this continues when you’re back in the Marauder, but there was no way this would be possible, not when Hunter could hear the smallest of spiders creeping along the walls. You whine in irritation, throwing your head back to distract yourself from such thoughts. 

“Would you like it if I keep you here in my arms, fuck you till you can’t scream anymore…fill you up with my cum, till it’s leaking out of you tight little cunt and you beg me to keep fucking you to give you some more?” You feel yourself growing slower to the edge with every filthy word he speaks through gritted teeth. Never in your life did you think Wrecker was capable of such inappropriate honesty. Sure he was brutally truthful when he spoke, but most of the time, it was endearing to know that he wore his heart on his sleeve. Then again, this wasn’t much different now that you thought about it. For him to breathe such sinful desires, he must have been thinking of them for a long time. The thought of being the reason behind those wishes and cravings makes you clench your thighs around him, and you fall into his chest when you can’t find the strength to keep yourself up anymore.  

“Please baby, I want it hard- want it so hard.” You plead softly, kissing along his neck and biting the muscles on his shoulder when he wraps one arm around your back and the other goes straight to your ass. 

“So good for me, my little fuck-bunny.” A strike of lightning zaps down your spine, and you sob into his neck as realization washes over you. Had it been anyone else saying those words, you think you may have jumped off of them and punched them in the eye. 

But this was Wrecker. 

And you really enjoyed him calling you his personal fuck-bunny. 

“Ahhhhh yess Wreck, k-keep going.” Your moans ring in his ears as his thrusts grow harder, faster, sweeter. 

“I’m going to fuck you harder sweetheart, but you- osik, you have to promise me one thing.” He’s already doing what he says, holding onto your ass and squeezing it tightly as he moves you on top of him. You can feel his cock carve you out, sending spikes of pleasure along your thighs until they’re shaking harshly. The action doesn’t go unseen by Wrecker, and laughs beneath you when your body continues to shiver violently while his assault on your cunt increases. 

You already know what he’s going to ask, and instead of letting him remind you, you break his train of thoughts and confirm your suspicions, hoping that he’d keep his promise and fuck you into oblivion as soon as he’s sure you remember the safeword. 

“I p-promise to use the safeword if it’s too much, just please- Wrecker…take me.” Your voice gives out in an instant, and as you try to brace yourself for the war Wrecker is sure to bring on your body, he forces you to pull back so he can reach your lips.

“Come here,” his hand twists in your hair, tugging on it until he can see your face, and before you can say anything else, he’s shoving his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moans as he quickens his pace and fucks up into you without remorse. You surrender yourself completely to him, letting go of any control you may have had on your body and allowing him to move you as he pleases. When Wrecker pulls away, he pushes your head into the nape of his neck, nuzzling into the space between the column of your throat and your clavicle before biting down on your shoulder and sending you screaming into his skin. 

“Ah unghhhh yes yes, oh fuck right there Wreck, right t-there.”

“That’s a good girl, stretching ‘round my dick, so wet and hot for me.” He growls right back, pushing his cock into your pussy with such vigor that you nearly forget where you are. The sounds both of you are creating are downright dirty, and you smile to yourself when you notice you can barely hear the storm raging outside from how loud the two of you are being. 

“Uhh ahh yeah, my fuck-bunny is tight for me.” You whimper at the sentiments he continues to breathe on your skin as he drives his cock deeper into your cunt and makes you his. 

“Feel me sweetheart, feel me as I mark your little hole as mine.” None of what he’s saying should make you so weak and pliable for him, but you hope he doesn’t stop talking any time soon. You’re sure he can make you cum simply from telling you how much he craves you.

“W-wreck,” your voice barely comes out loud enough for him to hear, and Wrecker grinds his teeth to prevent himself from sinking them into your neck. He wants to mark you with everything he’s got, but he’s afraid you’d think him too violent if he were to ever do something so savage to you. So instead, he bites into his lip and fucks you harder, praying to the Force that your pussy is enough of a distraction from his barbaric needs. 

“I love it when you call me that, love. Keep moaning my name, and- hmmmm, I promise to give you my cum.” 

Between his words, the possessive touches you’re sure will leave bruises on your body, and the delicious thickness of his cock as he plunges it into your cunt time and again, you cum around him in an instant, your body seizing up all of a sudden as it surrenders to the indescribable pleasure. You feel your lower stomach grow hot with a foreign, heated desire and it’s not until you can finally catch your breath that you hear Wrecker swear and raise you a little to look down at your joined bodies. 

“Osik,” his smile is dangerously wide, and you don’t know what’s pleasing him so much until you follow his line of sight and look down to where you thought he was still filling you. Your eyes widen in horror when you see his skin glistening with your wetness, and you look up at him in time to apologize for the mess you just made. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Wrecker notices your voice grow in shyness, and he shakes his head to stop you from saying anything else. 

“I want you to do that again baby, cum on my cock again.” Before you can ask him if he truly means that request, Wrecker is pushing you down on his cock again and filling you to the brim, hissing in relief when he feels the heat of your pussy engulf him once more and clenching tightly around him. He doesn’t waste another second, grabbing both of your thighs and raising you slightly above his hips so he can fuck up into you freely. You try to support yourself on his chest once more, but your arms give out instantly, sending you flush against Wrecker’s skin again. He kisses your neck, licking and nipping your sweaty skin until he feels that familiar sensation take over your body and send spikes of pleasure down his cock. You’re squeezing him tightly, fluttering with such intensity that Wrecker nearly loses his sight and cums then and there. But he forces himself to focus on your pleasure, wanting to make you cum one last time before he fills you up as he promised.

As you craved. 

He opens his eyes in time to see you part your lips in a silent cry as you drench him again, and he doesn’t stop once, fucking you through your orgasm until you force his dick out of your heat and soak him again. 

“Such a good girl, making a mess of me like I want.” He praises you sweetly, and you nearly confess those three, fateful words to him. But you catch yourself before you ruin the moment, and even though you’re still shaking from the force of your ecstasy, you slowly sit up and grab his cock, lining him up with your entrance and looking into his eyes as you slide down his thick length one last time. 

“B-baby?” Wrecker asks with furrowed eyebrows, knowing that you were yet to come back from the pleasure he just wrung from your body. 

“I- I want to cum with you Wrecker, want your cum to fill me up as I fall over the edge with you.” You roll your hips slowly over him, feeling the tip of his cock hit you right where you’re still sensitive. 

“An’edee,” Wrecker moans to you, roaming his hand up and down your body, and smiling ot himself when he flicks your nipples and feels you flutter around his dick.  

“Take your pleasure baby, use me till you reach that release. Please.” You beg him, one last time, praying that he could finally give you what you want. 

“Hold on to me,” Wrecker warns as he grabs your hips and digs his fingers into the muscles beneath your skin. You move your hands from his stomach to his forearms, clutching onto them for dear life as soon as you feel Wrecker plant his feet onto the mattress and thrust up into you. In a matter of seconds, you’re throwing your head back and crying out his name, the knowledge that you no longer have any control on your body, even your pleasure, sending you quickly into overdrive. You want to focus on your pleasure, but the deeper Wrecker reaches inside you, the more you think of his own needs, and you remember that he’s already given you so much. 

Instead of begging him to touch you, you open your eyes and look down at him, studying him closely as you bring your fingers to your clit and rub yourself furiously. The man beneath you is a sight unlike you’ve ever seen. His broad, large form is nearly pliant underneath you now, buzzing with energy and pleasure that you’re sure must be sending him into some sort of sensory overload. You marvel at the sheer strength of him, and the knowledge that he’s surely holding back, even now, when he’s fucking you within an inch of your life. His chest is heaving from how hard he’s fucking up into you, how fast his thrusts are becoming as he uses you to get off. 

And as soon as he opens his own eyes and looks at you, you give yourself into the pleasure, praying to the maker that he cums along with you so you can experience that little high together. Your prayers are answered when Wrecker descends his gaze down your body and sees your fingers playing with your clit. In a matter of seconds, Wrecker is crying out his release, holding you down against him as he empties his seed inside your pussy and paints your clenching walls with his cum. Although he’s unmoving, the force with which he cums is enough to heat you up, offerig you one last little orgasm before you collapse into his arms. 

He’s somehow still hot and hard beneath you, and when you come to your senses again, you realize he’s been praying your name softly as he was filling you up. You’re still shaking in his embrace, and Wrecker can’t help but squeeze your ass every time you unintentionally flutter around him. He doesn’t move, afraid that he might want to fuck you again. 

Hell, he knew he wouldn’t have to move to get that feeling again. He was already experiencing it right now. Against his better judgment, Wrecker grabs your ass and raises you off of him, hissing in discomfort when he no longer feels the tight heat of your walls wrapping around his hardening cock. 

“Wr- wreck,” you whine into his skin, lazily reaching down in between your sweaty bodies to push his seed back into your cunt. Wrecker doesn’t have to see your hands to know what you’re doing, and he moans into your ears when your thumb traces along his length and makes him twitch into you. 

“F-fuck an’edee, keep saying my name like that and I might just push you down and fuck you into the floor.” He warns with a growl, settling you beside him so he isn’t tempted with your messy pussy. 

“You- you say that like it’s a- ahhhh…a bad thing.” You cry out when Wrecker slaps your ass playfully to get you to quiet down. 

“Not bad at all, but I don’t want to hurt you. Remember?” He leans down and kisses your forehead, nuzzling into your hair before looking beside him to see if there is anything he can use to clean you up. 

“But baby, I like it when you hurt me.”

“Hmmm, as much as I love hearing you say that, I- we should uhhh, oh kriff. S-stop doing that,” he starts to respond, but you don’t let him continue his train of thought, reaching down and wrapping your hand around the crown of his cock. When you squeeze it tightly and feel him grow harder beneath your touch, you feel that same sensation coarse through your veins once more. 

“Why?” 

“Because I don’t h-have that much control, sweetheart. If you- osik, if you keep scratching and kissing on me, I’m trapping you here till your cunt is full of my cum.” He grits his teeth, whining in pain when you bite down on the muscles of his shoulder and lick the slowly-forming mark. 

“Oh, is that a warning Commando?” Your question is meant to stir him into action, but the opposite occurs.

“No my little fuck-bunny, that’s a fucking promise.” Wrecker snatches your wrist quickly, raising your hand to his chest and forcing it down on him before giving you a warning glare. 

“Wha- I thought you were going to…” You look at him through heavy lidded eyes, praying that he could push you underneath him one last time for the night and fill you up again. 

“Fuck you? No an’edee, we’re done for tonight.” Wrecker teases you with a smirk, not giving you a chance to touch him any further as he pulls away completely and stands up.

“But-”

“Knowing Hunter and Tech, they’ll be coming sometime in the next few hours. And I don’t like sharing what’s mine. I’d hate to cut their eyes out because they saw what belongs to me.” Wrecker states the last sentiment so naturally that you can’t help but clench your thighs tightly and slip your fingers down your body until you’re rubbing his cum over your wet folds again. 

“Oh.” It’s all you can say now that you know your feelings are completely mutual. 

“Hmm, does my sweetheart like hearing who she belongs to?” Wrecker asks passively as he looks for his clothes and your own.

“Fuck,” you groan lowly when he turns back around and palms his cock lazily while continuing to tease you with those sinful questions. 

“Or is it the thought of how easily I can beat my brothers for you that’s getting you so hot and bothered?” Wrecker struts towards you, looking down at your form as you spread yourself for him and show him your glistening cunt. He leans down with a dangerous glint in his eyes, waiting until you shut your eyes before kissing your forehead and moving away.

“You- you’re not being fair Wreck.” You murmur irritatingly as you watch him walk away and collect your clothes before coming back to you and throwing them on your body, actively hiding your skin from his hungry eyes so he doesn’t fall into your trap.

“You expect me to not beg you for more, and yet you torture me with your words and- and…”

“You’re right an’edee, I’m not being fair.” He laughs as brings all of his clothes to the mattress and ruffles through them in search of his underpants. When he glances at you and sees you pouting at him, he rolls his eyes and pinches your thighs before pointing to your clothes. 

“Get dressed. That’s an order!” Wrecker nearly falls over as he struggles to put his underpants back on, and when he sees you laughing at him, he steps towards you and reaches for your waist, softly pinching you and chuckling in return when you fall back into bed and giggle along with him. 

“Y-yes sir.” You salute sarcastically, not caring for his request even for a moment. You look on Wrecker as he puts his clothes back on again, smiling to yourself when you see him sniff his shirt and whisper something about smelling like burnt tookas. As he walks around the room in search of food, you lay your hand on your heart and let out a long sigh, one that, you thanked the heavens, was filled with nothing but gratitude. 

You started the day with immense fear for your and Wrecker’s lives, even more at the prospect of never seeing Omega and the others again. But now that you were filled with warmth, one that was provided to you by none other than the man who has been the object of your desires and needs ever since he introduced himself all those months ago, you know that things would eventually be alright. It would take a long time, and perhaps much more heartache, but you’d ultimately find rest. 

You just prayed it would be in Wrecker’s arms. 

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Dracula from Houston: Bigby Wolf x Vampire!Reader

He knew something was wrong. He didn’t even have to look at you to know something wasn’t quite right with you, he had known for so long. His nose picked up an odd scent when he walked into the Business Office after Snow had called him in for something he couldn’t give a shit about; It was faint at first, but the longer he stood in the Business Office waiting for Snow the more pungent it became. He didn’t even bother asking Snow when she did finally pop out from behind the towering bookshelves with her arms full of folders, but when you followed her with an even bigger stack, he knew right away.

The smell was slightly offputting, raising the hairs on the back of his neck as he watched you follow somewhat sluggishly behind Snow. It smelled like something had been left in a dusty room for so long. Not quite moldy, but still a little mildewy? Like when you find something up in the attic after it storms and you brush the dust and mothballs off of it.

But one look at you solidified his thoughts.

You hadn’t fed.

Your cheeks were sunk and looked a little hollow and you had bags under yours eyes that could store the Fabletown armory in them. The skin around your eyes were terribly dark like you hadn’t slept in years and the whites of your eyes were an odd mix of bloodshot and yellow from not feeding. Hell, veins were starting to become more prominent along your throat and under your eyes, even now he could see them poke up from the skin against your temple.

How long had it been since you fed to look like this? This wasn’t something that just happens to vampires, especially ones of your age. It had to have been weeks. You were so busy helping Snow and Bufkin reorganize all of the folders and books, rewriting completely new ones to keep up with the Fables leaving Fabletown and replacing the Fables that had tragically passed in all new books. It had been going on for months as King Cole ordered it to be done by Remembrance Day. The three of you were already working your hands to the bone, but you were able to burn the candle by both ends due to being horribly nocturnal. Had you been putting off feeding just to do this shit?

He knew the stereotypes against vampires in the Fable community, he didn’t need to be reminded about the ones constantly slated against him alone. You were like him, not so good in the past to your other Fables and feared amongst many, but you were trying to make amends and fit back into society, especially since your maker had been staked in the Homelands before you all fled here. You were trying harder than he was, and at the very least it seemed to be working.

But because of those horrible fears, its made it horrible for you to find sources to feed from. You grew to hate feeding on humans, Mundies especially when the new world started to turn artificial with the overly-processed foods and all. And it wasn’t like you could easily just walk out in the middle of Manhattan of all places and catch a raccoon or a squirrel and feed on it in the streets. You had to rely on your community, whenever Fables would “graciously” donate blood to the bank run by other vampires from dispersed covens from centuries prior, and even then, there was barely enough blood to feed you all.

But there were times where even the blood bank wasn’t enough. You had almost gotten caught one time in Staten Island when you took out a deer, not realizing it had been tagged by the city when you fed on it and almost got caught by park rangers. That was a fun drive for Bigby to make.

As Snow went on about something with Remembrance Day plannings and needing Bigby’s help with God knows what, he stepped up beside you and brushed his hand against yours. You were so horribly cold to the touch, he thought that if he squeezed your hand too hard your fingers would break off like ice. Your hand quickly enveloped his hand, thankful for the warm he constantly put out as you leaned against him. You sighed contently, Bigby noticing your fangs poking through and his eyebrows furrowed.

“You feeling okay?” he murmured to you.

It took you a minute to register his question, blinking a few times before nodding.

“Yeah.. I just need a break I think,” you mumbled.

You swayed a little uneasily next to him. Bigby anchored your grip and stood tall next to you so you would have a more sturdy lean against him.

“How long has it been since you last fed?” You sheepishly looked away from him, hunching your shoulders up a bit. “(Y/n)-”

“It hasn’t been easy, Bigby.”

He left it at that, afraid that if he tried to dig deeper that you would get upset and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Instead, he barely looked at Snow out of the corner of his eye, instead watching Bufkin fly around like a bird whose head was cut off trying to organize the books yet again as she rambled on about whatever chores she would need Bigby to do on top of his workload as sheriff. The three of you suddenly winced as the poor flying monkey crashed into a towering bookshelf, dropping all of the books he had been carrying before falling after them.

He sat up in his chair, eyes refusing to stay closed for long before he had to peel them open. As much as they were dry and needed to roll in the back of his head to sleep, he couldn’t will himself to pass out in his somewhat comfy chair. It wasn’t the distant honking of taxi cabs or the police sirens wailing, it wasn’t the distinct clicking of heels on pavement or the chattering on a cellphone.

It was your scent.

Had you of have had a heartbeat, he would have focused on that more, but he made do with what he could. He could smell you in your apartment a few floors above him, your scent only growing stronger in his nose the more he dwelled on the fact that you were practically starving and there really wasn’t anything you could do about it other than sit and wait for a call that may not happen for awhile.

That odd dusty smell lingered in his nose and teased his mind, urging him to do something.

This really shouldn’t have worked out like it did between the two of you. You both were monsters destined to despise each other. The tales have lasted so long that Mundies write smutty romance novels and over-the-top movies about it. But there was something that just pulled you both together one day and you’ve both been together ever since. He finds it a lot better dating you and doing things you can do like going out late at night for walks and such.

But you were suffering in silence and that was killing him. He could feel it swirling in his chest and gut uncomfortably, the need to help and provide for you like he would if he weren’t human.

He felt something compel him to finally stand up on his groaning legs, his old chair creaking eerily as he suddenly stood to the point where it almost woke Colin from his daze. He quickly exited his apartment and made his way towards your own.

The entire time in the elevator he was going over in his mind exactly what to say to you. He didn’t know how you would actually react, but he knew you wouldn’t be happy with what he was brewing in his mind. The ding of the bell startled him out of his thoughts as the doors opened, revealing both of your roommates - also vampires - were going out for the night, probably to work judging by their attire. He nodded awkwardly at them, stepping off the elevator’s cage and starting for your apartment.

He always found it kind of cute that the door handle was in the shape of a coffin and the doorbell matched it. Both were made of steel but shined like silver. He knew better than to ring it though, opting to knock softly and wait for you to open it. He didn’t hear anything at first, so he tried again, knocking just a bit louder. He eventually heard you get up and shuffle and limp towards the door. You opened it with an annoyed look only for it to wipe away when you saw that it was your boyfriend rather than your roommates.

“Bigby? What’re you doing here?” you croaked out.

He winced internally. You didn’t sound so good. You sounded like you were actively dying and you didn’t seem to fare much better since this afternoon when he last saw you.

“I came to see you,” he smiled softly, hoping to ease the situation. “Can I come in?”

You stepped away and allowed him to pass through. Your apartment had no windows at all and the lights were about half as bright as the other lights in the Woodlands. Perfect for vampires, not so good for the normal Fables.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed? Snow just put a lot on your plate.”

You closed the door and started for the couch, slumping down and drawing a thick blanket over your chilled legs. You seemed more… bat-like? He knew you had a glamour, but it was starting to fail. Your eyes were bigger and your ears were starting to come to a slight point.

“I’m worried about you.”

“I’m next on the list-”

“You’ve been waiting for weeks and you’re getting nothing. No calls, no offers, nothing sweetheart.” You sighed and rubbed your face with your bony hands, Bigby didn’t miss the claws adorning your fingertips. “Let me help you.”

You shot up, gaze falling on Bigby who didn’t flinch a muscle. A look of dread washed over your face before it twisted to offense.

“No.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I said no!” You stood up from the couch too fast, your legs gave out without any resistance. Bigby caught you, brawny arms wrapping around your body. You whimpered, wanting to give into his warmth and drink from him but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. “No- Bigby, I can’t.”

Bigby lifted you up briefly before turning and sitting down where you just were. He placed you in his lap, placing your legs securely on either side of him. You tried to avoid his gaze, but the hand that grasped at your chin persuaded you to look at him.

Those eyes.

Fuck, those eyes. You couldn’t say no to those eyes and he knew it. Beautiful shades of brown and amber twisting so perfectly they hypnotized you.

You could feel his pulse pounding through his skin. His heart was beating at such a steady pace, hearty and strong without a trace of fear or discomfort to be found. And fuck, he smelled so good right now you swore you would drool.

Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth as you debated actually drinking from him. Bigby watched as you fought the dilemma internally, rubbing soothing patterns into your hips and back with his warm hands to give you some heat. You yearned to taste him, but it felt so fucking wrong to drink from your lover.

You found yourself nodding shamefully. Your fangs ached to bite into him, your mind tingling with sensations you hadn’t felt in decades.

Bigby loosened his tie and undid the top three buttons on his shirt. The sudden absence of his warm hands on your body made you whimper, grasping at his open collar with desperation as he shushed you lovingly.

“Bigby,” you whimpered.

Your trembling hands caressed Bigby’s strong jaw as you knotted your fingers in his hair. Your lips ghosted his own, your fangs grazing the delicate skin. You could taste the cigarette he just smoked and the whiskey he downed hours ago still.

“I got ya,” he reassured you, tugging his shirt open and to the side.

Your lips ghosted down his neck to the apex where it connected to his shoulder. You were afraid to latch onto his throat, opting instead for around his collarbone where the muscles rippled and flexed as he breathed in deeply, preparing for the pain. You kissed at his tanned skin before you licked at it lazily. You moaned at the light salty flavor, eyes fluttering shut as one of your hands reached to the back of the sofa and snatched at the wooden frame, claws digging into the overstuffed cotton upholstery.

Bigby moaned softly, enjoying the feeling of you lapping and sucking on his neck. He could feel the skin tingle as he anticipated the bite. The way your fangs grazed his skin made it feel electric to the touch. He did his best to keep his pulse as steady as he could, worried that if you sensed it rise too fast you would pull away and deny yourself food.

You felt something flip in your brain. You felt your eyes sting with life and your mind go blank before you bit dow on Bigby’s shoulder.

Bigby groaned out loud, his hands fisting at the back of your shirt as your fangs sank deeper inside of his shoulder until your jaws locked. You lapped up the blood that spilled out, humming and moaning as his blood dribbling into your mouth. Your hands kneaded against him and the sofa as you drank deeply, eyes fluttering shut as you indulged yourself on your lover’s blood.

The pain ebbed away quickly and Bigby found himself relaxing, his body uncoiling. He felt warmer, the back of his mind growing a bit fuzzy from the sudden blood loss as you took your fill. He slowly felt you growing warmer under his touch, his hands went back to caressing your back to soothe your fried nerves.

When he felt himself getting heavy as a pain started to grow in his head, he tapped your spine before you suddenly ripped yourself away. You were panting like a wild animal, eyes glowing red while your mouth and chin dribbling with his blood. You looked way better already, life springing back inside of you after feeding for only a few minutes.

“Feeling better?” he smirked.

[mostly-mundane-atla]

Hello. I was very inspired by your posts! Now I'm working on some Avatar-related drawing, I'm going to draw kuspuk and I want to ask you a few questions about it if you don't mind.

1 – can Yue wear a white kuspuk as an everyday outfit? I though it could reflect her Moon Spirit dress. But you said it is traditional for men as hunting clothes and is a formal wear now, so I am not so sure about this idea anymore. 2 – I remember that kuspuk was worn over parka but is it possible in Avatar-universe to wear it in a modern fashion, as a tunik? And make it a bit narrower, to fit the body more? It's just easier to animate this way. 3 – could Yue wear Sokka's kuspuk or is it allowed only on special events like the holyday you talked about?

I would really like to draw it as respectful as possible. Thank you very much.

Hey, sorry this took so long. I appreciate how organized and formatted this is, it makes it very easy to thoroughly answer!

1. There are two parts to this question; whether kuspuks can be worn as everyday wear and whether Yue can wear a white one. If this helps, you can think of kuspuks in the same way you think of aprons. The purpose of an apron is to be easily washable and protect the clothes under it, and with advances in the garment industry and laundering, there is much less need for them. That being said they remain an iconic part of folkwear that can be lovingly decorated or, on the other hand, a sensible option for any number of chores or lifestyles. A white kuspuk is traditionally for men who hunt big game, as they make for good camouflage in the snow, but why does this mean Yue couldn't wear one? She is associated in canon with the masculine yang of the yin and yang and the moon which, in most Inuit and Eskimo cultures, is considered masculine as well. While white kuspuks are associated with men and specifically family patriarchs, a feminine kuspuk in white makes plenty of sense for Yue's character

2. A kuspuk is baggy. Otherwise it's just a shirt/dress with a hood and pockets. There's nothing wrong with drawing Avatar characters in kuspuk-inspired garments, but a kuspuk is not fitted to the body. There are contemporary novelty kuspuks that are sideless for indoors and warmer months, but that's the closest i can think of.

3. There's nothing really against wearing someone else's kuspuk, but you typically wear your own. While there are shops and makers that sell them, a kuspuk is often made by or for you and shopping for the fabric and and trims is a treasured part of the process so there is some intention to the garment being yours. Not impossible, but not typical. That said, there is the traditional Competition Dance of King Island that involved men dressing as women and women dressing as men. That would be a good opportunity for the two of them to swap clothes if that's what you'd like to do.

[amorganva]

Romeo is the most extra character and I love him for it

I wanna gush about Romeo things I'm too lazy to draw....like how EXTRA IS THIS GUY?? He's amazing. ----------- Getting their Stalker weapons made: Carlo: I'll take a saber....it's clean, it's agile, versatile....You can replace the handle for better grip... Romeo: Scythe. Weapon maker taking the orders: P-Pardon? Romeo: SCYTHE. MAKE IT BIG. MAKE IT EXTEND BY LIKE 20 FEET. Carlo: That sounds really impra- Romeo: S-C-Y-T-H-E! And make it JAGGED. I want to shred my enemies. *Ojou laugh intensifies* ----------- Being made into a puppet: R: Take my ergo....make me a puppet... G: It's still just an experiment, we're not sure it'll work. R: Just do it... but I have one final request... G: Yes? R: GIVE ME A GIANT GUNDAM. And make it look cool. Royal. And turbo boosted legs. G: What?! Why?? R: Why not? ------------ And fighting P is like the first phase he's pushing him away to not hurt him and in the second phase it's almost like a dance like that one scythe move where he pulls you in close like you're dance partners.

If he fights like this as an awakened puppet then he must've had these moves as a human too, muscle memory and all that, and that's pretty sick. Romeo the performer. King of Hearts. And I feel like Romeo was popular at the charity house and Carlo was a bit less popular and more standoffish because he wasn't exactly a poor orphan so it might've rubbed people the wrong way a la Jon Snow at the wall but Romeo hung out almost exclusively with Carlo anyways because he saw that little soft, kind, lonely, vulnerable center in all the broody edginess.

I legit love Neowiz giving us these little tidbits about the characters to speculate and draw conclusions from and all...and making me care so much about the best friend of the main character. He's. So. Good. I can't recall the last time I've been so obsessed over a character. Edit: His "lair" is also inside the flippin opera He made an entire stage play thing to tell P about Geppetto instead of just telling him. Pretty sure that's not against Grand Covenant rules seeing as he was trying to send him messengers.... Romeo, what are you doing buddy lol

[sallysavestheday]

The blade fell with a musical clatter.

Surprise! A very belated reply, but it features our mutually-beloved semi-sentient woods as a consolation. :) Have a little Celegorm and Dior:

The blade fell with a musical clatter, the ringing of its edge against the stone just another note in the dirge that was building around them. It was the song of Dior's life leaving him – slipping away into the trees and the water and the stone in a steady, sorrowful flow. The forest would reclaim him: there would be no more dancing in Menegroth’s caves, no more lullabies, no more chasing cardinals in the snow. All the sweetness of the world he loved was tainted, now, with the tang of rust and rot; with the slick, sour heat of blood in the council chamber and the bitter sweat of the furious Noldo with whom he grappled and twined.

His mother had warned him, but he had not heeded her. The jewel in its intricate setting had shone too brightly around his neck – it had filled the corners where his certainty grew dim, glimmering and glamouring him into Elwë’s empty throne when his heart had felt far too small to fill it. He had needed that affirmation, near-stranger to the realm, uncertain of his heritage – still almost a child, though grown. But the Silmaril fed on life, as Lúthien had known. Some stain of the Iron Crown, or the ragged heart of its maker, still lingered in the gem, shattering its light into sharpness, giving everything it touched a slashing edge. And it called disaster to it, certain as the night – or else he would not be cornered in his own halls, ankle-deep in gore, with a killing wound in his side and a Fëanorian fist around his throat. Celegorm’s pale eyes held his, and the hunter grinned. “Hurts, doesn’t it, little king?” he laughed. “Knowing you can’t escape, or protect what is precious to you, or call your life your own?” Oh, he was fair, indeed: a twisted echo of the Calaquendi’s greatness. Lúthien had spoken of him – of his fine, bright face and the lucent silver of his hair. But words could not capture the bitterness that seeped from him, the acid of his frustration, his hunger and rage. Celegorm was burning in Dior’s desperate embrace, nearly certain of achieving his desire. “I will have it, sprat, whether you will it or no.” His breath was hot, his hand heavy and hard on Dior’s neck, where the gem had rested only moments ago. Dior counted in his head: steps to the storage rooms, to the tunnels, to the secret exit far away in the falling snow. Little legs could only run so fast, and Elwing had never condescended to be carried. Charged with the jewel’s safety, she would only be more stubborn and more proud. The fleeing company needed time. Well, then. He would give it to them. He was the forest's child, and love's, and death's. And he was King. Yes. He was King. With a last echo of his mother’s dancing grace, Dior spun and twisted, pinning his startled adversary beneath him as they fell. Clawing and bucking, Celegorm hissed. “It is not yours, you mongrel whelp of a forgotten Man; scion of a powerless king!” He battered Dior’s ribs where the blade had gone in. "Thief!! I will end you!" Dior only laughed, shuddering in time with Doriath’s tremors, conjuring the mist of Lúthien’s hair, the entangling filaments of Melian’s arms. Man he might be, and elf-kin as well, but his failing heart sparked with a Maia’s fire. What was death to him but the turn of a leaf? He was the deep wood; he was the dark wind howling. He was the stinging nettle and the poison berry, all the forest’s fury flowing and churning. His hands became green things: grasping roots and strangling vines. Under the wild weight of him, Celegorm could no more move than he could fly. Dior watched the fair face flinch beneath him as he smiled. Behind his bloodied lips, there were teeth upon teeth: in rows sharp as blades, all keen-edged and white. Celegorm’s throat was soft and sweet, in the clench of the dying boy-king's bite.

Also on AO3.

[bestworstcase]

are you willing to share the details on tdt! zhan tiri

behold my incomprehensible diagram!

um. after v9 i lost all sense of restraint, on the grounds that the blacksmith is an aspect of the tree and therefore the tree reasonably might have other aspects, and then there were four, and then there were twelve. lmao. (the artisan is the blacksmith—she’s depicted as a wood carver and lewis called her ‘the lively carpenter,’ so i figured she’d give herself a more nonspecific name.)

because i am also shaking heraclitus between my teeth like a terrier with a rat, Only One ever exists at a time; the tree is always becoming itself and its aspects shift and flow and transform into each other. in various directions and by varied means. ANYWAY,

those quartets (was/is/will-be) are not temporal categories but rather (copying straight from my lore notes here):

Presiding over forethought and remembrance, the Was concerns itself with what may be known: prophesy before, and memory after, for Time is the circle which remembers itself. It would be a mistake to say that the Is presides over, because the Is does not rule; but it might preside at the choosings, the turnings, the changings, and so the Is circumnavigates the Soul. Some things do not change—some things can never be changed—and over what is unchanging and unchangeable, the Will-Be presides: over strife, over hunger, over graspings, over flux.

was is about the flow of time and knowledge, is concerns action and choice, and will-be are manifestations of inevitability—things that Always Are. if you are uh. familiar with bitter snow zhan tiri i’m sure you can guess where she Goes…

The Reaper, called the Sitient Thorn and the Black Vulture and the Flower-Maker and the Goat-With-One-Thousand-Teeth and the Lady-of-Wilds and the King-of-Beasts—for she has been known by many names in many places—appears however she pleases, and it pleases her to change. Her fur and feathers are oil-dark; she crowns herself with the coal-black horns of a ram; her eyes glitter green; she reeks of vegetable rot and brine. Her true name, if she has one, might be the Wrathful Sky. All things want. Her season is Spring.

she is—as in bitter snow lmao—a little unusual in that she’s not a quote-unquote true aspect of the tree but rather something hungry that came from somewhere else, from the dark country which is nowhere. it is ESSENTIAL FOR HER CHARACTER that she’s a strangler fig. always. so she is kind of a quasi-parasitic trespasser into this Situation but also, in the same way that real stranglers protect their living host trees from being uprooted by storms, not an adversarial one necessarily.

what that means in practical terms is the reaper is the exception to a lot of the, for lack of a better word, “rules” that define the tree’s nature. in her aspect as an aspect of the tree, she takes on its nature; when she isn’t manifest within the tree, though, she exists outside and independent of it. so she can, for example, go for walkies in the backyard

by which i mean remnant. lmao

on remnant, the reaper is the god of animals. she didn’t make the fauni but once they came to be she decided she liked them Best and has favored them ever since. many, but not all, fauni receive her blessing, which (like that of the brothers) confers a magical gift, specifically a form of shapeshifting.

NOT like what the branwens can do—more in the vein of ‘cultivating’ the animal-like traits you already have as a faunus, so if (for example) you were born with shark teeth you might learn to rearrange your respiratory anatomy and grow gills, or give yourself sharklike skin. this can be done in a way that is permanent (this is called ‘ripening’) or not (‘borrowing’). most fauni who learn mix and match a bit (and there are different formal ‘paths’ that combine techniques in different proportions and intensities).

the gift itself is called khime and the practice is khimancy; humans often misunderstand khimancy as sort of a fauni tradition combining auralerie and konurgy (dust-magic) into a single art, but that is. um. Wrong.

(it is possible for master khimancers to fully turn themselves into an animal, but it takes a lot of dedication and many years of training to get there. the ones who get there are called turnskins and they’re rare, like on the level of silver-eyes rare.)

anyway the Reason not every fauni in the world receives khime is she only gives it to the ones who ask. asking is Really Simple—just a small ritual to get her attention, though the specifics vary a lot between different sects—and in many fauni cultures it’s seen as a rite of passage marking the end of one’s childhood. but because it’s a religious practice specific to khimerism, obviously not everyone Does It.

conversely, it isn’t Just For Fauni in the sense that a human could petition the reaper for her gift if they so chose, and she might say yes. for all intents and purposes this is Converting To Khimerism and under khimeric law makes you a faunus—although it won’t cause a physical alteration right away, there is a process for revealing your true form.

this is PRETTY RARE but not unheard of. there’s a handful of fauni folk heroes who are said to have been born human and either left in the wilderness as infants and being saved by fauni parents or outcast from human society and turning to the god of animals for solace; mythically speaking, the idea is that, just as the god of animals offered their gift to some humans who refused, perhaps there might be a very few humans whom they missed, or who weren’t born at the right time, and such people will find their own path to where they truly belong.

(IN CASE IT ISN’T OBVIOUS i’ve chosen to veer off the ‘racism allegory’ angle by leaning into the religious aspect of fauni identity; the narrative in ‘the shallow sea’ is essentially “we are our god’s chosen people and through this covenant we were changed” so—in the context of TDT where the god of animals and their shape-changing magic is real—if one chooses to convert and accept that covenant one can become a faunus. the reverse however isn’t true: one can leave the religion and relinquish the gift, but that doesn’t get rid of the fauni traits. nothing is erased, nothing forgotten.)

salem knows about her. (her opinion is chiefly “stop. trying. to eat. my. grimm.” they have tea sometimes it’s complicated.) ozpin thinks the god of animals is a myth, if a curiously persistent one. and the reaper is also like… at least half of remnant’s cryptids because when she’s out for walkies in the backyard most of the time she does it as a horrible mishmash Creature. when fauni characters say the Lady or the King they’re talking about her. she is both the Lady and the King because she doesn’t know what a gender is (and at this point she’s too afraid to ask) and she picks her pronouns on the basis of “i’ll have what my friend is having :)”

the god of light. HATES HER. she crawled in through the jabberwalker (no relation to the walker) (theophoric name) and latched onto the tree before the brothers could Get Rid of her and then made herself part of the tree Somehow!!! (you are what you eat) so now she just exists outside of his power.

(the brothers were both actually far more powerful than the tree when they left the ever after, because the tree is a passive force, it cannot act outside of itself, but the brothers had no power over the tree. so the reaper can’t overrule the god of light on his ultimatum—although she’d like to—but he can’t do anything to stop her from going for walkies. he just seethes impotently.)

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Three Indigenous Alberta women are involved in a lawsuit that requires articling students in the province to swear an oath of allegiance to “be faithful and bear true allegiance to His Majesty King Charles the Third.”

Rachel Snow is an Îyârhe Nakoda First Nations legal consultant and Indigenous law practitioner, and a descendant of makers of Treaty 7.

Her father John Snow was chief of the Wesley Band, west of Calgary. In the 70s he received an audience Queen Elizabeth II and presented Prince Charles with a book that he wrote about the history of his people.

John fought for Indigenous rights and had an honorary doctorate of laws degree from the University of Calgary.

Rachel has a law degree but she can’t be a lawyer in Alberta unless she swear an oath of allegiance to the king.

“It’s very much a remnant of colonialism,” Snow said. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada, @abpoli

[queersrus]

ice cream theme

[ice cream theme]

for @seraphim-coinz 's event, prompt one !

partnered with our other blogs @dollilian, @objectumluv, @systiveboxes, @skelatomy

(nick) names:

aisukurīmu, aiseukeulim, aaisakreem, aiskrimu, ahikirīmi butter, ben, baskin, butterscotch, buaza cookie, cream/creame, creme, chocolate, custard, cone

daz, drum, drumstick, dessert, dondurma, flødeis eiscreme, eskrim, eis, eistute float, frappe, fudge, freezie, fagylalt

gelato, gelado, glace, glacee, glas haagan, helado ice, iskrem

jerry, jeni kulfi, klondike, krim, kem lody

mint, maple, morozhenoye, morozyvo, mochi neo, neapolitan pecan, pop, pagotó, paleta

robin/robbin, rjómaís sorbet, soft, serve, snow, strawberry, sundae, sandwich, sorvete, sorbete, speiseeis talenti

vanilla waffle yogurt

1st p prns: i/me/my/mine/myself

cri/creme/creamy/creamine/creamself di/desse/desserty/dessertine/dessertself fri/froze/freezy/frozine/freezieself gi/gele/gelaty/gelatine/gelatoself i/ice/icy/icine/iceself mi/minte/minty/mintine/mintself ni/neapole/neapoly/neapolitine/neapolitanself pi/popse/popsicly/popsicline/popsicleself si/sorbe/sorby/sorbetine/sorbetself si/sunde/sundy/sundaeine/sundaeself vi/vane/vanilly/vanilline/vanillaself

2nd p prns: you/your/yours/yourself

cro/creamer/creamers/creamerself do/desser/dessertrs/dessertrself fro/freezer/freezers/freezerself go/gelator/gelators/gelatorself io/icer/icers/icerself mo/minter/minters/minterself no/neapoliter/neapoliters/neapoliterself po/popser/popsiclers/popsiclerseld so/sorber/sorbeter/sorberself so/sundaer/sundaers/sundaerself vo/vaniller/vanillers/vanillerself

3rd p prns: they/them/theirs/themself

cre/creme, cre/creame, cre/ame, crea/me, cream/creams de/ssert, des/sert, dess/dessert, dessert/desserts fre/freezie, freez/freezie, freez/ie, freezie/freezies, fro/zen, froz/en, fro/frozen, frozen/frozens, frozen/dessert gel/gelato, gel/ato, gelato/gelatos i/ce, ice/ices, ice/cream mi/mint, min/ty, mi/nt, mint/mints, mint/minty, mint/chocolate nea/politan, neapol/itan, neapo/litan, nea/neapolitan, nea/neapolitan, neapolitan/neapolitans po/popsicle, pop/sicle, popsicle/popsicles sor/bet, sor/sorbet, sorbet/sorbets, sun/dae, sundae/sundaes, sun/sundae van/illa, van/vanilla, va/nilla, vani/lla, vanilla/vanillas

titles:

the ice cream scooper, the ice cream queen/king/ruler, the iced dessert maker, the keeper of iced cream, the holder of ice cream secret flavours

*one who adores ice cream, one who rules the hills of ice cream, one who secures the sorbet

*one can be replaced by any prn

[green-aeggs-and-spam]

I hope Season 2 gives Baela the freedom to be unhappy with her lot, without dismissing her as an Angry Black Woman. In the books, she's treated badly and has every right to be upset about it.

She's lost her potential claim to be the ruling Lady of Driftmark in exchange for a betrothal to Jace - and no matter what Rhaenyra's ambitions are for herself, wife of the king is still very much a royal baby-maker position.

She wants to marry Jace before he flies north, but this doesn't happen. No matter where you fall on the Cregan Stark vs Sara Snow debate, there will be rumors of infidelity at the very minimum.

She's a dragonrider, but she's going to be grounded on Dragonstone without even a position of command as consolation. They essentially lock her up "for her own safety," against her will - which backfires horribly.

More than anything else, I want the showrunners to respect her right to be angry. Don't frame it so that Baela is the problem for wanting more than they'll give her. Don't scrub away her anger or make her silently content in order to avoid conflict within Team Black.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Mistakes

(More Feral!Jaskier)

Jaskier usually spent his winters in Kaer Morhen. He liked the illusion of solitude, where he could drift around the endless corridors, letting his mind wander and invent scenarios that he could use to inspire ballads and poems.

He could stay up into the wee hours every night, scribbling away in his notebook as the muses whispered to him in the quiet of his small room.

He could sleep late into the morning after the muses finally allowed him to sleep, and then drag himself down to the Great Hall for some strong tea and whatever was left over from breakfast.

He could spend a few hours with his Witcher friends, laughing, telling stories, and helping with chores. Witnessing the brotherhood humans didn't think them capable of.

He could stare out the window, singing softly to himself, working out a tune or the lyrics to a song.

He could scribble down random thoughts inspired by watching the sun move over the landscape, or from the feeling of the snow falling on him, or the sounds and sights he experienced while riding with Geralt in the woods around the Keep.

The way the snow clumped on a branch, the sound of Pegasus's hooves in the snow, the crisp chill of the air on his cheeks, the silence of the woods as the snow fell around him, all of it was fodder for his creativity.

He could live in a room that was a mess of scattered piles of parchment organized in a way that only he understood.

He could forget to eat, and comb his hair, and shave, and change his clothes for days at a time. There was no one there who would care if he let his personal standards of grooming slip.

He could live his lonely, tortured artist aesthetic to his heart's content.

But then, one winter, his pleasant routine was interrupted. There had been a few times when the subject of Jaskier being able to defend himself had come up. He had always bushed the conversation off.

Bards were an important part of society! They were the Keepers of History! News Bringers! Stewards of The Arts! King-Makers! They were practically a protected species! Besides, who would dare harm a bard who is friends with a whole pack of Witchers?

Inspite of his protests, Jaskier still found himself being pushed out to the training grounds at the ungodly hour of almost noon. Coen was determined to teach him at least some basic sword skills.

Jaskier had stood there shivering, and holding the wooden training sword out at arm's lenght as if it were a snake that might curl up and bite him. He'd whined and complained while Coen showed him how to hold the sword, and adjusted his stance. Jaskier continued to natter on as the Witcher took him through a few basic moves.

Coen had tried giving Jaskier different weapons. The bow had been a bad idea. Jaskier's aim was so bad it was almost comical. Coen hadn't even dared to think about handing him an axe, or a spear.

Coen found himself growing incresingly frustrated with the bard as the weeks went by. Jaskier showed very little improvement. He spent the majority of the training time whining about training, making jokes, and putting in lackluster effort.

Jaskier had shown only mild interest in each of the weapons. It was the novelty and an interest in the physics and mechanics of the weapon that grabbed his attention. When it came to seriously training with one, the fun went away, along with Jaskier's interest.

The other Witchers would sometimes come along to watch and offer unhelpful advice, make jokes, and try to encourage Jaskier.

Lambert could always be found watching the awkward training sessions. It was good entertainment. And then things got really interesting.

Coen was chasing Jaskier around the courtyard, trying to get him to use some of the moves he'd been showing him. He was usually a patient teacher, but Jaskier had a knack for being incredibly irritating.

Maybe it was the way he acted so fussy and prissy, as if his hands were too delicate to hold a training sword. Or the way he babbled ceaselessly, making jokes or complaints. Or perhaps it was how he seemed so flippant about being able to defend himself, as if he refused to acknowledge the imprortance of it.

Coen finally lost his patience. He started getting into Jaskier's space, pressuring him. The bard had squeaked and backed up, swinging his wooden training sword wildly. He'd yelped as Coen smacked him with his sword, giving him a surprised look. He'd backpedaled, holding his arm, and Coen had hit him on the thigh, then sent him sprawling to the ground.

Lambert had stood up, uneasy as Coen swung down at Jaskier's head, growling at him to get up as the bard scrambled frantically to get out of the way.

"Get up you lazy s*d! Do you think this is a game? Do you think I'm doing this for fun?" Jaskier had swallowed, twisting up to his feet and yelping again as Coen hit him across one shoulder. He was covered in bruises, some old, some very new, and they ached in the cold. He barely got his sword up in time to haphazardly block Coen's next swing. The Witcher contined to go after him, "Stop running away and start fighting back!"

"Coen, stop! I don't want to-!"

"Geralt and Yennefer aren't always going to be there to do the fighting for you!"

"Coen," Lambert said, an odd note of warning in his voice. "He's a bard, not a Witcher. He hasn't been in anything more dangerous than a drunken bar fight."

"And that's why he needs to learn how to actually fight! He might be able to handle a drunk, but a sober enemy is another matter! He can't spend every fight he gets in flapping around uselessly like a terrified chicken while Geralt or Yennefer do the fighting!"

Coen went after the bard, driving him around the courtyard, not letting up. Jaskier frantically stumbled back, parrying and trying keep his feet. His mind was a storm of panic. He needed to get away from Coen fast, or things weren't going to end well. He desperately looked for an escape route, tried cricling to the doors to the Great Hall, but Coen was always there, blocking his way.

The bald Witcher pushed him towards a corner. Jaskier yapped as Coen hit him hard on the side then shoved him into the wall.

"Coen, back off! He's-!," Lambert warned, having seen a familiar look in Jaskier's eyes.

"F**k off, Lambert!"

"No, you ar*ehole, listen-!"

"I said to f**k off!"

"Fine. It's your funeral," Lambert muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against a training dummy.

"Coen, stop!" Jaskier pleaded, a weird edge to his voice.

"Or what? What are you going to do? Go crying to Geralt or Yennefer? You think an enemy is going to politely wait until they get there?" Coen growled, shoving him roughly.

"Please...just stop..." Jaskier had said quietly. Tears started welling up in his eyes.

"Don't start that crying sh*t! You aren't getting out of this!"

Coen shoved Jaskier into the wall again and cuffed him hard on the ear. Jaskier let out a surprised sob, trying to curl in on himself, one hand going up to hold his ringing ear.

"Yennefer is going to-!" Jaskier began.

Coen slapped his hand down and grabbed his jaw, pinning his head to the wall. "Going to what? Be mad? Go ahead and cry for her, I'll kick her a*se around the yard too!"

And that was when Jaskier snapped.

He twisted and bit The forearm Coen was holding him with, the shoved the Witcher away.

Coen saw the flash of the push knife barely in time to avoid being gutted. He staggered back, bleeding but with his guts still on the inside.

Jaskier switched the push knife to his off-hand, scooped up his dropped training sword, and slammed the pommel hard into the crest of Coen's hip bone. Coen cursed and went down as pain exploded in his hip.

Lambert ran to help, yelling for Jaskier to stop, and had to twist abrutly to the side to avoid the thin throwing knife that whistled past him. The little sh*t had throwing knives too?! F**k!

Coen kicked Jaskier away from him, groaning as the pain in his left hip flared sharply. Jaskier rolled in the snow, gained his feet, and jumped on Coen.

He was going for another push knife when Coen smacked him hard on the side of the head with the flat of his sword.

Jaskier reeled, disoriented, and dropped his knife. Lambert kicked it away, and helped Coen pin Jaskier face down on the ground.

The bard was still trying to fight them, even though his head was swimming from the blow.

"What the f**k?" Coen panted, checking his bleeding stomach, leaning heavily on the struggling bard. The wound wasn't too deep, but it would need stitching. His hip, on the other hand was killing him. "What the absolute f**k?"

"I told you to leave him alone!" Lambert panted back. "Did you think I was joking? You alright?"

"Yeah, just a cut and I think I have a hip pointer. Mother of-! Yeah, " Coen said, lightly touching the large hematoma on his hip, "It's definitely a hip pointer. F**K it hurts like a b*tch!" Coen paused as something Lambert said caught his attention. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you, you ar*ehole!"

Lambert shrugged. "I tried to warn you, but you know, sometimes you just have to learn from your own mistakes."

"You're such a jacka**!"

"Calm the h*ll down, you daft b**tard! " Lambert snapped at Jaskier, who continued to desperately struggle and snarl. "We aren't trying to hurt you!"

"Aww, f**k, he's bleeding!" Coen said, spotting the bloody bruise on the side of Jaskier's head. He scooped up a handful of snow and gently pressed it to the lump. Jaskier flinched, then got quiet, distracted by the coldness of the snow. He lay still, letting the cold soothe the intense ache in his head. His head was swimming, and he felt nauseated. Familiar voices were talking to him. His bruised brain recognized the faces leaning over him. Friends! They looked worried...oh d*mn, something was wrong with him!

Lambert and Coen cautiously rolled him onto his back. Jaskier blinked and squinted, then reached for his head with a pained moan. "Shhhh, here, Songbird," Lambert said, holding a fresh handful of snow to his head wound.

Jaskier flinched and clutched at Lambert's sleeve, fear and confusion swirling in his dazed, unfocused eyes. "Easy, easy! It's alright!"

"We should probably get Geralt."

"He's going to be p*ssed!"

"You want to get Yennefer instead?"

"F**k no!"

"Eskel?"

"He went out hunting,"

"D**n it!"

Jaskier, throughly concussed, disoriented, scared, and in pain, called for the only person his foggy brain could remember at the moment. Unfortunately, his bruised brain was having trouble matching a name with Vesemir's face. What was it again? Oh, Yeah!

Jaskier's mouth worked for a second, and then he whimpered, "pA!!!"

Lambert and Coen felt the panic only older siblings feel when they 'accidentally' cause their younger sibling to start crying. Lambert slapped a hand over Jaskier's mouth and hissed "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh! You're okay! Shhhhhhhhhh! " He and Coen sat absolutely still. Listening.

"It wasn't very loud...maybe he didn't hear...."

Vesemir: *busy roasting some venison*

Vesemir: *hears The Voice Crack*

Vesemir's brain: *Mental image of baby!jaskier*

Papa Vesemir: I must go! My adopted grandpup needs me! *yeets his hand embroidered "I'll Feed All You F**ks' apron and flies to the courtyard*

Coen and Lambert were just about to relax when Vesemir was suddenly there, looming over them. And if that wasn't bad enough, Geralt appeared barely a second later with an unhappy growl.

Lambert looked at Coen and knew he was thinking the exact same thing: Oh, we're f***ed!

Coen was lectured by Vesemir as his injuries were treated, while Lambert escaped the dressing down because he was considered an innocent bystander who'd tried to help. He spent his time helping Geralt clean up Jaskier's head wound and get him to drink a watered down healing potion to take care of his concussion.

Coen had limped in later, to see how he was doing, and found out that Geralt, Aiden, and Lambert all knew about Jaskier's feral side. They showed him their scars from their encounters, except for Lambert ( because his weren't in a place that he could exactly proudly display), and Aiden, who didn't have any scars because he had been present when Geralt had gotten his.

They then swore him to secrecy, as was the tradition now. Eskel would have to find out on his own not to f**k with the bard.

[branwyn-the-half-witch]

The Wall and the Waning of Magic: 2/2

(this was originally a Twitter thread; re-posting here for ease of reading)

Why Do We Build The Wall?

There are three possibilities I would offer regarding the nature of the Wall on the basis of these observations. Firstly, due to the sheer age of the Wall and the scarce-remembered events, one tantalising possibility is that everyone is wrong, and the Wall was not built as a defence against the Others, but BY them as they fled North from the powers of the Last Hero, Azor Ahai, the monkey-tailed girl, the choirs of the Rhoynar and every other half-remembered hero.

This seems absurd, but the Wall is made of ice, and described often in the same terms as the ice-swords of the Others.

It plainly does not keep out the Others or their servants, as we have indisputably seen, but does potentially cut off the magic of a skinchanger, blocks the agent of the 3EC (allied to the singers) and drains and distresses dragons.

In short, it has a negative effect on all those who could feasibly be described as the enemies of the Others. And yet, when Jon Snow sees it, he is seized with the necessity of keeping the Wall up.

He knows that if the Wall falls, the world falls; but what, famously, does Jon Snow know?

This may be a magical compulsion to ensure the Wall remains, whilst the enemies of its makers are drained by it, weakened to the point where they cannot thwart another Longer Night. It is often asked why the Others woke now, why are the dead marching now? Perhaps it was simply finally time; the dragons gone, the singers and giants barely a memory (and forced closer to the Others geographically than to anyone who might help them). The last great greenseer old, fading and unable to flee.

If Azor Ahai took dragons to war against the dark, if the singers aided the Last Hero...those things seemingly could not happen this time.

Another option is that the Wall – which does have foundations of stone, even if it is largely ice by now – was not initially thus but became corrupted. And we have a ready-made candidate for who may have done that. The Night’s King is a contemporary of Joramun, whose horn can allegedly bring down the Wall (more on him in a moment), married an Other (so they must have still been there) and held the Night’s Watchmen in thrall.

Perhaps his great sin was building or infecting the Wall to begin with, and once it began to drain the magic, magic was not strong enough to throw it down. This man, an enemy of humanity in much the same way as Craster and Euron, chose his side and aided it well, if so. And this may explain why the Black Gate, a creation of the singers, looks decayed, has been blinded and appears to be grieving.

Giants and the Horn of Joramun

However, if either of the above were true, then we should have heard of it by now from someone, surely? We have met some surviving singers, and a greenseer who all have access to the knowledge and memories of their ancient comrades. Surely this would have come up?

So suppose the Wall was build as described and is functioning as designed. Does that mean it isn’t draining magic, and this is all just very coincidental? I think it still is draining the world, because such an enormous ward must require something to power it.

But let me offer a solution: the Wall was always intended to come down.

Joramun was a King Beyond the Wall who joined with the Starks in throwing down the Night’s King. His Horn, sought by Mance, is allegedly capable of bringing the Wall down.

Now, Mance found a horn, which Mel burns, but that horn was assuredly not THE Horn. Its suspected that the actual horn maybe somewhere Old, soon with a side helping of squids.

But why was the fake horn convincing? Tormund tells us that this was because the fake horn was found in a giant’s grave – and the Horn brings down the Wall, we are told, by waking giants from the earth.

The ‘horn that wakes the sleepers’ if you will. My contention is therefore that Joramun was a giant, one of the very ones who helped build the Wall, and that his horn was fashioned as a failsafe to destroy what was made when it was no longer necessary.

Perhaps the hope was, with the singers and giants and First Men closer than ever, with dragons in the East and heroes aplenty the world over, the threat would be held at bay and the gifting of their combined magic to keep the defences strong was a willing sacrifice on all parts. But men forget, and war destroys records, and Doom came upon the dragons.

Conclusion

We are shown at length that, from a humanitarian standpoint, the Wall is evil. The Free Folk are demonised in ways that cannot possibly be true, they are hunted like beasts and left in horrible danger when the real threat arises. What are they if not the men the Night’s Watch swear to defend, as Jon comes to ask? What original sin did they commit, other than living on the other side when it was built?

The Wall also dehumanises and destroys those who serve upon it. The world would be better without the Wall, physically and magically. GRRM has said that the seasons will be restored to normal by the end, and whilst we don’t know the details of what is going to happen, but we all agree – that wall is coming down.

JRR Tolkien posits, through King Theoden, that ‘oft evil will shall evil mar’; if Euron Greyjoy, the Night’s Pirate King, does indeed bring down the Wall and lets winter in, perhaps he shall have done a greater good than he would ever had intended, and given us a chance for spring thereafter. Let’s not thank him for it, though.

Original thread here: https://x.com/BranwynHlfwitch/status/1768776863961243700

[izzyliker]

let me recommend a different less tumblr famous the mountain goats song to you based on your fav song from tallahassee

01 tallahassee

* there will be no divorce (x)

* then the letting go (x)

* going to queens (x)

* going to port washington (x)

02 first few desperate hours

* damn these vampires (x)

* you or your memory (x)

* cry for judas (x)

* pale green things (x)

* going to scotland (x)

* tahitian ambrosia maker (x)

* aulon raid (x)

* birth of serpents (x)

03 southwood plantation road

* going to kansas (x)

* orange ball of love (x)

* dance music (x)

* alpha incipiens (x)

04 game shows touch our lives

* fault lines (x)

* the mess inside (x)

* riches and wonders (x)

* minnesota (x)

* baboon (x)

* mark on you (x)



05 the house that dripped blood

* new chevrolet in flames (x)

* twin human highway flares (x)

* onions (x)

* broom people (x)

* hast thou considered the tetrapod (x)

* the autopsy garland (x)

06 idylls of the king

* sax rohmer #1 (x)

* training montage (x)

* against pollution (x)

* how to embrace a swamp creature (x)

07 no children

* going to georgia (x)

* family happiness (x)

08 see america right

* dilaudid (x)

* going to hungary (x)

* alpha omega (x)

* going to maine (x)

09 peacocks

* wild sage (x)

* deianara crush (x)

* sept 16 triple x love! love! (x)

* the last place i saw you alive (x)

* beautiful gas mask (x)

10 international small arms traffic blues

* your belgian things (x)

* flashing lights (x)

* love love love (x)

* snow crush killing song (x)

* chinese rifle song (x)

11 have to explode

* orange ball of pain (x)

* downtown seoul (x)

* omega blaster (x)

* seeing daylight (x)

12 old college try

* up the wolves (x)

* in the craters on the moon (x)

* standard bitter love song #8 (x)

* waving at you (x)

* going to maryland (x)

* jenny (x)

* chinese house flowers (x)

13 oceanographers choice

* psalms 40:2 (x)

* alpha desperation march (x)

* resonant bell world (x)

14 alpha rats nest

* standard bitter love song #7 (x)

* insurance fraud #2 (x)