#rip hunter you were hot

[kimspradlins]

VENUS KARMA

[talentforlying]

"over a hundred of us" and they all shut up and stand down the second my guy enters the room.....when i tell you he's got a fucking reputation, i mean he's got a REPUTATION babey!!!!

[ohproserpine]

for valentine's day, i thought i'd buy a gun.

synopsis: you make your husband mad on purpose tags: fem! reader, married couple, blood&injuries, demi alastor, suggestive/steamy, just a short kinda bad drabble to break my writer's block, ooc-ish alastor, soft alastor at first, vox mentioned don't like? don't interact.

"Cher!"

Alastor greeted you with a smile, his lips curved into a charming yet slightly crooked grin that softened the rugged edges of his appearance.

Leaning against the door frame, he looked every bit the rogue hunter returning from a hunt. His once-neat attire bore tears, burns, and scratches, with both knees of his pants ripped and scuffed thin. His monocle hung loosely on his chest, the glass broken and shards glinting in the light. Tousled strands of crimson hair fell haphazardly across his forehead, framing his rugged features, while a trickle of blood from the cut on his lips dripped down his chin, staining his deathly pale skin.

"Christ!" You jolted off the hotel bed, propelled into action by concern, your heart racing with worry. You began running around, collecting towels, extra clothes, and a first aid kit in a frantic rush.

Alastor moved into the room and stood in the very center, observing your frenzied activity with an amused smirk.

Finally, with all your materials in hand, you rushed to your husband's side, your footsteps echoing against the cold carpet.

"What happened to you?" you asked, filled with concern as you assessed his injuries, your eyes scanning his form for any more signs of distress.

"Just a little scuffle on the hunt, my doe," he replied with a cheer in his tone, spinning his staff in his hand. "Came across a feisty, moronic beast. But nothing I couldn't handle."

"A scuffle?" Disbelief colored your voice as you got on your tiptoes, straining to reach up and dab at the blood on his chin with a damp towel.

Alastor grinned down at you, his eyes tracing your features with tenderness. Always such a pretty view, but seeing you so domestic and sweet for him made him begin to feel hot below the collar. Leaning down, he reached out to sweep a stray strand of hair from your eyes, his long, sharp claws grazing against your skin.

"That can wait," his voice crackled with low static as he pulled you flush against him, chest against chest. "I've missed you dearly."

“Good heavens, Alastor, you’re insatiable,” you chided him playfully with a swat, though the warmth in your tone betrayed your affection. Your fingers lightly brushed against the rough fabric of his torn shirt as you urged him to let you continue tending to his injuries. "Let me fix you up first."

Alastor's ears twitched back as he rolled his eyes at you, but his grip remained firm as he pulled you closer and closer until you were practically dragged towards the bed, falling into his lap with a gentle thud.

"Love," you began to protest, but before you could continue, he silenced you with a deep kiss pressed upon your lips, a low chuckle vibrating against your own, melting any further protest.

He drew back briefly, only to dive back in, his lips tracing a delicate path along your neck. With a familiarity born of passion, his hands roamed, each touch igniting a cascade of sensations that threatened to consume you both.

"Al," you whimpered, unable to resist the intoxicating allure of his touch. As his lips began to trail up your jawline, you found yourself melting into his arms, the tension of the earlier encounter gradually dissipating in the heat of the moment.

He let out a dark chuckle, the sound echoing in the room, as he threw off his ruined coat and loosened the tie around his neck. Gripping onto your hips with a firm hold, he all but threw you off his lap and onto the bed.

The smug bastard. He knew all too well that his affections could smooth over any trouble he found himself in.

"Alastor," you murmured, your senses cutting through the haze of desire, "We really should attend to your wounds first."

Alastor began to move towards you, his claws digging through and tearing the mattress beneath him. "In due time, my heart."

"I am serious," you insisted, ignoring the wide smile you received in return. Alastor merely hummed, a low, melodic sound, as he moved to press himself against you, encasing you in an embrace that felt simultaneously comforting and confining.

You leveled him with a glare. Gritting your teeth, you continued, "What did you even do? I know damn well you didn't get these," you gestured to the charred edges of his shirt, "from an animal."

"Well, dearest, it was from an overlord meeting. You understand how tense politics can become," Alastor countered with a laugh.

"Bushwa," you scowled, jabbing your finger into his chest. "I know a lie when I see one."

"Rather accusatory," Alastor hummed, his tone dismissive.

"Well, I apologize for worrying about my husband, who looks to be on the verge of collapse any moment now," you snapped, frustration seeping into your voice.

"So enough of this," you scolded, your expression hardening. "What did you do?"

"What was necessary," Alastor scoffed, a mirthless chuckle following.

"I'd say he deserved it. You should have seen the way he looks at you," he continued, his voice low and tinged with a hint of warning, the air around him crackling with static.

"Who?" you asked, leaning down to meet his gaze. "There are plenty of people. Plenty of looks."

"Don't act as if you don't notice that pompous television bastard hanging around the hotel nowadays," Alastor's voice crackled with dark intensity, the radio static grew stronger, prickling against your skin and nearly making his words incoherent.

So this is what it's about?

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Alastor's jealousy, though a small part of you felt a flicker of flattery at his protectiveness.

Your husband's irritation simmered beneath the surface, evident in the subtle set of his jaw and the way his normally smug gaze turned icy. But a mischievous spark ignited within you, tempting you to push his buttons just a bit further, to dance dangerously close to the edge of his patience.

"Are you talking about Vox?" you asked with a smirk playing at your lips. Tilting your head coyly, you met Alastor's gaze with a glint of mischief in your eyes. Your voice was laced with honeyed sarcasm, dripping like molten gold from your lips.

His expression darkened at the mention, a flicker of raw anger crossing his features before he regained his composure.

"You know well who I'm talking about," Alastor's grin was uncanny, his voice carrying the same tone you'd heard the night he faced death. "Don't toy with me."

Despite the seriousness of his tone, you couldn't resist the urge to tease him further. A playful smile danced on your lips as you reached out, gripping onto his tie and pulling him closer, closing the distance between you with a pull.

“What if I found him charming?” you breathed out against his lips, your voice a tantalizing whisper as you ran your hands up the fabric of his undershirt. Your touch was featherlight, fingers smoothing down the wrinkles of his torn button-up with a teasing caress. “I might have let him have me right then and there.”

A sudden sharp pierce of a distorted screech, like a radio malfunctioning, cut through the air, shattering the moment. Claws flying up to grip your face, Alastor broke the kiss and stared down at you with glowing blood-red eyes, their intensity piercing through you. Your breath caught in your chest at the sight, your heart pounding in your ears as you were overcome by a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Alastor called out your name. It was the first time you had heard him utter it in a while. Throughout the years, he had always addressed you by endearing nicknames, leaving you half-convinced that he had forgotten your actual name.

But as the sound of fell from his lips, despite the danger, you found yourself yearning to hear it once more, to feel the weight of your name on his tongue.

"My sweet," Alastor tutted, a screech of radio feedback following him as he cupped your neck in one hand, guiding your gaze back to him. His touch was possessive, firm, and demanding, akin to the control of a puppeteer manipulating his marionette.

"Never utter such words again," he growled softly, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His grip tightened ever so slightly, sharpened claws a warning of the consequences should you dare to defy him. "No one else shall lay claim to you."

With a defiant tilt of your chin, you met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down in the face of his dominance. "And what if I refuse?" you challenged, your voice steady despite the fear that coiled in your belly.

Alastor's lips curled into a manic grin, his canines shining beneath the lights of the room, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he leaned in closer.

"Then you shall suffer the consequences."

[lexsssu]

Tender (Sung Jinwoo)

TAGS: Alpha!Jinwoo/Omega!F!reader, a/b/o, knotting, spooning, breeding, impregnation,drabble Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

If there is one thing that S-rank Hunter isn’t known for, it’s tenderness.

For what use is such softness when he must traverse the treacherous dungeons to subjugate monsters and demons beyond human comprehension? 

Just as they would have no remorse feasting on his flesh and grinding his bones, so must bear the same ruthlessness, if only so he could return home to his waiting family. 

But once the door is closed, he removes that brutality as easily as one would take off a coat the moment they get home from work. 

How can a man who lifts his child high up in the air before pressing a kiss to their forehead be the same man who rips and tears through unholy hordes on an almost daily basis?

And while his movements were desperate as he rutted into you in the wee hours of the night once your son is tucked into bed, there is no savagery in the way his lips and hands worship your body. 

How could he not when you are perfection incarnate?

“All this for me? You’re spoiling me too much…” Jinwoo sighs into your neck, blowing hot air against the mark that marred your smooth skin as he spooned you.

And with his knot locking you both together with the promise of new life being formed within your womb, your alpha purred lowly at the subtle change in your scent. 

[starmocha]

Part of my sing little birdie aka birb dad + birb baby series, but I'm yapping bullet points real quick (idk I may rewrite this into a proper story one day. I'm trying to stay focused and in a specific mindset rn for my dragon!Sylus AU 😔👍). Something about the last part of Sylus' event triggered this thought, so let's get into it.

Taking Little Birdie to the Amusement Park

It's Sylus' daughter's first time at the amusement park. She is three and excited, but not because of the rides and attractions

It's one of the rare occasions where she has both mom and dad together spending time with her

Sylus lavishes his daughter with attention and indulges in her whims

If baby girl wants Daddy to wear silly headbands and glasses, then he will in a heartbeat

He buys her whatever she wants at giftshops even if she doesn't ask

Man is basically doing the "buying my child whatever she touches" trend (MC is exasperated once she finds out, but lets it go since this is a special day for their family)

He is the one riding the rides with her as MC photographs everything

He lifts her onto her chosen horse on the carousel and stays by her side

"So, my little birdie, this is the trusty steed you have chosen? A fine horse indeed."

Baby girl is having the time of her life on kiddie rides

The best part about having a tall dad is riding his shoulders. Little Miss has the best view at the park. 🥹🫶

Sylus isn't concerned about losing her.

Onychinus henchmen are lurking around the park posing as guests, staff members, or mascots 😭👍

Personal babysitters bodyguards Luke and Kieran are always nearby to keep their eyes on their precious Little Miss

Dressed as Smiley Dino and Sunny Dino, they are suffocating in their suits (rip 😔), but Little Miss' laughter and excitement makes it all worth it

"Daddy, Daddy, Smiley Dino and Sunny Dino hugged me!"

(Later Luke & Kieran @ MC: say Miss Hunter...would it be possible if we get copies of that photo? 👉👈)

Mephisto is also always perched near the toddler to keep an eye on her and will report to Sylus about any concerns

You do not want to mess with this bird. He has beef with pigeons on a daily basis. 💀 He won't hesitate to take you on either not to mention Sylus is always giving him weird upgrades

Basically don't mess with this child. She has the protection of Onychinus and you do not want to meet her dad. Or worse. Her mom.

Around mid-afternoon, nap time is near. It's been hours at the park, lots of overindulgence, lots of walking. The sun is blazing hot, and baby girl is dozing off on Sylus' shoulder trying to stay awake.

He and MC find a nice shady area to rest for a bit and just have a nice quiet family/couple moment as their daughter naps in Sylus' arms

In the evening they have a meal at one of the restaurants as a family. Baby girl is rambling excitedly about her favorite parts of the day (spoiler alert: it's everything)

"Mommy...Daddy...can we do today again? 🥺"

Sylus & MC:

When there is a fireworks show, baby girl is sitting on Sylus' shoulders pointing at the sky in awe

Sylus leans down to MC, asking with a smirk, "Remember the last time we watched fireworks at that restaurant together?"

"Mommy, Daddy, look, look!"

Little birdie doesn't even realize she is tugging on her dad's hair. Sylus laughs it off. Her joy is his joy.

Sylus isn't really paying attention to the fireworks. He gazes at his wife's awestruck expression and smiles as his daughter laughs. He wonders if he had traded away all of his bad luck because right now, in this moment, he felt pretty damn lucky.

He hopes this is a core memory for his daughter, but even if she grows up and forgets this day, Sylus won't. This memory will stay with him for the rest of his life, her laughter and smiles were his to keep, his to cherish.

(As for the rest of Onychinus, this is their core memories, seeing their precious Little Miss having the family day she deserves 😭🫶)

[crushmeeren]

࿐ part one of masked stalker week! touya is first, megumi’s can be found here! ⇢ ⇢ ⇢ ⋆ FEM READER ⋆

࿐ master list link ࿐ kinktober master list link

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ hints of hunter/prey, stalking, mask kink, breath play, knife play, a mixture of degradation and praise, yandere vibes.

⋆ ⬪ This isn’t quite as long as the others, as I wanted to keep it sweet and to the point without too much world building this time.

⇢ ⇢ touya art by birf ! ⇢ ⇢ @sikuthealien

⇢ ⇢ @with-my-calamitous-love (tagging cuz I thought you might enjoy this)

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Touya’s a regular at the coffee shop you work in. It’s in a seedier part of town, and nobody bats an eye at the villain who stops in every night before close. He never speaks to you after he orders, just shoots you a wink as he leaves. But he’s the least of your worries. There’s someone wearing a ghost face mask who’s been stalking you after every shift. It’s been going a lot longer than you care to admit. Maybe it’s because, in a twisted way, you like it?

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

“Busy, doll?”

Your hand jerks violently, the tip of your pen ripping a giant hole in the napkin you were currently doodling ghost face on. You purse your lips, and after swallowing your heart back down into your chest, you lift your head to send a weak glare at the familiar smoky voice piping up from across the counter.

Touya glances at your drawing and the corners of his lips twitch with the ghost of a smug smile.

“I was. Thanks a lot for ruining my picture,” you complain, balling up the tattered napkin and dropping it in the small trash can beside you. You mourn the loss of your masterpiece and rise to your feet with a sigh. “Getting the usual?”

“As always, doll. What, that pretty little empty head of yours forget my order already?” Touya teases, crossing his arms over his chest and looming over the edge of the counter. The scent of burnt firewood smacks you in the face and tickles your nose. You pull backwards instinctively, even if the smell does entice you.

“No,” you protest, nose scrunching as you resist the urge to sneeze, glancing up into bright blue eyes. Touya arches an eyebrow and you spin in the opposite direction before he can notice the soft heat of embarrassment burrowing into the apples of your cheeks.

It’s not your fault the backhanded compliment fills your belly with butterflies. He’s stupid hot, scars and all, sue you for having eyes.

Touya hums as if your petulant no amuses him greatly.

It’s like clockwork. Nearly every evening one of Japan’s most wanted villains shows up half an hour before close and orders a plain black coffee. He never speaks again after you start making it, no matter how hard you try to coax him into conversation. He just responds in noncommittal hums, studying you so intensely that you fidget in place.

Then he pays, shoots you a wink, and leaves through the front door with his hoodie pulled up tight to cover his snowy white hair.

It’s not as if anyone bats an eye that he frequents the place, you have a suspicion that the owner does business with the LOV anyhow. The security cameras are just for show, and you sure as hell won’t rat on him. Screw society, or whatever the LOV stands for.

You secure a lid on the nearly overflowing cheap styrofoam cup. Neatly, you write his name on the side before handing it over, fingers brushing over cool metal as you do, and he grins so widely the staples on his cheeks stretch obscenely. You bite the inside of your bottom lip, fingertips tingling with a pleasant burn even after he’s gone.

Your lungs expand with a steadying breath to reset your nervous system, closing your eyes briefly to focus. When you crack them open and glance at the digital clock on the wall, there’s only twenty minutes left until you can escape the dingy cafe.

That only serves to fill you with dread of an entirely different beast. One that has guilt weighing you down because, if you’re honest, you’re…. excited for what awaits you at the end of your shift.

You see, Touya is the least of your current worries. Yeah, you have a huge crush on him, but he’s never made a move and you’re sure he’s got more pressing matters to deal with.

Shigaraki seems like he’s more than a handful to work for after all.

No, for the past two or three months, as soon as you lock the door and start your treacherous stroll home through the seedy part of town, a man in a ghost face mask follows you the entire way. He never does anything, just simply tails you without a care in the world.

You still have no clue who it is, and at first you were terrified, the jarring sensation of eyes constantly on you making the hair on your arms stick straight up. You were being stalked and hunted like a small rabbit in the woods, and a cold sweat often trickled down your neck. You’d grip the straps of your backpack with trembling fingers and white knuckles.

Then, love letters began appearing in your mailbox at the end of every week. Pages upon pages of your stalker waxing poetic about you, decorated with scratched out sentences and rants demanding that you belong to him, and that he’d tear any man who flirted with you into pieces. They’re always signed with “my heart beats for you”, no name listed, and some hastily drawn hearts.

You’ve started to wonder if you’re sick in the head, because as more letters appeared, the fear faded into infatuation. You started to become just as obsessed with him as he is with you. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that he could tell when your feelings changed, if the increase in letters was anything to go by.

That being said, his secret identity consumes almost every waking thought you have. You’ve been on edge for weeks, and it’s driven you to come up with a plan to push things forward.

You’ve decided to write him his own letter, and soon you’re going to leave it in your mailbox for him to find. You yearn to know who he is, to see what he looks like.

And you really want him to fuck you in the mask.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

The bell above the door jingles as you slam the front door shut. You curse lowly, fiddling with the key that never seems to actually lock the door. You race the biting cold to secure it before your fingers go numb. After the fifth time you hear the signature click as it slides the deadbolt into place and you sigh in relief.

You swing your backpack to the front, digging in the front pocket and pulling out your prepared letter in a white envelope labeled “to my stalker”. With determination, you start walking in the direction of your home, shifting your gaze to peer down the first alleyway past the coffee shop. Your heart rate thunders when you spot a familiar ghost mask barely peaking out above the dumpster.

You make haste, calves burning the faster you push your stride. You breath resembles a dragon’s and the crunch of heavy boots on the concrete sidewalk behind you has your fingertips tingling. Your stalker trails after you at a steady pace, an eerie tune being whistled as he follows. His footsteps never quicken, as if he’s confident he’ll catch up no matter what.

Before you realize it, you’re reaching the end of your driveway, coming to a halt in front of your mailbox. You turn ever so slowly, witnessing the masked man pause in the middle of the street. He tilts his head in curiosity as you raise up the letter so he knows what you’re holding.

Tentatively, you gesture towards the letter, and then you shove a shaky finger his way. He points at himself and you nod once. Then, you make sure he’s watching as you place it in the mailbox and shut the door as fast as you can.

You whirl without second guessing yourself, the scenario reminding you of running up the stairs so a monster doesn’t capture you as you practically sprint into your home and lock the door.

You don’t dare look out the window to check if he’s taken it. You slump against your door, adrenaline still rushing in your veins as you slide to the tiled floor with a squeak. The warm air thaws your limbs as you spiral.

When you inspect the mailbox on your way to work the next day, the letter has vanished.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

It’s late Friday evening, thirty minutes before close, and anticipation is currently wreaking havoc on your mind. You jump each time the door opens. It’s enough to distract you from the fact that Touya hasn’t made his usual appearance tonight.

Granted, it’s not that unusual, he’s not there every single day, so the realization only flits across your thoughts before disappearing.

The divorced dad rock playing softly in the background pauses, a result of the shitty internet connection, and you roll your eyes as you continue to rhythmically wipe off the counter top in relative silence.

The sharp chime of the door startles you, gaze shooting towards whoever has entered, but the spark of hope in your chest deflates when you recognize a different regular sauntering through.

You greet him with a fake smile, going along with the boring small talk as you prepare his drink. He’s kind enough, and he tips decently, so you treat him well. You send him on his way with a genuine smile and return to your closing tasks.

You’re flipping the last chair over, about to settle it on the table top when the door opens once more. Annoyance flares in your chest, and you twist your head to call over your shoulder that you’re closed when your voice gets stuck in your throat.

The wooden legs slip from your fingers like sand, and the chair clatters loudly to the table as you spin towards the door in shock.

There in the doorway, looking terrifying, is your fucking stalker. He’s dressed in all black, ghost face mask secured and black hoodie pulled up, but it’s definitely him.

You weren’t sure he’d show up, mouth opening and closing in shock as you stare aimlessly at him.

“You…you got my letter,” you manage to choke out, heart hammering against your rib cage. He nods once in acknowledgment, casually reaching behind himself to flip the lock on the door. The cold sensation of fear pours into your belly, and you swallow the cotton balls that have taken refuge in your throat as he takes a step closer.

Your feet are cemented to the floor, limbs paralyzed while he stalks towards you, pulling his hood off as he goes. You can’t see his hair and you notice that he’s wearing black leather gloves as well, so that doesn’t give you any sort of clue as to who he is.

You shiver slightly, time seeming to slow when he comes to a stop directly in front of you. Your head tilts in order to properly look up at him.

“You wanted me, right doll?” The deep voice drawls, unearthing something metallic from his waistband that you immediately notice is a knife. Your terror skyrockets, the high of the thrill mixing with it in a strange and intoxicating way. You retreat as far as you can, but it’s only a few inches as your lower back bumps harshly into the edge of the table behind you, jostling the chairs.

“No! I mean, yes, I did, but I just wanted to talk! I’m…interested in you,” You attempt to explain, hands flailing animatedly and voice shaky as you ramble.

The masked man chuckles in amusement, raising the knife and gradually beginning to dig the tip into the underside of your jaw, tilting your head even further back. It pinches, not quite breaking the skin, but the threat looms.

God, you hope this wasn’t a mistake, and that you aren’t so pathetic that you’ve actually let a stalker in here to kill you.

“To talk about what, sweetheart? Your letter said you were interested, but I saw you with your little boyfriend in here earlier, whore,” he spits the last word, knife pushing in a bit further. “Were you lying to me?”

You cry out desperately, the tendons in your neck straining painfully as your eyes grow wide and your brows shoot up to your hairline in confusion.

“No! What? I - I don’t have a boyfriend, I swear!” You plead, voice watery and thick. Your hands fly up to fist the front of his hoodie, rising onto your tip toes so you don’t impale yourself. Your heart rate is erratic, enough so that you’re becoming dizzy.

Panic wells up in your throat, eyes stinging with tears as he stays silent for what seems an eternity. Then, he clicks his tongue behind his teeth, dragging the tip of the knife down the hollow of your throat, and purposely nicks your collarbone before he finally pulls away.

You gasp loudly, breath coming out as a bitten off sob as your hands shoot to your neck to check for any glaring injuries. A few tears flow down your cheeks in relief as you pant harshly, fingertips only slightly red when you pull them back.

“What the fuck!” You screech, glaring intensely at him and flushing hotly to the tips of your ears. “I just wanted to talk to you!”

He shrugs, spinning the knife. “We’re talking, aren’t we doll?”

Your expression pinches as you try to hold in the next sob, sniffling pitifully. All of a sudden his personality switches, emotional whiplash evident as he crowds you in against the table. Your fear spikes once again, hands coming up to his chest in a weak attempt to save yourself.

He slips the knife back into his waistband and harshly cradles your jaw, wiping away the few stray tears with his glove covered thumbs.

“Aw c’mon doll, you’re such a pretty thing, please don’t cry. I just got so furious seeing that other guy in here flirting with what’s mine. You understand, right?” He soothes, mania seeping into his tone. He presses his warm lean body flush with yours and you squeeze your eyes shut. You end up nodding, head fuzzy with the whirlwind of fear and arousal fraying your nerves. “Fucking look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he demands coldly.

You refocus your gaze upon the pitch black eyes of the ghost face mask, lids drooping slightly.

“I told you I wanted you,” you protest. “Not some random regular.”

He’s surely driving you insane, and you’re certain it says nothing good about you that you still want him so badly.

“I know doll,” he coos, hands smoothing down your chest. He grabs your tits and then moves lower to squeeze your hips bruisingly. “And you’re gonna fucking show me.”

The man reaches behind you and shoves the chairs over the sides of the tables, the insanely loud crack of the wood slamming into the floor causes you to smack right into his chest. He hushes you, coaxing you to back up, and then he hefts you up onto the edge of the table by your waist.

“Raise your arms,” he instructs.

You listen, inner elbows touching your ears as he grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it off. He drops it carelessly to the floor and then gets your bra off just as easily. He lures a soft moan from you when warm leather hands play with your tits, pinching your nipples until they harden. He whispers something you don’t quite catch and then he’s reaching for your waistband.

“Wait!” Your fingers curl around his wrists to halt his movements before he can unbutton your pants. “I don’t even know your name! At least tell me that before you fuck me.”

You’re certain he’s smirking behind that mask.

“Oh? And what will you do if I don’t tell you, hmm? You’re a filthy whore for me, aren’t you doll?”

You blink in shock, the harsh words lighting fire to your blood. You nod jerkily, your hold on his wrists going slack.

“So, are you going to say no?” He taunts, fingers toying with the button on your jeans. When you shake your head he coos at you. “Such a good girl, you listen so well.”

He hooks his fingers into your pants and panties, yanking with enough force that he pulls them out from under you. You gasp, catching your weight with your hands as he slips off one of your sneakers, leaving the remaining material to dangle uselessly around one ankle.

Your pussy seeks for anything to cling to, but tightens desperately around nothing as he pushes your thighs apart to see you better. You look up at him sheepishly when he places his thumbs on the sides of your soft lips and spreads you, moaning appreciatively at what he finds.

One thumb shifts to your clit and he rubs a few slow circles into it, the texture of the leather sending waves of warmth out to your limbs. Your nails scrape the wooden surface as he grips your knees and lifts them until you’re forced to place your heels on the edge of the table to balance.

Your leftover sneaker squeaks when you shift your foot, the vulnerability of being on display for this man making your stomach knot up.

“I want to see you. Please, show me,” you beg, gaze flickering down to see the way his stiff cock strains against his zipper, eager to be freed.

“Yeah? Does my pretty little toy wanna see my face?” He runs a teasing finger along the edge of his mask. “I think,” he muses, pausing a measly few inches from your face. “You just want to see my cock.”

He straightens as soon as the words leave his lips, unzipping his hoodie and shrugging it off his shoulders. He wears a long black sleeve shirt, and he reaches below it to undo his own dark jeans. Soon enough his hard cock is bouncing free and curving up slightly towards his belly.

Your lips part, a storm of pure need rushing through you. A patch of curly white hair at the base of his cock draws your attention, and the small piece of knowledge excites you.

“You have white hair?” You ask in awe, shifting your gaze from the hand loosely stroking his cock to his face, staring so hard you might actually be able to see through the mask. He tilts his head curiously and steps up to the edge of the table.

“So there is a brain rattling around in there,” he teases, tilting his hips up to slide the tip of his leaking cock over your clit. He shifts down to nudge against where you’re entirely exposed. “Sure do, sweetheart. Recognize me yet?”

Your brows scrunch, distracted by the white hot jolt of pleasure, and then your stalker is gripping your throat and cutting off your air as he pushes his cock inside you all the way to the hilt. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, the stretch burning and so unbelievably perfect that your entire body tingles.

He pulls his hips back until the tip is all your pussy clings to before bullying his cock back inside, the sharp smack of his skin meeting yours pushing a wheeze out of you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it doll?” His voice is scratchy, a breathy moan escaping as you squeeze him. Your head grows heavy as you nod to the best of your ability, spine begging to arch into his thrusts.

He sets a ruthless pace after that, not allowing you a second longer to adjust. His free hand clutches your bent knee and uses it as leverage to throw his weight into his hips.

After what seems like an hour, you start to tap urgently at his wrist, vision swimming as he continues to fuck the very life out of you. He eases his grip and you suck in a lungful of air that has blood rushing in your ears.

Just as the lightheaded sensation starts to fade he applies firm pressure to your throat until your shoulders slam into the table top. He stills his hips as he follows you down, and your legs instinctively lock around his lithe waist. He places his elbows on either side of your head, panting harshly through the cloth mouth of the mask.

When you land the air gets knocked out of your lungs, you gasp out of reflex and the scent of burnt firewoods floods your nose. Something clicks into place in your mind, and with startling clarity, it dawns on you that your masked stalker is Touya.

Touya moves his hips leisurely, curling them so his blunt tip presses firmly against your g-spot. Your hands fly up to fumble with his mask, and Touya doesn’t move to stop you when you push it up and off his head, the plastic clattering to the floor somewhere beside the table.

Familiar searing blue eyes and scarred skin greet you, spiky white hair sealing the deal.

“Touya,” you breathe, and he grins slyly, each of his slow, deliberate thrusts jostling you up the table. His lids are heavy as he peers down at you, and your arms wind around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Surprised?” He purrs, and you shake your head.

“No, fuck! I’m happy that it’s you,” you manage to get out between choked off moans. The look in his eyes turns wild, a borderline hysterical laugh leaving his lips.

“I own you, isn’t that right doll?” He balances his weight on one elbow and reaches to grab the knife from his waistband. He stabs the wood inches from your head and you yelp, heart skipping a beat as you shy away from the blade. He lets go but allows the knife to remain in place, resuming his previous position.

“Yes!” You reassure him, pussy fluttering involuntarily and Touya grins in self satisfaction, caging in closer until his lips brush over yours when he murmurs.

“Let’s make that pretty little pussy cum on my cock then, yeah? Show me you understand.”

With that, Touya resumes his relentless pace. He keeps you on the edge of a kiss, whispering soft praise until you’re surging up to kiss him as stars burst behind your eyelids.

He groans into the kiss, hips faltering as your pussy suffocates him. Touya drags out your climax for as long as he can hold out before he breaks the kiss and shoves his face into your throat, thrusting shallowly as he cock jerks. He sinks his teeth into your pulse point, sucking and marking you with what’s sure to be a dark purple hickey.

You hug him close, thighs twitching with aftershocks and Touya slips his arms underneath your waist. He gives you no reprieve as he readjusts his grip and hauls you up off the table, forcing you to suck in a sharp breath and wail as he twists and drops into a booth nearby. The intense pressure on your soft cervix makes your stomach ache.

Touya frees you of your sneaker and the remainder of the pants still dangling around your ankle. He roughly smacks your ass and gazes up at you with a catlike grin.

“Ride me like you fucking mean it, doll. I gotta see those tits bounce.”

You come together over and over that night until you’re both exhausted. Before Touya takes his leave, he draws his number on the side of a styrofoam cup and places it on the counter. He’s deadly serious when he tells you that you “better not fucking ignore him,” or he’ll show up here every. single. night.

And truthfully, you want to play with fire and see what happens if you do.

[justblades]

⌕ FLIMSY FEELINGS, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : blade x afab! reader WC : 1.4k

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. dubcon, somno, voyeur! blade, oral (fem receiving), sadistic masochistic themes, mutual masturb#tion, cunnilingus

⟢ A/N : we don't have much info abt his character rn but i tried my best with the available provided info as of the moment !! enjoy <3

raven hair ripples from the bitter cold winds blowing, the glint of crisp solferino hues show a reflection of an unknown person - someone the stellaron hunters just happened to pick up as they tread upon weaving the threads of fate, just how the screen play director foretold.

it was just blade and you alone, encompassed by the archaic, gunmetal gray walls. blade watches your slumbering figure as he wears a solemn face, lips pressed into a thin line, not showing any kind of expression at all except for a stoic mask.

is it really a mask? no one could tell. blade just proceeds to stride towards your body, feeling an aching sensation he needed to tend to. it's a feeling he'd come to despise - but it's still a part of his bodily function. even though he abandoned his old way of living and is now in a pursuit of his path to vengeance, there are trivial things he must fulfill at once.

blade slowly descends to your position, vision still not anchoring away from your dozing shape. humans truly are fragile, he thought to himself— to see someone in their vulnerable state, it feels quite intimate. it was an epiphany blade had for a long time ago he forgot when, but all he knows right now is there's just one thing that must be done.

he feels his pants grow tighter by the minute, the flickering light bulb casts a darker shade of monochrome gray on the crotch part. the navy haired doesn't delay any further and proceeds to get it done. blade unbuckles his belt swiftly, letting the item crash against the concrete flooring; followed suit is an act of self pleasure, he gradually wraps his dominant around his throbbing girth, reveling the wamrth he had to offer to himself in dead silence.

the stellaron hunter may not show it but gratification already courses through his system. at a slow pace, he continues to lean more towards your figure, his cock now at its full glory. its head twitches, itching for a sensation for it to be enveloped in; something warm, something tight and something alive. three qualifications that his mere hands could not satisfy.

perhaps that was your sole purpose for you being brought here in the stellaron hunters' temporary hideout. he rips your clothes with one clean cut from the cracked sword he brandishes, one of the many ways he showcases his astonishing swordsmanship. steadily positioning himself from your slit, a hot, rock hard feeling rubs on your lower lips.

blade's heart begins to pulsate against his rib cage, each beat becoming louder and faster in such an irregular manner. the more he got to feel your slippery cunt, the more eager he only got. and with one powerful thrust, he successfully makes his entrance inside you, his cock lavishing the comfort of your velvet walls clamping around his length.

he huffs a deep breath and only realizes it late as he catches a quick whiff of your scent— for some reason, he was drawn on. the male inches forward your neck, his hands tightly clasped on yours to make sure there would be no attempt of escape. presently atop you while you laid on your stomach, you could feel some faint but added pressure on your limbs plus a somewhat familiar presence from above.

blade was only detached from what you were feeling and only carried on with his own intentions. he rams inside you with no forewarnings, his tip fills you all the way up to the very brim. a breathy, whiny moan erupts in the vicinity that undoubtedly came from you but he heeds no mind to it— continuing to pound into your walls, intruding with such an abrupt pace and not in gradual motions.

in anything that he does, he emanates of destruction. a polar opposite of care, tenderness and love; it shows in his rough, vertiginious thrusts, his firm tight touch, and lastly, in his facial expression. you were not one bit shocked, if anything, you just accepted what is happening as of the present. being used as a cocksleeve for a passing feeling, it rips at your heartstrings but you were powerless before him.

you continued to pretend as if you were still dozing off in spite the mewl that you tried so hard to bite back, stifling more noises threatening to slip out. it would be far more awkward if you're awake as you weren't one bit acquainted with blade. not even shared glances, all the information you have is an overheard conversation from the hunters, only knowing his sole name : blade.

the swordsman eventually begins to drop his guard down, becoming more lax at letting his guttural groans come undone from his mouth. his bandaged hand wanders on your naked, exposed skin, traveling to places where he finds the most appealing. aside from the sound of skin slapping, clothes shifting and his jagged breathing were accompanied by the chime of his dangling scarlet earring.

a sharp pang of pain follows from a loud smack sound. it was his slender hand coming into harsh contact against the plush of your ass, leaving darker imprints from your complexion - it was no doubt, his spanking's seal. you could no longer play pretend as you wince from the pain, your eyes shot open and you turn your head.

your vision was then graced by the indigo haired, he took notice that you were awoken but as usual, he's cold as a gelid ice. he did not care.

when suddenly, he withdraws his cock from your pussy and flips your body around— thus making you meet his face, catching you off guard from your current dazed state. you slowly look up to meet his sharp gaze to the point that you could see your own image from his vivid cerise eyes. your very first locked gaze with blade, and mayhaps the last. his hand clasps on yours once again but only to bring it down to your cunt, he proceeds to uncurl your balled up fist.

he guides your fingers to stroke and pleasure yourself, your own digits prodding through your wet entrance. your breathing quickens, a foreign sensation brewing in the pits of your abdomen; meanwhile blade doesn't do anything but to watch on your expressions. "continue." blade commands ; his raspy, deep voice resounds into your ears.

you were struck with both of shock and nervousness, his tone laced with authority and coldness to it yet again. as embarrassing as it is to do it in front of a man you've never met in your lifetime, you obey his order, continuing to pump your fingers in and out of your coiling walls before his predatory naked eyes.

the navy haired pleasures himself at present, along with you - matching your rhythm. your legs spread open in front of him to feast upon that no man has ever tasted, an unfamiliar sensation wells in his heart. he groans and picks up the pace of him stroking his own erection, a feeling of release immediately dawning upon him.

with blurry vision, for a moment, you could see a hint of sadness and regret behind the vermillion windows of his soul. although the actions he's committing currently are lascivious and of lust, you swear to yourself there was something more than what meets the eye.

as quickly time flashes, strings of muddy white spring out from his cock, the liquids spilling into your exposed tits and your panic stricken face. he catches his breath in the midst of it, heavy panting echoes inside the enclosed vicinity. "i didn't order you to stop."

his words pierces your perturbed mind, he pertains to your masturbation ending just as when he reached his climax. the male swiftly gathers all the cum littering your skin with one hand and one movement, cupping the liquids carefully only to insert all of it into your pussy.

a moan bubbles from your throat, feeling his long fingers curl inside your sticky walls. blade, even though a stoic man most of the time, he's also full of surprises. he flicks his tongue over your clit, the pointy tip rubbing viscules and in circular motions on the specific spot.

your back arches, waves of pleasure crashing upon your lethargic self. blade doesn't halt and carries on to suck your walls out, margins of his sticky lips perfectly fitting with your lower ones. his tongue once again skillfully glides over your sensitive parts— earning him your climax as it spills out from your hole, adorning his sharp, masculine features as if your ejaculation was an accessory.

it felt ecstatic, as if your body drifts into the seventh heaven from blade's cold touches. in spite of the overwhelming gratification pooling in your body, hundreds of questions start to flare up in your mind, mainly about blade's identity. naturally, it rolls from your lips, a question he didn't see coming.

"what are you really?"

among the many blank faces blade shows you this night, he finally unravels a different one upon encountering your question. "are you really that fervent to know?" he rhetorically asks as a sneering smile creeps on his lips.

my masterlist !

[tangents-within-tangents]

Hot take:

Crosshair does not have the Imperial disillusionment and redemption arc of The Bad Batch

Emerie does.

Crosshair has an arc for sure yes but it's not that.

I was thinking about this scene:

and how it got right what this scene kinda didn't:

(It was so close but then bad writing decided to undercut the moment with a joke rip)

And I think it's really interesting that these characters who were more or less raised into the Empire/First Order and chose to leave it are all directly asked why.

But take a look at Crosshair's answers in comparison:

Different context for the asking, yes, but still, compare that to clones like Howzer, Cody, Slip and Cade who left or turned against the Empire because they knew what the Empire is doing is wrong and they weren't just going to blindly follow orders:

Crosshair - Loyalty, Purpose, and Survival

Crosshair didn't choose to join the Empire (though the show isn't very clear or consistent about how much control the inhibitor chips have) but he did, for whatever reason, choose to stay. By the end of S1 we know his chip has been removed and as he definitively says "This is who I am." There were likely still other influences on his decision, but listen to how he talks about the Empire in the S1 finale:

Hunter: Crosshair, I've seen what the Empire is doing. Occupying planets and silencing anyone who stands against them. You know it's not right. Crosshair: You still don’t see the bigger picture, but you will. Hunter: Can't you see they're using you?

Crosshair: We’re not like the regs, we never have been. We’re superior. The Empire can’t protect the galaxy without strength, this is what we were made for. Think of all we could do, together!

Crosshair: You all are meant for more than drifting through the galaxy. It’s time to stop running. Join the Empire, and you will have purpose again.

Hunter: They destroyed an entire city! Crosshair: They did what needed to be done. Kamino, regs, the Republic, that time is over. The Empire will control the entire galaxy, and I am going to be a part of it. Hunter: Don't fool yourself. All you'll ever be to them is a number.

He undeniably knows what the Empire is doing, but he does not care. In fact it sure sounds like he actually supports it and finds self-meaning in it. Hunter spends those episodes trying to convince him it's wrong, he doesn't change his mind. In the end they offer him an out and he doesn't take it.

Wrecker: You coming with us? Crosshair: None of this changes anything. Hunter: You offered us a chance, Crosshair. This is yours. Crosshair: I made my decision.

The next we see Crosshair in "The Solitary Clone" (S2:E3) he follows orders and shoots the Desix governor, right after Cody heartbreakingly tries to do what's right and find a peaceful solution.

Cody: Tell me something, Crosshair. This new Empire, are we making the galaxy better? Crosshair: We’re soldiers, we do what needs to be done. Cody: You know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions, our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

After this (glorious!) conversation, Crosshair stays. Maybe this began to seed some doubts, but he actually smiles a few scenes later when Rampart assigns him another mission. It seems like for him it truly is as he said in S1:E1 (chip not enhanced yet but still influencing him enough for his brothers to notice he's acting strange):

Crosshair: Republic, Empire... what's the difference.

Crosshair: Orders are orders.

This unethical mission that finally pushed Cody over the edge does not change Crosshair's mind about the Empire, at least not enough for him to take action.

But what does?

Mayday: And here we are, the survivors. Combat troopers stuck babysitting cargo shipments. Crosshair: Mission’s a mission. Mayday: Yeah, I used to say the same thing.

Mayday: After all the clones have done, all we’ve sacrificed. We’re good soldiers, we followed orders. And for what?

This mission has nothing to do with how the fascist Empire treats the galaxy, it's about how they treat their soldiers. It's about how Mayday loyally fought and served his whole life and Lieutenant Nolan let him die

Lt Nolan: He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire. Crosshair: You could have saved him! Lt Nolan: Perhaps you didn’t hear me, he is expendable, as are you.

Crosshair thought he could find purpose within the Empire, and Nolan shows him exactly what that will be.

His turning point is accompanied with this powerful visual of the ice vulture, a symbol (and threat) of death, and also set up within the episode a symbol of survival:

Mayday: Vicious creatures, but you have to admire ‘em. They find a way to survive.

This critical moment (that gives me chills, oof this episode is a masterpiece!) comes right after Nolan calls him expendable and directly threatens him:

Lt Nolan: And if you speak to me again with such disrespect I'll see to it you meet a similar fate, clone.

then Crosshair sees the vulture's shadow and turns to Mayday's dead body (ahh visual storytelling my beloved) then makes his decision:

Crosshair turns against the Empire not because he believes Hunter was right about this:

Hunter: I've seen what the Empire is doing ... You know it's not right.

but because he was right about this:

Hunter: All you'll ever be to them is a number.

Redemption (both in fiction and irl in my humble opinion) comes with making amends and reparations (which is why death 'redemptions' bother me so much but that's a rant for another time). Unlike Emerie, Crosshair never explicitly denounces the Empire or his own actions within it. He never says anything to specifically show if and how his views have changed from what he said on Kamino. He makes amends with his family (sending the warning message, helping Omega escape, making up with Hunter) but that's about it. The most we get in terms of acknowledgement is this:

Crosshair: I thought I knew what I was getting into with the Empire. I thought I was being a good soldier. Hunter: Nobody really understood what was happening back then. Crosshair: I’ve... done things. I’ve made mistakes. Hunter: I have regrets too, Crosshair. All we can do is keep trying to be better, and who knows there just might be hope for us yet.

Which is nice and all but it's more about them making up as brothers so it's way too excusing tbh ("no one knew what was happening back then" ummm? "The Empire will control the entire galaxy, and I am going to be a part of it" remember? And even if at first Crosshair was being controlled by the chip, the fact that he chose to stay after it was removed* means he condones and is therefore still accountable for those actions).

There's also a bit of self-destructive guilt:

Crosshair: Omega, don't risk anything for me. I belong in here.

Crosshair: Omega needs you both. So I’m doing this alone, it’s what I deserve. Hunter: Don’t even think about plan 99, Crosshair. Omega needs all of us.

(which thank you Hunter for pushing back on the death redemption bs and oh look is that a wrap up for the purpose thing?)

But there's no action taken on his part to make up for what he's done or to stand against the Empire (aside from the bare minimum of help with Tantiss, only after it became personally relevant, which like yeah he had trauma to deal with but still).

While I do think the implications/follow-up of Crosshair's turn should have been handled better in S3 (like rip Howzer! he deserved an apology, but that's a rant for another time), I don't necessarily** think this arc is a bad writing choice. It's just saying different things than we expect:

Maybe Crosshair's story is not about standing up against an unjust system, like we see with many other characters (who deserved more screen time but that's a rant for another timeeee). Maybe his story is about how even those who are loyal to the Empire, who actually believe in it, still suffer under and within it's rule. Not to garner sympathy, but to show that there is no winning.

Crosshair has another 'so what changed' convo in S3:E14 with Rampart, in which they draw parallels to each other:

Rampart: You used to believe good soldiers followed orders. Crosshair: Depends on who's giving them. The Empire betrayed us both. Rampart: And you think you can fight them? That's not you. You're like me, loyal to no one but yourself. Crosshair: I've changed.

(note how he says who's giving the orders, not what the orders are)

"Loyal to no one but yourself" describes Rampart much more than Crosshair, since we often saw Crosshair pride himself as a loyal soldier of the Empire whereas we saw Rampart abuse power to be self-serving within the Empire (like when he killed Wilco to save face). But they were both betrayed either way. Vice Admiral Rampart, snively Imperial opportunist through-and-through, shouts "I was following orders!" as he is arrested for the Empire's purposes. (Edit: and where Crosshair rejected the Empire and found new purpose fighting for his family, Rampart was still self-serving in the finale. He still tries to gain power for himself and he gets his comeuppance).

Even Hemlock, the final boss immoral Imperial scientist, who has to be benefiting the most from this system, echoes the expendability idea:

Hemlock: What I am working on is beyond your understanding. Something so vital to the Empire it makes me indispensable.

Then there's CX-2, also set up as a parallel/foil to Crosshair (fight me), who in the end is discarded as no more than a weapon, a tool that served it's purpose, showing us what would have become of Crosshair if he had stayed.

There is no winning in the Empire. Loyalty is not rewarded, it "doesn't go both ways." Everyone has to fight for their value. Even high ranking individuals** who for a time benefit from the injustice, in the end are just pawns to be used up and cast aside at a whim for the Emperor's gain. Even people who are motivated by self-interest alone cannot survive within this system, the only viable option in this galaxy is to fight the Empire and dismantle that system. (unless you conveniently find a magically safe island to hide away on but that's a rAnT fOr AnOtHeR tImE)

Which brings us back to...

Emerie - Cooperation, Compassion, and Choice

(Okay this post has already gotten away from me but I still want to talk about her to show the contrasts.)

Emerie may not have been given a lot of screen time to really flesh out her development, but there is a lot that is pretty clearly implied with her:

Crosshair: They’ll never turn her [Omega] over. Hemlock: They don’t have a choice. She is a clone, and therefore Imperial property. *Camera cuts to an angle more centered on Emerie’s face*

Crosshair: Give me your access card! Emerie: It won’t get you outside!

Emerie: I tried to warn him what would happen if he did not cooperate with the Doctor.

Emerie: Prisoner? Omega, you are no such thing. It will take time to adjust, but you will acclimate. It is far safer in here than out there.

Emerie: You should go back to your room. Crosshair: You mean her cell?

Emerie: Why children? Hemlock: Children are easier to attain and more agreeable to the subjugations. They are unaware of why they are here and what they possess.

Emerie: They're children. Like I was... Was your plan to discard them too? Nala Se: The Empire will keep them in order to control them.

We don't know a lot about Emerie's background, but it's clear that she had a lot less choice than Crosshair and less opportunity or ability to leave. Unlike Crosshair, we never directly hear Emerie's views of the Empire (and she was most likely 'taken under Hemlock's wing' before the Empire even came to power), but lets look at how she talks about the Tantiss:

"Remain calm. Cooperate and you might survive."

"Don't make this worse, Crosshair! There is no escape!"

"All of us serve a purpose here."

"The Doctor will inform me, if it's necessary."

"It's best not to ask questions."

"Escape is not possible, Omega. This is for your own good."

She honestly does the best she can within the system she is also trapped in. She tries to help Crosshair, Omega, and the vault kids in the only way she knows how (warns Crosshair about the hounds and security, tries to protect Omega from Hemlock, tells Scorch his "actions were extreme" with Jax, insists on overseeing Bayrn's retrieval, double checks his m-count (to give him an out), and tries to find out where he came from). When she gives Omega, and later Eva, the doll, I think it shows just how little she really is able to do here (and it's kinda heartbreaking imo).

The framing of this shot especially (after Jax's escape attempt) visually shows how Emerie herself is trapped/imprisoned:

Despite the fact that very little of this is Emerie's fault, she has very little power and she is doing all she can, the narrative does not excuse her role in the Empire:

Nala Se: What will you do, Emerie? Emerie: There is nothing I can do. I don't have that kind of power. Nala Se: Don't you?

Emerie: I- I was doing my job. Echo: Yeah, I’ve heard that before. You’re a clone. How can you be part of this?

These fighting-the-Bystander-Effect conversations parallel these exchanges:

Hunter: We made a choice, and so did you. Crosshair: Soldiers follow orders. Hunter: Blind allegiance makes you a pawn.

Crosshair: We’re soldiers, we do what needs to be done. Cody: You know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions, our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

which did not change Crosshair's mind. And honestly, all respect to Echo's disappointed mom glare™ but I think it's clear Emerie had already made her decision, she just needed help to actually be able to do anything about it. When she stopped Echo, with her voice wavering on the verge of tears (ahhh v good voice acting), she clearly had no intention of turning him in. She's on her own in the Empire's most secure facility with very little resources, if she had tried anything on her own she most likely would have failed and been killed

Omega: Emerie, you don't have to do this. Emerie: (sigh) I’m sorry, but I do.

but as soon as she is enabled by an ally, she immediately turns around to help: giving information and getting Echo through security, helping the kids escape, and giving Omega the tablet that allows them to free the other clone prisoners.

Where Crosshair's turn is accompanied by the symbolic imagery of the ice vulture, Emerie's is the removal of her (literally rose-tinted!) glasses:

Symbolizing how she has shed her previous views/indoctrination that altered her perception of the Empire and blinded her to it's wrongs. It's disillusionment.

Emerie's story shows us that even those who are raised and indoctrinated into this system can, should, and will escape (with needed help). Even those who did not choose to be apart of the Empire and are not making the decisions still have the responsibility and ability to act on what they know is right.

Emerie, whose name means 'Home strength' 'Brave' and 'Powerful', and "reflects the importance of leadership and authority in the workplace".***

While Emerie is only in one more scene after her turn, so the wrap up is a bit rushed, she still very simply does what Crosshair does not:

Emerie: Because I was wrong about this place. And I'm trying to do the right thing.

Echo: I’m sure Senator Chuchi would find what you have to say very helpful for our cause. Emerie: I have a lot to make up for. I’d like to help out however I can.

She admits wrong, takes accountability, commits to making amends, and leaves with Echo to go take on the Empire (which hopefully we will get to actually see more of some day).

So, in short, she's showing us how redemption is done right!

---

Notes:

*Whether this writing choice was good/logical/in-character or not is another discussion entirely, but I'm going off of what we were given, what the show is presenting in the canon text and (reasonably inferred/intentional) subtext. Crosshair is pretty multifaceted and I could only touch on so much here. There's a lot of ways to interpret his character/choices, but I tried to avoid the realm of speculation or fanon explanations (even if they sometimes make more sense lol).

**History and political theory are not my area of expertise at all, so I have NO idea how well this aligns with real-world fascism stuff and therefore what implications this storytelling choice could have. I think the message of like 'if you think you could survive or gain power by doing what the Empire/fascist system wants you are wrong' could be good (like how everyone is actually harmed by the patriarchy type of a thing), but I hesitate bc maybe there are those who would benefit, since it's a hierarchal system, right? If anyone more knowledgeable than me has incite to share, by all means

Either way, I do think it works in-story and in-universe though. It's just in the execution. The main problem (even from a strictly theme/character arc stand point) is the lacking follow-up/consequences for Crosshair in S3. Like you gave your character accountability by removing the chip and I think that's great setup for an arc but you gotta follow through with that and actually hold him accountable!

***I'm always curious when clones have 'normal' names, like why did they chose the name Emerie of all things? So I looked it up. Idk how reliable sources are for name meanings so take it with a grain of salt but it's still fun. Fits pretty well, and clones names have definitely had significant meanings in the past (like how Rex and Jesse both mean 'king') so I'm pretty sure it was intentional.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[littlest-w01f]

Monster

Tamlin x Reader

TAMLIN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Reader sees her mate Tamlin lose himself to magic for the first time during her first Calanmai

Cw: Dark!Tamlin, vines as tentacles, corruption kink, breeding kink, erotic asphyxiation, impact play, monster fucking if you squint (don't read if you don't like it), Smut 18+MDNI

You stood outside the cave Tamlin was in, you'd been fashionably late, wearing a soft green dress that reached your upper thighs, parts of it translucent like a silk slip, and a sweetheart neckline that accentuated your breasts, it might have been the most skimpy thing you'd ever worn, a little gift for your mate, the High Lord, who was in a cave this very moment, the festivities of Calanmai about to begin.

You were surrounded by a bunch of Fae women, all looking expectantly at the cave your mate had gone in, your mate won't be who came out, The Hunter, Tamlin had called himself, would. Dark and strong magic in control of his mind and body.

The constant pull he had on your mating bond made you feel better about everything he had said, he won't be your Tamlin, he'd asked if there was anything you were uncomfortable with for him to do, it didn't feel like he would remember.

Your heart started to beat faster when you heard a growl from the cave he'd gone in, come out, he winnowed right in front of you, pure lust in his eyes, laurel leaves keeping his hair out of his painfully handsome face, he was bare-chested, painted in dark blue woads.

Things were quiet except for the beating of the drums that beat loudly, Tamlin gently caressed your cheeks with his knuckles, his claws threatening to break free before he gripped your neck, making you gasp for air and winnow you back to the cave he was in.

You groaned as your ass hit the hard ground, wincing slightly, Tamlin stalked close to you from where he was standing, nothing in him except pure lust and the need for his mate. A Hunter indeed, trapping a lovely maiden inside a cave, he was at the side of the entrance, and there was nowhere for you to run, except for deeper in the cave, not that you wanted to.

"Oh, I'm going to ruin you fully now," Tamlin groaned, walking to you like a predator stalking it's prey.

"Rough or gentle?" Tamlin growled mindlessly, a voice that didn't even seem his as he looked down your body, smirking at your dress, or rather barely a dress, "Aww, is this thin piece of fabric all for me?"

You nodded softly, "Y-yes." You bit your lips as he knelt between your legs, waiting for your answer to his former question, you were sure you could hear the sounds of leaves and vines from deeper in the cave, "Anything you want, my Lord."

You felt him shudder at the title from your lips as he pried your legs open, giving you a smile that showed his blunt canines elongating into fangs, "Rough then, for my good girl."

His words were filled with an unmistakable tone of dominance, as if he was taking control of every aspect of the situation. His hands gripped your thighs firmly. He leaned down, his breath hot on your skin. You could feel the weight of his body against yours as he whispered in your ear, "I'll fuck you so hard that you won't be able to walk straight afterward."

Before you could even reply, he bent forward, slamming his lips against yours in an aggressive kiss, his hands gripping your clothes to rip them off your body, turning your silk and lace to shreds off your body, you gasped as the cold air of the cave hit your bare body, feeling Tamlin press against you fully, leaving the paint his body had been marked him to rub against yours, your own eyes hazy from the spell of the Rite, moulding into his, submitting to him, ready for anything he had to give you.

"You look so beautiful like this," He whispered, his teeth grazing your neck, "All submissive and willing."

You whimper lightly, leaning into his lips, "Tam-" He gave you a look and you corrected, "My Lord... Please."

"Please what, princess?" He taunted her, his lips trailing down your neck to your shoulders, the Hunter breathing you in, crazed by your scent, you could feel your arousal between your legs, spread apart for Tamlin to settle in between, your cunt pulsing for even an ounce of friction.

"Give me something," You panted, sensing his hard cock, still in his pants, pressing against your inner thigh, "Please, anything."

"Oh, like this?" He asked curiously, his fingers ghosting over your clit making your hip buckle into his hand, he smiled watching you grip his hands to bring his hand closer.

He tutted, taking both your hands in his to pin them over your head with one, "Behave now, you said anything I want. And I want to make you cry." A wave of relief washed over you as he had a little mercy on you and rubbed your clit harder.

Your relief was short-lived as he pulled his hand away making you kick your feet in frustration, which earned a chuckle out of him. As you felt his warm breath against your neck, you couldn't help but tremble in anticipation. With a gentle tug, he pulled your head back by your hair, exposing your neck to his sharp teeth. A chill ran through your veins as you heard him growl, "You belong to me now, little mate. So, I can do whatever I want with you."

"Keep your hands up," He growls, bringing his hands down to spread your thighs, his teeth still on your sensitive neck as you whimper. Tamlin grunted in pleasure, his teeth sinking into your soft flesh. He bit down hard, causing a small trickle of blood to seep out from the wound. As he did so, he used his free hands to grab your breasts, twisting and pinching roughly, groping you fully. You let out a muffled cry, biting your lips, feeling the pain and the heat from his bite.

He shushed you gently, giving soothing licks to the bite mark, licking away the blood, "That's it... See, now I've claimed you fully, my precious mate." He quickly moved to bite the other side of your neck to give a symmetrical bit mark

"My Lord..." You breath, "My Tam..."

He moved to your face, a couple tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you looked up at him, his kissed over your eye lids, making your tears fall as he moved to his pants, ripping them off his body, finally releasing his painfully hard cock, it stood tall and proud, the tip glistening with precum. He grabbed your leg, pulling it upwards, exposing your wet cunt to him even more.

"Look at you liking this," He mused as you tried thrust your core anywhere, for any sort of friction, you make the mistake of bringing your hand down from where he had told you to hold them, in a blink of an eye there are vines surrounding you, growing from his magic, under his control, he face is expressionless, "I told you to keep your hand up, Princess."

You gasp, struggling as the vines he grew gripped painfully tight around your arms, pulling them up, some sneaked past your hips, holding your legs open for him.

"You don't deserve to be stretch for me," He decides with a sadistic grin, with a wave of his hands the vines flip you on your stomach and tuck your knees under, a slight pain in your knees from being slammed down, spiking your every growing arousal. "I'll take you tight." He smirked, leaning over you.

You wait in anticipation for him, to feel the nudge of him against your dripping slit but what you felt was a hand, the hand of a beast, Tamlin's beast, claws sharp and long, soft golden fur growing on his Fae arms, somewhere between completely Fae and beast, he held you by your neck in a tight grip, making it difficult for you to breath.

You jerk with a cry of pain from a resounding slap, his hand on your ass, with a force that would cause a mark, another followed on the opposite side. You were breathless and aroused, waiting for his next move when you, at last, left his tip nudge at your wet slit, grinding against him, or trying to, after being bound, vines that stalked to between your legs, a few thinner ones wrapping around your clit to tug at the neglected nub causing you to shake.

Tamlin's claws dug into your thigh, holding you tightly in place. He leaned forward, his face inches away from yours. The cave seemed to spin around you, as if they were both caught in a whirlwind of passion and lust. His voice was low and rough, like the rumble of the beast he hadn't fully let out. "Now, I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop."

You barely muffled the scream that erupted from your throat as he plunged into your cunt fully, a vine wrapping itself around your neck and squeezing tight to quiet you down, not giving you any time to adjust as he began a rough pace. "That's it..." He growled, purely animalistic, "Scream my name."

And you did, you screamed his name with every thrust, every whine and moan that left your lips, his name followed, your High Lord, your mate, legs shaking with the urge to cum at the pleasure of his cock's punishing pace and at the vines tugging at your clit.

"I'm gonna make you a mother," Tamlin groaned, thrusting in as far as he could, "Give you all my heirs. That's what you want, don't you?" He felt you through the bond as you nodded fast, a gentle kiss on the back of your shoulder blades seemed foreign compared to everything else as he whispered, "Cum for me, Princess."

You came hard, clenching hard around Tamlin's cock, milking his cock when he hit his high right after you, fucking his thick knot in, making yours eyes bulge out at the stretch that was pure beast. He emptied his seed in you, dropping lightly as your legs twitched, his knot keeping him in and not letting him pull out.

You both whimpered, the spell of the Rite washing away as Tamlin wrapped a gentle arm around your waist, stroking your now filled abdomen.

The vines and claws retracted as he turned you on your side, still buried inside you, "The knot is good, hm?" He kissed your hair softly. "Keeps my cum in you."

"Let go for me, dear," He gently rubbed the welts and red marks the vines and his hands had given you, lulling you to relax with a soft kiss to the crown of your head. "Rest up, there is more for tonight."

{General Taglist: @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆

𝒗𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒙 𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do it interact. just smut, seduction, blood sucking, biting, unprotected sex, little oral (m), praising, etc.

𝒗𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by @anitalenia

“Are you going to stake me, hunter?” You breathed straddling his perfect hips. Your sharp nails travelling up and down his naked chest, he groaned under his breath closing his eyes. “Poor Anna.. without protection now because you are here with me..” you smiled, canines growing out as you inhaled his scent. Rubbing your dripping wet heat against his growing cock. His black slacks were loosed, he was sleeping when you snuck to his bed since the Valerian Castle was empty. Thundering outside, you had a perfect opportunity to take what you craved. “I will rip your heart out..” he breathed feeling your tongue on his nipples softly swirling around them. “You would be doing it now.. but you aren’t..” smiling provocatively you straddled his hips again hands on his toned stomach caressing his muscles there reaching near his happy trail. He nearly moaned. “I kill your kind, you’re nothing but all the same” you cooed at his words.

“Why aren’t you killing me now?” You bit your lower lip rolling your hips against his making him moan softly beneath you. He hated to admit that the moment he saw you, he wanted you. Licking your mouth you pulled him up to sit straight. He grunted letting you, licking your way into his mouth your mouths collided in hot kiss. Tongues touching sending needy sensations down your spine. You moaned seductively pulling on his slacks so the belt and buttons opened revealing his hard cock. You drooled at the sight of it “I make you feel this way..” whining your shimmied between his legs wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock sucking on it. His hand gripped your long locks guiding you on his length grunting gritting his teeth in pleasure. “It’s okay to admit.. admit it..” you pulled away with a pop giving him soft kitty licks. He trembled– you pushed him back down and climbed on top of him.

Pulling your black dress up on your waist hovering your naked dripping wet core over his cock slowly sinking down on him. He moaned out, you smiled mischievously “let them hear you sugar..” your hips slid back and forth gyrating your pussy over his thick veiny length. He filled you out so perfectly, touching your shoulders you sped up your movements fucking yourself on his cock looking at him as your fangs grew out even more. He gripped your waist pulling you closer breathing harshly swallowing. “Too bad I can’t carry your angel babies..” you whined tipping your head back your breasts nearly jumping out of your dress as he gripped one in his hand squeezing it. You growled with hunter taking you his thumb between your lips to suck on it. “I-I.. I don’t remember you” he moaned watching your pussy take all of his cock as you rode him.

“You don’t have to sugar.. my master does, he remembers you” moaning loudly you fastened your hips fucking him making him groan and grit his teeth chest heaving in deep breasts hands on your naked derrière squeezing the supple flesh. Tipping your head back your hands combed through his long silky brown hair pulling him closer but he flipped you over lifting your waist off the silky sheets pounding into you. You laughed seductively letting him use you. Curling your legs around his waist, your skins clapping echoed in the empty room. The cold breeze blowing out the candles settling the room in darkness you scratched down his manly back stopping above his pumping ass. “Ughhhh.. more more..” whining spurring him on, your sharp fangs sinking into his neck piercing his veins. He moaned loudly, slamming you down into the mattress fucking into you. You gulped on his blood, clinging to his body nails digging into his shoulder blades. Pulling away to breathe your moans only increased when you neared your orgasm soon he was yelling his orgasm against your neck, you came the same second drenching his mighty length in your essence squeezing him deeply in your core milking him. “Mmmm Mr Van Helsing..” you whimpered, he looked down at you gorgeous hair falling over his face his thumb carrying your lower lip. “You got me under some kind of a spell..” you nodded smiling as your canines grew out again. “Mmmm..”

-

happy spooky season 🩸

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 191 }

your heart belongs to me.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

warnings: an unedited, self indulgent, 18+ thirst post based on some readers’ asks; MINORS DON’T INTERACT!

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

anonymous said: I wanna be kissed my jinwoo until i find it difficult to breathe 🤤 thank you for the recent food

anonymous said: .... Yandere Jinwoo who pulls you into a mating press, not stopping until you're shaking, cumming, and squirting from the sheer amount of effort and strength jinwoo's emitting. Bro goes on and on like a desperate man until you can't speak and you can't process anything coherently anymore..... Rarararararrararararaa.... I despise him he's so hot I'm literally gigging in the corner whenever i see his cute ass face🫣

{ … }

your beloved boyfriend was just relaxing in bed, reading a novel as his grey eyes were honed in on the pages.

yet something about him made him appear extra delectable today. you stand by the doorway, eyes eagerly drinking in the sight of sung jinwoo. he looked extremely cozy tonight, dressed in a loose t-shirt that was raised ever so slightly as you caught sight of those delicious abs. his sweatpants hung loosely against his hips, and you could see the prominent v shape coupled along with a happy trail that matched his ebony locks of hair.

there was a discomfort felt between your legs, and you could feel your panties turning damp from how aroused you became. knowing that tonight would be the time where you were needy for your incredibly sexy hunter lover, you made your first move, literally pouncing on him.

jinwoo feels your added weight on the bed and sets aside his book. he gives you a sweet smile, but upon seeing your dilated eyes and the way you practically crawled towards him in the bed, his gaze loses all traces of sweetness.

“what’s this?” his voice becomes a deep rumble, letting out your name as he sits back in bed, feeling you straddling his waist before leaning forward. you kept silent, pressing your lips against jinwoo’s in a chaste kiss before purposely biting down on his bottom lip. a gasp was heard coming from your boyfriend when you suddenly licked and sucked at his bottom lip.

and that was all the urging your boyfriend needed to lose all of his inhibitions.

your giggle fills at the air when jinwoo immediately grips at your waist before tossing you against the bed. you give him a cheshire cat grin, hands already clutching at the wrinkled comforter as jinwoo was now hovering over the entirety of your body, his large hand gripping at the front of your oversized shirt before (quite literally) ripping it off of your frame.

you gasp upon feeling the cool, a.c. air against your skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all across it as jinwoo’s eyes glowed purple at the sight of your nearly naked form, your heaving breasts revealed to him as you were only left in your panties.

“no bra? naughty girl…” jinwoo’s chuckle turns darker as he places his large hands over your breasts, admiring how perfect they fit against his hand. when he gives one of them a squeeze while playing with your hardened nipples, you end up tossing your head back in response.

“j-jinwoo… fuck.”

he hums before leaning down to give its twin some attention, this time using his mouth. he latches on to your hardened nub and curls his tongue around it, suckling at them as you felt your panties become even more ruined in response.

a string of curses escapes from your parted lips, causing you to delve your fingers into his hair. jinwoo spends a considerable amount of time littering your breasts with love bites and heated kisses, making sure that they both received equal attention before moving on to taste a different part of you.

jinwoo slides down your body, purposely running his tented sweatpants down your bare leg as you shivered in response to such hedonistic friction. he chuckles at your flustered expression, not stopping until he pulls your legs toward the edge of the bed. with jinwoo situated on the ground, he grips at the waistband of your panties with his teeth, pulling them off completely with an expertise built from spending 3 plus years fucking and making love to you.

he breathes in the scent of your cunt, admiring the scent of your arousal before tracing his lips all across your pussy lips. the sensation of his tongue felt tracing at your core makes you react immediately, legs spreading as you gripped at his dark hair, feeling the way jinwoo devours you like a man starved.

his groans and grunts were felt against your aching sex, causing pleasurable vibrations to course through you as you cried out to him. only when he begins thrusting his thick fingers in and out of you all while continuing to devour you with his hot mouth did you feel your release quickly approaching.

yet before your walls could clench around his tongue and fingers-

before you could spill your juices within his awaiting mouth-

jinwoo pulls away from you.

you sob at the loss of him, your release already beginning to recede as you kept begging for him to make you cum.

“please j-jin, p-please! i need to cum so badly, i was so close, sososososo close- mmph!”

jinwoo interrupts your begging and whines with a kiss against your lips, forcing you to taste yourself as his tongue swirls around the hot cavern of your mouth. you moan at how erotic this all was as you could taste your honeyed sweetness that still lingered against jinwoo’s lips.

“what a needy girl you are…” your mind was dimly aware of how jinwoo was naked now, pressing his cock against your entrance momentarily before gripping at your two legs as he places them both against his shoulders. and it was in this position that jinwoo thrusts his thick and pulsating cock inside of you, his balls hitting at your ass as he keeps you in a mating press.

“sorry, but the only thing i’ll allow you to cum on is on this cock.”

feeling how deep he was makes your eyes nearly roll in the back of your head, the squelching sounds made from the way jinwoo fucks you into the bed making you moan at such a sinful sensation. the way his cock was felt pressed against your swollen bundle of nerves each time he thrusts back into you was what makes you lose it within seconds, feeling such a powerful climax overtaking your body as you released yourself against him, the fluids seeming to rush out of you in waves. your intense release ends up leaving jinwoo gasping as he stills his hips inside of you, still remaining erect as his dilated eyes take in the sight of the spot where you two remained connected.

the warm yet clear fluid continues to run down the entire length of his cock, and it was fascinating to jinwoo as he felt the same fluids drip down the length of his dick and into the comforters settled on the bed. an all encompassing smirk was seen settled across jinwoo’s features when he realized what you had done. “sarang, did you just squirt for the first time?”

you weren’t even aware of his words, so caught up in the sheer intensity of your release that your expression appeared almost drunk. as if understanding your less than coherent state, the shadow monarch lets out a rich chuckle before gripping at your ankles once more, proceeding to pound his cock in and out of your swollen cunt at an even faster pace, clearly eager to make you squirt again.

“such a good girl for me. how about i make you squirt the whole night? would that make my princess happy?”

you only managed to nod in response to his question, repeating his name in a never-ending mantra, allowing jinwoo to dominate your body as he kept you in a mating press for hours on end, practically ruining your bed by the time he was done with you ♡

a.n. - phew this was just pure and utter self indulgence on my end. need jinwoo to do me like this for real 🥵🔥

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[cevansbrat0007]

The Scent of You

Summary: Ari loves the sweet scent of you, which is why he's content to live between your thighs.

Warnings: Smut, Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Begging, Oral Sex (fem rec), Pussy Spanking, Slight Chase Kink, Light D/s themes, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @curls-and-eyeliner. Hopefully this is okay, ya'll. I'm honestly not sure if it worked the way I intended. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It’s no secret that Ari adores you, but you’ve learned over the course of your relationship that he is particularly fond of the way you smell. Your natural essence of spiced, sugared vanilla draws him in like a moth to a flame. 

Which means he was always looking for a reason to touch you – to pull you close and breathe you in. Whether he’s hauling you against his broad chest to bury his nose in your hair while you’re cooking dinner, or he’s busy cascading soft, sweet kisses along the delicate column of your throat when you’re both snuggled up on the couch.

Your scent is like a drug. It calls to him – like a siren’s song – demanding that your handsome Bounty Hunter give in and help himself to his next hit. 

This man is hooked on you and it’s honestly one of the most exhilarating things you’ve ever experienced. Growing up, you’d never dreamed someone would desire you like this; that anyone would want you in such an all-consuming way.

“I’m going to burn the chicken if you don’t cut it out.” You hum, smiling when you feel his brawny arms tighten around your waist. “And then we won’t have anything to eat but mashed potatoes and asparagus.”

“Mm. Then maybe we’ll just have to order-in.” His warm lips dance along your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Beast.” You try again, intending to issue a light reprimand. Instead your voice comes out soft and breathy. 

“You can feed me my dessert while we wait.” Ari’s long, talented fingers travel to the waistband of your pink sleep shorts, lightly tugging at the drawstring. “Just think about it.” You briefly lose your train of thought as you find yourself trying to remember if you were even wearing panties. 

You’re pretty sure that you’d neglected to put them on again after your shower. At the time, you’d told yourself that you were trying to save yourself from having to make another trip to Victoria’s Secret. 

It wasn’t your fault that your Beast wasn’t always house-trained. He was the kind of man who had a propensity for ripping off your underthings and tucking them into his pocket. Which meant you often had to make adjustments to your wardrobe.       

And all of it because the scent of your arousal drove him wild.   

Your musings are interrupted when a sudden pop of grease splashes out of the cast iron skillet, just missing both you and your man. “Alright, hands to yourself now, Beast. We’re working around hot oil and I’d feel terrible if you got hurt.” 

Jesus H. Christ, you should’ve picked another day to fry this incorrigible man some chicken.

Ari nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck, gently nipping at your pulse point. “I just need a fix, baby. One little hit and I’ll be good for the rest of the night.”

“Ari…” You blow out an exasperated breath as you reach for your tongs to flip your meat. “You don’t even know if I’ve showered or not today.”

“Don’t care.” He grunts, one big hand reaching into your shorts to possessively cup your increasingly damp pussy. “You know I love how you smell. Almost as much as I love the way you taste.” Ari lips move on to kiss along the shell of your ear. A shudder courses through you when he tugs the sensitive load between his sharp teeth.

“I’m proud to wear my girl.”

Your thighs clench of their own accord, your empty walls clenching around nothing. Apparently your body was just as hungry for him as he was for you.

“Y–you can’t go around just saying things like that.” It comes out as a whimper as your cheeks heat, meanwhile Ari busies himself with grinding the heel of his lightly calloused palm against your already throbbing clit. 

“Why not, Duchess? Am I being too crass for you?” He teases as his free hand comes up to knead your breast, squeezing with just the amount of roughness he knew made your knees weak. “Turn that shit off and come feed me. I’ve been dying to get between those thighs all fuckin’ day.”

“But–but…” Your eyes flutter closed even as you reach for the knob that controls the burner, switching it off. Maybe he was right. You hated to waste this, but you could always try again another day.

Preferably on a night when your very persistent Beast was working late. 

“There we go. I knew my woman wasn’t the type to let me go hungry.” Ari murmurs, releasing his grip on your now very wet pussy in favor of tugging down your shorts. A growl rumbles deep in his throat as he watches them fall to the ground at your feet. “I knew you couldn’t be that mean.”

“You owe me chicken alfredo from Guiseppe’s, you animal.” You snarl, removing the pan from the heat. 

“Consider it done, baby.” You could tell without looking at him that he was obviously pleased with himself. 

God this man was an absolute menace. But he was yours, which meant you had to keep him. Hell, you were pretty sure that if you ever tried to put him up for adoption you were pretty sure he’d find his way home. 

Back to you. Wherever you were.

Feeling bold, you wiggle out of the Bounty Hunter’s grasp, only to be surprised when he lets you go. 

“Bet you can’t catch me.” You challenge, making a sudden dash for the stairs. 

Of course you knew he’d catch you. But sometimes you liked running from your Beast – because he was the type to always give chase which would only add spice to the proceedings.    

And just like you knew he’d be, your Bounty Hunter is on you before you reach the fourth step. A scream escapes you – but you both know it’s one of excitement. After all, Ari Levinson was every inch the predator. It’s why you lovingly referred to him as “your Beast”.

“Gotcha now, Duchess.” He hisses, a heady mix of exhilaration and pride coursing through his veins. And that’s when you finally notice the impressive tent hidden beneath the fabric of his light gray sweats. 

God, you had a feeling this man was gonna wreck you tonight. You just hoped you’d be able to walk in a straight line come tomorrow morning. 

Ari takes that moment to flip you over before gently maneuvering your body in such a way that allows you to slide down a couple of steps.

“Yeah, you caught me.” You breathe, your body aching for him. And then you part your thighs, feeling more than a little empowered when you notice the way his imperious gaze darkens with lust at the sight of your glistening cunt. “Now…what are you going to do with me?” 

Grabbing the edge of your nightshirt, you slowly pull it over your head, baring your breasts. If this man wanted you and was so willing to *ruin* your dinner for it, then who were you to deny him?   

Immediately, Ari buries his face between your slick covered thighs, his powerful hands coming up to quickly throw your legs over his muscled shoulders. A deep, satisfied groan of appreciation escapes his throat as he sucks your pulsing clit into his warm, waiting mouth.

“Holy shit!” You cry, burying your hands in his soft, chestnut strands. “Sir, please!” Your body begins to tremble as you’re treated to the most sensual of assaults.  

One thick finger gently prods at your entrance, seeking refuge in your slippery cunt. At the same time, you feel Ari release your sensitive bundle of nerves, content to lap at it with his wicked tongue.

“That's it now. Fuckin' drench me, Bird.” He orders softly, his voice coming out slightly muffled.

And then pauses he pauses again – this time to nuzzle his nose against your slippery folds. Your entire body quivers when he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and reveling in your wetness. 

“My fuckin’ pussy.” Ari snarls, his flat tongue dragging a long, greedy swipe along your cunt. “Mine.” He pulls away long enough to slap your core in silent demand.  

“Fuck yes!” You agree, eagerly rocking your hips in time with each delicious lash of his tongue. He swirls it over your little bundle of nerves, making your toes curl.

“Would wear you all day if you’d let me.” His nimble fingers begin to work you over, stretching you in the way he knew would make you crazy. “Proud to wear my girl.”

“Omigosh!Omigosh!Omigosh!” You wail, your velvety walls clenching around his fingers as he pumps them in and out of you. 

“Promise to always feed me when I need it, little Bird.” You feel his teeth lightly graze your clit once more, loving the way it makes you thrash and moan.

That’s right. This man was breaking you down on your living room stairs. And it was so good that you couldn’t even be bothered to make yourself give a proper fuck. 

Dear God, this was the most exquisite kind of pleasure.

“Don’t you dare let me starve.” His fingers curve inside you, expertly finding your spot.

Holy fucking shit your man was making one hell of compelling argument, as evidenced by sweet cries and your shaking legs. 

“Never.” Your thighs tighten around his head, threatening to smother him even as you gush around him. 

Just the way you knew he fucking loved.     

“There we go -- yeah, that’s it.” Ari rasps, smacking your right flank, reveling in the way you clench around him as you continue to ride his face. Meanwhile, you’re busy writhing in your man’s arms, trying not to escape his grasp as that familiar coil of pleasure begins to tighten in your belly.

You know he knows you’re close. So he picks up his pace, clearly enjoying the way you’re coming apart under his feral loving. 

“I just need one good one from you – just one good one to start. And then I’m gonna give you my cock.” He increases the pace of his fingers, not missing the way your head is thrown back in complete submission. “And after that, I’ll order you dinner.” 

“Fuck, Beast!” You pant, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. "Whatever you fucking say - ooh!" Your open palm slaps against the wall as you try to run. But his grip is too strong.

Instead he simply chuckles before pausing his feast long enough to press one hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh - his teeth scraping over your damp flesh as he takes you higher and higher.

“And while we wait, I’m gonna go ahead feed you my cock.” He quips with a feral flash of teeth. “And don’t worry,  I’ll make sure you eat every bite.”

END

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[turbulentscrawl]

Steamy Rescues

Sorry, I'm just thinking about hot men saving my life today. Let me drool in peace

Warnings: suggestive stuff, delicious men

Naib

Your time in the chair was nearly up when Naib suddenly slammed into it at full speed. One second you were struggling against your restraints, cursing and consumed with desperate thoughts of freedom, and the next his hands were next to your head. Initially you fell silent because you were startled, but that quickly melted into a perverted sort of awe as you looked over the mercenary.

He was looming over you, muscles tense, toiled taut like a spring. His tight shirt was torn open like he’d been caught by the collar and wrenched himself free, leaving a teasing view of his sweaty, scarred, heaving chest. Some of his hair had slipped free of his hair band and clung to his damp face and neck. He was out of breath too, each exhale fanning down on you, panting less like a rescuer and more like a predator who’s cornered his prey. There was a certain musk wafting off of him…it was a bit maddening.

“I know, I know,” Naib said quickly. “You can tell me I look like shit later. We’ve got to GO.” He grabbed the bar pinning your torso to the chair and, with a flex of his biceps and feral grunt, ripped it off you.

“I’ll tell you something alright,” you gasp quietly, briefly wondering if your nose was bleeding.

Naib seemed to pay no mind to your mutterings. The last cipher popped, and the siren blaring in the distance gave you both a rush of adrenaline that overrode any lingering pain. Taking that que, Naib grabbed your wrist and all but dragged you sprinting to the gate.

When you were home free, though, he held your gaze daringly and asked, “So what did you want to tell me?”

Andrew

You had heard the disturbance of dirt nearby, but were too preoccupied with struggling to notice the source. The next second, Andrew’s dirty blonde hair (literally) popped out of the ground between your legs. He was already cursing under his breath, and shaking, just a bit. You vaguely remember hearing about Andrew being claustrophobic…. But those thoughts are washed away when he roughly grabs your thighs for support and you realize the exact position you’re in.

He had emerged a little too close to the chair and was having trouble getting out without sliding his body up against yours. The chair wobbled forward a little, hanging you over him, as one of the feet dangled into the hole he’d left in the dirt. He grabbed your caged forearms next, managing to haul himself out enough to be level with your chest.

“Can’t you help me?” he hissed, face flush with embarrassment at his predicament.

“I’m a little preoccupied,” you snap back, thankfully still having sense enough for it. Andrew clicks his tongue, hangs his head in what’s probably supposed to be shame…but his mop of hair hides his face and most of your lap from view, bringing even mor lewd thoughts to mind. “Y-you know, I’m kind of on a time crunch here!”

“Shut up, I know!” Andrew shouts. As soon as it’s out he clenches his teeth and looks over his shoulder for the Hunter, and without bothering to climb out of his hole starts fumbling with your restraints. When you pop free, the angle and weight of him clinging to you throws you both to the ground, your chest right on his face.

He screeched like a schoolgirl, but his tomato-red face was endearing enough to override most of the fear you felt for the remainder of the match.

Luchino

Though no one called him such, Luchino was a healer in his own right.

His skilled hands had patched you up twice already this match, and though the pain from Michiko’s cuts lingered, you could hardly complain when you thought about how Luchino had loomed over you. He was a polite man, but no-nonsense. Whenever you appeared at his cipher, alone and bleeding, he shoved you to your knees beneath him and got right to work. You couldn’t say if it was the adrenalin, but you were acutely aware of the heat radiating off his body the whole time. Of the gentle ghosting of his claws on your back, making you shiver. When he tied the bandages tight—too tight, almost, but he said that’s how they’re supposed to be—he grunted and huffed in your ear.

“All done,” he said, smirking. “Take these, too.” Luchino straightened up, but instead of returning to his cipher he applied some of that mystery serum to his forearm—his sleeves rolled up deliciously—and peeled away a hard patch of scales. You were too entranced by the oil-slick glisten it left on his skin to question why he was handing them to you.

Before you could stand, a butterfly alighted on your shoulder. Luchino reacted incredibly quickly; you blinked and he was hunched over you again, arms caging you fully to his chest. A sound like cracking glass met your ears the same time as his displeased hiss. Before you could ask, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you into a forward sprint, ordering “Go!”

[mocha-moch4]

I wanna feel you from the inside-

Song: Closer - Nine Inch Nails

Summary: Using his weakness against him to snag a cheap rescue was playing dirty, but unfortunately for you, Norton is well versed when it came to playing like that..

Warnings: Fools gold gets his own warning. Implied Monster fucking, afab reader, pet names (doll/dollface/slut/ect) Nortons mean guys 😔 He hurts ur boob, the smut is cut off though

You knew what you were getting into. But, at the same time, it was a bit of ganji’s fault as well.

Getting downed at five ciphers was quite embarrassing, and most people wouldn’t even bother with the rescue.. But… then again, you know the feeling all too well. You were relatively close with the batter after all. That being said, you were in no hurry to complete said rescue. After completing your cipher you hurried over to the outside of the dreary hospital where Ganji was currently chaired. It was already above half, so if he were to get chaired once more, he’d be dead, but at least the rescue would give ganji a chance to redeem himself after that unfortunately short kite.

You carefully snuck around the limited structures to block the line of sight of Norton, who was camping the chair. You know Norton would prefer to not swing at all rather than risk accidentally hitting you in the process. As cruel as he may act, he does care for you. He is just a greedier version of his survivor counterpart, whom would give him an aggravatingly long earful if he downed you. Knowing all of this, you still decide to use it against him in situations like this.

And oh, how he loathes you for that.

Quickly, and a bit recklessly, you dashed up to the chair, trying to catch Norton off guard. It worked well enough to successfully get Ganji off the chair, but it you lost all your courage with it. You didn’t have it in you to body block, so you simply planned on going back to decoding duty while Ganji attempted to kite once more.

Well, that’s how you thought it would play out. When you booked it away from the chair you scrambled into the hospital and up the stairs, making your way to the untouched cipher on the second floor, being extra mindful of the gapes in the floor. It wasn’t til you were starting the cipher you heard Ganji call out that the hunter had changed targets. Before you could even register anything, you started hearing your heartbeat in your head, then the next thing you know you’re entrapped between two giant arms attached to an aggravated looking Norton. You shivered at the sudden pressure of the cold wall you’re now pushed up against. A small moan threatened to release from the mere contact with him.

You wanted to come up with some kind of excuse or reason that would soften the blow of the punishment that was soon to be delivered so graciously to you, but the damned hunter hasn’t given you a second to think so far, so why would he now? You bit your lip as his cold, rock constructed hands, traveled up your shirt, sending shivers through your entire body. One of which trailed far up to grip your neck. Not hard enough to hurt you just yet, but enough to make it a bit red.

“What’s wrong, doll face?” His voice was horse and filled with mockery. He felt no pity at your shook up face. “You weren’t this scared when you came up to the chair, huh?” He asked, hot breath tickling your nose. Fearing that you’d only make the situation worse, you decided to stay quiet for now as to save the little words you had before your brain inevitably turns to mush.

“That wasn’t rhetorical, brat.” he spat before roughly tugging at the top of your shirt, ripping the fabric so he could roughly squeeze a handful of your breast. The rock his hands were made out of pierced the plush skin, drawing up blood from the pressure. A mewl escaped your lips, rolling off your tongue as your skin stung from the rocks that threatened to tear through it.

“Please..” the whimper snuck out of your mouth, pleading for him to not only be gentler, but also to spare the cruelties you knew were upon the dark horizon. Norton was a smart man, almost annoyingly so. He knew exactly what you wanted by the glimmer in your eye. That was too fucking bad.

“If you’re gonna wanna come close to enjoying this, you’re gonna have to work for it, slut.” he growled, his guttural voice dropping, just like how his belt did. The sound of the ramshackle zipper echoing through the grey hospital halls. Only thing left to do was pray..

[apocalypseornaw]

Shame on You

Dean Winchester x Reader

You and Dean burned hot and heavy but life as a hunter hits hard and puts a strain on relationships. When you're pushed back into each other's lives will it be a second chance or a fool me once, shame on you situation?

Everyone has those memories that are set in stone. The ones that no matter who much you'd prefer to forget they refuse to budge, choosing instead to linger at the back of your mind. Waiting until you least expect them to spring their trap and make you remember, rather you'd like to or not.

Too many of those for you starred Dean front and center. Dean Winchester, a legend in the hunting world. Someone monsters feared, a name known in heaven and in hell but to you? Your traitorous heart kept a completely different side of him close no matter how much you wished to forget.

To you? Dean was the fifteen year old tried to act cool and aloof but had stayed up all night with you and Sam during the summer if you all happened to get dumped on Bobby. He was the eighteen year old that helped Bobby get your first car road ready. He was the twenty two year old who'd called you to tell you Sam was getting out of the life then the twenty six year old who'd been wracked with guilt over Jess.

He was the man who lost his father within two months of you losing your aunt but still managed the drive so you wouldn't be alone to light the pyre.

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

Dean was the man who called you on the road just to check in, the man who at one time made an hour drive in twenty minutes because you'd been hurt and said "I need help"

Dean was the man who put up the front that nothing ever bothered him but whenever you showed up you'd see that look in his eyes, that look that clearly said "She's not gonna back down until I face it" and you never did.

Dean was was the man who on the night he was bound for hell begged you to stay behind because "I don't want you to see me ripped to shred by hellhounds after your aunt dying by a werewolf"

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

Dean was the man who you fought shoulder to shoulder with against anything and everything that came your way. The man who would patch your wounds and tell you how strong you were even when you felt your weakest.

Dean was the man that when the two of you started getting closer he treated you like you were made of glass and even apologized the first time the two of you kissed, thinking he'd crossed a line you didn't want crossed. The man that the first time the two of you fell into bed with each other spent hours going over every inch of your skin, bringing you pleasure you'd never knowm with past lovers.

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

Dean was the man who you gladly gave your heart to, entrusting him fully with everything you had. You loved him in a way you'd never previously even dreamt of. Then the arguments had started.

They were small, simple stuff really. No relationship was perfect but as hunters somethings said were lines crossed. Doubting each other's survival abilities, citing that you were a hindrance in one blowup of anger and even telling you to "go home to Bobby" when all of you had gotten pretty banged up had been the final straw. You'd been pushed too far.

You knew Dean and you knew he was pushing you away to protect himself but you also knew to protect yourself and the love you would always have for him you needed to leave. So leave you did. That was until Sam called and said four words that drew you back into Dean's orbit "We need your help"

"Out of every hunter we know, you call her?" Dean's voice was dangerously low. He was working hard not to yell, not to let his temper get the best of him but two years had passed since you walked out on him. Two years with his heart ripped out of his chest and out walking around in the world and only talking to his little brother instead of him.

Sam cut his eyes up from his computer screen, completely unphased by his brother's anger "You pushed her away Dean. Y/N loved you with everything she had but you kept pushing and pushing. It's what you always do. I can't falt her because you can't communicate for shit"

"Why do we need her on this hunt?" Dean repeated ignoring the insult, so Sam turned the screen around "because her aunt discovered the species. As far as I can tell out of hunters that are still alive that's faced it she's the only one. It was either I call her and she works the case with us or she ends up finding it on her own and works it solo and could end up getting hurt or worse on a solo hunt. Last time it took her, Bobby and her aunt to take out a pack. You really want to send her alone?"

That thought stopped him in his tracks. It felt like the air had been ripped from his lungs at the thought of you dead. "How long until she'll get here?" He asked about the time Sam's phone dinged. Sam glanced at the screen and shrugged "About ten minutes"

The bunker was just how you remembered it. A part of you felt like you should park your car next to Dean's impala and go chunk your bag in his room but that was then, this was now. You waited at the heavy outer door until it opened to reveal Sam on the other side. "Sam" you greeted with a smile and when you reached up to hug him he met you halfway. "It's good to see you Y/N"

When you pulled away from each other you looked past his shoulder and he half grinned "He's in the library, looking over the lore you sent ahead" you nodded "I bet he's so thrilled you called me" his smile softened "He still loves you" you shook your head "Fool me once Sammy. Sometimes you need more than love, you actually have to want the other person there"

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but stopped and shook his head "This is gonna be an interesting hunt to say the least"

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

You followed Sam down the winding stairs despite knowing the bunker as well as he did. You could find the library blind folded. "Dean?" Sam called out and your heart proved traitorous yet again by nearly leaping out of your chest.

The stubble that always graced his sculpted jaw was thicker than usual as if he'd missed trimming it by a day or two, the white Henley he wore under a dark blue shirt was unbuttoned to the point enough of his neck and collarbone was sticking out that you lost your train of thought as memories of the sounds he made when your lips traced that sensitive flesh flashed through your mind. Fuck, this had been a bad idea. You quickly schooled your features hoping Dean hadn't clocked you taking your time looking over any physical changes on him.

Dean on the other hand was barely able to meet your eyes. You looked as beautiful as always. Your hair was back in a braid, small pieces had worked their way loose but he imagined that was probably due to you riding with the windows down and the radio turned up. Your jeans were torn in a few places and the Led Zeppelin shirt you wore had seen better days but he couldn't have imagined anyone looking better in that moment than you alive and right in front of him after two years of only hearing your voice on the rare occasions he'd been in the room when you'd call Sam.

"Hey Dean" your voice was low, barely above a whisper. He nodded slowly before finally saying "Hey Y/N" you tore your gaze from him and looked at Sam, a tired smile slipping onto your face "Police and medical examiner reports please? Then we can gather what we need and hit the road. Faster we get to Missouri, faster we stop this stop. Then we really need to get Garth and a few more hunters of the like up to speed on the lore because I'm one person I can't be on speed dial every time these son of bitches crawl out their caverns"

Dean watched you slip into hunter mode with a small smile on his face, he loved you just as much as he had the day everything imploded between the two of you. He had to remind himself you were here for this hunt, not for him. No matter how much that truth hurt. "Lets get to work"

For some reason Sam had deemed it a good idea to send you and Dean to the medical examiners office together while he went to talk to the local police. Good idea in theory, divide and conquer and all that. The problem? Your patience was wearing thin before this hunt started.

You had to make two stops to get the needed supplies to make bullets that would put these things down, the motel only conjoining rooms left, you'd been left with the choice to let Sam take your car or to chauffeur Dean around and now the blonde, leggy medical examiner couldn't take her eyes off Dean long enough to let the two of you fully examine the bodies.

Your fed suit felt like it was choking you, the air in the office felt thick and you felt like you may very well throw a punch if something didn't change in the next five seconds. "Ms Jones is it normal protocol for the medical examiner to eye fuck the federal agent sent to examine the bodies of the victims found littered throughout the area or are you just adding on to your job title?"

You weren't sure who was more shocked by your words. Dean, Ms Jones or yourself. She composed herself quickly you had to give it to her so you attempted a backpeddle "What Agent Wilson chooses to do with his downtime once this case is closed is up to him and I'm not trying to rain on anyone's parade but you did tell our other partner Agent Cohen that you currently have what four bodies on ice? Now Agent Wilson is a looker as are you but I'm sure you both can wait a few more days"

Dean swallowed a smirk but you clocked it before he did as she apologized "I sincerely apologize Agent Taylor for my lack of professionalism" you forced a smile "I'll try not to let it slip when I report back to the state board" her face paled several shades as she led the two of you back to where the bodies were kept.

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

You were silent the entire ride back to the hotel, using the files in your lap as an excuse but you were fuming. You want to go back as knock Ms Laura Jones' perfect white teeth down her throat. How dare she flirt with your..... with Dean...with what she thought was an Agent on a case. The unprofessionalism. That's definitely what was bothering you. Not the thought that maybe he would've flirted back if you had gone with Sam.

"Y/N" Dean's voice broke through your thoughts and you glanced up to see you were back at the hotel and let out a breath. "Thank god" you wanted to get back into your jeans and get to work figuring out an idea of where these things could be held up. You needed to kill something.

You could feel Dean's eyes on you as you slid out the impala and lovingly ran a hand down the side of your own car. You needed this case over as soon as possible, for the sake of what little sanity you had left.

Dean didn't want to dwell on how good jealousy looked on you even when you never would've taken claim to the emotion or on how his heart had attempted to leap free of his chest to find its way to you where it knew it belonged when he realized you were indeed seething with anger at Laura's flirting.

He didn't want to humor the fact that whenever he didn't look at you he could feel your eyes on him and when he glanced your way he could see your shoudlers tense slightly in that way that was you acknowledging that you felt his attention but refused to return it.

He didn't want to think about the way you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration as you helped Sam make the bullets. He damn sure didn't want to think about any memories that flashed through his head when you had glanced up to pass him the bullets and half smiled. You owned him to this day and this damn hunt was tearing his heart out.

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

You had mapped out two likely locations for the nests for these things. They were within about forty yards of each other but you'd known the boys would never agree to you checking out one alone. That meant either everyone checking one then heading to the other or one of the boys going alone.

You knew before he ever said what Dean was thinking "I'll take the north one, clear it. If I find something I'll call and you two come running" you leveled him with a glare "Dean these things are as fast as a Wendigo, as bloodthirsty as a rugaru and damn near as hard to kill as a ghoul. Against anything else you'd have my vote of confidence but I don't like you going in alone"

He gave you a smirk in return "Don't worry about me sweetheart. Been fine up until this point"

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

You were begging your legs to move a little faster, your lungs to suck in a little more air and your body to be just a little stronger. There were six. The last pack had been four. Damn these things.

You felt the air currents move a half second before a body slammed into you and your back connected with the solid wall of the cave. You slid down with a heavy grunt and looked up to see one of the slobbering things over you. "Damn you're ugly"

Your gun had gotten knocked out of your hand but you'd smeared your knife in the concoction that was used in the bullet so you hoped that was enough. You slipped it from your boot and waved a hand at the thing "Cmon then, we don't got all night"

You went back and forth with the thing, narrowly avoiding its talons but finally seeing an opening to drive your knife hilt deep into its chest. You didn't hesitate to see if the knife would kill it instead you dove for your gun and flipped around the moment your hand wrapped around the cool metal and fired two rounds into the things head.

It fell with a heavy thud and you let out a breath, falling back against the dirt. "Y/N" You heard Dean's deep voice echoing your name and hollered "This way!" The moment he skid into view you saw he had a slice above his eyebrow and was favoring his side but the concern on his face was not for himself, he was looking at you.

You pushed yourself up to your feet as his eyes raked over your body, marking each visible mark no doubt "I'm fine Dean. Sam get the vics out?" He nodded "They're at the ranger station. Story is they were hiking and got stranded running away from a bear" you kicked the thing at your foot "What? Cocaine bear?" He grinned "I mean..we could sell it" he offered you his hand and you hesitantly took it.

You scrunched up your nose "I need a shower"

Once everyone had showered you gathered back with the boys in their room for first aid application. Sam needed stitches on his left shoudler, Dean needed a couple on that slice above his eye and had bruised ribs. You turned out fairly lucky considering the only bleeding you had was from scraping your arm and a leg on the walls of the cavern and your back would be bruised like hell from that slam but besides that nothing was broken so you'd all faired pretty well.

You were currently perched on the edge of the dresser, nursing a bottle of water and watching as Sam finished emailing Garth, The Banes twins, Donna,Jody and a handful of other hunters everything you knew about these things to update the collective lore.

Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed nursing a beer and trying to avoid your eyes. You were hoping they wouldn't need your help with anything for a while because now that the pre hunt and post hunt adrenaline was fading, the aching pain that accompanied the knowledge that the green eyed hunter that sat so close to you might as well have been a million miles away because he was no longer yours.

Sam glanced up once he was done "Anything to add?" You shook your head "That's it" he nodded "Ok then" you slowly stood up then motioned to the door that connected your rooms "I'm gonna hit the hay then. Roads calling my name so I'm hitting it bright and early"

Sam stood up and pulled you into a hug "it was good to see you after all this time" you smiled "Sorry for being a stranger" he barely glanced towards Dean before whispering "I get it" you stepped away from Sam and nudged Dean's shoudler on the way by "Guess you're free to hit up Laura now" he scoffed lightly "Yeah. Hey, stay safe sweetheart and if you ever need us...just call"

You half smiled "Same goes for me" before walking into your room and closing the door. You leaned back against it and shut your eyes to try to stow off the emotions. You could do this. You just needed a little sleep then you could hit the road.

"You're an idiot" Sam didn't waste any time tearing into Dean once he was sure you had secured the door behind yourself. Dean threw his hands up defensively "What did i do?"

Sam motioned to the door you'd just disappeared through "Nothing, that's the point. I've seen you mourn what you had with her for the last two frickin years man. You love her! You still do! You said it terrified you hearing gunshots then seeing her down. Don't let her walk away again without an effort. I'd give almost anything for that to be Jess on the other side of that door. Talk to her, tell her what she means to you. Argue, scream, have sex...hell do whatever you have to in an attempt to fix this because it's achingly clear you both still love each other with everything. I know why you pushed her away but it didn't work. She still loves you. So would you rather her die having spent the previous night in your arms or her die thinking you no longer wanted her?"

Dean didn't have to say anything for Sam to know his words had hit home. He nodded slowly looking from Sam to the door "Go" Sam repeated so Dean sat the beer on the side table and walked across the room before heading to the adjoining door so Sam buried his nose in his laptop in an attempt to make it seem like he wasn't paying any attention.

You had just brushed your teeth and plugged your phone in and was about to crawl into bed when a knock at the adjoining door drew your attention. You smoothed the cloth shorts you were wearing and went to answer it, half expecting Sam but there stood Dean.

"Yeah?" You asked looking from him to where Sam sat blatantly trying to appear as if he wasn't paying the two of you any attention. Dean scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck "Can we talk?" You nodded "Yeah, sure"

You stepped by to let him in about the time Sam glanced up. The two of you had a silent conversation which consisted of you asking if he knew what Dean wanted and him shrugging.

-----------

You nodded and turned back into your room, closing the door behind yourself and leaning against it. Dean stood in the center of your room looking a little out of place. "How ya been?" He asked then grimaced along with you. "We're not strangers Dean"

He nodded then sat down on the edge of the bed that wasn't disturbed and ran a hand down his face before looking up at you, a playful smirk finding his face "I'd offer a backrub since I know you're probably hurting but I doubt you'd take me up on the offer" you laughed and walked past him to sit on the edge of the dresser to face him before shrugging "Last time you gave me a backrub we broke the bed at Donna's cabin"

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to his hands. Several long moments passed before he finally spoke "I get why you left me" you let out a breath of air that sounded a lot more like a sigh than you meant for it to "Dean please.." you really didn't feel like tapping into the self worthlessness John had instilled so deep into him. You'd tried so hard for years for him to see himself like you did, how Sam did. How damn near everyone who cared for him did.

He held up his hand to cut you off "Hold on. I'm taking the blame. I pushed you away" when his eyes met yours you felt anger boil up into your chest "Why?"

"Why?" He echoed and you nodded "Why? Why did you let Cassie get close? You let Lisa get close? Yet you kept me at arms length for years. You let me fall in love with you then no matter what I did it wasn't good enough Dean! I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH" You hadn't meant for your voice to raise but when he cut his eyes at the adjoining door you realized it had.

"You were always good enough" he replied. You jumped to your feet, driven by anger and pain along with the aching love you still felt for the man in front of you "THEN WHY PUSH ME AWAY INSTEAD OF FUCKING FIGHTING FOR ME?"

"BECAUSE YOU FUCKING SCARE ME OK?" You froze dead in your tracks at his response. "What?" He stood, taking a couple steps to put space between the two of you before turning to face you "Most of my life it was me and Sammy. Dad was a joke as a parent. Bobby was a constant that was gonna be there regardless. No one else was there, no else really mattered. When we were younger you were a friend. Another kid dragged into this shit show of a life too young but then he went to Stanford and all of a sudden you're the only person I knew in the life. You turned from this...this kid that used to be dumped off at Bobby's along with me and my little brother to this amazingly strong and beautiful woman. You turned into a constant in my life, the one thing that I could always count on. I never meant to fall in love with you because I never would've wanted to put the target that comes with a Winchester loving someone on your back but I did. Then when you loved me back?" He let out a breath, running a hand over his face.

You stood there staring at him, unsure what to say. Where was this two years ago? Why now? "Why have you waited two years to say this?" You couldn't help the venom in your voice. You were hurt and in all the years you'd known Dean before the two of you had gotten together you were stupid enough to think he'd abstained the last two years.

He shrugged "Because I'm an idiot? I thought if I tried hard enough you'd stop loving me and then I could just throw myself into hunting. I could find all the biggest cases. Make sure only little ones were left, keep you as safe as I could" "Dean my aunt died on a werewolf case. Not exactly a world ender" you replied and he nodded "I know. I know"

He turned to face you and you saw his shoulders sag "I'm human sweetheart. I'm not perfect. You of all people know that but I love you now more than ever. I never stopped loving you. It's going to end my world the day you stop breathing but when and if that day comes I'd rather face it knowing the last night we both spent on earth was in each other's arms. I broke your heart and I can't begin to make up for that but I will try with everything I have because there has not been a single day that I've stopped loving you. I have not touched another woman in the last two years, I can get tests if you need me to. I'll take it slow. We can start back by dating.."

You cut him off by crashing your lips against his. When you pulled away he smiled softly then raised both eyebrows "What was that for?" You laughed and shook your head "I love you Dean" you cut your eyes at the bed then added "now want to make up for the last two years?" A groan came from deep in his chest as he pulled you to him "You don't know how damn much"

You stopped him before he could press another kiss to your lips and he looked defeated at first before you said "Don't ever push me away again" he nodded "Yes ma'am" then grinned "Now can I kiss you?" "You can do whatever you want Winchester" you promised and his eyes darkened to a deep green, "I love you" he swore before crashing his lips against yours.

[prentissluvr]

literary parallels — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : light angst, fluff ➖⟢ cw : small injuries, few seconds of physical fighting (self-defense), no use of y/n, you have a dad and i gave him a name (rick lol), mentions of death of loved ones, sort of case fic, kinda ignores canon timeline in terms of a few minor things but canon doesn't matter much in this fic lol, poorly edited most likely ➖⟢ wc : 3.6K summary : sam is someone from your past at stanford university, and the last place you expect to see him again is on a case. that's exactly where you find him. i plan on doing a part two for this one in the future! :))

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

today is one of those days where the reality of your life feels strange, unwelcome, and somewhat foreign. it’s not as if you’re new to the hunting life; it’s just the opposite, and yet, you often feel removed from it, especially after having lived normally at college for a few years. but you were ripped back into hunting without being able to finish your degree by your father after the death of your closest cousin. 

so now you’re cooped up in a crappy motel room searching endlessly through detailed lore websites and the few books you have on you, trying to make sense of the odd patterns of killings in the small california town. that’s part of the pit in your stomach for today; the beach town, cayucos, is only three hours from stanford. 

being so close to your former university after almost a whole year brings back a whole lot of mixed feelings. mostly longing for the normalcy that you loved and lost, but also a renewed urgency to find what killed your cousin. she had been studying at a different college just an hour inland from you. when she died, you had wanted to salt and burn her body and move on. but when your father showed up with proof of odd circumstances, he pursuaded you to rejoin him in the hunting life.

the deaths in cayucos are certainly odd, but they lack the defining features that would allow you to identify the creature at fault. so, you’re searching for anything with a grudge against hot men and a killing cycle of seven years since those are about the only patterns so far. your dad is at the coroner’s office, meeting with an old hunter friend to check out the body of the latest victim.

that’s been another reminder of your brief time at a normal school with normal friends and normal hobbies. when your dad first told you he called in a friend to help, he’d asked you, “d’you remember john winchester? you met him once when you were a kid, he’s an old buddy of mine.” you shook your head and he shrugged, saying something about how it makes sense; you were young and only met him once. but the name stuck in your mind as he left, and it had nothing to do with hunting or when you were a kid on the road, stuck in motels, school if you were there long enough, or the town library if you were lucky.

that name, or the last name anyway, comes from the stanford part of your life, the one you keep cherished in the most protected corners of your heart. sam winchester was one of your few friends during your time there, and after hearing his family name spoken aloud, he’s floating through your mind all day.

he disappeared after jess, his girlfriend and one of your other few friends, died, mere weeks before your own cousin died and you left standford as well. you’ve always wondered what happened to him, the best conclusion you could come to being that he couldn’t bear her death. they were absolutely in love with each other, but you know jess would have wanted him to finish at stanford, then head to that law school he was bound to get that full-ride to. sam always had an air of strength about him, so it surprised you when you never saw him again. he wasn’t even at her funeral, and to this day, that’s your singular bone to pick with him. 

but, you can’t afford to think about him too much as you search for answers about the case. abandoning the lore websites for the meantime, you look over the police records of all the deaths that you can find, hoping to draw together any more patterns that you can use to narrow down your research. you’re jotting down a few notes, thinking you may have found something regarding accounts of a few of the men being last seen with a woman, when your train of thought is interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door.

on instinct, you draw your gun as you cross the room, looking through the peephole and silently cursing when you realize the light out front has gone out. all you can make out is the tall, broad silluete of a man thanks to the dimness of the twighlight sky.

you wait for a moment at the door, hoping he’ll just walk away after he doesn’t get an answer. but you’re unlucky, and he knocks again before calling out, “hello? rick sent me here to … help with the case, he said his kid was here. i’m john winchester’s son, sam.”

if you were in an old-timey cartoon, your jaw would’ve dropped to the floor. sam … sam winchester. it sounds just like him. trying to keep your head, you swap your gun for a nearby canteen of holy water and slip a silver knife into your pocket for accessibility. it’s too much of a coincidence for you to believe it.

you crack the door, just enough for him to hear you a bit better. “sam winchester? like stanford full-ride, lawyboy sam winchester?”

“i– how do you–” there’s a moment of silence, and you know that he’s piecing together the few clues he has; your voice and the last name you must share with your dad, the man he knows as rick. his voice is just as cautious as yours as he says your name like he can’t really believe it.

for a moment, you stop thinking when you hear his voice saying your name after so long, and you throw open the door and let him in. the light from the motel room finally illuminates his face, and it’s him, it’s really him. and the moment you think that is the moment you realize that could absolutely not be the case.

the second he turns to you from closing the door, you’re splashing holy water in his face so fast you barely catch the look he was about to give you; eyes so full of surprise and wonder and confusion and something akin to joy. you react quickly to his lack of reaction besides the normal surprise at getting splashed in the face, slashing at his arm with your silver knife to finish testing him. but he reacts just as fast as you, grabbing both of your wrists, spinning you around and pinning you to the flat surface of the door.

his hold is quite strong, but he doesn’t have the time to bear his full weight into holding you down before you react, so you’re able to manuever out of his hold with practiced ease. you lift one arm up as you yank the other down to make it so you’re able to slip down and to the side, out of his hold. then you’ve got a strong hand to his back, shoving him face-first against the door and your other arm bringing your knife to his throat.

the thought that his profile view with his pulled-taut eyebrows and the grimace on his mouth looks pretty has the audacity to float up to the forefront of your mind before you can squash it down. the whole struggle had taken mere seconds, and he resigns the minute you’ve got him pinned down.

“it’s me,” he pants, “i swear. ‘m not a shapeshifter or ghoul or anything, it was just instinct. sorry,” he explains quickly, “go ahead, test me.”

you debate saying “don’t mind if i do,” but decide that you don’t have to be teasing or snarky about it. instead, you tamp down your hesitance to hurt him, even a little bit because he still sort of feels like innocent, regular, lawboy sam to you, and you draw a thin line of blood at the spot where his neck slopes into his broad shoulder. there’s no burning, just a normal wince from his mouth, so you loosen your hold on him and step back, internally cringing at the small bit of blood beginning to slip down towards his collarbone.

“sorry,” you say, far more sincere than you would be if it’d been anybody else. this is the norm for hunters, but you haven’t quite wrapped your mind around the fact that sam is a hunter. you’d never once would have guessed, though you suppose that was the point. you had done everything you could to hide that part of your life during your time at stanford.

“it’s fine,” he gives you an awkward half-smile, just as sincere as you. “just, y’know, your turn.” you’d been so busy taking in the sight of him standing there, looking almost exactly the same, but not quite, as he had in college, that you forgot about the courtesy of testing yourself too.

“right,” you clear your throat, “of course.” without the hesitance any normal person would have, you take the knife to your forearm and splash a bit of holy water on your skin. “there we go. no demons or shapeshifters or the like. that’s good.” you feel incredibly awkward all of the sudden, still so bewildered and thrown off balance by the collision of your two words. it feels like too much of a coincidence for you to be this close to your old school, be thinking about sam winchester, a symbol of that old life, then for him to show up and flip your whole entire understanding of him. there’s just about a million things running through your mind at just about a million miles per hour and it’s starting to make your head hurt.

the movement of his hand, reaching up to hold the small cut you gave him is what brings you out of your short lived reverie.

“god, i’m sorry. let me get you something for that.” you don’t give him the time to politely tell you, “no, it’s okay,” like you know he would before you’ve turned your back and crossed the room to grab a first aid kit from your bag and some rubbing alcohol from the bathroom. “sit down,” you urge him when you turn back to him, motioning towards the table you’d been seated at when he arrived.

he complies and once again, you’re thinking about the strangeness of sharing this sort of space with him. you’re used to seeing him in libraries so big that they’re almost grand for quiet study sessions or in the dining hall with his nose buried in a book or in the lecture hall where you first met him in a gen-ed class. you’re used to seeing him on one of the grassy quads with jess by his side or him in the big, open, and fancy old university buildings. now he looks right at home in the dingy motel room, so small it feels like his tall, broad frame shouldn’t fit in here, so dim that his sometimes blue or green eyes look sort of muddy. they’re pretty, nonetheless.

you set the first aid kit on the table and pull out a large bandaid and a bit of gauze. you reasses the cut to be sure he doesn’t need any other sort of bandaging and almost sigh in relief when you see how shallow it is. sam doesn’t speak or protest that he’s fine to do it himself as you pull the collar of his t-shirt aside just a bit. you’re sure his mind’s busy with a whole load of questions for you, just like you for him. the brush of your knuckles against his skin suddenly makes his presence feel more real. whatever contact you’d had during the short-lived fight you’d had was completely surreal; you weren’t sure he was really even sam, and if he was, it would feel like a lie anyways, for his hands to be rough or so quick in a fight.

he doesn’t so much as wince when you press alcohol soaked gauze to the cut, and though the wound is small and shallow enough that you’re sure it barely stings, it still feels like a sign of his being a hunter, being used to pain. you don’t like that thought; sweet, sincere, and ever so smart sam being used to pain. as you take care of the cut, he lets his eyes wander around the room, probably taking in how familiar it is, and how weird that it’s your motel room and all of your belongings packed into a single bag and your computer screen displaying hacked into police reports and the very same lore websites he frequents to solve a tricky case.

when you’re done he thanks you with a small smile and you take the seat across from him. as your fingers had brushed over his bare skin and felt a whisper of his strong shoulders, you’d gotten the strong urge to hug him. you missed him even more than you thought. that urge doesn’t leave when you move away from him.

you make a confused face at sam when he reaches for the first aid kit and pulls out another set of bandaids and gauze. he just hands you a gauze now soaked with alcohol and nods at you.

“for your arm,” he explains, because you’ve already forgotten about that as you accept it with a questioning brow.

“right,” you chuckle softly, swiping over the cut with the gauze, then taking and applying the bandaid that sam opened for you. when you’re done you have to drag your eyes up to meet sam’s gaze. there’s tension in the room, and though it’s not bad per se, it’s begging to be addressed and you’re not sure how to even start. it seems like sam’s not sure either.

so, you choose to jump right into the fire.

“it’s so good to see you, sam,” you confess, pushing all your sincerity into your voice, “i mean, this is absolutely insane and i can’t quite wrap my mind around it, but i guess i don’t really care because it’s so good to see you. i worried about you so much after … after jess died, i mean, you just dissappeared and … and i can imagine that has something to do with the fact that you’re a hunter, which is sort of incomprehensible to me, but–,” suddenly you’re hit with a new realization. if sam’s disappearance had to do with the supernatural, you wonder if jess’s death did too. but you don’t want to ask, not right now. “oh, god, and i never got to tell you how sorry i am. i– i mean. i can’t imagine.” there’s where your voice trails off and you look to sam to be the one to say something now.

“thanks,” he answers simply, voice gentle but a little pained, rightfully so. “she was your friend, too. i mean, we were all friends. and i’m sorry i disappeared like that. i, um, well, you’re right. hunting dragged me away. it’s complicated and i’ll explain it to you later. you deserve to know what happened to jess, but– but it’s a lot.” a moment of silence allows that to sink in; so something did happen to her, something more than just faulty electrical wiring in her apartment. sam’s genuine as he goes on, “and it’s great to see you too, really. it’s so strange, i mean all of this, obviously, but it’s even stranger how close we are to stanford. i was already thinking about it, about you all on the way over, and the next thing i know, you’re the suspicious hunter throwing holy water in my face.” 

you cringe a little at that, but sam smiles a little wider than he has all night. “that’s a good thing,” he half-laughs, “i don’t care how weird this coincidence is, i’m glad for it.” his hand twitches, almost as if he’d wanted to reach over and grab your hand, but thought better of it before it could happen. “i gotta ask, did you finish your degree?” the way he asks is so hopeful, and you immediately know how much he wants the answer to be yes. he’s thinking, if i couldn’t finish, please tell me at least one of us could. that one of us poor and foolish hunter kids who thought we could escape managed to long enough to finish a degree, prove that we could make something of ourselves in the normal world. it would be so nice to see that, if it couldn’t be me, it could be somebody, it could be you.

his face falls a little when he registers the sad smile on your face. your expression is more than enough of an answer, and the fact that he wanted so badly for you to have made it makes your heart break a little, for both him and you. we deserved better, you think.

“just about the same thing happened to me,” you begin to explain, “you remember my cousin, bex?” sam nods, recalling the way the two of you acted like siblings the few times he met her, how much you liked alike when you smiled, already sad for what he suspects he might hear. “she died a few weeks after jess. she and i both grew up hunting, and we both thought we got out of it, at least for a little while. we almost lasted all four years … i didn’t think there was anything weird with her death, but … my dad showed me proof of just that at her funeral, convinced me to come back to hunting with him. she was– she was hiding something, and, honestly i’m still not sure what happened. progress on her case has been slow. real slow, so we’ve been working on others in the meantime. keeping busy, you know.”

“oh, i know,” sam sighs, and you completely believe him. you wonder for a moment what bigger things he’s digging into before deciding it’s best if the two of you stick to what’s in front of you. if you go too deep, having each other, a new kind of steady presence from better times, might start feeling too unreal again. 

you want to preserve this delicate balance, where sam is still stanford sam and you’re still stanford you, but now there’s just a deeper understanding of each other. a knowing of what it’s like to grow up with a hunter for a father, to want to get away from it all, to want a sense of normalcy, and to want to learn and become something more and say “screw you!” to all of the expections. and on top of that, knowing how it feels to get so close to the finish line, only to have it ripped out of your hands like you’re a child who’s parents think they’ve had too much candy. only it’s far worse than a half eaten lollipop in the trash because people that you love died, and it was all so much more than just chasing after a momentary sugar high. 

“i’m sorry about bex,” sam says, this time actually reaching out and placing his hand on yours for a moment. his voice is as full of empathy and sincerity as ever. “she was amazing the few times i met her. i could see how close you two were.”

“thanks, sam.” you give him a small smile because those words feel so much better coming from him than just about anyone else. with that, the air seems to settle a little, and it’s far more bearable. you’ve still got a hundred and one questions to ask and a hundred and one more things to say to each other, but to find out you have this near-exact shared experience is like having so much of the weight of loneliness lifted from your chest. and it all feels even better because you know sam. you know him already. 

sure, there’s a whole lot you missed before, but you don’t doubt for a second that the sam sitting in front of you is as kind, funny, smart, witty, sincere, adorably awkward, and good as the sam you met and came to know at stanford. in fact, knowing he grew up the way he did just reaffirms his goodness to you. it’s not easy to live like that and continue choosing to be kind and well-meaning and true to yourself. then there’s this feeling of admiration for sam, just blooming in your chest and you hold back a wide grin because the timing’s not quite right. you still can’t shake the urge to hug him.

“well,” you smile casually, if not a little rueful as you say your next words, “i think our dads will go all hunter-dad-crazy on us if we keep playing catch up. i’ll give you a run down of everything i’ve got, then we can do what dropouts from the west coast’s most prestigious school’s do best; research.”

sam’s smile matches your own, and it’s achingly familiar. “well, we can’t have those asses ruin our not-quite-stanford-alumni reuinion. let’s get to work. we can pretend it’s like the good old days, spring freshman year, all of us cramming for the way-er exam at the back of the library and getting shushed by the librarians. we can pretend john and rick are the librarians.”

for the first time in a long time, you let out a loud laugh, surprised and pulled right out of you without warning. he smiles wide at the sound and finally, without restraint, you grin back. god, you missed him.