tbh with the huntressâs design iâm just glad they didnât annihilate her big muscular frame completely⊠also their target demographic for her in that game is most likely straight men and not us lesbians so it makes sense, unfortunately
I just find the idea of a dating sim for this game laughable. And it honestly doesn't matter who the target demographic of the game is - every character has been hypersexualised, and there's an even gender split, so it wouldn't be fair to accuse the devs of making general assumptions about the playerbase's sexualities - Anna shouldn't have a build like that. Nobody living in the Siberian tundra would have almost zero body fat on them? I'm also relieved they kept her muscular frame that is consistent with her character, don't get me wrong. But it looks cartoonish in the wrong way.
What makes me sick, however, is that they gave her a freakishly childish face. Whoever made that decision should be put on a register. Only a nonce could get off to that.
If you accept brain rot on this blog how would Anna react to coming home to see her gf in nothing but lingerie??
((You may think you're slick on anon but I have a feeling I know exactly who you are m'dear ;) đ
This is definitely a request rather than brainrot, but I accept both here â€ïž. Minors DNI with the cut.
Returning from a big, arduous hunt lugging a boar carcass over her shoulders, only to find her love all dolled up for her?
Anything you wear for her earns instant heart-eyes, but especially cute frilly/lacy/embroidered lingerie; we all know Anna has an affinity for anything adorable. Sheâs not used to delicate fabrics, so seeing them all pretty and taut around the curves of your body would fill her with energy, overwhelmed by the urge to run her fingers across the material. And sheâs not a monster; you took the time to dress up for her eyes and hands - itâs her pleasure to admire you in the set, to worship you, peeling each garment off you as her lips embark on a devout journey across your skin.
Youâre all alone together in your little paradisal forest, so you can waltz about the cottage in your pretty lingerie and nothing else without the fear of being spotted. So when you open the front door to greet her with a kiss, clad in your finest, Anna will practically salivate at the sight. Torn with the dilemma of needing to ravish you there and then, but she wouldnât be able to take her time as sheâd like, else the meat she hunted would spoil. So sheâll ask, eyes focused on everywhere but yours, if youâll patiently wait for her to butcher her kill so she can properly unravel you, promising sheâll indulge your every want if you pout.
((A little reminder that no matter what your gender or body type is, you 100000% would look beautiful and radiant and sexy in any lingerie because youâre stunning gorgeous and perfect x
Kissing Anna is like a homemade apple pie: buttery sweet, and always so warm with her protective arms enveloping you. It leaves your lips tingling, since sheâs always a tad rougher than she intends to be, like the delicately acidic fruits filling the pastry. Youâll be longing for another taste the moment it ends.
Kissing Anna is narcotic. One dose will never be enough; a chaste peck to your lips will have you tugging her by the beltloops down for another hit. Just a few more seconds. And sheâll smile, always, because time in the Red Forest is entirely yours to command, and whoâs to object if you spend the better part of a day locking lips?
Kissing Anna is, above all, solace. A guaranteed means for slipping away from the world, if only for a few seconds. To lose yourself in the arms and lips of the woman who loves you unconditionally, who treasures the tenderness of your kiss as much as you do hers.
Hi love !! I adore your content. Could I ask for somnophilia? <3
I would like to iterate that this is completely consensual, prior consent was given via conversation, and takes place within an established relationship.
Now onto the goods - Minors DNI.
Anna and Somnophilia
Maâam loves waking you up with hazy, messy head. Sheâll stir you awake with gentle, innocent caresses, until youâre smiling sleepily, arching into her warm frame. When youâre in that blissful half-awake state, feeling like youâre floating in the soft sheets, sheâll trail hot kisses down from your jaw to your navel, ghosting over spots that make you shudder and giggle. Then sheâll lovingly let her saliva drip onto your clit, humming as you squirm from the sudden wetness, laving her tongue over your folds, alternating between lazy sucking and kitten-licks to your clit until youâre trembling, cumming, moaning into the pillows with a foggy mind and rocking your hips into her mouth.
And thereâs something hypnotic to her when youâre on the verge of slumber, eyelids heavy and movement lethargic, bouncing on her big fingers at a pace far too languid to get you anywhere, but all your sleepy little head can process is how full you feel. Youâre so tired but so frustrated, desperately needing to tip over the edge but unable to gyrate your hips how youâd like. A few needy whimpers into her neck and Anna is crooking her fingers, finally thrusting up into you, giving you a mind-shattering orgasm that renders you boneless, surrendering to sleep amongst her delicate praise and caresses.
But sometimes sheâs devious, gently slotting her thick, muscled thigh between your legs in the middle of the night, running her hands over a ticklish spot on your waist. Youâll grind against her thigh as you jerk in your sleep, your subconscious telling you to do it again, to maintain that delicious pressure against your clit. So you keep undulating your hips as Anna smirks, guiding your sleepy frame along her leg, until your own soft moaning brings you to consciousness. And she wonât lend you a skilful hand, no, not until youâre weakly and deliriously begging her to make you feel good. She canât say no to the pretty little bunny humping her thigh, can she?
the forest can be scary sometimes !! can we get Anna comforting her s/o who canât sleep because of spooky noises outside ??
i love your work sm <3 seeing it on the tl always brightens my day :)
(Eight months down the line, here you go <3)
Anna, You and Disconcerting Forest Noises
Howling, screeching, roaring... Every creature roaming the forest at night sounds unbelievably hostile. The day seems so tranquil in comparison, the little squirrels scurrying atop the trees, cubs and kits sleeping peacefully by the trunks, play-fighting and curled up by their mothers. Now, it sounds like a bestial warzone.
You had hoped the beating of the rain outside the cottage would drown out the violent cacophony, only for your ears to be greeted with the crackling of lighting and thunder.
Anna is sound asleep beside you, a strong arm draped around your waist loosely, gentle breaths fanning the back of your head. Careful not to stir her, you slither out from underneath her hold and tip-toe to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water, knowing you wonât be joining her in slumber any time soon.
To pass the time, you fidget with the various trinkets dotted about the cottage. You straighten the masks hanging proudly from the pegs above Annaâs workstation, changing the murky pot of water she uses to rinse her paintbrushes. You re-organise the kitchen drawers. You pick up your loverâs Russian dictionary, hoping to test your knowledge of the language. Just as you find a word you recognise, the book is plucked from your grasp, scaring the daylight out of you.
âWhatâre you doing up?â Anna murmurs from behind you, voice slurring with sleep. She tosses the leather-bound book onto the sofa before effortlessly lifting you into a bridal carry.
You rest your head against her shoulder with a sigh. âToo loud to sleep,â you mutter, head heavy from exhaustion even if your mind wonât allow you to rest.
A ferocious roar echoes through the cottage windows, evoking a shiver from you, which Anna notices.
âScared?â she chuckles. Groaning, you weakly slap her chest, making her grin. Anna sweetly kisses your forehead. âDefinitely scared.â
âForgive me for not revelling in the angry sounds of creatures that can kill me,â you complain, allowing her to carry you back to the bedroom.
âYou know you are perfectly safe here, ĐŒĐžĐ»Đ°ŃĐșĐ°.â She lays you down on the bed, rolling onto the other side. Within seconds youâre nestled in her arms, legs tangled and chest-to-chest. âI will protect,â she whispers.
Smiling, you run your fingers through her bedhead; she began to grow the top of her buzzcut since you started cutting her hair, leaving the short dark hair adorably tousled. âI know, Anna. Itâs just unsettling.â Her large hands trace soothing patterns on your back through your nightshirt - her shirt - and you relax slightly.
âIt is Mother Nature,â she hums. âWithout ecosystem, there would be no rabbits. No squirrels. Too many predators, not enough prey.â Listening intently, you bury your face in the crook of her neck. âThis is sound of balance.â
You hum pensively. âWhy are they so loud tonight, though?â
Anna tugs the thick woolly blanket over your shoulders, keeping you snug and warm. âBoar mating season,â she explains. âBoar must attract sow, fight for mate. Wakes up all the other animals in the process. A wolf hears, thinks there is predator, howls to his pack to safeguard.â
Her absentminded caresses gradually lull your eyelids shut. âThatâs pretty interesting.â You half-yawn, half-chuckle, âSo I wonât get mauled in my sleep?â
âNot unless you leave me for pig, no,â Anna laughs, kissing the top of your head.
The soft vibrations of her laughter rumble against you. Slowly, slowly, the chorus of beasts meddles with the steady rainfall, a haze sweeping over your mind.
âХлаЎĐșĐžŃ ŃĐœĐŸĐČÂč,â Anna whispers at some point during your descent. With a soft smile, you finally slip away into slumber.
I got this idea some days ago but how about Anna's S/o mentioning that they always wanted to have a treehouse when they were young and Anna remembering and building her S/o one in secret, surprising them đ„ș And both of them spending time in it, hiding and kissing... and maybe some spicy stuff- I just love how much Anna loves to spoil her S/o (And proudly show off her house building skills đ)
Awww that's such a sweet idea! She would absolutely build the sturdiest treehouse ever, maybe with a little window nook with pillows and blankets đ„ș And she'd get so pouty whenever you'd enquire about her little secret project because it isn't the easiest thing to keep hidden. But the way your eyes lit up when she did the big reveal made her heart swell with pride and love and and and she'd already have a little tea set ready with a plate of blini for your first treehouse date đ„° And she'd obviously want you to go up the ladder first (because đđ iykyk) and watch you take in the whimsical little interior of your new little escapism within your fairytale woods aaaaaa đ„șđ„șđ„ș
I'm really curious now. What do you think Anna's life was like prior to meeting the reader? Like whats in your AU?
I haven't given it immense thought, I just thought I'd try to manipulate the canon lore and make it less murdery? But also provide some social contexts that match up with her personality. This is a long one, so itâll be under a cut.
Anna's Life, Prior to Meeting You
Anna's father abandoned her mother upon learning about the pregnancy. At the time, they lived in a cottage by the outskirts of a forest.
Her mother initially planned to send her to school to mingle with the other children her age, but decided to home-school her instead out of a fear that Anna would be bullied for her height.
Anna learnt to hunt from a young age, using the family's generations-old tips and tricks, in order to provide for the two of them when her mother grew terminally ill.
The only person Anna ever spoke to growing up was her mother. When a bailiff would visit the cottage to collect land taxes, she would hide in her room. The occasional person would stop by to check on her mother and she'd flee to the woods.
When she passed away, Anna was in her mid-teens, and didn't take the bereavement well at all. To distract herself, she honed in on her hunting craft.
It was only in her late teens when Anna finally started to mix with people her age, since the woodlands she grew up by was a popular camping spot for teens. She found social experiences very uncomfortable, since her mother failed to prepare her for such encounters. The teenagers found her odd, both in stature and hobbies, but most of them tried to help her get used to socialising. Those who didnât would bully her. But one group camped out in the woods more than usual, and were always welcoming of her.
Teen Anna would watch young couples kissing and holding each other by their campfires in curiosity and jealousy. It looked nice, and she wanted to feel happy like they did.
Her group of friends (more like acquaintances, but she didnât really know the difference - it was just nice to have company) one night decided to play spin the bottle, a harmless game. Anna, inwardly, was very excited; she had always wanted to kiss someone, to see what it was like. One of the boys spun the bottle, it landed on her, she felt mightily uncomfortable and...it felt weird. The bad kind of weird. But when it was her turn, the bottle landed on a girl.
This kiss was the good kind of weird.
But, as we all know, homosexuality is demonised in Russia. The group pulled faces, called her horrible names, slurs, the works, all because she enjoyed kissing the girl. âLesbianâ. Sheâd never heard that term before. Was it not okay to kiss girls?
They never came back to the forest after that. Once again, Anna was all alone.
Over the next couple of years, people started to mail violent threats to her cottage - her mother had never introduced her to technology, so she didnât have a phone - because she was gay. Anna was miserable, right up until a few days after her biological father died; the man had guiltily added her to his last will and testament, and she inherited a sizeable sum of money from him. Enough to get out of the hell she lived in. She waved her rights to the cottage she lived in, packed a very small suitcase containing some clothes and a few of her motherâs old possessions, and emigrated.
((Iâll leave her new location to your imagination. Somewhere with densely populated woodland and white winters, and where being queer is normalised))
Using her inheritance, Anna bought a plot of land in the woods, rented a bed in a nearby youth hostel and built her cottage from the ground up. She used a libraryâs computer and books on architecture to research how to build a log cabin. It took months of tireless work, but she did it.
With a little more confidence than she had during her adolescence, Anna started to sell the meat she hunted at the farmerâs market outside her woods. Using the money from her sales and some furniture-related handiwork, she bought vegetable and fruit seeds and a DIY greenhouse kit. With the help of the little market community, she built her vegetable garden and greenhouse. She had a couple of short-lived relationships, and even though she lived alone and isolated, she felt purposeful and by god, accepted.
Her relationships never lasted long because the concept of living such a detached lifestyle frightened her partners, sweet and strong and gentle as Anna is. Not without immense sadness, she understood why, though.
Then you stumbled into her life, and for the first time since before her motherâs ailment, she was truly happy.
could you please do headcannons for what Anna would be like as a mother?
(ooh loving the wholesome vibes. Mama Anna best Anna đ„°)
Anna as a mother
The. Most. Loving. Supportive. Mama. Out. There.
She would want to be called Mama.
She will treasure your wee bab, building them a little nursery from the strongest wood she can find in her forest, complete with cute little toys and trinkets for them to play with (without choking, of course).
The kiddos will never go hungry. Ever. Meals are family time in her household, full of warm food and happy stories.
She'll extend the perimeter of her cottage with fences so the baby has room to play without big scary forest mammals coming and endangering them. And she would 1000% set up an outdoor swing-set for the wee'un.
Because Anna has a protective spirit, she'll avoid bringing animal carcasses into the cottage, opting to keep them in her shed until she knows the baby is occupied/asleep. Doesn't want to frighten her little angel đ„ș
Lullabies. That's it. Singing and rocking her baby to sleep every night.
When they're old enough for bedtime stories, she'll tone down tales of her hunts and add in stories about will-o'-wisps and other cute mythical forest creatures. Watching their adorable little eyes widen with awe is just đ
One thing Mama Anna is wary of is making sure her babies aren't isolated from other kids their age. She'll walk them to a busstop every morning so they can take the school bus, pick them up and carry them home on her shoulders in the afternoon.
She'll definitely want more than one bab (so they will never feel lonely).
Arts and crafts and baking are musts for family activities. Anna will make them masks to paint, they can paint the vegetable patch signs, the works. Letting them "help" with baking cookies - they stir the mixture for 5 seconds before their wittle arms get tired, toss in some chocolate chips and lick the spoon.
Family walks through the forest, picking up pinecones and teaching them rhymes about foraging so they know what berries are edible and such.
Sewing them clothes when they're young and growing quickly, patching up any holes from when they climb trees and play in the forest đ„șđ„ș
And while I could go on for hours, one final parting thought: Anna would absolutely part ways with her mother's sarafan so the babies can use it as a blanket. đ„șđ„°
Does Anna have a favorite position? I feel like she would like missionary so she can watch her lover's face as she rails them~
The Huntressâ Favourite Positions
(also hi im back <3)
(fic is GN and while no anatomical terms have been used, this was written with an AFAB reader in mind)
This post is NSFW. Minors DNI.
First of all, bitch you right. Missionary is a beloved position for her. She gets to drink in every tell-tale sign of pleasure on your face, flushed cheeks and glossy eyes...thatâs heaven to her. But also she gets to indulge in your nails carving up her back as everything gets just a little too much. And to her itâs adorable how your legs wrap around her hips on instinct while she ruts you until you see stars.
But she also loves watching her strap glide into you, feasting her eyes on your slick drip down its length onto the sheets below. So one of her favourite positions is you lying on your back, hips in the air, and her pounding away resting on her knees, letting her hit that much deeper. With a pillow supporting your back, of course - she isnât a savage. Unless you want her to be.
Sheâs a sucker for the sheer carnality of ramming into you from behind with your face buried in the sheets. The only caveat there is she canât see your blissful fucked-out expression. Solution? Add a mirror. Boom. Anna has always prided herself on being a problem solver.
Ravaging you with her hands or mouth against a tree (or a wall, I guess) is another fave. Anna will happily sling your legs over her broad shoulders, making you rely on her strength to keep you from collapsing, and delve into her favourite meal. Thereâs something about rendering you so...helpless in her hold that tickles a predatory instinct within.
Above all, though, she will always adore nestling her face between your warm thighs in bed in the morning. Youâre both barely awake, Annaâs hungry for something a little sweeter than breakfast, and youâre eager to oblige. Your hands gently running through her buzz cut as her tongue works magic instantly soothes her, hips sleepily bucking into her mouth. And when she opens her eyes after getting lost in her own little paradise, sheâs greeted with her lover flustered and whimpering, cheeks red from being smushed against the pillows during the night, hair tousled from sleep. Perfectly imperfect.
I am not a lawyer, but I can decently interpret legalese and, being as I also suffer from tl;dr syndrome and assume others may as well, I took one for the team and went through the updated TOS for the post+ accounts and highlighted (what I understand to be) the most pertinent information, which ultimately comes down to this:
You cannot monetize copyrighted works (aka charge and earn money from fanfic, fanworks, etc) and if you do decide to put your fanworks behind a paywall via Tumblr, when you are inevitably sued, Tumblr will not protect you and will not defend you and you alone, personally, will be responsible for whatever monetary damages said lawsuit results in.
If anyone is a lawyer and knows I've gotten any of this wrong, please do not hesitate to correct me/this post.
Screenshots taken from Tumblr's TOS (updated 7-21-21), Stripe's Account Agreement, and the post+ FAQs.
1. Your paid account will not be hosted by tumblr; it is routed through a 3rd party.
2. By signing up for a paid account, you're entering into an agreement with Stripe, so in addition to Tumblr's TOS, you are also bound to Stripe's TOS.
3. Stripe, like Tumblr, will not defend you or protect you against any lawsuits.
4. Furthermore, you may end up owing Stripe money (indemnify = compensate)
5. Tumblr's TOS specifically states that you can't put any content on your post+ account that violates any laws, including laws that protect intellectual property rights of others. This is super important, because Tumblr's post+ FAQ also states that you can post anything that you would regularly post on tumblr, which I'm sure many will take to mean that gifsets, fanworks, etc are fair game, since all of that stuff can be posted on tumblr now. However, the difference is, you're not making money from the fanworks you're posting or reblogging now. Once money enters the equation, the game changes.
Tumblr is making it seem like any and all content goes for post+ accounts, knowing 90% of this site is fanworks. This is not true and you'll be opening yourself up for lawsuits if you charge for fanworks.
6. Tumblr further disclaims any and all liability in any legal issues.
tl;dr: Please do not make a post+ account, bc you will be opening yourself to lawsuits and if that happens, Tumblr's response will be not our problem, you agreed to all the terms which said you couldn't do that, sorry not sorry. Please protect yourself.
Your page gives me so much serotonin oh my god. What about someone stumbling upon Anna's cabin after being lost in the wilds, Anna is confused but sees wounds and patches them up, and they both have an 'i met my soulmate, this is it' moment? Please and thank you đđđ
Warning: blood and a little bit of gore, a bit of angst peppered in as a treat, but mostly fluff
A Fateful Encounter with Anna
A peaceful stroll through the forest swiftly turned sour when you stopped to admire a trio of fox kits, playing by a rotting tree. Seeing any more than a lone fox was a rarity, and watching the babes yip and tumble about filled you with warmth. You were blissfully unaware of the mother lurking near her kits, and when you took a step closer towards them, she pounced.
Her canines sank into your waist as her claws slashed at your leg, leaving deep lacerations in your flesh. You threw the mother off you in your panic, scrambling away from the foxes, bleeding heavily, pleading that she wasnât rabid.
Dizzying from blood loss, you dragged yourself through the forest, nearly sobbing with relief upon spotting an orange glow seeping through the trees. Adrenaline wearing off, the dull throbbing pain in your leg grew sharper, but you pressed on, until you met the source of the light: a cottage.
Anna got back from a hunt barely an hour ago, and was returning her butchering equipment to her toolshed when she heard your pained gasps and panting. She dropped the rest of her tools and immediately rushed to your side, wordlessly scooping you up in arms that would have made you swoon on any other occasion, bounded for the cottage.
She set you down on her sofa, ordering you to not move. You noted her accent was Russian, her tone stern but compassionate. She headed towards the cottageâs kitchen, and not a minute later she returned to your crippled form with a box of medical supplies.
Introducing herself as âAnnaâ, she began to cut away the shredded fabric around your wounds. Head spinning, you mumbled out your own name, craning your neck to see the damage. From the layer of oxidising blood coating your flesh, you determined it was bad.
Using a rag and some water, Anna cleaned the skin surrounding the wounds before applying a generous amount of disinfectant. The chemical sting made you whimper, teeth grinding together in a pitiful attempt to alleviate the pain. âShh,â she urged soothingly, dressing your leg with gauze and bandages, applying pressure with her calloused hands to ease the burn.
But the gashes on your side were much, much deeper, not that you could see or feel any difference.
âĐĐ»Ń, ŃŃŃ ĐżĐŸĐœĐ°ĐŽĐŸĐ±ŃŃŃŃ ŃĐČŃ...â Anna hissed under her breath. You looked at her, confused and concerned. Her eyes, irises a pretty chocolate brown, met yours. âIt needs stitches,â she translated. Shit, itâs bad, you thought. Then, her brow furrowed, guilt flashing across her face. âIâm sorry, I do not have anaesthetic.â You nodded, bracing yourself for the pain.
Despite the hulking size of her, Anna was extremely delicate with the surgical needle and thread, and tried to make the stitching process as painless as possible. She hummed a tune to distract you, almost akin to a lullaby. You took the time to drink in your saviourâs appearance, eyes drifting over the countless scars adorning her face and arms, her plump lips, her dark brown hair clipped extremely short. She was a handsome beauty; you knew that much, despite being delirious from blood loss.
Once she had finished and wrapped the wound, she fetched you some clean clothes. They swamped you, but the soft fabric was a welcomed sensation.
While she cooked dinner - a delicious roasted ensemble of venison, potatoes and honeyed parsnips - you attempted to make small talk, asking about how she came to live in the woods, her home, why she left Russia, all while struggling not to blush at her huge hands.
Unbeknownst to you, every time she turned away from the kitchen island to grab something, she took a deep breath. Having a stranger turn up to her cottage was one thing, but a gorgeous stranger? Who seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her? Wow.
And your awe when she mentioned she hunted and grew almost everything she ate filled her with pride.
It was agreed that youâd spend the night at her cottage, getting some much needed rest and recovery, and sheâd help you home in the morning. A mutual sadness lingered after that conversation, both of you equally as intrigued by the other.
But when a fierce blizzard struck overnight, you were left with no other choice but to stay with Anna until it blew over. Not that either of you were complaining.
After a couple of days, the two of you fell into a routine. Every morning Anna would check your wounds, and in the evening after running you a warm bath she would redress them. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach when she put her hands on your skin, gentle as always. You were convinced she always ran hot.
The two of you would cook together, and you indulged in the variety of wild game that she hunted - how she managed to venture into the blizzard every day, you would never understand. Anna always returned from her hunts with a great beast slung over her shoulder. She said that smaller animals would be in hibernation, which you never questioned; to be truthful, she went for the harder, heavier kills to impress you with her strength. It worked like a charm. You were enamoured by her strength and resilience, how she went from slaying elk and chopping firewood in the biting cold to sweetly singing as she cooked, from skinning a beast to brushing your hair for you, since raising your arms above your head strained your side.
Evenings were spent talking by the fireplace, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands, which Anna explained she purchased from a little market in the nearest town that she visited once a month. Youâd eventually feel your eyelids growing heavier and retire to bed, but never before insisting you took the couch that night, which she always refused.
A week had passed and after an evening of tales and a vinyl album softly playing, you were drawn into her inviting warmth and fell asleep curled into her on the sofa. Too tired to notice her freeze, worrying about where to put her arms, an ecstatic smile plastered on her face. Oh so careful not to wake you, she managed to lie down, you lying on top of her chest, her arms cradling you delicately. You woke up the following morning in this same position, heart threatening to burst out of your chest. Grinning, you snuggled into her warmth, thinking Anna was still fast asleep. She wasnât.
The next day, Anna staggered into her cottage after a hunt didnât go entirely to plan. She tossed the boar she was lugging to the ground and made her way to the kitchen to grab her medical kit. You noticed the gash on her arm and stopped her, telling her to sit down so you could help. She protested, pointing out your own injuries, but backed down at the stern look you gave her. While you cleaned and tended to her wound, she told you all about how the boarâs tusk had pierced her flesh. Your heart was straining, but she squeezed your hand, assuring you these things happened a fair amount, gesturing to her many, many scars. And in spite of the state of her forearm, she still butchered the boar into filets, one of which you cooked (refusing to accept her offer to help) while she cured the rest for the upcoming dead of winter.
That same evening, you grew frustrated with her refusal to just rest. You could have easily cured the rest of the boar yourself, put more logs in the fireplace yourself. Why couldnât she just let someone care for her? It all spilled out. Was it because youâd do a bad job? At some point tears started to fall, your points derailed, and her heart tore in half. Anna wiped away your tears, thumbs caressing your cheeks, explaining that it was difficult for her to not be a provider. That you were amazing, that you gave her even more of a reason to provide, that she cared for you.
Be it due to cabin fever or not, you kissed her. And without a hint of hesitation she kissed back, cradling your jaw, her other arm winding around your waist as you leaned into her.
Both of you knew then and there that you were falling, hard.
From that night on you shared her bed, right up until the morning the blizzard passed. A few more chaste kisses were shared, but no arguments. You lived as two...lovers?
Two weeks after your fateful encounter, the time came for you to leave. As she previously promised, she escorted you home, your hands intertwined while your hearts sank with every step. Your odyssey had come to an end.
Upon reaching your doorstep, your fingers were still firmly laced together. Neither of you wanted to say goodbye.
Anna was the one to let go of your hand, slowly, trying to map the feel of your palm into memory. She asked if youâd come to see her again, if only once, audibly close to tears. You pulled her down for one last kiss, smiling up at her. âNext weekend. Iâll pack a bag,â you whispered, beaming as she smiled against your lips, relief washing over both of you.
(I did this in a headcanony format since Iâd be here forever trying to come up with prose. Youâve waited long enough for the response, so I hope this suffices <3)
This post is NSFW. Minors DNI.
Now, the first time you ask to ride her, she may seem a little...disappointed? Only because she really enjoys actively fucking you, and doesnât really want to just lay there? But when you start she has an immediate change of heart, from the moment you first sink down onto her strap.
She finds it fucking hypnotic the way your body reacts to being filled, drinking in the sight from an angle she doesnât usually get to appreciate.
And tiddies? In her face? Sheâs in heaven. Big or small, supple or firm, sheâll worship them as your hips gyrate on her strap. Her lips will latch onto your breasts, your neck, your throat, anywhere with unmarked skin that she can reach. Your skin will feel alight.
Annaâs huge hands roaming your back, gripping your ass and guiding you along the strap, massaging your thighs so they donât get sore, rubbing your clit to tip you over the edge - maybe even tugging on your hair or around your neck if thatâs what youâre into. Sheâll just seize the opportunity to explore your skin, finding ways to make you quiver.
Definitely wonât be able to stop herself from thrusting up into you, meeting you halfway with every roll of your hips. Sometimes sheâll set a pace, sometimes sheâll buck her hips occasionally to surprise you with a shockwave of pleasure.
Prefers to be sitting up when you ride her, holding you flush against her goliath of a frame. Craves the eroticism of it all. Itâs the one position where she gets to hold you close, intimately caressing you like a lover, while also fucking your brains out? A win-win.
Or sheâll loosely bind your hands behind your back so youâll still be on top of her, but completely at her mercy, unable to touch yourself and relying solely on her to bring you to orgasm. Vulnerable in a way only she will ever see.
But if you insist upon her lying down sheâll obey, her hands never moving from your thighs, letting you have your fun, resisting the urge to grind up into you. Right up until you start to get tired, legs burning from physical exertion, and your pace gets sloppy and desperate... Then she gets to have her fun. Sheâll pull your body down, kiss the crook of your neck, bend her legs and pound you with the nastiest rhythm. Rough, contrasting with how gently she holds you, and good enough to make you sob.
This bear of a woman will keep going until youâre shaking and sheâs certain youâll be bedridden the next day, if youâll let her.
Needless to say, your proposition to ride her strap was a positively fantastic idea.
Sheâs one hell of a woman, alright. Grizzled, calloused, intimidating, but loving. And thereâs just something about watching her perform laborious tasks that makes your heart swell. Bringing us to the present:Â you admiring her chop firewood from the cottageâs door, showing zero signs of fatigue despite the arduity of the job at hand.
God, is she a sight to behold. Shirt straining against her herculean back, muscle built up over years of gruelling hunts threatening to rip the fabric. Biceps bulging every time Anna raises her axe, forearms tense, the dark hairs dusting them catching the evening light. The sheer force of her swing causing the axe to cleave through the logs like a hot knife through butter. Sheâll roll her sleeves back to her elbows, retrieve her axe from the chopping stump as if the whole blade wasnât embedded in the wood, position the next log and repeat, all without breaking a sweat.
You wonder if she knows youâre there, utterly hypnotised by her strength. Enduring the late autumn chill in favour of feasting your eyes upon Artemisâ incarnate. If she didnât before, your loud gasp when she spins and catches her heavy axe mid-air certainly made her aware of your presence.
âSomething wrong?â Anna asks, smiling upon catching you bug-eyed and mouth agape at the doorframe. You shyly shake your head.
âI just...love your arms.â She chuckles at this, humming smugly and inquisitively. If your cheeks were dusky before from the cold, theyâre positively aflame with colour now. You fiddle with the sleeves of your jumper. âThereâs just really big and strong and itâs hot... And I love the way they feel when you hug me, ya know? I just... Yeah.â
Anna grins, your bumbling filling her with triumph. âХпаŃĐžĐ±ĐŸ,Â Đ°ĐœĐłĐ”Đ»Âč,â she beams, poising to split the final log in two. As her arm reaches the apex of her swing, your infatuation gets the best of you. âWait!â you call out, squeaking when she listens.
âCan I feel your arm? Before youââ You make a chopping motion with your arm. Anna quirks her eyebrow at the request but doesnât object, cocking her head for you to join her by the stump, axe still raised to the clouds. In your fluffy socks, you hobble over to her, teeth chattering as the cold hits you. When you reach her, you rise to your tip-toes and rest your hand on her tensed bicep, audibly gasping when you squeeze the muscle, met with hefty resistance. Under the soft, thin layer of cushioning fat, her muscles are hard as a rock, firm and unwavering. A gentle âwowâ escapes your lips and you palm the muscle again in disbelief.
âYou are strange, my sweet,â Anna breathes out while laughing at your awe. A smirk tugs at her lips when she flexes, revelling in the way your eyes widened.
Breaking out of your stupor, you retract your hand and take a few steps back so she can chop the final log. You rub your arms through your jumper, half to warm yourself up, half in anticipation. She takes a breath, and a second later the log is split into perfectly symmetrical halves. âHoly shit,â you mutter.
Anna dusts off her hands, facing you with a smile, full of pride knowing how impressed you are. She bends down and scoops your smaller frame into her huge arms, picking you up bridal-style. Her blood forever running hot, you find yourself curling into her embrace, sighing as some of the autumn chill leaves your bones.
Effortlessly, she transfers your body to one arm, using her now free hand to pull the axe out of the tree stump - something that would require you to use both hands (and possibly a foot) to achieve. She carries you over to the toolshed, deposits the axe and heads back towards the cottage, still cradling you with a single arm.
âWhat about the firewood?â you ask.
âI will get tomorrow,â Anna murmurs, kissing your temple. âYou are cold. Blanket is more important.â Thus she continues her path to the cottage, prepared to spend the evening shielding you from the harsh elements, with you bundled up in her strong, tender embrace.
HOMOEROTIC SPARRING?? PLEASE?? DOESNT HAVE TO BE NSFW BUT PLEASE I BREATHE FOR THIS KINDA THING
(Oh god oh god oh god oh god this shit is my fucking weakness, anon honey you are a blessing bestie. Ended up a lot longer than intended but I hope it makes up for the wait)
Sparring with Anna
Warning:Â j u i c y sexual tension (and mentions of hypothetical violence) so minors please dni <3
What the fuck were you thinking?
Ask Anna to spar with you, you thought. Youâll learn some self defence, Anna will feel better knowing youâre a bit safer when youâre alone. Win-win, right?
Right...?
The sheer size of your opponent, however, was something you completely glossed over in your head. Anna, your two-metre-tall, deliciously buff lover. Even with her refusing to land a hit on you, there was absolutely no way you could have possibly came out on top. She was, to put it bluntly, an immovable object.
But this revelation had yet to dawn upon you. The two of you - well, Anna - moved the living room furniture to the side, clearing a large space for your combat training. You changed into something comfortable and easy to move in and met Anna back at your makeshift âarenaâ. She smiled softly, kissing you on the forehead. Wrinkling your nose, you grumbled, âNo making me go all soft. I need to be alert.â
She chuckled, holding her hands up, adhering to your wish. âLetâs get on with sparring, then. What did you want to learn?â
Ah, you hadnât thought this through, either. You sort of just assumed things would play out how they did in the movies, punches and grabs being thrown out without prior discussion. Genius. Biting your lip in concentration, you pondered the potential scenarios in which some self defence would be life saving.
âOh! I know,â you began. Annaâs head cocked to the side in curiosity. âWhat about if some creep tried to grab me, like off the street or something?â
She nodded her head and gestured for you to stand in the middle of the clearing. You obeyed, tapping your foot anxiously as Anna positioned herself behind you. Frowning, she gently pressed her lips to your hair. âI would never hurt you, ĐŒĐžĐ»Đ°ŃĐșĐ°. No need for worry,â she reassured you, only pulling back when you audibly sighed away your nerves.
âOkay, ŃŃĐșĐ° would grab from behind, to scare.â She wraps her right arm around your front, in front of your bust, locking your upper arms in place. âHe stop you from screamingââ she covers your mouth with her other palm, ââand lift you off ground.â Without any sign of exertion, Anna lifted you up ever so slightly, leaving you on tip-toes struggling to stay grounded.
âFirst, bite his hand. Hard.â You kissed her palm instead, evoking a hearty laugh. She dropped her hand, muttering under her breath, âLike baby kitten...â You rolled your eyes.
âThen you scream. Now, you need your arms free. Look at his arms. If heâs scrawny, throw him off balance. Hook leg under his kneecap, put all weight into kicking it out. You both fall back but he takes impact. He will panic, let go. Then stomp head in.â Your eyes widened and you twisted your neck to look at Anna. She furrowed her eyebrows at your confusion. âOr just...run?â That sounded far less bloody.
âBut if heâs huge?â
âKick shin. Hard.â You gently knocked your heel against her leg. âHard,â she reiterated.
âI donât want to hurt you,â you explained.
âYou cannot hurt me, Đ°ĐœĐłĐ”Đ»,â she whispered back. Closing your eyes, you put your weight into your leg and gave her a semi-genuine kick. âBetter,â she said, a proud smile in her voice. âNow, his grip will get weak. You will slip down. Stomp his foot, use free arms to reach up and grab his ears. Twist head until he lets go. Then once you are free, get in a hit and run when he is distracted.â You nodded.
Anna went to loosen her grip around you but paused. âPromise me you try?â You hesitantly agreed, taking a deep breath, focusing everything on following her instructions.
âOkay. I count down, Ўа? Three...two...one...â
Her firm hold slipped and your feet collided with the floor. Grunting, you slammed your foot down onto Annaâs, wincing upon hearing the pained breath she let out. No. You promised her youâd try your best. She bent down to allow you to grip onto her ears, her appreciating that she is significantly taller than the average person, and you pulled her head down, attempting to twist clockwise. When she let go completely, you swivelled around and aim for her face, fully intending to stop the punch before it connected.
But you didnât get to. Anna caught your fist with tigress reflexes, bending your arm in a way that forced you to twist sideways. Using your imbalance to her advantage, she swept your feet from beneath you and pinned you to the floor, her other hand cradling the back of your head so you didnât hurt yourself.
Wow.
You lay under her, breathless, hands stapled to the floor above your head in her iron grasp. There was no point in struggling; you had seen this woman carry an elk over her shoulder like a sack of flour. All you could do was catch your breath, allow your eyes to trail up her thick forearms, hulking biceps, broad shoulders...
âFirst mistake. Do not punch his face, he sees it coming.â You swallowed and nodded slowly, sucking in a breath upon noticing her lips hovering barely half a foot above your throat. God, this woman would be the death of you.
Head still spinning, you mumble, âI still think I came out on top.â
Anna quirked her brow, confused. âYou are under me, love,â she said, even more perplexed when you hummed in agreement, eyes never leaving her lips.
Then it clicked.
Smirking, Anna mused, âWhat happened to âI need to be alertâ?â The way the scar on her lip curved into the smirk made your mouth dry.
Smugly, she dipped down and pressed a criminally hot kiss to the hollow of your throat. Your mind went blank.
While you stuttered, she stood up and pulled you to your feet. âWhâ You canât justââ you stammered, blushing furiously.
âTry again. This time, flatten hand and jab throat, kick him where it hurts and run.â You gulped, still dazed from her heated outburst.
Flatten, jab, kick, run.
Flatten, jab, kick, run.
Flatten, jab, ogle as Annaâs bicep threatened to rip the fabric of her shirt as she flexed it, knowing exactly what it would do to you, why had she decided to wear a short sleeved button-up today...and then, uh, something about running?
Utterly distracted, you went for the jab, surprisingly on the mark. But Anna ducked, manoeuvred behind you, grabbed your other arm and pinned it to your back. Before you knew it you were against the wall, cheek smushed against the logs, your other hand flat against the wood to cushion the impact.
Indignantly, you stuttered, âThatâs cheating! You told me what to do and then - stopped me from doing the - thing.â
âLesson two: fight dirty.â She laughed lowly as you told her to go fuck herself. Once again wedged between the burly Russian and a surface, you relaxed against the wall - as much as you could with her breath fanning the back of your neck. Anna released her grasp on your arm, chuckling as you let gravity do the work in bringing it back to your side, reminding her of a ragdoll. Her now free hand trailed your spine, path extending further when your breath hitched, finally resting on the curve of your behind.
âAnna?â
âHmm...â A thumb tilted your head up and she pushed her weight into you, smiling wickedly at the strangled sound you relinquished, your chest now flush against the wall.
âBed?â You internally pleaded that sheâd use her brute strength to ruin you beneath the sheets, but didnât trust your mouth to articulate more than single words with how fried your brain was.
Anna hummed pensively. âWhatâs wrong with the wall?â And as her hand slipped into your clothing, you found yourself torn, wanting to be rewarded for your efforts to beat her, but also wanting her to make you regret cursing at her moments ago.
