#the viper and the wild thing

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Hi Alyssa

'The Viper and the Wild Thing' has its Fan Fiction Birthday on 17th May 🎂

Happy birthday!

Tell us something about that fic, anything you like, and we'll help blow out the candles and wish it many happy returns!

You can save this ask until the actual date or reply whenever you like.

Hi El!! 🥰🐘

I frickin love that you're doing these fanfic birthdays so much, and when I first got the notification that you sent this one, I smiled SO big. The Viper & The Wild Thing - specifically the first part, The Cold Offends Me - is one of my favorite things that I've ever written. Oberyn Martell was the first Pedro character I fell in love with, but I was also in love with him as a character before I ever saw him on screen since I had read the books. I remember being enamored by him and Ellaria and all things Dornish, and I still am, for the record. Give me a show entirely about the kingdom of Dorne and I will be a happy girl.

Writing for Oberyn happened sort of unintentionally, though, despite being head over heels in love with him. I was (as is my way) already working on several other wips (some things really never do change) but then @something-tofightfor launched like... an all out assault, honestly, for multiple days where she just sent me gifs and screenshots of Oberyn being Oberyn. And then, in a BURST of creative juice the likes of which I have not seen since, I wrote the whole first part in one day. Start to finish. In one sitting. Who did I think I was, doing that?

I really and truly wanted to have a new part to this story ready to share tonight to celebrate three years of Oberyn and his Wild Thing, but my mistake was in thinking I could be brief with it, so it's not quite ready yet. I'm optimistic that it will be by Sunday night, though! So there's that! And in the meantime, here's a little snippet:

“Close your eyes for me.” Oberyn’s request came in the form of a contented purr as he dropped his plush lips behind your ear. “Just for a moment.” 

Eyelids already hanging heavy from the weight of your sated bliss, you hummed and did as he asked without hesitation. “For as many moments as you wish, my Prince,” you murmured through a loose grin, leaning your head back against his shoulder. 

Bodies still joined, his left arm snaked more tightly around your waist to keep you in place on his lap. His fingers spread over your side, their tips pressing into your flesh. Your stomach flipped as you realized that the way he was holding you, with an almost ferocious urgency to his grip, was the same way you’d seen him fill his hands with Ellaria’s waist when he kissed her. 

“Just one,” he insisted, “I prefer to see them open and looking into mine.” You felt the slightly crooked ridge of his nose drag over your temple before he shifted behind you, prompting you to sit up. What is he doing back there? Every cell in your body was still vibrating with pleasure at a frequency that made it impossible to guess at his actions. 

You gave a dizzy little laugh, warmth blooming in your chest as your left arm draped over his where he held you. “I think we may have to move if you want me to look into your eyes.” Though I’d be happy if I never moved again.

“No, we will not.” He kissed the corner of your eye, and then pulled back, unwinding his arm and using both hands to situate something hefty and cool around your neck. “Open them, Wild One.”  Again, you did as he asked without question, blinking twice and then sucking in a gasp at what you saw reflected back at you in the mirror on the other side of the room. “Oberyn.”

---

Thank you SO MUCH for sending this and for doing this celebration and for choosing TV&TWT and for being such a lovely and supportive gem of a human. <3

[kay-kay-is-kray-kray]

For the second time, Grim showed up on the balcony when I decided to use one of my precious tenkeys for Club Jamil.

He's never gonna beat the allegations of being madly in love with me.

[quadrantbreaker]

egg this is an enstars blog. yes it is but you know what would be funny? if i posted arknights instead. gottem. i wonder if ibara would play arknights

[sweet-as-an-angel]

I read your yandere dilf post just before going to sleep and had a very interesting dream as a result: yandere Wild West Outlaw!

He takes you hostage to keep the rangers from going after him after a robbery. You’re tied up in front of him on his horse and after riding away from town for a long time he doesn’t set you down somewhere like you expected but takes you with him into his hideout.

Bonus: he‘s (basically) masked > bandana covering half his face and the rim of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes

Yandere Wild West Outlaw! Headcanons

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Forced Proximity, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Masked Outlaw ;), Petnames, Killing, Mentions of Robbery, Non-Consensual Voyeurism/Surveillance, Description of Injury & Blood, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’, etc.

A/N: Anon, I am in love with this concept !

♡ Yandere Outlaw whose body encompasses yours, his chest to your back and his arms caging you as he grips the horse’s reigns, his breathing steady as if he hadn’t just committed a multitude of crimes. Then again, considering how proficient he was at wiping the inn clean of all its savings and tying you up on his horse before the rangers could even arrive, you suspected this was not the first time he’d done this. Nor would it be the last.

♡ Yandere Outlaw says very little after he abducted you, his last words being sharp commands, laden with a calmness you would never have expected from a man holding an entire building hostage.

♡ And, in your terror, you said nothing to him, your back to his front as he rode to nowhere discernible, the civilised, populated terrain of your home town having melted away hours ago.

♡ No, the Outlaw gave nothing away. Even after days of being forced to travel with him to what you could only pray would be a town – somewhere for him to dispose of you before taking to the canyons again – he said nothing.

♡ He’d offer you food, and, after the first 24 hours of starving yourself out of sheer distrust – or principle, as you wanted to see it – you succumbed to your famine.

♡ Yandere Outlaw would feed it to you before disappearing behind whatever cover lay nearby – oftentimes his horse – and eat.

♡ Whatever lay beneath his bandana was a mystery to you. And it only took you trying to see what he looked like once to see that your endeavour was a hopeless one.

♡ You’d strained and leaned past the point of no return, falling onto your side.

♡ And Outlaw came back into view, adjusting his bandana back over his nose, the shadow cast over his eyes by his hat much like that descending over the valley you now inhabited.

♡ Your heart stammered as he grew closer, the spurs of his boots the land equivalent to the fin of a shark as Outlaw came to a stop before you.

♡ He got to one knee, so quietly that you could see why nobody ever saw him coming, and, brushing a lock of hair from your face with a gloved hand, chuckled.

♡ Low and rumbling, like an earthquake. Or one of God’s many natural disasters. A gruff, brief thing as ephemeral as life itself. 

♡ “Don’t get yourself all scuffed up now, Darlin’,” he says. His hand trails from just behind your ear, tracing your jaw, the tendons in your neck, stopping just short of where your shirt hangs above your collar bones.

♡ You think that you hear him hiss. So sibilant and soft you’re unsure whether you perhaps imagined it and rather heard the conversation of pit vipers laying just below the hard sand beneath your ear.

♡ Outlaw’s head tilts, his face no clearer to you now as it was days ago, especially now with the setting sun casting a misplaced halo about his hat-clad head, his front shadowed. Two sides, one a light facade, the other his true nature.

♡ “You’re no good to me broken.”

♡ Yandere Outlaw whose only elaboration of that cryptic sentiment comes in the form of another day’s travel, during which you remained firmly bound – and gagged at one juncture when you made the mistake of crying for help when you spotted a lone merchant out on the open road.

♡ Yandere Outlaw neutralised that channel of freedom for you very quickly with a crack of a bullet, leaving you glassy-eyed and breathless as he ransacked the merchant’s travel cabin, taking all manner of valuables.

♡ “Why, thank you, Darlin’,” he says, his gloved hand coming to rest on your knee, clapping down on you and making you jump – shriek. And he squeezes with all the familiarity of someone who’s done this before.

♡ “Wouldn’t’a found this here haul if you hadn’t tried to scream your pretty little head off.”

♡ Yandere outlaw knows that’s isn’t quite true; he’s an excellent tracker, and an even better marksman. He’d have found this travelling man on his own eventually; the outcome would have been identical. But you didn’t need to know that.

♡ The gag was practically useless after that, for your desire to keep others from the same fate as the travelling salesman had you quiet as a mouse.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can sense how rigid you are – less so than you were when he’d first taken you, but you still felt…different. You were loose in the way that submission often made people slaves to fatigue, to their fate. And he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d succumbed to yours so soon, especially when, as you finally drifted off to sleep after a day and a half without it, you leaned into his chest, head to his shoulder.

♡ Unwillingly, of course. Your exhaustion weighed you down, lead. You had no control over your unconscious body, regardless of how repulsive you found the pillow you were leaning on.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can’t help but let his gaze drift from the open canyon ahead, gradually giving way to caves and rocky rivers, to your face. You were tranquil in sleep, brew no longer knotted in worry, or fear. Just…sleep.

♡ Yandere Outlaw could feel his hands twitching, the urge to touch you creeping up behind him the longer he stared at your vulnerable form.

♡ Yandere outlaw who, for a second, and a second only, let his hand slip from the reigns and slither, slowly, to your knee, up the expanse of your clothed thigh.

♡ Yandere Outlaw’s heart who, for the first time in a long time, beats at a humming bird’s pace when you shift in your slumber, making him withdraw.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, watching, waiting for you to settle back into sleep, kept his hands from you the rest of the night. Though temptation beckons him to do otherwise.

♡ Yandere Outlaw shifted behind you, waking you. Only when you were torn from a dream of being anywhere but here did you realise the horse had come to a stop, an unfamiliar breeze settling over you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, unsaddling you from the horse, carries you like a bride in his arms, kicking open the door to an abode you didn’t even know was there.

♡ Yandere Outlaw sets you down beside a pole, tying you to it. Tightly.

♡ “Welcome home, Dollface,” he says, hands settling on his belt as he watches your eyes jump from one corner to another, taking in these new surroundings, these new circumstances.

♡ Of course, you don’t accept the conditions Outlaw has roped you into. Not without a fight.

♡ Yandere Outlaw, as a result, had to keep his eye on you when you initially began your residence with him. 

♡ For the first couple of weeks, he’d take you to the waterfall to bathe every other day; would watch you as you did so. At first, bashful and uncomfortable, you’d asked him to turn around as you stood exposed. To which the Outlaw just laughed. “Ain’t much worth lookin’ at,” he’d reassured you.

♡ Yandere outlaw who tells you exactly how the day’s going to go.

♡ “You’re gonna cook whatever I bring back. Y’understand ?”

♡ Yandere Outlaw who initially only lets you chop up vegetables and bread, withholding the excuse to use a sharp knife from you by intentionally not collecting any meat.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, before taking even a bite of the meal you prepare, makes you taste it first. “I know you little crafty types; poison enough in your veins to kill a horse.”

♡ Translation: “You’re having this first to make sure it’s not going to kill me.”

♡  Yandere Outlaw who, after that initial hurdle, though he won’t admit it, feels his tongue practically bursting with flavour when he tastes your soup for the first time. Though, he keeps it under wraps, his form hidden behind a wall, his bandana pulled down.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, with little alternative to offer you, makes you sleep in his bed.

♡ “Either that, or you’re sleepin’ outside.”

♡ He still wears the bandana btw, and wears a sleep mask over his eyes.

♡ He doesn’t touch you. Not in intentional ways, it would seem.

♡ Not at first.

♡ A light brush of the hand here and there. 

♡ Sure, the urge to bask in the aura of the most beautiful person he’s ever seen is pretty overwhelming for the Outlaw. Especially since he doesn’t understand why he feels this way, never having felt it for anyone else before.

♡ Sure, he’s taken others, some much more enthusiastic than others (you don’t get to his level of notoriety without attracting a few hundred fans).

♡ So, when you’re asleep, an arm and a leg bound to the bedpost, he watches you.

♡ He tells himself it’s for his own safety, to make sure you’re not going to reach for a weapon and gut him like a pig.

♡ But when he sees your gentle face, he knows you’re incapable of that

♡ He likes to think that you’re incapable of anything without him around. Makes him feel bigger, stronger.

♡ So why exactly was he still looking upon you into the late hours of the night ?

♡ Over time, his resolve begins to crack.

♡ Especially with every aspect of your partnership accounted for.

♡ The baths, the bed sharing, the homemade cooking – it’s just all so…

♡ Domestic.

♡ But, that doesn’t make Outlaw trust you any more than the day he first took you. Not yet, at least.

♡ Despite his confidence in his own ability to keep you here, he knows the indomitable human spirit is strong enough to break through every precaution. And, just in case you do manage to escape, he’s making sure you can’t pick him out of a lineup if you make it to law enforcement – if the vultures don’t pick you off first.

♡ Yandere Outlaw makes you cook every night, under the guise of you “Needin’ your strength to straighten this place out.”

♡ Yandere Outlaw who appoints you as his head housekeeper, making it your sole responsibility to be the “homemaker” of the two of you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who feels strange when he sees you with one of his shirts tied about your waist – a makeshift apron – who doesn’t even recognise this feeling as domesticity. Warmth. That feeling of security having been deprived of him all his life.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who wonders what you’d look like wearing one of his shirts.

♡ And something in his brain chemistry changes.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, during your river baths, knocks your clothes into the stream when you’re not looking, offering you his shirt when you’re ready to come out.

♡ “Y’really should be careful,” he tells you, swallowing thickly as the neckline of his shirt dips below your collarbones, drowning you. He looks away, not trusting that the feeling coiling in his lower half won’t spring out at any moment. “Men might take advantage of a pretty lil’ thing like you. Especially when you’re so…” A shiver shoots up his spine. “Vulnerable.”

♡ Your clothes seem to disappear not long after that, leaving you only with whatever consisted of the Outlaw’s wardrobe.

♡ You notice that he seems to disappear at odd hours of the day, leaving you to your chores while he does something.

♡ Little do you know that the something he is doing is a secret he’ll take to his grave.

♡ The sight of you in his shirts, of you in the river, is too much for him.

♡ He takes to hiding out in a densely vegetated patch of land behind the cabin to…relieve himself of his thoughts of you. Thoughts he’s used to sustaining for perhaps a second or two when it came to his prior conquests. Thoughts that, now, a month into your capture, extend long into his nights and speckle his logic when he’s on a mission.

♡ It’s dangerous, he knows; to have his mind elsewhere while he risks his life for the loot he so desires. But he can’t deny that they make him feel human. Normal.

♡ Despite how un-normal this entire situation is.

♡ It takes every ounce of his restraint not to just tie you down and take you while you sleep beside him, make you scream and cry for him as he empties his frustration and, dare he say, lust, into you.

♡ But, he doesn’t want to scare you off.

♡ Doesn’t want to see your eyes light up in fear whenever he enters the room.

♡ He wants something else.

♡ Something that he doesn’t have a word for.

♡ It’s only when he happens across a conversation with you, asking you if you had “A lover boy back home,” that he found the word he was looking for.

♡ You wince at the question, the memory of your life away from this situation salt in an unhealed wound.

♡ “No,” you tell him, your honesty a virtue. “Haven’t been in a relationship yet.”

♡ Relationship.

♡ It felt right to the Outlaw when he heard it; especially coming from you.

♡ It sticks with him the rest of the day, and while you’re cooking dinner, washing the Outlaw’s clothes, dusting the sparse furniture, he’s got one thing on his mind.

♡ How to get you into a relationship with him.

♡ He’s completely unequipped to deal with someone on such an intimate level, so he uses all his knowledge he’s gathered while seducing and bedding others to piece together a game plan.

♡ First, he needs to know what you like. He remembers from that one time a woman hit him with her shoe when he forgot her name ten minutes after meeting her.

♡ So, he starts hanging around you (much) more often, making you sit down and tell him about yourself.

♡ As he makes you spend time in his company, he comes to learn of the fanciful little things you enjoy.

♡ At first, the details are dry and few and far between, with you giving very little about yourself away.

♡ But, as his persistence drags into days, you eventually just start telling him whatever he asks, so long as it’s not too personal.

♡ Or painful.

♡ Whenever the outlaw can see you're starting to become upset, being reminded of your circumstances, he eases up on the personal questions and just asks superficial ones.

♡ “How’re ya feeling today ?” “D’ya eat well this mornin’ ?” “D’ya need me to dust a shelf down or something’ ?”

♡ His miniscule acts of selflessness are extensions of his effort to make you at least not hate him. Though you didn’t know this. His thought process was still an enigma to you.

♡ He also stalks you in his own home.

♡ Listens to you sing while you complete your tasks, your voice the softest thing he’s heard since…well, ever.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, when he embarks on a hunt, never tells you where or when, and never even the how.

♡ The only clue you’ll ever be given as to his nigh-weekly excursions are trinkets he brings with him. Ones which you thought he’d pawn elsewhere in the county at a later date, or bury in the canyon somewhere.

♡ Until he offers them to you.

♡ At first, you’re not sure what to make of these…gifts ?

The first time he gave you one, he said nothing, only watching you.

♡ You swore you could see his shoulders heaving beneath his jacket, something almost feral in his demeanour. Pressurising.

♡ And, with the possibility of what could happen to you should you decline these acts of…generosity…You just take them, uttering a quiet “Thank you,” before putting them in a kitchen cabinet, unsure of the intent behind them.

♡ The first few times this happened, you were befuddled.

♡ Yet, with how gently the Outlaw placed them in your hands, with how intense his gaze was, even though you couldn’t see it beneath the permanent shadow across his brow, you could feel it.

♡ It was only one evening when the Outlaw returned with yet more loot that the meaning behind the trinkets became apparent.

♡ His hand disappears into the inside pocket of his jacket, and he withdraws a small box; rounded and bejewelled like an idol. He comes to stand before you, and, shoulders pinned abc and rigid, you swallow. Thickly.

♡ He looks down at the box, and,his finger dragging along the edge, slowly, he relinquishes it to you.

♡ And, by pure force of habit, you accept.

♡ You turn the box gingerly between your fingers, the dim candlelight from within the cabin just barely warding off the black of the night, setting the precious stones welded within the metal alight.

♡ “Well,” the Outlaw says, making you jump. You look up at him, eyes wide.

♡ “Open it.”

♡ He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

♡ Swallowing again, your gaze skitters back to the box.

♡ And, with bated breath, you lift the lid.

♡ A delicate, silver melody slithers from the portal you’ve opened, a serpentine tune wrapping around your mind, vivid, beloved memories riding on its feathered wings.

♡ Your favourite song.

♡ For a moment, one sweet, fragile moment, you’re not here.

♡ You’re back at home, in a warm bed that is yours and yours alone, surrounded by the people who matter most to you, any celebration mankind can conjure not even a whisper of the joy you feel in this scene.

♡ And then, as the wind blows autumn leaves from the human mind, the memory is gone, taken away by reality realising it has neglected you.

♡ You’re looking into nothing now, the apparition of your past slipping from you, your eyes wavered and muffled with…

♡ Tears.

♡ In your periphery, just outside the realm of reality you’re returning to, the Outlaw’s drilling gaze drops from you to the floor ina  rare show of anticipation. A hand comes to the back of his neck, where he squeezes the skin. A stress ball.

♡ “Do you…” he begins, “Do ya like it ?”

♡ Your stare inches from the void up to the outlaw’s hidden face.

♡ Perhaps if he had a discernible human feature, you could sense anticipation there. But as it stood, this was no man, but a phantom.

♡ One which must have heard and remembered that tune you often sang while completing chores.

♡ You couldn’t take it.

♡ To have him acknowledge the memory – to make it more real – nailed your coffin shut.

♡ And you broke down.

♡ When you crumpled into a pile, the Outlaw took a step back, one hand reaching for his holster; a knee-jerk reaction.

♡ And what little solace he could offer came in a most inconspicuous display.

♡ The Outlaw got to one knee, now at your level.

♡ And, with a careful hand, he placed a gloved finger upon your shoulder. Then another. Then another.

♡ Spidery and unfamiliar, foreign, the Outlaw’s actions were jerky, janky, an unoiled machine. But he was trying.

♡ When his hand lay against the curve of your shoulder, you did not move. Did not shunt him off or scream at him to let go.

♡ You remained where you were, weeping into your shirt apron.

♡ And the Outlaw, with a fiery grip encircling his heart, feeling brewing in his centre, stronger than all those implicatures and desires. This was solid, unlike the quicksand foundations upon which the Outlaw’s every emotion was built upon.

♡ Was this…

♡ Empathy ?

♡ His grip on your shoulder tightened, the revelation swarming through him like locusts.

♡ He swallowed. Tried thinking through the orchestra in his mind.

♡ “S’okay,” he said. To you, and to himself. His fingers moved gently, your skin and muscle warm through the leather of his gloves. “You’re okay.”

♡ Things changed after that.

♡ He no longer forced you to sleep in the same bed as him, instead bringing back with him a fine silk cover from one of his trips, gifting it to you.

♡ Yet, you still chose to sleep in the same bed as him.

♡ “It’ll be getting cold soon,” you said. “WIth winter coming, and all.”

♡ And, while this new feeling, raw and fresh, was…nice compared to the emptiness that often lingered in his chest, the Outlaw couldn’t help but feel weakened by this influx of emotion.

♡ When he tried to have his alone time with his thoughts of you, he felt…wrong.

♡ Ashamed.

–

♡ You were used to him disappearing for days at a time. Hell, you'd come to expect it at this point in your captivity.

♡ But something about tonight felt...off.

♡ Not that you'd ever admit it, even to yourself, but with the amount of time you'd spent together these last few months, you no longer hated being in his company.

♡ In fact, on the days he would be gone from the early hours of the morn to the late hours of the evening, you could even say you...missed it.

♡ And, unfortunately, despite your every instinct swaying you otherwise, you find that to be the case now.

♡ But, more than that, you're concerned. Something you'd never thought you'd feel for a murderer, a thief. Your kidnapper.

♡ And your pacing, your lip-chewing, your nail-biting are all proven justified when the Outlaw slams against the front door, stumbling through.

♡ At first, you just watch, ready to yell, to ask where he's been the last few days, until you see it.

♡ A bloodied handprint on the door.

♡ He staggers in, swaying on uneven footing, his breathing stifled,as if through a thin straw. He wheezes, collapsing into the doorframe beside him.

♡ And you rush to him. As if he wasn't the one who put you here to begin with. As if whatever's bringing him to his knees now wasn't justified, provoked.

♡ But you don't think of any of that, your mind filled only with the fact that nobody knows you're out here. Without guidance, you'd be dead before you reached the edge of the canyon encompassing your hiding place.

♡ You needed him alive.

♡ After wrestling him onto his bed, almost buckling beneath his weight, you found the source of his downfall.

♡ A wound; bullet-bitten and bleeding, a rouge flower burgeoning with the promise of extinction.

♡ You tried getting him to talk, to tell you what to do. But his voice was barely a whisper, instead using what little seeping strength that remained to point to a cabinet.

♡ Inside, you found what you knew would be needed to heal him. Whether it – you – could save him, though, was another story.

♡ You tried taking his bandana off to see if he was hurt elsewhere, but to no avail. Despite the life draining from his body, he somehow found it in himself to stop you, to place a gloved, trembling hand atop yours, an imploring aura to the gesture.

♡ Don't.

♡ And, for the first time, beneath the dim light of the cabin, you could see something human on him.

♡ It existed only in the form of a shimmer beneath the shadow of his hat, his face still very much obscured, yet the emotions on it were not.

♡ You recognised this emotion, for you'd worn it yourself, both inwardly and out, for the last three months.

♡ Fear.

♡ In its purest and most carnal form.

♡ And a voice, strained with either agony or disuse.

♡ “Help me.”

♡ Throughout the night, you tended to Outlaw's wound. A maw-like, gaping thing it was, spouting blood as one would bucket water out of a sinking boat.

♡ Luckily, you didn't have to worry about shrapnel; the bullet went clean through outlaw's side, leeaving only the aftermath and not the instigator. You managed to stop the bleeding, use the stitching on Outlaw's shirt (which was basically yours now) to sew the wound closed.

♡ For the first time, Outlaw was uncharacteristically human.

♡ Sure, you'd seen the scars on his back when he bathed, the many brushes with death he'd encountered, some advancing into a dance, much like this night's escapade had been.

♡ But you knew, somewhere, somehow, that without another pair of hands here, Outlaw likely wouldn't have pulled through.

♡ Not this time.

♡ And now, here you sat, at Outlaw's beck and call, his bedside your new home.

♡ You watched over him, the cabin silent, the night just as quiet. Even the crickets seemed to chirp quieter, either out of fear or respect for the almost dearly departed.

♡ And, looking up from the massacre on the bed, your gaze swept the room. And you realise something.

♡ The front door, which neither you, nor Outlaw locked, is unguarded.

♡ Yandere outlaw is riddled with sleep, his agony having stripped him of his energy and his strength.

♡ So...why hadn't you tried to escape yet ?

♡ Looking over at Outlaw, sound asleep, you realised just how easy it would be to walk out that door.

♡ Sure, you might get lost. Might die of hypothermia during the freezing hours of a dessert night, but with enough layers, food and water, you saw no reason as to why you couldn't just leave right now.

♡ After all, it wasn't like you'd be killing Outlaw if you left. Sure he might die of infection, or blood loss if his stitches come undone. But you'd at least tried to help him. So your conscience wasn't going to be the issue.

♡ So what was stopping you ?

♡ Looking back at the Outlaw, you felt strange.

♡ The urge to protect him, to care for him, outweighed even your greatest notion of escape, which explained why the thought to do so hadn't hit you until just now.

♡ You bit your lip, looking between Outlaw and the door.

♡ Both options were tantilisingly easy to pursue, and yet only one would be available to you, the other perishing if you ignored it.

♡ Maybe hours passed. Maybe it was mere minutes.

♡ But watching the Outlaw sleep, at his most vulnerable, with his pleading “Help me,” rattling around in your mind, the choice already seemed to be made for you. You just didn't want to tell yourself exactly why. 

♡ So...you stayed.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere Masterpost Masterpost

[waves-against-a-cliff]

She-Wolf - Feral!Reader x Ghost

Content Warnings - Violence, blood, descriptions of murder, smut, afab!fem!reader

Description - Soap notices something new about Ghost.

A/N - here it is @groguspicklejar I finally made it.

That's new.

Soap has never seen that before. In the military you get used to the general disregard for privacy. You shower together, sleep in the same place together, eat together and bleed together. So Soap has gotten used to the bodies of those around him. But also, he's always noticed when things on his teammates' bodies changed.

Like when Gaz got that new scar on his thigh. And like now, with a tattoo on Ghost. Which is odd, he's never seen a new one on him before, always that same sleeve. Weirder still... Is that a tattoo of a bite on his left arse cheek?

For a moment, Soap thinks his eyes are deceiving him so he rubs them. Ah fuck- his hands had soap on them. Fuckfuckfuck. He rinses his eyes out and then looks over at Ghosts arse again. No, that's definitely a tattoo of a bite, a nasty one too. Like someone just tried to get as much as his arse cheek in his mouth at once.

Soap jabs Gaz in the ribs, "What the fuck?" Gaz hissed but Soap redirects his attention.

"Do you see that?'

"Ghosts ass? Yes I've seen it before." Gaz replies but Soap shakes his head.

"No you dumb fuck, look closer."

Gaz squints and gasps. "Oh my God."

Soap grins at him, "I know. Hold on, I'm gonna ask him about it."

"Soap-"

"Hey LT." Ghost turns his head, a single brow raised. Soap had never been more grateful that Ghost had decided to suck up the communal showers. For both this moment and not having to deal with the vague smell of his BO on the flight back to the U.K. “What's with the new tattoo?”

“Yeah my girl’s a biter.” It's said so simply, Ghost turns and resumes washing himself. The soap suds run down his body and into the drain. Like he didn’t just say the most confusing shite ever.

“What?” Gaz laughs, “A biter?” Ghost shrugs and it dawns on Soap that he’s going to pull that classic Ghost move of saying out of pocket shite ever and then not elaborate.

A few months pass and Soap would like to say that he’s forgotten about it. That the bite mark tattoo did not haunt him and he didn’t- doesn’t- look at Ghost’s left butt cheek and wonder. Then they get a new mission and its all hands on deck, another task force joins in. Task force Medea. The 141 had worked with them a few times in the past, all very successful missions. The Medea task force was made up of seven women with varying skills but one always came to mind whenever Soap thought of the task force his mind wandered to She-wolf.

You’re wild, feral almost to a degree that makes him wonder how you managed to stay in the military. But your team members love you and when you’re not gnawing at the collar your captain tries to keep on you, you’re an amazing soldier.

“For this mission,” Price begins, standing at the head of the meeting table. On one side is Gaz, Ghost, and him. On the other is you and three other members of your task force (Viper, Circe and Artemis). Soap splits his attention between Price’s briefing (A terrorist group and cartel are working together to smuggle both weapons and people across the Polish and the Slovakian border) and you. You’re tapping your finger inaudibly, you keep glancing between Price and Ghost.

Despite having worked with you before, Soap tends to forget the gruesome details. Viper and Circe were brutal in their own right, both combining their skills to gas out anyone in the building, Artemis and Ghost picked off the ones that fled. Now it was down to you and Soap to help clear out the building of any stragglers. Soap knew he was good at clearing rooms, it's how he got his call sign after all. But much like your call sign, you were a wolf. Predatory, sneaky and brutal. If you were a dog, he was sure you would be foaming at the mouth.

Soap tries not to focus on the gory details of your current appearance, (blood flecks on your face, hands soaked with blood after you gutted a man twice your size like a fish, blood smears on your pant legs from a man choking on his own blood and grasping for any sort of life line while you sneer at him), and instead clearing out the last room. 

“Steamin’ jesus.” Soap mutters and Gaz noticeably averts his eyes. Ghost, however, sighs.

“Lieutenant.” You chirp as Viper hands you something to clean your face with.

“Do you ever not make a mess She-Wolf?” Ghost asks and you bark out a laugh as you wipe the dried blood from your face.

“Nope.” You quip as he just sighs and Soap turns his attention to Gaz who is certainly not looking like he was enjoying this any more then he was.

Your fingers dig into his pecs as you pant, your thighs, already sore from the mission, scream. “Did you like seeing me like that?” You ask between pants as you bounce on Ghost’s thick cock. You swear you can feel every detail of it, the veins rubbing against your walls, his tip constantly swiping against your g-spot and the very weight of him. “Did you like seeing me covered in blood?” You ask again as his hands dig into the meat of your hips. You stare down into his eyes that are swallowed up by his blown out pupils as he nods, a whimper crawls up his throat as your nails dig into him further.

You lean over and scrape your teeth against the junction between his shoulder and neck, you revel in the way he shudders. You bite down right as the thread snaps inside you and you gush all over his cock. Your moan around him as your pussy pulses rhythmically around him, your hips slow only for a moment. Instead you grind your hips against his as the last few shocks of your orgasm echo through your body. Ghost doesn’t move as you ravish him further in marks all over him. You love that about him, that no one will know these marks are here but you. He covers himself up a nun and only you know that he’s under you every time.

Only you know that his voice cracks and he throws his head back as he fills you. “Fuuuckkk.” He whimpers, his voice cracking and breaking. Only you know this view, of tears nearly spilling from his eyes as his chest rises and falls faster as you push him further towards overstimulation. When your hips finally stop you collapse onto his chest, he holds you close as you trace the multitude of bite marks and crescent nail marks.

“Wish we got to see each other more often.” You whisper.

“We’ll see each other when leave comes around.” Ghost- Simon, reassures you.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that little tattoo you have.” You tease and pinch his vulnerable nipple. He hisses and smacks your hand away while you giggle.

[nikkento-writes]

Bad Romance

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.7k

cw: Wild West au, no curses au, violence, implied sex work, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut - PIV sex, blow job, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names, creampie

Summary: You’re the Vixen Viper, an outlaw on the run with an outstanding bounty. You find a temporary safe-haven at the Star Saloon, protecting the women who work there while they protect you from the authorities. One night, a bounty hunter by the name of Toji Fushiguro shows up, threatening to cause some trouble. Somehow, you find the perfect way to subdue him.

Author's Note: This is a repost from my old blog! I originally wrote this as a request for a milestone event I was doing and it's still one of my fave fics that I've written, so I wanted to share it on here. I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 to this, we'll see! I just love the idea of Toji in the Wild West, idk, I think it fits him very well. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Midnight at the Star Saloon is always lively with rambunctious activity. It’s the perfect time for stragglers moseying through town or the miscreant locals to stop by for a break, meaning booze, gambling, or sex. Usually all three in one night. You’ve been a regular here for almost three months now, befriending the women and men who work hard to keep the patrons satisfied. Whether it’s serving alcohol until they fall out of their seats, enabling poker addictions, or riding their cocks in one of the private rooms upstairs at a special rate, they do it all to make an honest living. Though on occasion, customers will cross the line.

And that’s where you come in.

It started two months ago, after you had frequented the saloon enough times to be considered a regular. It was around three in the morning when one of the barmaids approached you, asking you to follow her upstairs. She led you into the private room all the way down the hall, and inside was another worker, sitting at the foot of the bed, cheek swollen and a black eye all on the left side of her face. That’s all you needed to see to set you off. The perp had already left, but you knew who he was as soon as she described him. And, of course, like all assholes do, thinking they got away with it, he came back. When he did, it was you this time who took him upstairs to that same bedroom, dressed in one of the barmaid’s outfits. You, who flirted with him and stripped him naked on the bed, promising to give him exactly what he deserved. And finally, it was you who robbed him and held a sharp blade to his pathetic penis, threatening to slice it right off if he ever showed his ugly fucking face in this town again. You haven’t seen him since.

At that time, your friends at the Star Saloon already knew you were someone who could handle things. Maybe it was the way you dressed at first, often showing up in cowboy attire, ready to book it if the situation called for it. Or maybe it was because they recognized you from the wanted posters plastered in the next town over, your silly nickname the Vixen Viper in big bold print below an unflattering photo of you from the last time you landed in jail, right before you escaped. They never mentioned it; never reported you to the authorities. Instead, they welcomed you in with open arms. There’s a bounty on your head for the crimes you committed against sleazy men like that, but you hold no guilt for your actions. To you, and to all the women in the saloons you’ve frequented, it’s justice. They need someone like you to protect people like them. Because lord knows that no one else in this godforsaken world will.

You’ve lasted three months in this town without the authorities catching on to you yet. You look quite different from your poster when you’re done up in makeup and a frilly dress, dagger concealed in the garter wrapped around your thigh. And with the help of your friends, you’ve managed to hide in plain sight, posing as one of the barmaids while you patrol the late-night crowd for any possible threats. Violence against these women has significantly lessened since you’ve been around. The rumor amongst the patrons is that men who misbehave get their money taken and their dicks chopped off, which is pretty spot-on to the actual truth. So fortunately, for both the workers and the customers, there isn’t any trouble. 

Tonight is a little different.

You lean against the bar doing your usual inspection, checking for people who are causing a ruckus or getting rough with any of the ladies. You’re dressed similarly to them, though you never get requested to entertain in one of the private rooms above, considering you don’t go out of your way to flirt with any of the men. You lack the illustrious charm the others do; you’re only here for when things get ugly. It surprises you when a mysterious stranger on the other side of the room points to you directly, wiggling his finger to beckon you over. He smirks, the prominent scar on his lips curving with it. You grab your drink and walk over to him, curious to see what this is about, sensing that it can’t be anything good.

When you reach his table, you give him your most cordial smile. “Good evening, sir. Is there something I can help you with?”

He grins, waving to the seat across from him. “I was hoping you can join me for a little chat.” His tone is even, though there’s a hint of something sinister in there. Maybe it’s your imagination or better yet, your intuition. You’ll soon find out.

You drag the chair out, plopping into it, laying your hands flat on your lap, palm pressed to the knife hidden beneath your skirt. He scans you up and down before asking, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him, you answer, giving him a fake one, of course. He nods, accepting it. “Toji Fushiguro. Pleasure to meet you.” He holds his hand out, which you take reluctantly, shaking it. His grip is firm, callouses rough against your own. “I saw you and knew I had to meet you.”

Your raise a brow at him. “Oh? What about me caught your eye?"

“Thought I recognized you from somewhere.” His gaze lingers on yours, expression unwavering.

Your heart stops momentarily, a rock settling in the pit of your stomach. Not here, not now. You swallow thickly, feigning ignorance. “Really? From where?”

He slides you a rolled-up paper, nodding his head for you to open it. “Take a look.”

Trembling now, you obey, unraveling it slowly until you see the words WANTED: ALIVE and your face staring back at you. There’s no need to go any further. You fold it up immediately, heart racing, glancing at your surroundings hoping no one else is listening in on your conversation. As calmly as you can, you lean forward towards him, muttering, “So what, are you going to arrest me? Hog-tie me in front of all these people?”

He inches even closer, noses nearly touching now, his breath tickling you. “Now, I’m a gentleman. I like to know a woman first before I tie her up.”

You scoff. “So what, am I supposed to come quietly then?”

He glances at your mouth, then back to your eyes. “I’m willing to negotiate if you have something to offer.”

You clear your throat, intrigued by his response. “Let’s discuss this somewhere more private,” you say, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up the stairs with you.

“Lead the way, Vixen.”

You lead him to the very end of the hallway, the furthest room away from the bar downstairs. There’s a fire escape just outside the window, your best chance to evade arrest. First, you’ll have to subdue him.

Inside, you lock the door shut, turning to face him. “Are you a police officer?”

He shakes his head. “Guess again,” he answers, opening his coat to display the gun and knife hanging on his belt.

“Bounty hunter,” you state, glaring at him.

“Yup. And you, my dear, have a very hefty bounty on your pretty little head.” He steps towards you, caging you between his arms, your back flat against the door. Although you remain untouched, his presence is suffocating.

“What do want?” you ask him, breathing in deeply through your nose.

“All the loot you robbed from those scumbags. Enough to exceed the bounty I’d get if I brought you back with me.”

You smirk. “Is that it?”

“And a deal,” he adds. “A partnership.”

You stare at him, confused. “What?”

He laughs, amused by your reaction. “I’ll admit, I’m a fan of your work. Drifting through town-to-town, robbing sleazy assholes. And you haven’t been caught until now. It’s impressive.”

You’re caught off guard by the praise, relaxing just the slightest bit. “So, what do you propose?”

He lets his arms down, placing his hands in his pockets while he explains himself. “There are several bounties for men exactly like the ones you hate. If you promise to help me get them, I won’t take you in tonight. I’ll even give you some of the money. If you’re good.”

“And why can’t you do this yourself?”

“It’s easier to get a guy when his guard’s down. If there’s a pretty little thing like you seducing him, catching him will be easy as pie.”

You stare at him, contemplating his proposition. It’s an easy decision for you to make. It’s either this, or jail. “Fine. You have a deal.”

He offers his hand to you. “Put it there, partner.” His tone is soft, almost sincere. You can’t help thinking that if this were any other scenario, you’d find him attractive. Hell, even in this one, you’re drawn to him. You take his hand, shaking it. He tugs you in closer, voice low and seductive. “I think we should celebrate this new friendship. What do you say?”

You smile at him, what feels like the first genuine one of the night. Maybe this isn’t as bad as you initially thought. When you close the distance, his mouth is on yours quickly, lips smacking, wet and sloppy. He slides out of his jacket, letting it thud loudly on the hardwood with his weapons weighing it down. The shirt he wears is tight on his body, clinging to him, emphasizing his muscular physique. You can’t remember the last time you were intimate with a man without the intention to backstab him. In fact, it’s been a while since you were intimate at all. With him guiding you, however, you match his movements naturally, sliding your hands up his torso, pawing at his chest as his hands squeeze your hips, pulling you towards the bed.

He moans, slipping his wide tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss and exerting his dominance. “Can’t wait to see what the Vixen Viper can really do,” he huffs, hoisting the hem of your dress, bunching it in his fist. His fingers trail the inside of your thighs, stopping at the garter, feeling the handle of the knife strapped to you. He clicks his tongue, mouth hovering your ear, hooking his finger to snap the elastic against your skin. “You really are dangerous.”

You let out a whimper, your pussy throbbing with arousal. He grabs the blade by the handle, whipping it out from its holster, tossing it to the other side of the room away from you. You chuckle, lifting your arms up so he can strip you properly. “Are you scared of me?”

He removes your corset swiftly, squeezing your bare breasts in his hands, thumbs flicking at your nipples. “I don’t want to get stabbed in case you change your mind.”

You shove him onto the bed, where he lies flat on his back, watching you straddle his lap, naked. “If I do that, then I wouldn’t get to fuck you.”

He laughs loudly, biting his lip. “Oh? You’re the one who’s gonna fuck me?”

“Yeah, I reckon,” you reply, unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper. He continues to watch you intently, groaning when you shimmy his pants off to release his cock. It flops against his abdomen, even bigger than you imagined, all veiny and girthy. You salivate at the sight of it, opening your mouth for a taste.

“Fuck,” he curses, head relaxing into mattress, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling as you sink down on him, swallowing him up until the tip hits the back of your throat. You bob up and down on his shaft, gripping the base of his cock, swirling your tongue around the head. “You suck cock like a fucking whore. Did your friends out there teach you that?”

You grasp his balls in your hand, squeezing them tight, causing him to shudder. Shaking your head, you say, “I learned this from experience.”

He smirks. “Yeah? Come here. Put this pussy on my face. Bet I can teach you something you haven’t learned yet.”

You release him, crawling up his body until your wet cunt is pressed to his lips. His tongue laps at your arousal, swirling around your aching clit. You grip the top of the headboard, grinding on him. “Oh fuck!”

His hands surround your ass, squeezing at your soft cheeks, fingers digging into your flesh. He hums into your skin, the vibrations adding to the sensation. He nods beneath you, encouraging you. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take it. Take it like a good slut.”

He takes you into his mouth, slurping at your clit until your gushing all over his face, your orgasm shiny on his lips and chin. His eyes are wild with excitement, peering up at you between your legs. Kissing the plush of your thighs, he says, “Well, go on then, Vixen. Fuck me.”

Soon, you’re sinking down onto his fat cock, pussy already soaking wet with slick and spit. He fills you up to the brim, taking a few seconds to adjust to size comfortable. When you’re ready, you start to bounce on his lap, his cock thrusting in and out of you smoothly. He hits your sweet spot over and over, stimulating you into another messy orgasm after just a few solid strokes. Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, drool leaking down your chin, throat dry from the incessant moaning.

“Look at you. So fucked out for me,” he growls, planting his feet on the bed, taking control. He grabs onto your hips firmly, pounding up into you, watching your entire body convulse with each delicious thrust. “You talk a big game, but you like being manhandled like this. You’re just a slutty little hole waiting to be ruined. Waiting for the right man to use you.” He presses his thumb to your clit, massaging it with deep strokes. “Seems like you finally met the perfect partner.”

“Fuck, Toji!” you cry out, unraveling once again.

He increases his pace, the bed creaking noisily below you. “That’s it, baby. Come with me. Gonna breed this perfect pussy. Gonna fill you up so fucking good.” He pulls you down towards him, wrapping you in his arms, kissing you fiercely as he pumps his load inside you.

You both lay still for a moment, catching your breaths, Toji peppering delicate smooches along your neck. You’re surprised at how gentle he’s being, considering his brutish behavior from earlier. When enough silence passes, you look at him, grinning. “What a way to celebrate, am I right? Partner?”

He laces his fingers with yours. “The beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

After you clean yourselves up as best as possible, you snuggle together under the covers, him spooning you from behind. “’Night, Toji Fushiguro.”

He nuzzles his nose to the nape of your neck, whispering, “What’s your real name?”

You smile, grazing your lips on his knuckles, actually giving it to him.

~~~

Toji Fushiguro, the most sought-after bounty hunter in all the west, wakes up the morning feeling fantastic.

He glances to his side, hoping to see his lovely new partner still peacefully asleep beside him. To his surprise, no one is there. He inspects the room, searching for clues on where she ran off to and notices nothing.

And that’s when it hits him. There’s nothing in the room.

All his clothes are gone, his weapons, the wallet full of cash buried in his pockets, even the very blanket they fell asleep under. He’s as naked as the day he was born, confused and beguiled until he finally realizes it. He’s been robbed. And it was the Vixen Viper who robbed him.

The only thing he finds is her wanted poster, folded up on the bedside table, a small note scribbled to the back of it:

Toji - Thanks for the fun night, but I don’t do partners. Maybe the next time you catch me, I’ll reconsider.  

He laughs, unable to contain his smile as he reads her real name signed at the end of it.

[cloudcountry]

Hi AUBURN!! YOU HIT 3K, CONGRATS OMG THATS AMAZING! I wish you health and so so so much happiness ❤️❤️

Would it be alright if I asked for a slice of baklava (I'm so down bad) with strawberry bubble tea? (IM SO FUCKING DOWN BAD)

*sneakily slides a 100 dollar bill over* wink wink

YOU DIDNT PICK A CUP SO UH. WILD CARD.

an order of romantic fluff with jamil viper!

The hotel room smells of coffee and the noises from the city and far more muted than he thought they would be. The dinner he ate with you sits heavy in his stomach, along with the anxiety of knowing it’s just the two of you.

Is this a bad idea?

It could turn bad very quickly. It’s not because of you (never because of you) because he’s the one with all of the baggage, all of the issues, all of the ugly things you’ve taken into your hands and helped him with, even though his situation has not changed.

Even though his situation may never change. But among the things that will never change, there is you, and your never-ending patience for him. It flows like a river, nourishing him until he can stand tall again after a hard days work, just like you used to do in school.

But you’re not in school anymore. You’re celebrating your four year anniversary, and Jamil is so happy you’ve made him your home.

He’s old enough now to acknowledge just how much he suffered, and he’s old enough now to know that the bitterness and anger at how he was treated will never leave him. You never once expected it to, which is one of the may reasons why he cares so much for you.

You step out of the bathroom, hair freshly washed, sparkling with joy. He sees the age in your skin, the way your eyes crinkle, he sees the way you turn to him and smile so sweetly. He knows he looks much older, too.

His fingers toy with the little box he has clenched in his hand.

Were his palms always this sweaty?

He squares his shoulders, opens his mouth to finally pop the question, and prepares to accept the role of husband, if you’ll have him.

[pomefioredove]

Heyyy! Can u do Jamil, riddle & whoever else you choose X party girl!reader? Someone who loves music, dancing, clubs and stuff like that? They might still be a good student or it might affect their studies, you choose. Thank youuu (⁠~⁠‾⁠▿⁠‾⁠)⁠~

anyone else I choose you say?? ooh

summary: reacting to an extroverted party-prone reader type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, jamil, idia additional info: platonic or romantic, pretty short, reader is not specified to be yuu, reader is gender neutral (using "party girl" as a loose term)

Riddle Rosehearts

honestly?

doesn't matter if your grades are affected or not

he is NOT a fan

Riddle has spent his whole life devoting all of his free time to his studies

(whether he wanted to or not)

seeing you squander yours on things he finds useless and irritating is a little frustrating for him

what, are the unbirthday parties not good enough for you?

he would scoff at the very thought

a dark room full of sweaty strangers and deafening music is hardly a party to him

(it doesn't match the rulebook criteria, anyway)

it's a high point of conflict between the both of you for the longest time

but maybe... just maybe

if you're able to impress him with your grades

even with all the time you spend out

he'll come around to accepting the idea

don't try to take him out with you, though

he takes curfew very seriously

Jamil Viper

he's maybe

a little

tiny bit

jealous

not that he'd ever admit that...

even with all the parties Kalim both throws and attends

hearing you going out on your own and enjoying yourself with no sense of duty is frustrating, to say the least

why do you get to shirk all responsibility and run wild?

listening to you describe your escapades in clubbing and partying just makes him turn up his nose at you

at first he just says it's immature and irresponsible

think of your studies!

think of your grades!

think of all those who rely on you!

and then it just becomes overwhelmingly apparent that he wishes he had that same sense of freedom, too

(as good as he is at concealing his true motives, you can just tell)

if you catch on and ask him to go out with you, he'll say no

obviously. he has things to do.

but maybe... if you're able to steal him away for an evening and throw him a little event of his own

he'll relax a little

Idia Shroud

number one he's scared of you

number two he's scared of you

a super extroverted party person getting near him is like a boss battle

in the virtual world he could take it on no problem

but this is real life

so he just freezes up and tries to hide behind the nearest piece of furniture every time you're in the room

you'll never convince him to go out with you

that's just a given

but maybe once he gets a little less intimidated by you, he'll throw a party for you

in his own way

(he programs it)

in all honesty, it is pretty neat

even if you're technically the only people there and everyone else is just CGI rendering and it's on a computer screen

but, hey, he remembered all your favorite music!

congratulations on bringing him out of his shell

kinda

while this is a small victory for him, it's a victory nonetheless

[sanctus-ingenium]

Another one of these since i haven't done it in a while! Sketch -> finished illustration

Thoughts & process below the cut :>

Out of Bounds: i deleted the sketch of this off my ipad because i didn't like it, and for months it only existed as a screenshot on discord. finally in january of this year i was like Wait Actually and decided to keep working on it. I didn't achieve the look I was going for (kind of foggy and vague. It came out too sharp and high contrast) but it was fun to throw the kitchen sink at it for an afternoon and then call it done finally. I don't remember which horse this was originally supposed to be, I think Macha?

I reused the pose, you'll find the same one in my Pascal sketchbook from the section on gait studies. That's the cool thing about doing 30 sketches at once, you can finish them up any time you like for a different drawing

The Fool ft Islin: the original concept for this is from [takes a moment to decipher the american date system on discord] January 2022

It wasn't dynamic enough, but I've had this on the backburner for sooo long. I think I completed like 4 cards in between this sketch and the final version lol. But, for a bit of background, this is from my series of major arcana based in Inver, and in particular the events of the 1860s-era book series, Moth Viper Foal (a demo of the first book, Said The Black Horse, is available for free/pwyw in my shop). This scene is a companion to Said The Black Horse, depicting the aftermath of the traumatic fight that caused Islin to storm off. He had been working at the mill as a semiprofessional back alley surgeon when he received an offer to join the church and work as a trained surgeon in their hospital. But when he brought the good news back to his friends it was met with utter rejection, driving him to basically run away to join the church. while gay and trans. thus the card.

he didn't actually bring a bag with him when he ran out but for the sake of the card i drew him with one

Gryfon and Pantera: This is how 99% of holy beast drawings start out, even the super stylised ones. I struggle a lot to draw them in procreate so they start in sai and then i transfer them over. The story of this is already explained in the caption of the original post so I'll just talk about the process which was... honestly torturous. I actually don't like too much textures and effects on things (wild, I know) and this one and Out of Bounds are ones where I kind of preferred it pre-texturising.

The text on the side is the official in-universe report of the event, detailing the casualties, the valiant actions of Gryfon's knight before he died and so on. There's also spoilers in there :>

My main struggle with this art style is how it always ends up slightly TOO sharp and crisp in a way the just a blur filter never can correct. There's not a lot of immersion to break, to be fair, but I think this still does it a little. I need to get more comfortable doing the lines with larger and softer brushes, and allowing imperfections.

[childrenofcain-if]

Say what will happen if MC got kidnapped, and the kidnapper taunts Elias that if he didn't give them a certain amount of money within the given time period they will send one of MC's fingers for every hour that exceeds that time limit.

I'm curious what type of person Elias is when stressed or threatened, can you tell us Author?

elias sat at his desk, the heavy wooden surface cluttered with papers he’d long forgotten about. the blinds were drawn, leaving the room dim, with only a sliver of light cutting through the dust-filled air. the silence was thick, and so damn oppressive that it wrapped around him like a shroud. his phone lay in the center of the desk, an inert thing, but it held his gaze like a viper poised to strike.

when it finally rang, the sound was almost a relief, breaking the tension that had settled in his chest like a stone. he reached for it slowly, the way one might approach a wild animal, carefully, deliberately. the cold metal of the phone was familiar in his hand, but today it felt different, heavy with the weight of what was about to happen.

he didn’t say anything when he answered. he just waited, his breath quiet, controlled, like the air before a storm.

“hello there, sir,” the voice on the other end was too smooth, too calm, like the surface of a dark lake that hid something monstrous below. “i believe we have something you’re missing.”

the words were almost a whisper, but they hit elias like a punch to the gut. he swallowed hard, forcing the rising panic back down where it belonged. he couldn’t afford to lose control, not now.

“what do you want?” his voice was steady, but underneath it was a barely-contained tremor of rage, of fear. he gripped the phone tighter, his knuckles going white.

“money,” the voice replied, as if it were asking for something as trivial as a cup of sugar. “how does 50 million sound? and i think twenty-four hours should be enough time to gather it.”

elias’s mind was already racing, calculating, planning, but there was a part of him that couldn’t move past the icy fear crawling up his spine.

“and if i don’t?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

there was a pause, a soft, deadly silence on the other end of the line, and then the voice came back, even colder than before. “then we’ll start sending pieces. a finger, perhaps. every hour you’re late.”

it was like a knife to the heart, the pain so sharp and sudden that elias almost couldn’t breathe. his vision narrowed, tunneling in on the phone, on the voice that was now laughing softly in his ear. he wanted to throw it, to smash it against the wall, but he forced himself to stay calm, to focus.

“put them on the phone,” he demanded, his voice low, almost a growl. there was no room for negotiation in his tone, no space for argument.

the kidnapper laughed again, a sound that made elias’s skin crawl. “you’re not really in a position to make demands, sir. but since i’m feeling generous…”

there was a rustling sound, muffled voices, and then a new voice came on the line, shaky, scared, so small it made elias’s heart ache.

“dad?”

for a moment, the world stopped. the air in the room grew so thick that it pressed down on him from all sides. he could barely think, barely breathe, but he forced the words out, desperate to hold onto the connection.

“i’m here, little apple,” elias said, his voice cracking just a little. “i’m here, and i’m going to fix this, okay? just—.”

before he could say more, the kidnapper was back, the cruel smirk evident even through the phone. “that’s enough of that,” the voice said, and then, almost as an afterthought, “twenty-four hours. don’t be late.”

the line went dead.

for a long moment, elias just sat there, staring at the phone in his hand. the silence in the room felt heavier now, thick with the weight of everything he hadn’t said, of everything he needed to do.

he stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, and began to pace, his mind racing, turning over every possible scenario, every contingency.

he couldn’t think about the fear, about the trembling voice that still echoed in his ears. he couldn’t think about what would happen if he failed. he just had to move, to act, to find a way to bring the little light of his life back.

as the hours ticked by, elias made call after call, his voice sharp, each word an authoritative command. there was no room for error, no space for hesitation. he needed results, and he needed them now.

the clock on the wall kept ticking, each second dragging him closer to the deadline. each tick echoed like a heartbeat, a reminder that time was running out. but beneath the fear, beneath the anxiety gnawing at him, there was something else—a fire, a cold, burning determination that had gotten him through every single trial before this one.

he would get you back. there was no other option.

as dawn began to break, elias made one final call. it was to the man he always kept as a backup, the last option when nothing else gave him the result he was looking for.

elias’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but there was a steel in it that hadn’t been there before. “make them pay,” he said, each word like a stone dropped into a still pond. “make them dearly regret even being born.”

there was a pause on the other end, a soft intake of breath, and then, “it will be done.”

he hung up the phone, his hand shaking slightly as he placed it back on the desk. the room was still, the only sound the ticking of the clock, marking the seconds until he could inevitably bring you home. and as he stared out at the pale morning light, a single thought blinking in his mind.

he was going to burn the city to find you, and no one would dare to stand in his way.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

hellooo!

i know its a really old fic but i just read the viper & the wild thing after watching s4 for the first time and being absolutely heARTBROKEN over oberyn so i wanted to come on here and let you know how much i loved it!! it was the perfect balance between smut and hurt/comfort <3

do you still write oberyn or is there any chance youll continue this at some point? no worries if not ofc <3

Hellooo to you, too! :) I hope you are having a great day (or night!) and that you're doing well!! Thank you so much for sending this - it made me smile!!

I am SO HAPPY to hear that you enjoyed The Viper & the Wild Thing!! I am in love with Oberyn Martell and always have been and always will be and his canon ending is absolutely soul crushing, so there will be none of that on this blog. This blog is for letting him live his best life, and I'm glad you found it after your heartbreak and that it helped. <3

Good news! TV&TWT is actually not a really old fic , and I definitely will be continuing it! I haven't updated it super recently, but its in no way shape or form done or discontinued. Since it's not a chaptered series, the updates are sporadic and usually come from a prompt or ask or just random inspiration. I have a few more installments that I know I want to write for that pairing (+ Ellaria) but I'm always open to suggestions or requests for it, too!

I am also currently co-writing an Oberyn Martell Vampire AU Series called Aphelion with @something-tofightfor which has been a lot of fun to work on together. It took an unintentional break for a while, but the next installment is about 3/4 of the way done so it will be coming back very soon! And I am REALLY excited about that!!

Thank you again for dropping in with this message and for reading and being so kind and lovely.

[brights-place]

Omen dating Headcannons

Pairings: Omen X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing, Anxiety, Angst

A/N: GOSH I LOVE OMEN HE IS SO CUTEEE

- He knits to relax! So he would knit you some things for exammle sweaters, scarves, and plushies for surprises! one time he made you an scarf for icebox that were his color scheme which you love - His love language is Physical touch and Quality time - He tries his best to make every single second with you count - He is amazing at baking, would bake some sweets for you - When your relationship grew and you both got more comfortable with each other Omen would be more open about PDA. - He hides in the shadows and appears behind you whispering an "Boo" in his montone voice as you screamed (like finn from adventure time) - This man doesn't need to sleep! he's a phantom for fuck sakes but you still force him into bed to cuddle - He’s quiet like REALLY QUIET! but will do his best to give you advice when you need it - He might not talk much at first but he will make sure you know that he’s there for you - Man is so fucking gentle towards you it isn't funny it's so cute - Omen is VERY protective of you I mean come on! He’s already protective of his fellow agents and it’s only doubled when it comes to you! - He would scare away any threats that dare try and intimidate or even hurt you! He has no problem killing for you if he has to - if you get an graze from an enemy this man would go wild! He doesn’t need the physical protection from you but he does like the comfort to know that you’re just as committed as he is in portecting eachother! - he hates crowded places so he would go behind your back pressing his chest against it which was one of his ways of saying 'I don't feel comfortable' - Tried to teach you how to knit !! it was fun at first but then you gto stuck... You mentally and physically wanted to scream since you snapped the tip of the needle (I have doe it before and my Lola stared me down... Angry Filipino grandmothers are scary!) - If you both succeed on knitting it becomes his favorite time of the day is to knit with you. he's very proud of your progress after you learn pretty much everything from him - When phoenix pointed it out he went to tell him it relaxes him but he glances at you on the team as you giggle lightly - On a mission he saw another him... "There is another of me? How many times did I get ripped apart? How many times did I die?" omen gripped onto his gun as you placed an hand on his forearm giving him an pitiful look as he sighs - Omens to make sure you don't mess anything up because one of his hobbies is cleaning but he doesn't want to clean up any of your messes sometimes... cause if your like an party animal he would be drained - In my opinion he is not really shy you could say? he is simply overwhelmed by the presence of other people - yeah it's known Omen has a very strong case of amnesia like REALLY BAD! He can't remember his true self... - When he trains you stare at him biting your lip - If you show him affection randomly he keeps his composure since he isn't really one to show his emotions outwardly 

- It seems like he doesn't really care when you show him affection but he does thank you and the is just some sort of tenderness in his voice. He could become embarrassed if you kiss him and then also give him a lot of praise for doing so well 

- If you know him well enough though you would be able to hear the embarrassment in his voice everytime if you show affection or other agents do something nice for him - You and Viper made a pack - You both would help Omen regain his memories... or so you thought. - When he gained some of his memories back he was filled wiht rage yet kept his composure but yelled at Viper - Sage stared at you dead in your eyes when you would be eyeing your boyfriend "(Name) your boyfriend is a phantom" Sage said teasingly as you shushed your healer "SHHHH! I know! but he is handsome!" Sage laughs at you - omen is an amazing partner and loves you with his whole heart as long as he is with you he feels safe

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[oh-alicent]

write the angsty post-2x08 loustat bath scene you want to see in the world

preview below, no idea when it'll get finished but hopefully in the next week or so? (tw: mentions of self harm)

As he ran the washcloth over his pale arms, Louis was struck by the littering of indentations against the pearly white skin— nail marks, he thought faintly— and thought of Lestat's nails, the beds caked with blood. Without a doubt, Louis knew he'd been hurting himself. He'd thought he'd seen it when he'd mentioned 1973, Lestat's hands curling into his arms as he tried to ground his thoughts. The scent of blood in the air— he'd mistaken it for tears— as Lestat had asked him if he'd hurt himself. And all the while...

He half expected the man to shift under his gaze, pull back the signs of self carnage, make a scathing quip or some sort of poorly timed joke. None of those things happened. Lestat's eyes were unfocused, trained on a spot just above Louis' head.

Words bubbled up at his throat. Honey, what've you done to yourself? Burdening syllables, suggestions of a life before. A name he couldn't use, because it meant something more than he was sure he could give. More than Lestat might even want, anyway. Instead, he chose, "We should heal these," and nicked his thumb to bring it to the wound.

Lestat moved like a viper, grabbing his wrist and shoving it away from him. "No," he muttered pointedly, his eyes wild as they peered up from under his lashes. "They'll heal on their own in time."

Not with the way he was feeding, Louis thought dejectedly. It could take weeks.

Shifting on his knees, he knelt closer to the clawfoot tub, a gentle hand on Lestat's shoulder, tucking the clean strands behind his ear. "Please?" he asked gently. "I want to see you well again."

He scoffed, an indignant sound. "I am well."

"Les." Louis moved to massage the point behind his ear where he'd always melted in his embrace— maybe it was cheating, getting him to acquiesce like this— and a term of endearment escaped him without him noticing. "Please, honey?"

Despite being almost completely submerged under the water, Louis still felt him tense at the word, and he thought he might have lost Lestat then. "Lou," he mimicked, his tone callous. But there was a quiet grumble of acceptance, and he didn't fight Louis when his fledgling's blood met his lips.

Lestat's fangs breached the wound on Louis' wrist, that familiar pain a strange kind of relief. He took him in, cautiously at first, then all at once— strong, greedy pulls, like a man starved, because he was— and a gentle moan left Louis' lips at the lightheadedness of it all. He was adrift, floating a raft on a rippling sea of iridescent blue, and it was all Lestat, Lestat, Lestat. His maker never once stopped consuming his every thought, dancing behind his eyes. And still, all his recollections were nothingness, were child's play. How could he have remembered it so dully?

Because here Lestat was, a shell of who he'd been decades prior, and yet his presence filled up every corner of the room, like the lights had been dimmed for the past seventy years, and Louis had been merely existing in the dark.

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

I've had a really rough end of July so if possible could you share some happy things about snakes?

Sorry you're having a rough time. I'm a similar spot but hey, we got this! And one thing you can always count on, no matter how tough things get? Awesome snake facts. 😎

Some of my favorite feel-good snake facts:

Did you know snakes can have friends? Garter snakes are very social by snake standards, and they have complex social relationships! They form friendships and consistently choose to hang out with their buddies!

Boomslangs are gorgeous, highly venomous colubrids. They're beautiful, charismatic snakes!

And when they're babies, they look like bobbleheads. Definitely some of the cutest babies in the snake world!

Did you know that snakes save millions of lives every year? Snake venom collected at venom labs is used in the production of life-saving medications, especially cardiac and anti-convulsive drugs!

Saw-scaled vipers. Highly venomous, very grumpy...and absolutely adorable!

Broad-headed snakes are currently some of the most endangered snakes in Australia, suffering from the effects of habitat loss. However, we're hearing lots of good news about them lately - zoo breeding programs are helping to increase genetic diversity in the captive population with hopes to release snakes into the wild, and plans to restore their lost habitats in the Sydney Basin are underway.

This isn't necessarily a fact but I really love this picture of an egg-eating snake who is so happy to have found a yummy egg.

Snakes can have heterochromia! It's most often seen in leucistic snakes, and they have one blue eye and one black eye. Almost every single one I've heard of (and the only one I've ever seen in person) have been leucistic Colombian rainbow boas.

Black-tailed rattlesnakes are so beautiful, they always make me happy! They come in an incredible range of colors, from dark browns to dusky greys.

Speaking of beautiful rattlers, speckled rattlesnakes can look like cookie dough ice cream!

Hope things look up for you soon! Take care.

[revelisms]

It was never the performance itself that drew him in.

He'd aways been more moth than songbird; a winged thing that gravitated to light and life, to the beauty of souls reaching across the realm to become one with Those below.

He was the first, though, and so had laid his precedents: a patchwork legacy few could ignore;

That there is always a sleeve of myrrh hidden between the sticks of sandalwood and frankincense; the ashen coolness of cigarette smoke in their storerooms.

That there is greenery in the chapel windows and fresh-cut gardenias in the welcome hall, and songs of Olde sung lower than they were written, because the depth of such resonance was one he preferred.

That his brothers (the second, the third) and half-brother (the fourth) stand in off-kiltered lines, often, as though waiting for the loping strides of his pointed boots and velvet-crested shoulders.

That their congregation's siblings know his family's appointed title of Nonna more than the origin of his own name.

That Papa Emeritus the Second shuffled strangely when taking the pulpit, as though trying to fit into a misfitten pair of clothes—uncomfortable, now, after so many years spent in his brother's shadow.

That Papa Emeritus the Third often nosed into his office with coffee in hand, or chocolate-kissed biscotti, or tears hidden behind a painted smirk.

That Papa Emeritus the Fourth spoke of him kindly—of all of them kindly—no matter how they may have treated him, how they may have scorned him, their worldly forms now memorialized in stone.

Primo, in his living days, hadn't cared to worry over it.

He'd stepped down from a lifetime of rituals and tours with a joint behind his ear and a plait weaved through his silvered hair, his gnarled hands fitted with rings fit for a goddess—and he'd smiled, wry and wrinkled, lashlines creasing at the corners.

"You don't have to call me that, you know," he'd chided, when siblings bumbled over the formalities of Monsignor and Your Esteemed Grace and all else the Church had pompously chosen to title him with.

"You know what the little ones called me, mh?" he'd whisper on, winking a moon-white eye. "Rude shits. Peh! They could make the dictionary blush, my dear." And he'd lean closer, shoulder-to-shoulder, his words rumbled and silken. "Don't you worry about those other things. Just call me what you want, heh?"

So they did.

He treasured the ones who spoke his language of flowers; saw similar beauties in leaf-green eyes and petal-pink cheeks, in hair lovely as daffodils and soft as roses.

His brothers never shared the same admiration. But, then again—they did, in their own ways.

Secondo, in his nostalgia for the scent of gardenias.

Terzo, in his scuffed-heeled silence in a greenhouse sunlit but empty.

Copia, in the jewels sewn through his silks and the velvet gleaning off his suits.

Maybe from below, Primo had always kept his eye on them, with his laughter that hissed like snakes. Maybe it's where he'd always been meant to be: one again with the Aether below. A living giant, blossomed and brilliant and beautiful.

"He, eh...would have liked this, right?" Copia mumbles, wrist-deep in fresh soil, planting bulbs of bluebells in the cloister flowerbeds.

The question is meant for Sister Aris, kneeled and smiling beside him.

But in the corner of his eye, he sees a haze of shadow—a whisper of nothingness. The Bridge beyond, that he has always seen since his oath-taking; has always been.

It feels like Terzo, at first. Eyes piercing, and brow pinched, a stiffness in lips unpainted.

A soul that felt wild to him.

Wild, harsh, endless, like a cliffside gale swept over one's body. A viper-tongued beast with a fox's grin, and cleverness to match.

But the feeling warms, gradually. Not sunset-pink, the taste of incense—but violet, indigo, earthen.

A touch of soundless heels on damp earth.

"You don't have to ask, little one," Primo's voice utters over him, gentle as a prayer. And he smiles, like he'd always done. Wry, and wrinkled, and wondrous. "Of course I do." His bony hand, even if only in spirit, settles a cool touch on his shoulder. "Of course I do."

But that hand isn't there, not really. He knows it.

Just a moth-winged thing gravitated to the light.

What they all had always been.

Secondo, the pyre. Terzo, the star. Copia, the unearthed glow of Hell itself.

And Primo—

Primo had been the moonlight shining down on them. A guiding path through the night.

The hand on his shoulder pats him, softly, before it slides away.

"He would have," Sister Aris answers him.

Copia swallows, blinks, twitches a smile.

"I know," he whispers. Before him, bluebells gleam. "I know."

primo / on legacies

[granddaughterofdemeter]

I'll pull you back to, what you need initially

pt.2

MASTERLIST

you never do choose the right guys...

[cheater+ex!jj maybank x fem!reader x toxic!rafe cameron]

warnings: rude kooks, mentions of alcohol, and, in general, bad coping

summary: midsummers [s1 e05]

It’s been two months since you last saw JJ, and tonight is the night your best friend expects you to be ready. 

Midsummers.

You may have been part of a middle-class family, but Kiara’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Carrera, still liked you enough to buy you dresses even if you told them you didn’t need them. They liked you because you were respectable and kind, though you also hung out with the Pogues, you never took part in any insane stuff. 

Save for Pogue parties, getting beat up by Kooks, and sneaking away for nights at an end, of course. But they didn’t need to know that.

You became her friend during her Kook year, and you stuck together through thick and thin ever since you were the only one who didn’t abandon her, and that’s why you weren’t close with the boys until you started dating JJ last year. It was wild to spend time with them, and you desperately wished to hang out with them like you did before you broke up with your ex-boyfriend. 

But after hearing the stories of him drinking and smoking all his troubles away, you didn’t want to possibly trigger another side of him willing to do more than that to forget about you like you wished you had the guts to do.

“[___], come on, I don’t want to be forced to spend more time there with my parents because I ‘arrived late’.” Kie groaned, rolling her eyes while you touched up your make-up. You snorted, laughing as you raced against the clock to get there in time for the torturous party made up of ‘vipers dressed in human clothing,’ according to your best friend. 

When you got there, your silky, baby-blue dress was stepped on by a tall, blonde, boy. 

“Oh, shit, I didn’t see you there, I’m really sorry.”

Considering how Kooks were, you wouldn’t be surprised if Topper did see you, but he just didn’t care. 

Kiara sneered before helping you up to your feet. You swayed before balancing on your 3-inch heels and stood tall to face him, who was taller by at least 4 inches. You smiled up at him before hugging Kie’s arm close to your hip and turning away. Both of you could hear their laughter but you did nothing but walk far away from them.

“[___], why would you just let him do that?” She hissed, glaring behind the two of you. You shrugged and leaned toward the bar to order two Cokes, because you both were under 21 and around creepy old men, before responding. 

“That’s what boys like him want, Kie, why would I give him that satisfaction?”

She grinned at you, clinking your glasses together before she sighed. “I know, but I just want to see that devastation on their faces sometimes, you know?” You giggled with her until you spotted a certain blonde-haired boy you weren’t happy to see at the moment.

JJ lightened up when he saw you after passing the note to Sarah but right before he could jump toward you, he was stopped by your savior, Rafe Cameron.

Feeling thankful for the man who made your life hell when you followed Kiara back to Kildare High wasn’t something you’d expected tonight, but you also didn’t want to see your ex try to prove something to you that you never believed in.

But Rafe still terrified you. Especially when he looked up and met your gaze.

The thing was that he had tried to talk to you more than a week ago when you were getting beer for your friends. Your other average friends who wouldn’t have anything to do with a man like Rafe, which is why you were increasingly frightened by his hand on your shoulder.

But he also only had one question when talking to you. A small conversation about who you were hanging out with, as in ‘where’s your dirty pogue boyfriend, [___]?’, a small, proud, smirk hanging off his face when you told him that the two of you broke up until Kiara came along for beers for the rest of the Pogues that you refused to hang out with because of JJ.

“Jesus, Cameron, can’t you see that [___] is incredibly uncomfortable talking to you? Be kind for once, she’s done nothing to you!” Kie snarled, satisfied once he released you and you could finally leave to your friends.

But that was almost two weeks ago, and you wouldn’t even expect him to remember that you had talked. Well, you desperately hoped, because, with his striking blue eyes almost identical to JJ’s save for the threatening glint focused on you and only you, you were worried that there was more to his attention on you than you might’ve thought.

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