#OLD MAN HUNTER IS FUCKING CRAZY

[lovebunnie]

AND THEY LIVED ON PABOO? AND GOT TO GROW OLD IN COMFORT???? THEY GOT TO GET GREY HAIRS AND THEY GOT TO REST?????? THE CLONES GOT A HAPPY ENDING??????????????

[lakemichigans]

i haven’t been following any news about the supernatural prequel but i’m not going to watch it because i know they’ll be sucking john’s cock, balls and all as if we didn’t get enough of that in the show already

[steddieas-shegoes]

Country singer Steve Harrington, who has always leaned more into the pop country side of things (think Wanted by Hunter Hayes), but wants his third album to be more true to old school country roots.

His label agrees but only if he works with Eddie Munson, a rock star who had to leave the spotlight when he got kicked out of his band for, well, rockstar behavior gone too far.

Steve isn't amused, especially because he doesn't care for metal music or rock star shenanigans. He was "raised better" and doesn't think Eddie could sit down and write songs with actual emotion and feeling.

Cue long songwriting sessions where Eddie is trying his hardest to be on his best behavior because he knows this is his last shot at being taken seriously, and Steve being surprised every time Eddie proves that he's talented as a songwriter and musician, well outside the scope of just metal and rock.

They write a song that they're both so proud of, Steve asks if he'll record it with him just for fun. The released version would just be Steve.

Eddie agrees.

It's an incredible duet, something country music has needed forever, but Eddie doesn't want that version out there.

The label genuinely accidentally releases their version instead of the Steve only version. As soon as they realize, they remove it from official places, but it's too late.

Fans have already heard it and have gone crazy over it, begging them to let the radio play this version, begging for this version to be available for streaming. The Steve version is great, but it doesn't have the emotion that's laced in the tone of them singing together.

Eddie finally gives in when he sees how happy Steve is about the reaction to it.

But the label decides they want them to tour together, have Eddie work as his opening act, perform his acoustic songs that haven't been officially released anywhere. Eddie can't do it.

He can't go back into that lifestyle. He couldn't do it to his band, who made him promise that he'd come back to them when he got his shit straight. He can't do it to his fans, who stuck by him through some rough shit, but probably wouldn't support a fucking country music career. He definitely can't do it to Steve, who deserves to have someone with him who can be trusted not to go off the deep end.

So he runs. He hides. His uncle welcomes him home, congratulates him on finally embracing his country roots.

It doesn't take long for Steve to find him.

Because he'd been more honest with Steve than he'd ever been with anyone. He told him about his childhood, his Uncle Wayne, his struggle to make it. He told him about his worse struggle when he did make it, how he got in with the wrong people, the wrong things. Prioritized the lifestyle more than his own life.

Of course Steve knew where he'd run to.

Of course Steve came to remind him what his life could be if he allowed himself to find new priorities.

Steve's lips were pretty persuasive, but not nearly as persuasive as his promises to remind him what he could have if he kept his life his priority.

"But what if I let you down?"

"You won't."

"But-"

"No. You won't. You're gonna do amazing things for yourself. And I'm gonna be there to see it happen. That's all."

And he was.

They co-wrote Steve's entire album while Eddie worked on recording his own original songs. He liked that it was an old school rock and roll feel, some blues, some country, some hints of metal sneaking in on a couple songs.

He called his band to come help him with a song, hesitant to even ask, but they came. Of course they came.

He called his Uncle Wayne to play banjo on a song, worried that he wouldn't like the heavier electric guitar notes over it. Of course he loved being involved.

When their tour started, he let himself actually feel nervous.

But instead of running, he looked at the man who supported him through it, even when his own career was on the line.

Of course Steve was there.

[frogchiro]

Okay I’m not really sure why but I LOVE concepts of like animal courting like male birds doing gorgeous dances and the old stuff where a guy kills a massive animal/predator and presents it to your doorstep like JSJSJWI I giggle and kick my legs at the idea of König killing someone who tried to snipe you and being like “here you go hun :3” or like a medieval AU ghost killing a fucking moose or huge elk for you and showing up with it in his arms RAHH I’d love to hear your thoughts

SKSKSKS I LOVE IT TOO AND I'M NOT ASHAMED TO ADMIT IT

The hunting a big, dangerous predator and presenting it to you screams many of my aus and I could honestly go on for hours about this but for now I'm gonna go with König bringing a whole ass deer back to his cabin deep in the austrian woods where you two are holed up :((

A fearsome soldier and a respected colonel but this man honestly goes kinda dumb for you. Like,, when you're around and there is no one around, just you two in the solitude of the woods in the Alps he really kinda starts thinking not with his rational 'soldier' brain but with his dick and relies more on his more primal hindbrain :((

As far as he knows and cares you two aren't partners but 'mates', and his role as the strong, proud male is to provide for you everything you could want, so warmth, food, comfort, safety and sex :(( Also when you two reside in his cabin? There's gonna be little to no clothes. He has no problem with wearing them obviously and only does this here, but it kinda feels...freeing? And just feels right, plus he gets to show off to you like a proud stallion everything he has, his brawny, strong body and magnificent cock all on display and he's not ashamed. Obviously would never want you to be uncomfortable but if you decide to forgo clothes too he will literally get on his knees and thank you :((

Also, König hunts. His papa took him on many hunting trips when he was a kid so he's a skilled hunter, it's kinda became a necessity living a solitary life like this even before you but when you moved in with him?? He does this not only to put food on the table but also to show off to you like crazy :(( He wants to show you that he's a capable hunter and can provide as a mate for you and any future offspring you may bring into the world ♡

[pandorxxx]

Hard to please

Neteyam x Omatikayan fem reader (all aged up)

Warnings: Cursing, fingering, p in v, bratty reader, brat-tamer Neteyam, dom-Neteyam, multiple orgasms, squirting, choking, oral (for like 2 seconds, nothing crazy), bondage.

Synopsis: it’s finally your 21st birthday, and every warrior has pitched in to make sure that their favorite girl gets whatever she wants. They all have eyes for you, but you have eyes for one, and one only…

Outfit/Hair inspo:

You were the most spoiled girl in the clan. Your father, being jakes right hand man and your mother being one of the greatest hunters. You were automatically among the elite kids in the clan. You were very prissy, not one to get your hands dirty. Your father got you everything you wanted, and he spoiled the hell out of you. Every girl wanted to be you, and every male wanted to be WITH you. You were one of, if not THE most popular girl in the clan.

So, when your 21st birthday rolled around, you better believe it was the most talked about event all year. It was so big that your father and Jake sat down with many of the warriors to plan this out. It was endless nights of building and preparation, and every warrior in the clan was hands on. It didn’t take much for the young warriors to agree to such a task, considering it was all for you.

To say that you had every male warrior around your age wrapped around your finger was an understatement. They all wanted you, and would do anything to get you. Even if that meant signing up to help with a stupid girly birthday bash.

“Shit, this turned out kinda nice.” Lo’ak smiled, hands on his hips as he looked around the forest, admiring all of the work he and the other warriors put in for your party. There was no theme in particular, your only rule was the main color being PINK. And so, what y/n wants, y/n gets.

Pink lights hung from the tall trees, illuminating the forest just right. Pink balloons, streamers, and glitter imported from earth. This idea had been in your head ever since you were 16 years old, and your father did everything in his power to make sure everything was the way you wanted it. Beautifully decorated desserts sat on a long pink table. Along with all of the alcohol possible. It was truly a fairytale.

“Well, anything y/n wants, y/n gets. I hope she likes it with her ungrateful ass.” Neteyam spoke with a drink in hand, watching the forest fill up with members of the clan.

“She better like it. I’ve got glitter in places glitter shouldn’t fucking be.” Lo’ak scoffed, rolling his eyes. Neteyam followed with a snicker.

“Tell me about it. I’ve been washing pink paint and glitter off of my body for the past couple of weeks.” Neteyam sighed, taking another swig of his drink. The brothers slowly looked at eachother, silence falling between them before the famous line left their lips in unison.

“aNytHinG fOr y/N!” They mocked, bursting out into roaring laughter. It was sad but true. You had every warrior right where you wanted them, and that included Neteyam and Lo’ak. They’d do anything to see your spoiled ass happy. Not to mention you were hard to please.

Suddenly, the lights went low. Literally turning the entire forest a deep pink shade. The music cut, as your father took the main stage that the warriors hand built and painted pink for you.

“I just have a few words before we reveal my beautiful baby girl.” Your father started, immediately quieting the clan. He sighed with admiration before speaking again.

“Y/n, my daughter, my princess. We have been planning this party ever since you were 16 years old, and now…Tis finally time. Tonight is all about you, and I hope you have the best time. I love you so much baby girl.” He finished. The crowd immediately clapping for him.

“Now, I would like to turn the mic over to Jake. I believe he has a few words.” Your father spoke before handing the mic off to Jake.

“Yes, thank you. Firstly, I want to start off by wishing y/n a very happy birthday. I’ve known her all of her life. And she has grown to be a beautiful, lovely young lady.” Jake started with a lighthearted smile.

“Yeah, she’s grown alright. Have you seen that ass? Eywa took her precious fucking ti-“ lo’ak whispered before Neteyam covered his mouth. “HUSH!” Neteyam strained, trying to hold in his laugh.

“I want to thank my warriors for setting this entire party up. I’ve never seen them volunteer for something so goddamn fast.” Jake joked, eyeing all of his warriors all knowingly causing them to erupt into laughter.

“Anyway, I hope you have a great time baby girl. We all love you. Tonight’s all about you.” Jake ended, causing the crowd to hoot and hollar. Suddenly, The brightest pink light flashed on you and your friends in your own private section. Gasps from the girls and whistles from the men filled the forest.

Your hair was twisted in the front, as loose curls hung down your back. Decorated with gorgeous pink accessories. Your body was covered in loose glitter, glowing under the bright lights. Your outfit was revealing, diamond embroidered nonetheless. Diamond chains hanging down your waist. Diamond chains laid perfecting along your round ass. Your thigh-band matched your diamond outfit perfectly as well as your other accessories. You smiled, blowing kisses into the crowd as you waved at everyone.

“Oh my…” lo’ak spoke in a trance like state, watching as you stood up to spin around, showing off your little outfit. “Mmm that girl is practically fucking naked. Who ever made that outfit needs a raise or something.” Lo’ak continued, eyeing you up and down before licking his lips.

“Mhm.” Neteyam hummed, watching you through his predatory gaze. Muscles flexed as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. You and Neteyam were kind of close, considering both of your fathers brotherhood. He really couldn’t stand your attitude. You were rude, cocky, and prissy. Your relationship was mostly him giving and you taking, without as much as a simple thank you. If it wasn’t for his father, he would’ve been taken care of that bratty attitude of yours. There was no denying that he was sexually attracted to you. Hell, every warrior was. And tonight just amplified it.

The music turned back on, and the party resumed. You spent your time mingling with everyone there. Singing and dancing with your friends, and drinking/smoking the entire time. Until it was gift time. This was always your favorite part of any celebration. Even though the only person who was good at giving you gifts was your father, he knew you so well.

The warriors fell in line, right in-front of you. Most of them bowing at your feet before handing you their gifts. They all ranged from handmade jewelry, cloths, and accessories. Nothing that really peeked your interest.

“Lo’ak, what the hell is this?” You smiled sarcastically, holding a very short pink loincloth with “lo’aks property” written across it in black glitter.

“Oh, come on mama! you know we would be good together. Just thought everyone else should know that ass belongs to me.” He shot you a cheesy smile, rubbing his hands together as if he just gave you a block of gold. You couldn’t hold your laugh in as much as you tried.

“Tempting. It’s too small.” You giggled, holding it up with your finger. He smirked, eyeing you up and down. “Exactly.” He whispered, biting his lip with a stupid smile on his face.

“Yeah Yeah, where’s your brother?” You rolled your eyes before blushing slightly at just the mere thought of Neteyam.

“Bro, I don’t know. I don’t care either. Kiss me already!” He spoke in an irritated tone, puckering his lips as he closed his eyes. You threw the loincloth at him, landing perfectly on his head.

“Kiss that.” You laughed, your friends right behind you. And the gifts just kept coming. Warrior after warrior. Same old same old. Until one of your favorite ones stepped up, stealing your undivided attention.

“Y/n, you look beautiful as always.” Said Nazu before signing a greeting. He was one of the most promising warriors in the clan around your age. He was strong, confident, sexy and you couldn’t deny that.

“I know I’m pretty. Give me the gift now.” You spoke sensually, bringing him closer by his war belt. He smiled, eyeing you up and down before following your orders. He handed you the box, both of you locking eyes as you took it out of his hand. Your gaze met the box as you untied it. The most beautiful headpiece you’d ever seen shimmered under the pink lights. Encrusted with rare pink diamonds, only the most skilled hunter would be able to find. You and your friends audibly gasped. Your mouth hung opened in shock. Nazu was visibly proud. Proud that he impressed you, and that was very hard to do.

“A headpiece I made myself. Your favorite colored diamonds are woven together, see? Only fit for a queen, such as yourself.” He explained, his voice low, as he admired his handy work in your hand.

“Oh my eywa, Nazu….” You spoke in a surprised tone. Admiring the headpiece before meeting his gaze. “You’re always the best gift giver.” You smiled, immediately placing the headpiece on. And ofcourse it went with your outfit so well. Everything on your body was dripping with diamonds, so expensive as it all danced under the low lights. He was utterly speechless as he admired everything about you, eyeing you up and down with a slight smirk.

“Y/n, if you’d do me the honor, I want to court you. I’d take such good care of you, better than any of these other warriors and you know that. I’d give you the life you deserve, and you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. I’d shower you with gifts like this everyday.” He confessed, bringing your dainty hands to his lips, leaving a small kiss as he stared into your soul. You couldn’t help but smile, listening to the same old song you heard from the warriors before him. His hands shifted to your back, scooting you closer to the edge of your throne with aggression. He leaned down to your ear, placing a soft kiss.

“I’d fuck you right. However you want it, whenever you want it. It’s all yours, my love.” He spoke sensually in your ear, sliding his hands down your back to grip your ass. He was making you hot. He knew what he wanted and he went for it, there’s nothing more attractive than that. But you couldn’t help but turn your attention to the warrior behind him. The last warrior of the night. Neteyam stood tall, gift in hand as he glared at the scene unfolding in-front of him. He huffed with every breath, face screwed in anger.

“As tempting as that sounds. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t have eyes for another.” You hummed, staring directly at Neteyam, making sure he heard every word. He smirked, shaking his head all knowingly. Nazu let you go, backing up to look at you. He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips as he looked around.

“Ha! Who? Who could you possibly want more than me?!!” He shouted, eyebrow cocked as he waited for an answer. You looked back at Neteyam briefly, as he seemed to be in defense mode, just in case he need to kick Nazu’s ass for the way he was shouting at you.

“I want you! Can’t you see?!” Nazu growled lowly, gripping your dainty arm tightly. Shaking you out of your trance.

“Move.” Neteyam said firmly, standing directly behind Nazu. His lip twitching with anger as his tail swayed high in defense. Your eyes went from the grip on your arm to Neteyam within an instant. Nazu huffed, letting you go harshly before throwing his hands up in surrender. He turned around, meeting Neteyams hard gaze.

“She’s all yours.” Nazu smiled sarcastically, backing down immediately. He turned his head to you eyeing you up and down before walking away. Bumping neteyam’s shoulder in the process. Right as Neteyam went to snatch Nazu by his queue, he felt 2 dainty hands grab his wrist, turning him around.

“Hey Hey! Don’t worry about him. Fuck him.” You reassured Neteyam, bringing him dangerously close.

“Did he hurt you? Huh? I’ll fucking kill him.” He growled, examining your arm for any marks. Jaw clenching and unclenching in anger. You grabbed his chin, titling it up to meet your gaze.

“I know you would. But it’s no need for that. I’m fine.” You smiled, glancing at his lips, before bringing your eye contact back to his eyes. He sighed in relief, finally calming down in your embrace.

“What’s in the box?” You asked with a smirk, letting his chin go before pointing at the small box in his hand.

“Why’s it so small? You of all people know I like big presents.” You snarled, sitting back in your throne, crossing your legs slowly. Thighband flashing with every sudden move. He chuckled, glancing down at it before handing you the box.

“Such a fucking brat. Just open the box!” He laughed, placing it in your lap when you wouldn’t take it from him. You rolled your eyes, lifting the lid to be met with the most beautiful thigh band you’d ever seen. It was pink ofcourse, covered in bioluminescent flora and huge diamonds so bright that they reflected on your face. Bigger and shinier than the ones Nazu gifted you. You were speechless, jaw dropped to the ground as you watched it dance under the lights.

“N-Neteyam I- Thank you.” You stuttered, in complete awe as you stared at the beautiful craftsmanship on your new favorite present.

His eyes widened, ears perked up from your words. Out of everything he’s ever done for you, he’d never gotten a thank you until now.

“I-umm.” He threw his head down, chuckling at himself for getting choked up. “I know how much you like those things. You always look so good with them on, so I thought I’d make you a personal one. Your favorite color, and the biggest diamonds I could find.” He finished, hand on the back of his neck as he glanced at the thigh band you had on, trying his best to keep his composure.

“I love it. I love it so much! Put it on me, please!” You screeched in excitement, handing him the thigh band. He shook his head with a light smile before bending down in-front of you. He ran his strong, calloused hands up your leg slowly. You uncrossed your legs immediately, letting his tender touch consume you. He grabbed the piece of fabric that was already on your thigh, pulling it down slowly as he watched you Intently.

Once he got it off of you, he tried to hand it back to you. You shook your head, pushing his hand away. “You keep that one.” You spoke, eyeing him sensually. He smirked before placing it between his teeth, grabbing the one he made for you. He slipped it on you slowly, making sure it was in place before sliding his hand all the way down your leg softly.

“Perfect fit. You know me so well.” You giggled, admiring the band dancing in the lights. He admired too as he took the old band out of his mouth, placing it on his wrist just for it to scrunch to his size perfectly.

“Finally got your ungrateful ass to say thank you. I think my job here is done.” He joked, standing to his full height. You placed your foot on his chest, and he quickly grabbed your ankle, massaging your lower leg with a slight smirk.

“What are you doing? Hmm?” He asked, tilting his head with a confused look on his face.

“I wanna show you how grateful I am. Let’s go somewhere more private.” You smirked.

“And miss the rest of your party? I don’t think so.” He said sarcastically, shaking his head in disagreement.

“Let’s take the party elsewhere.” You demanded, eye fucking him as you looked at his loincloth. Bulge growing by the second.

“Now you know your father would kill me for fucking his precious little princess.” He spat, letting out a chuckle before placing your foot back on the ground.

“Oh come on, Tey! He won’t find out. I know you want me.” You giggled, leaning back in the chair before shifting your hips up sensually. He clenched his jaw in restraint, watching your body move, and the diamonds glisten around it.

“Mmm what gave it away?” He hummed. You bring him closer by his wrist, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Oh, I dont know. Maybe the growing bulge in your loincloth babe.” You whispered in his ear before backing away to look into his eyes. He raised a brow, a slight smirk forming across his lips. “We can’t, y/n.”

“Give me what I want, Neteyam. It’s my birthday!” You whined, bottom lip poked out as you pleaded with him. He sighed before he let a smile creep across his face.

“You sure know how to get what the fuck you want, don’t you?” He asked with a slight smirk, picking you up out of your chair. Your legs immediately wrapped around his waist as you kissed his neck shamelessly, not caring if anyone saw you. He glanced back at your friends, shooting them a fake smile.

“Uhh, if you ladies would excuse us. I’ll bring her back in a few.” He chuckled nervously, bowing his head slightly at the girls before walking away with you in his arms.

- -

He walked you to a secluded place in the forest behind the party. Music from the party could still be heard from where you two were. Your lips were still attached to his neck, purple hickeys forming all around his neck. He laid you down on the moss before hovering over you, indulging in a passionate kiss.

“Fuck, lay back!” You commanded, flipping him to the ground before straddling his lap.

“Goddamn, woman. You want me that bad, huh?” He chuckled watching you take the headpiece that Nazu gifted you, throwing it to the ground beside you.

“Oh shut up!” You rolled your eyes, bending down to kiss him again. He obliged, humming in your mouth as he slid his hands down your back to your round ass, gripping it tightly. He smacked it a few times, causing you to moan in his mouth.

“Take it off of me.” You moaned breathily in between kisses. He obliged, untying your diamond skirt from around your hips, throwing it to the side. He moved on to your diamond thong, untying it from around your hips. He pulled it from under you, throwing it to the side as well. You sat up on him, grabbing his hand to run it down your entire body. He bit his lip, watching the diamonds on your outfit dance under the night sky.

“You look so good, I-I don’t even wanna take this off of you.” He spoke in his melodic tone, running his hands across your diamond top.

“So don’t.” You smirked, yanking his loincloth down just enough to expose his throbbing cock. The veins pulsated as his swollen tip leaked precum. Your eye’s widened, licking your lips as you stared at his huge cock in awe.

“I want it. Right now.” You spoke in a trance like state, completely hypnotized by his gorgeous shaft.

“It’s all yours, Princess. Now let me give it to you, ok?” He spoke calmly, nodding his head as he tried to sit up, but you just pushed him back down. Immediately lifting up to attempt sliding down onto him.

“I I-wanna ride it!” You moaned, trying to push him into you, to no avail. You really didn’t know what you were doing, but you knew that you wanted him, right now.

Come on, y/n. g-get up, it’s not working this way.” He sighed, tapping your thigh.

“Nooo teyam, I wanna ride it. Just a f-few more seconds! I-ngh! It’s almost in!” You whined, gripping his shoulders tightly as you tried to shimmy your way down his shaft.

He growled, rubbing his hands down his face in frustration. “It’s n-nowhere near in you. J-Just let me change positions. I can help you out, ok?” He explained, voice calm as he maintained his patience with you.

“No! Just put it in me already!” You huffed, still trying to use him as your own personal fuck toy, but failing miserably in the process.

“Shit! You’re going to hurt yourself!” He shouted in frustration, stopping your hips with his large hands.

“STOP IT TEY!” You shouted back, sending him over the edge. He growled loudly flipping you both over, him now hovering over your half naked frame. You tried to lift your head up to speak before he grabbed your neck, pushing you back to the ground. You immediately backed down to him, the only man that could put you in your place.

“I know you’re not used to being told no. But that shit ends today. If we do this, we do it MY way. You’re not the fucking boss, I AM. Got it?” He spoke lowly, shaking your neck with every word. You held onto his wrist to ensure that he wouldn’t squeeze your neck any tighter. You nodded your head frantically with wide eyes.

He bent down, crashing his lips into yours. Your tongues fought for dominance, but his won. He began to slide his hand down your body slowly, until he reached your bare cunt, rubbing firm circles into your clit.The surge of electricity made your body jolt under his touch. You tried to evert eyes from Neteyam by turning your head side to side frequently, but all he did was follow you with his eyes.

“No, look at me y/n.” He said breathily with a dark tone before tilting your chin to meet his gaze. He deemed this the perfect time to slide 2 fingers into you nice and slow. Your back bowed to the mossy ground, breasts just barely touching his chest as you let out a series of whimpers. He curled his two fingers into you at a steady pace while he used his thumb to massage your clit harshly.

“FUCK I- I…” you moaned, squirming around underneath him. He grabbed your neck, holding you in place before he drilled you with his fingers, working loud squelching noises out of you. Your jaw dropped suddenly, deeming you completely silent. He was nose to nose with you, you two breathing the same air as you listened to the wet sounds of your cunt.

“You wanna be a good girl and squirt for me? Hmm?” He asked, staring into your blown pupils.

“I-I YES! Im gonna be a good girl!” You squealed, face screwing in pleasure as your legs started to shake. If your eyes weren’t wide before, they were bulging now.

“TEYAM! I think I-I THINK!” You gasped, your orgasm completely taking over your body. “Mhm, give it to me baby! Don’t hold back.” He moaned, getting completely turned on by your pornographic release. You screamed, gripping his strong arm as your juices flowed out of you with each rough pump of his fingers. He suddenly took them out of you, smacking your clit at a harsh and fast pace. Surges of electricity ran through your veins, making you twitch with every other smack.

“Cum for me AGAIN!” He growled, watching you come undone for a second time, squirting all over his hands and wrist. Your legs closed around his hand tightly, as you lazily backed away from him.

“P-Please Teyam!” You whined, gaining some distance away from him as he watched you back away. He chuckled, sitting up on his knees as he jerked his cock at a painfully slow pace.

“Come back. I thought this was what you wanted?” He asked sarcastically, yanking you back down to him by your ankle.

“No, I-I do want it. I-I just-“ you stuttered until he cut you off. “You just want it YOUR way. And I won’t let that happen, sweetheart.” He continued your thought, he knew you like the back of his hand.

“Not true!” You whined, crossing your arms.“ Yes the fuck it is.” He spoke lowly, slapping his cock on your sensitive clit, smearing your juices on his shaft. You lifted your head up just to get a peak, licking your lips as you hummed with each slap.

“You want it in you?” He bit his lip, now rubbing his cock in between your soaked folds. You sat up on your elbows, watching the source of pleasure, listening to the squelching noises.

“Yesss! Please Teyam. Im begging you!” You moaned, bucking your hips against his cock. To hear you beg was like music to his ears, and all he could do was give you what you wanted, no questions asked. He lined his cock up with your aching hole before sliding in slowly, making sure not to hurt you in any way.

You were already drunk off of him. Your head dipping back slowly to every single inch he slid into you. Your eyes rolled back and you had a delirious smile plastered on your face from finally getting what you wanted.

He bottomed out harshly, smashing the last few inches into your sweet spot before continuing that movement with deep strokes. He grabbed your leg, pulling it over his shoulder to open you up alittle more.

“Ohh my- Teyam FUUUCK!” You moaned, gripping the moss beneath you. You whined with every thrust, back still bowed to the ground. He started at your neck, rubbing his calloused hand down you entire torso, sending chills through your spine. He reached your clit, rolling it between his fingers before massaging the bud of nerves with his thumb.

You jolted uncontrollably from the pleasure. You reached down to grab his wrist tightly, trying your best to stop his movements as the pleasure became too much for you. He smacked your hand away immediately before glaring at you, stopping his movements all together.

“You don’t fucking listen! I told you, I’m in charge. Not you!” He growled, pulling out of you just to flip you over on your stomach. Your eyes widened, realizing that you’d ticked him off for the last time.

“Teyam, I-I’m sorry! It was j-just too much! It won’t happen again please!” You pleaded with him, and he loved to hear you beg. He stayed silent, all you could hear were loud huffs. So loud and intense that you could feel his hot breath on your back.

He took your diamond thigh band from around his wrist. He pulled your arms behind your back, wrapping the piece of fabric around your dainty wrists a few times before it was tight enough.

“Arch it. NOW.” He commanded, sending a hard smack to your ass. You whimpered, yet and still lifting your knees up, arching your back and exposing your dripping cunt to him. He chuckled, watching your stubborn ass follow his direct orders.

“All it took was my cock to make your prissy ass bow down, huh?” He grabbed your hair, yanking it back to the point where your eyes met his. Your eyes were filled with desperation and he loved it.

“Watch me destroy this pussy. Don’t take your eyes off of me.” He growled, sliding his clock into you slowly, watching your eyes roll back from the sudden fullness. He began to drill into you, hard and deep. And all he could do was watch you fall apart, moaning and whining deliriously as he fed you long, hard strokes.

“What would your father think about his precious, innocent, Princess getting dicked down like the slut she is, hmm?” He asked, watching your face screw in pleasure as he sped up his pace.

“You’ve really got everyone fooled. Thinking you’re so fucking innocent. Saying you don’t get dirty, but look at you. So fucking dirty for me, right?” He snarled in your ear, gripping your hair tighter as he drilled so deep into you.

“Mhm! Yesss!” You moaned, voice rippling from his hard thrusts. He pushed your cheek back down into the ground, pushing your knees farther apart. He gripped your hips, using them to bring you back onto his throbbing cock repeatedly.

“Tell me you’re my dirty little slut.” He growled, smacking your ass a few times, leaving numerous purple handprints on the flesh. Using your tied up hands, you tried to block his hits, to no avail.

“Te-yammm I- I can’t!” You whined, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his swollen tip slam against your sweet spot with each stroke. The pleasure mixed with pain was too much for you, it consumed you to the point of delirium. But you knew if you didn’t obey him, it would get worse for you.

“I-I’m your dirty little slut!” You muttered before biting your bottom lip, trying to suppress the screams threatening to pierce through the still forest.

“Mhm, Good girl. Good *thrust* fucking *thrust* girl *thrust*” he moaned through gritted teeth before tucking his bottom lip in between his teeth, watching your ass meet his pelvis with every hard thrust.

“I-I’m so fucking close, Teyam!” You whined, shifting your head on the ground to look back at him. He grabbed the restraint around your wrist, using that as leverage to pound into you slowly, creating the loudest smacking sounds that rang through the forest. Your jaw dropped, legs shaking from your oncoming orgasm as you clenched around him repeatedly.

“Mhmm! keep squeezing me with this pretty pussy. Cum on this dick and milk me dry, Princess.” He moaned, shooting you a devilish smirk before smacking your ass once more. There was nothing you could say, your moans got caught in your throat, and your jaw still hung opened. He watched your eyes roll back again, shaking uncontrollably from the steady strokes he sent you.

“Best birthday present ever I’m guessing?” He chuckled, eyebrow cocked as he awaited an answer. You nodded your head slowly, still spasming underneath him as you finally reached your peek.

“SHIT!” You squealed sharply, juices flowing down your legs with every stroke. He pulled out, smacking your clit with his cock repeatedly, working your orgasm out of you. You shook violently, screaming as you squirted all over his cock.

“Fuck yes! Let it out all over this dick.” He moaned, sliding back into you to chase his high. Your knees buckled, sending you and him flat against the moss. He still kept his pace inside of you, thrusting hard and deep. You lazily squirmed under him, trying to crawl away from the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

“No, come back. I’ve got one more present for you.” He growled in your ear, wrapping his entire arm around your neck, using it as leverage to Buck his hips into you hard.

“Mmm too deep, too deep!” You moaned, using your tied up hands to push down on his lower abdomen. But you were too tired to use any real force.

“I’ll go as deep as I want to in this pussy. It’s mine!” He growled, tightening his grip on your neck as he thrusted into you harder. You were on the verge of another orgasm. Twitching with every stroke, whimpering his name as tears welled in your eyes.

“Y-You’re gonna make me cum again!” You screamed, feeling the knot in your lower abdomen tighten. “Go ahead baby, I’m right behind you.” He moaned in your ear before kissing the lobe.

That was all you needed before your eyes rolled back, cumming on his cock for the second time. His cream coated shaft revealing itself with every thrust. You let out a series of moans as you came down from your high. Neteyam felt your walls contract around him, trying to milk him dry.

“Fuuuck! Get on your knees!” He grunted, pulling out of you, walking around your trembling body to stand in-front of you. You managed to use your knees, pulling you up to kneel in front of him.

“Mmm you look so fucking pretty like this. Ready for your gift, Princess?” He moaned jerking his cock hard and fast. Sliding his hand from the base, all the way to the tip, smearing the precum oozing out of his tip. He let out a few grunts before painting your face with his seed. You smiled deliriously, sticking your tongue out for him.

“Juuust like that baby, let me feed you.” He moaned, grabbing your hair to push your mouth onto his cock. You obliged, wrapping your mouth around his entire length as he came in your mouth. You hummed on him, sucking the rest of his nut out of him. Your cheeks filled with his seed and you swallowed it greedily before detaching from him with a loud popping sound.

He grabbed your chin harshly, smearing the access cum across your lips. “Happy birthday, my little brat.” He muttered through gritted teeth. You stared up at him through hooded eyes, a delirious smile plastered across your face.

“Thank you, Teyam…”

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[nanamimizz]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝚬?

tags: age gap (kishibe is in his early 50′s and reader is late 20′s to early 30′s), discussion of mortality, discussion of marriage, reader and kishibe have known each other for awhile but have only dated for 3 months, gn reader, pet names such as ex. sweetheart, kishibe knows he’s crazy.), reader calls him old man like, once LMAO, 1.k words, fluff mostly.

synopsis: no one knows more than kishibe that he has a screw loose, maybe that’s why he asked you to marry him.

Kishibe comes home to a plate of food on the table. The apartment is dark and clean but it isn’t clinical and cold like how it used to be when it was him alone. From the walls to the floors it feels like home. You’ve filled the cream walls with pleasant-to-look-at art, with framed pictures of you and him, other co-workers at the Public Safety Devil Hunters from night outs. There are soft, small pillows on the sofa and quilts on the armrests. You put them there from your old place after you moved in with him after the 2nd month of dating.

He joked that you should be an interior designer with how nice his apartment looks now. You snorted and flicked his ear. He let you.

You made curry with chicken katsu, the plate is covered in saran wrap and there is a pot of miso soup left on the stove. Kishibe told you not to leave dinner out for him but you rolled your eyes and told him off - “An old man like you can’t live off convenience store food, let me make dinner for you.”

Kishibe thinks that’s what he likes about you; your presence in the apartment, the way you make him dinner even though he told you not to - he thinks you stay up for him, sometimes. Your chair is crooked against the table when he arrives in the middle of the night because he straightens the chair after he finishes the dinner you left for him, washes the plate, and puts any leftovers you left for him in the fridge for you to take to lunch the next day.

You care about him, really care about him the way spouses care for each other. Maybe that’s why he thinks about marrying you despite only dating for 3 months.

He really does have a screw loose.

The dinner you left for him is gone in less than 20 minutes. He likes your cooking and he’s always been a fast eater. He finishes in the kitchen and heads to the bathroom. The clock reads 12:30 and his back aches in the cold water, but he likes it in a twisted and fucked way. The clock reads 12:40 when he’s done and just in plaid lounge pants, he joins you in bed. Your hair is free, spilling around your head on your pillow like a halo. There is a crack in the blinds and the moonlight highlights your face.

It shines on the slope of your nose, the freckles, and the small scars on your skin. You are so pretty in this gentle way - the way the petals of lilies are pretty or those fancy hard candies that are sculpted into goldfish. He wants to take care of you until he dies. He lies in bed and you wake up, eyes caught in the same milk moonlight and he wants to kiss your eyes as softly as he can.

“Kishibe…”You say his name so softly, he doesn’t remember the last time his name sounded so lovely. He scoots closer to you, you smell like lotion and softener, his knuckle caresses your cheek and your eyes flutter close. Shit, he thinks, you are beautiful.

“Hey sweetheart, dinner was good.” You smile sleepily, eyes blinking away the sleep that resides within them. Kishibe leans and kisses your cheek, mouth cold and minty from the toothpaste. His stubble itches and you wrinkle your face at the feeling. He thinks you are cute for it. He blinks, dark eyes focusing on your lovely face, the way your eyes shine in the moonlight, and how your hair fans around you. Kishibe feels choked up as if he might cry.

“Marry me,” he says instead, voice gruff and quiet. You blink at him, brows furrowing and confusion painting your pretty face. You shuffle, sitting a bit more up and looking at him like he’s grown a 2nd head. He tries not to chuckle.

“We’ve dated for 3 months - please don’t tell me you are going through a middle-life crisis.” 

“No…” Kishibe starts off, dark eyes focusing on your hand - on the ring finger of your right hand and finds it irking to see it empty.

“You’re good to me. I want to take care of you - if we are married, all my shit goes to you. I’ve got some money saved up. The place would be yours too.” He lists off all the things bubbling in his head for the past 3 months of being with you. His life doesn’t have a guarantee, he could die tomorrow. He wants to be sure you stay afloat, even without him.

Your face is not something he can read - he blames it on the dark, your sleepiness, and his lack of it. His hand sneaks under your shirt, and his fingers (calloused and scarred) expertly find themselves resting at the dip of your hips. His thumbs rub at the skin there, enjoying its softness and its smoothness. You lean into him, looking at his eyes, finding sincerity and certainty. Sighing you kiss him, lips soft from vaseline and you hear him huff in contentment.

“Ask me again tomorrow. With a ring - you’ll have your answer.” You say and he nods, already knowing what ring he plans to get you. His hands pull you close, your body fitting into his and he feels at peace with you like this. You both fall asleep like that. When morning comes -  his arm is still around your waist and hands at your hips. You go in earlier than him, and you depart with a heavy heart. He looks handsome in his sleep, face relaxed and thin lips parted. The neat way he parts his hair is long gone and he looks boyish with how it sticks around his forehead.

You kiss his forehead before you go out the door, a work bag filled with the leftovers he put away for lunch. The day passes by as normally as it usually does for you - you are in the paperwork department and Kishibe comes to see you for lunch when he can. When you return to your office from a copy run to start your lunch the man in question is there, sitting in your chair. 

On your desk, sits a velvet box.

Kishibe smiles behind his palm when he sees the shiny, watery look in your eyes. You almost drop your copies - you really are the cutest thing he’s ever known.

“So? What’s your answer?” His gruff voice cuts in the air, and you blink back tears. Nodding wiping your eyes with the back of your free hand you warble out -

“Yeah - yeah you crazy old man. I’ll marry you.” He huffs amused, victory dancing in his heart.

[deangirlsstuff67]

Good Girl

MOC! Dean x Reader

Warnings: Praise, sex toys, MOC! Dean, bondage, Unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, anal play, P in V, dirty talk

Summary: Dean and Sam are fighting yet again. You hear glass shatter against a wall, followed by a very angry Sam slamming his door. Feeling brave, you go in search of Dean.

Masterlist | Patreon

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They're at it again. Those two fight worse than a married couple these days. Makes sense given the current situation we all find ourselves living in. I just don't think angering Dean is the wisest choice, he's already on the edge most days. It would take a soft wind to blow him over.

Sadly, your new to hunting, meaning the guys don't listen to you on a good day. Couple years ago Dean and Sam saved your crazy ass when a nest of vampires came to town and killed your family. You are 22 years old and bought the boys enough whiskey at the local bar to make them agree you could come back to the bunker.

Dean tries to avoid you as much as possible. While you don't get the feeling he hates you, you do know you make him uncomfortable.

Sam has taken you under his wing as a little sister. Teachs you the basics of fighting and makes you read lore book after lore book. And in this place I think I'll be dead before I get through it all.

Even Cas has taken a liking to you. He teaches you about angels and you teach him how to be less awkward, it's sort of working.

Glass shattering brings you back to the present.

Well fuck, that can't be a good sign. Moments later heavy, angry foot steps deasend the hallway and a door slams. Sam's door, meaning Dean's still out there... pissed.

With a loud sigh you get out of bed. You're wearing one Dean's flannels and black lacy underwear. You've always had a crush on the older Winchester. Tonight you're hoping the outfit will work like armor. Dean's a ladies man after all, and your not bad looking if you say so yourself.

Slowly and quietly you make your way towards the command center in search of the ticking time bomb known as Dean. This is most definitely a bad idea but you can't stand the thought of him alone with all that rage running through his veins.

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The scene you walk in on saddens your soul. Dean has the bottle of amber liquor sitting beside him as he stares at the wall and broken glass. So lost in his own head he doesn't hear me coming until I'm standing in front of him.

Those bright green eyes rake up and down my body, the farther they travel the darker they become. When he drags his eyes back to mine they are damn near pitch black. Lust sparkling in them.

Oh fuck.

You try to sound strong and confident, but let's face it this man melts you into a puddle at his feet.

"Dean..." your voice is higher than normal, barely above a whisper, "are you o... okay?"

His breathing is labored, coming out in deep puffs that shake his shoulders. To look at him you'd think he was on the verge of murder. But it's his eyes, they tell a very different story.

"That’s my shirt y/n." The way your name rolls of his tongue is dangerous. Sending a warmth straight to your core, making you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together.

His eyes snap down to your soaking core. Shit, he noticed. Of course he did, wouldn't be a good hunter if he didn't have reflexes of a cat.

"I didnt think you'd mind. I need to do laundry. " You go to reach for his hand but he stands abruptly. Without a word he turns to leave the room, and you.

Why Dean.

Not this time. You rush him from behind but your plan back fires. Next thing you know Dean has you pinned against the wall and his hard body. Very hard... ALL of it.

After a couple moments of silence you have to ask, "why do you always run from me?"

A smile curls those perfectly soft lips before he lightly pumps his hips into yours, making his hard cock rub deliciously against your dripping core.

Well fuck, it's not that he hates me, it's that he likes me... a lot.

Now or never y/n.

Feeling brave you look him dead in the eye and ask, "why don't you use some of that pent up anger for some good big guy?" Finishing off by grabbing his cock through his jeans, hard.

Groaning, Dean rips you off the wall and down the hall.

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Bondage. Should have seen this coming in hindsight. The man thrives on control. Even more so now.

Here I am tied to Dean's bed via handcuffs. The beautiful specimen in his black boxers looking down at me as he pushes the small vibrator straight onto my bundle of nerves, again.

"Such a good girl for me. Think you have one more in that tight little pussy for me?" He moves a finger down to the plug he worked into my tight channel and softly taps.

My head is spinning from the previous orgasms he's pulled from my body already, the most I can do is let out a loud moan in answer.

This is a side of Dean I've never experienced before. He's enjoying making me cock drunk. Thriving on the power it supplies him. At least if the ever growing wet spot at the top of his boxers is any indication.

"Beg me sweetheart. Beg for my cock to fill you, stretch you." My eyes are closed but I know he's close. I can feel his hot breath on my cheek as he leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Dean... pl.. please can I.. I have your co.. cock"

"You're sound so pretty when you beg Princess." He lifts the vibrator off my clit just before another orgasm rips through my body. I whimper at the lose making him laugh.

Before I have time to protest my lose, Dean positions himself between my shaking thighs and feeds his rock hard dick into my soaking core.

Groans echo off the walls of his room as we adjust to the feel of each other. He's huge. That big dick cocky energy isn't a lie, the man's packing.

"Y/N you feel amazing wrapped around my cock." Slowly he pulls out until nothing but the tip is left then he slams back in. Handcuffs rattling from the movement.

He takes me hard and fast. Working both of us into a frenzy of moans and whimpers. Soon I'm clamping down on his cock making it harder for him to pull out as I scream his name and flood his member and thighs.

It's all it takes to send him over the edge as he joins me. Rope after rope of warm cum fills my quivering walls. He's Cummings so hard I can feel it begin to leak out of me and down my thighs.

Dean collapses onto my worn-out body. Only moving to undo the handcuffs and bring my arms down to massage as he catches his breath. Once we are back on planet Earth, he eases his soften dick from my abused core, the mixture of us leaking out.

Memorized for a moment, he takes his fingers and gently pushes it back inside me, causing my to whimper.

Dean smiles down at me, satisfied and moves to the bathroom to clean up and bring me a wet cloth. After he's done cleaning us up, he grabs my body and man handles it to a postion of his liking as we cuddle together.

Moments pass in silence before Dean speaks, "thank you. That was exactly what I needed to calm the mark. You're amazing sweetheart."

"Anything for you Dean."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

A soft giggle leaves my lips, "not in a bad way."

Dean sends me a naughty smirk and wink before taking my lips in a passionate kiss.

"Get some rest Princess, I have plans for us when we wake."

It's the last I hear before sleep takes my exhausted body into the land of slumber, dreaming of tomorrow and what awaits me.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

Mandy Davis, you punk ass bitch - Sam Winchester/Reader (for #samweek2023)

read it on ao3. masterlist.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader. Tags/Warnings: just fluff! Word Count: 2k Notes: for @ghostsam and @suncaptor's Sam Winchester Appreciation Week :) happy birthday baby boy!!! ily ily ily <;3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

The alarm clock in Bobby’s guest bedroom was a little busted, so you weren’t crazy confident that it could get you up at midnight like you wanted. True to form, you were hauled ass-first out of sleep a little after two in the morning, and staggered out of bed bleary-eyed and cursing. 

What kind of sick freaks tortured themselves like this? Very, very dedicated girlfriends. Just like you’d predicted, the other side of the bed hadn’t been touched. Sam was probably still downstairs, straining his neck over a book and adding to his exhaustive research notes. Totally clueless. You groped around the floor for the spare pajama pants you’d stolen from him ages ago and hopped into them as quietly as you could. The house was serene but not quiet, filled with the natural creaks and sighs of the old wood and the flutter of the loose siding in the breeze. You knew it would be impossible to stay silent on the stupid ancient stairway, but you were determined not to wake Dean. There was no way you were letting him beat you to this like he had last year. Pouring all of your hunter chops into the task, you snuck down the stairs like a goddamn ghost, and made sure to throw Dean’s door two gloating middle fingers in the dark. Eat that, Winchester.

Every inch of the first floor was covered by safe blue darkness, except for a teeny circle of buttery lamplight that you followed to the kitchen. Before you turned the corner, you made bets with yourself about how Sam would be sitting: hunched completely over the kitchen table, that’s for sure, probably rubbing at his aching neck and glaring at what he was reading.

When you were close enough to see, you let your footsteps be heard so as not to scare him. Man, you were good. The same angle you’d pictured and everything.

Sam pried his face away from his research and squinted at his watch, then at you, sheepish. “Oh, hey… sorry. I promised that I’d be up hours ago.”

You knew he was already finding ten ways to beat himself up over it, so you drew yourself towards him with an understanding smile. “No sweat,” you waved it off, “I’m glad you’re still up. It means I get to do this.”

The first chance you got, you pounced on him, sliding up behind his chair and squeezing your arms around his shoulders. Sam made a pleased little sound that quickly became embarrassed—you scooped up his face and started smushing noisy kisses everywhere you could reach. Sam pretended to squirm and groan for your benefit, but he was a lousy actor. Just a few kisses melted him like butter. 

As he relaxed, so did you. Sam wrapped a loose hand around your wrist, and you gave him one more deep kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Sammy.”

“So that’s where this is coming from,” Sam realized. He started scrubbing sleepily at his eyes, sighing and laughing without humor, “God, I didn’t even know it was May.”

You hid your evil smile in Sam’s hair. “So… I take it I beat your brother to saying it first?”

“You did,” Sam confirmed. Just by hearing his voice you knew he had on that small, dopey smile that he reserved only for you.

“Fuck yeah,” You hiss in victory. You put on a whole show to get a laugh out of him, pumping your fist and salsaing in a happy circle.

A few tired chuckles seep out of your boyfriend. He sounds beyond exhausted, and you’ve got it so bad for him that just that makes your heart throb with sympathy. Feeling stupid and in love and obsessed with him, you fall down into the closest empty seat and take Sam’s hand, wishing more than anything that the whole world would throw him a party. He deserved so much more than what this shitty world ever gave him. Even the small gift you’d managed to pull together for him didn’t feel like enough.

“I have two gifts for the birthday boy,” you tell him, holding up two important fingers. “Do you want to open them both right now?”

Sam has had a sum total of two good birthdays in his entire life, so he props a hand on his thigh and shrugs. He’s never been very eager to make a thing out of May 2nd. “Whatever you wanna do.”

You make a sound like an incorrect gameshow buzzer. “Wrong! Birthday boy makes the decisions today.”

There it is. Sam cracks an even bigger, shier smile, sinking into his seat a little bit. “Okay, okay,” he relents, “...Can I open them now?”

“Of course you can,” you flirt, and start to feel around under the table. It is your greatest joy in life to mess with Sam, and for a moment you’re flooded with that joy when you find the gift with your hand, pull it loose from where you taped it, and slap it onto the table.

Sam’s face blooms with amused disbelief. He’s been grinding away at these books for hours, and of course, his birthday gift was right under his nose this entire time. “You masterminded all of this, didn’t you?” He guesses, smile growing, “Is the second one under my chair? Behind my ear or something?”

“Close,” you admit, and gesture him in. Dutiful as ever, Sam listens, only to be pulled into a deep, loving kiss. “She’s right here,” you murmur.

It’s a really dorky gift to give him, but more than anything you want this day to be special for him. Underneath all the teasing attitude you’re throwing around, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to do something for him, to make up for the myriad of shitty birthdays he’s survived, and the strength of it could pulverize every monster in the whole damn state. A content hum drains out of him. You kiss him like you could squeeze the fear out of him with your hands, curling your fingers through the tufts of hair at his neck and stroking his scalp.

When you draw back, Sam’s face is bright red. He gives you this bashful look like he’s never in a million years been kissed like that, and instead of getting smug, you just feel plain happy. “I love it,” Sam confesses, “That’s the best birthday gift I’ve ever been given.”

You’re sure that’s not a tough race to beat, but hey, it’s nice to hear. Sam gives your hand a sweet squeeze before scooping your actual, physical gift off the kitchen table. The gift-wrapping resources at Bobby’s house were pretty lacking, so you got creative with some paper bags, twine, and markers, wrapping your gift in the paper and then drawing stars all over it. Sam stares at it for so long that you consider making fun of him, but even the stupid impromptu wrapping paper you came up with is something he’s never had before. You’d kind of hoped that he’d just tear into it, but Sam takes the time to carefully untie your twine knot to keep the paper intact, his long fingers moving delicately along the string.

Packed inside the paper is a set of envelopes. They have teen-you written all over them, from the color of the envelopes, the glitter pen your decorated them with, and the old stickers all over the sides. Some are creased and folded awkwardly, others have smeared pen and peeling stickers. Every single one has Sam’s name written on one side.

“This is your handwriting,” he notices, curious. “...What are these?”

“These,” you enunciate, trying to contain your excitement for his reaction, “are all the love letters I wrote for you in high school.”

Pure delight slowly transforms Sam’s face. His jaw drops, and the second he realizes the absolute treasure trove of glorious teenage embarrassment he’s holding, he slaps the letters protectively to his chest. “No—way,” he gapes, eyes sparkling. “No. There’s no way. There’s no way in hell you’d ever just give me such quality blackmail material like this.”

But you did, because for whatever reason you’re totally into this loser. Those letters are full of the cringiest, sappiest writing one can possibly imagine, back when you’d convinced yourself you were a poetry-writing god and were utterly obsessed with Sam. (Well. Some things never change, but). The two of you hadn’t started dating until much later, so you figured he’d love to see just how long he’s been driving you insane. And, yeah. Blackmail material. If anyone else but Sam ever read these, the galactic weight of your embarrassment would instantly blink you out of existence.

“That’s how much I love you,” you tell him, shrugging. That simple.

The biggest, dorkiest grin takes up his whole face, and you force yourself to relax, happy to know you’ve at least given him this one thing. Without hesitation, he fishes the first letter out of the pile and carefully peels it open. The actual letter is on plain notebook paper, and, to Sam’s utter delight, is also penned in glitter. 

He clears his throat and reads the heading. “Ooh. March 6th, 1998.” His smirk is a little too evil for your liking, “We would’ve been in… tenth grade?”

You shove your face in your hands and groan.

“Dear Sam,” he says, in a high, girly voice. You smack him on the shoulder for the shitty impression of you, which just makes the laughter splitting his sides even louder. “Today, I saw Mandy talking to you by your locker—”

“Oh god.”

“She doesn’t even try to hide her stupid crush on you,” Sam reads, biting back giggles. “At least I’m subtle about it.”

Not true. You were not at all subtle about it. God, this is torture… But it’s been a long time since you’ve heard Sam sound this happy.

“I swear, Sammy, I wanted to punch her lights out so bad. She doesn’t even know you, or your family, or what we’re all really like.” Sam throws you a mean little smile at this next part, “Nobody knows you like I do.”

He loves to fuck with you just as much as you love to fuck with him, so, of course, this sends Sam into a full-body fit. He’s bent over the table wheezing for breath just a couple minutes later. You try to hold on to your shame, you really do, but he’s just too damn cute. Sam never laughs like this anymore.

You stuff your blazing hot face into his shoulder, pouting. “Are you happy, now that you’ve humiliated me?”

Sam slouches back in his chair, his whole face bright with humor. He’s so happy that he pulls you out of your chair and loops you into his lap, where you can feel every bit of his bassy laughter seeping through your back. A big, long arm seals around your waist and keeps you close to him, and while you’re distracted by his warmth and hands and cologne, he’s trapped you.

“I am,” Sam confesses, and it’s even more embarrassing how your whole body floods with butterflies. “Think you could keep reading these to me? I wanna hear them in your voice.”

Pfft. Okay. Whatever. With his stupid cute face. “Sam…” I warn.

“Authenticity! And hey,” he budges you, “I thought the birthday boy makes the decisions today?”

You make a face, just to remind him who he’s testing here. But he’s giving you the same pretty, boyish smile you wrote about in these letters a hundred times, the tension in his body gone, and the whole world is quiet just for the two of you. And yeah, it is his fucking birthday.

Sighing, you find the spot where Sam left off. He thanks you with some kisses to your shoulder that make you consider writing poetry about him all over again, and the two of you snuggle close.

“Sleep with both eyes open, Mandy Davis, you punk ass bitch. I know where you live!”

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[lokischocolatefountain]

Mercy

My entry for the Haunted Hoedown created by @inklore and @psychedelic-ink. Day 7- stranded au or slasher / summer camp au + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Major character death, stranded in the woods, post apocalyptic life, non con, mentions of previous experiences of non con, suicidal reader)

Summary: Stranded alone in the woods and left to die, all you can ask of Joel Miller is the mercy of a quick death. He is willing to give it to you, but he needs something for himself as well.

A/N: It’s another Joel Miller weekend here at lokischocolatefountain. I have a husband!Javi locked and loaded, ready to go. But Joel demand my attention once again for the haunted hoedown. So Javi has to wait another week.

You were safe.

Well, safe from the men who had captured you. But other dangers awaited. If you were lucky, it would just be starvation, an encounter with a wild animal or a fucking heart attack. But you didn’t think your good luck would stretch that far. You were already that the raiders who killed and raided the belongings of the men who captured you did not seem interested in you. It was a goddamn miracle.

Ropes bound your arms behind your back and your legs to each other. Either the ropes were tied too tight or you had become weaker over the past ten days of captivity. They didn’t have much food to spare you. Only the small pieces of rotting meat that they fed to you on the condition that you suck their cocks.

It wasn’t as though you had a choice when tied up the way you were. There were other women held captive with you- younger, prettier, less willing to comply and more appealing to the men as they liked a challenge. You were one of the older models, beaten ragged by life both before and after the world fell apart. For them, a woman was a woman. No matter how broken you were, there was always more to break. No matter your age or how fucking crazy you’d gone from survival, you had a pair of tits and three holes. For most men, it was more than they could dream of. For you, separated from your group and all alone, it was the only thing you could barter.

Now there was no need for any of it. You would decay on the ground along with the fallen leaves and the blood you’d spilled when the men cut through your clothes. The last of the women after another one decayed just a couple feet away from you. Yours was a fate better than the girls who were taken away by the raiders. Experience had taught you that. The last time you’d been in the hands of such a group, you were younger. They used you to their heart’s content and then sold you to a man for a good price- a whole goat, a bag of rice, a record player and a couple of vinyls, and a leather jacket. Pretty good stuff. If you had to valuate yourself now, you’d probably go for a small fraction of that- maybe just the leather jacket.

You would no longer go for the same price. You no longer had the strength to kill the man who purchased you like you were just a thing.

You swallowed, your throat aching for water. But all you got was the piercing pain of a hundred jagged pebbles scratching your throat. One of the factoids from an old encyclopedia popped up in your head: It takes x days for dehydration to cause death. Unfortunately, your brain hadn’t thought to pay more attention to the number, leaving you with no information.

What you knew was that it took one day of dehydration to wish for death.

Daylight withered away and darkness descended in the woods, matching the darkness of your thoughts. In the pitch black night with no stars or even a sliver of the moon, whether your eyes were open or closed did not matter. In the times before, it was advised for women to return home before nightfall. As though danger only lurked in darkness. As though men did not behave atrociously in broad daylight. Shaking on the ground from the cold, dehydrated, near death, your biggest fear was still man.

It was why the snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves under a heavy footfall struck more fear in you than the sight of the infected ever did. Man.

Measured. Careful. Not infected. Man.

He could just be passing by.

It could’ve been delusions inspired by dehydration and starvation, but the footsteps sounded just a little louder as the seconds passed. He was getting closer.

Joel Miller didn’t know, but your body already played to his beat, your heartbeats responding to the sound of his footsteps. Pills from Atlanta passed on to him from his contact rested in his backpack, the currency with the highest value in the QZ. His hand itched to take one pill for himself. Just one. The nightmares of losing his child flashed before his eyes even before he could succumb to the weariness of the journey and sleep. A pill would help.

Don’t get high on your own supply.

He needed to be at his best state of mind since he was traveling alone now, his companion having been taken out by a clicker on their journey. But God was it tempting.

Darkness enveloped the woods. The moon and stars had abandoned Earth for the night, afraid that if they shone their light on the land, they’d see its haunting wreckage. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but it still played tricks on him. For a second, he believed he might have seen a figure move on the ground.

Leaves rustled and crunched beneath his feet. His hands immediate grabbed the gun he had at the ready, the muzzle pointed to the ground. It hit something— someone, he realized when it gasped.

“Please,” your low, shaky voice begged. “Please shoot me.”

He would’ve thought he misheard. Who’d ask to be shot when threatened with a gun? But such was the world in which they’d lived. Death was sometimes more desirable than whatever horrors life had to offer. Joel had survived, somehow. Violence and the sheer human instinct for self preservation kept him around until now, even a decade and a half after the collapse of society.

He brought a lighter close to the ground and lit it, the little golden flame illuminating your bloodied and bruised. He noticed that your arms were bound behind your back and legs tied together at your ankles.

Joel understood you didn’t have long. A day maybe. Longer if you were fed and hydrated. He himself was not interested in charity. If someone else happened by you and you were able to convince them to toss you a piece of bread… But you didn’t want charity. You asked for his bullet, not sustenance.

Bullets didn’t grow on trees.

“Good news. You’ll be dead by daybreak.”

“Please,” you whimpered in a low gravelly voice, mustering up all your energy to beg for this small act of mercy.

You hadn’t asked for his precious rations or water. Only that he finish you off with the weapon he pointed at you. He dropped his belongings somewhere in the vicinity, not bothering to dignify your request with a response.

Joel lied down on the ground in the vicinity in a sleeping bag, his pack serving as a pillow. Sleep did not come easy. He merely rested his eyes, his sense attuned to his surroundings even when he was meant to rest.

When the sun rose, he rolled his sleeping bag and set it inside a hollow tree before heading to the pond nearby. He returned, having washed up, ready to resume his journey back to the QZ. Curious about you, he went to the site where you were last night.

“Please,” you begged once again. “Before you leave. Please.”

He nudged you with his boot, your weakening body rolling to the side and giving him a good view. One bullet. But what a waste of a good body. He could help you in return for something for himself. There was a brothel in the QZ, of course. The oldest profession carried on right under FEDRA’s nose. They pretended to not notice. Sometimes, they’d conduct a raid and arrest some women under the guise of maintaining the law. An excuse for the FEDRA guys to have the women for themselves for the night.

Joel did not indulge in such services. He didn’t see the point in spending precious ration cards just to get off. His spit and left hand were enough for him to get by. But you were free of cost.

“Since you asked so nicely…” he drawled, withdrawing his knife from its holster. He sliced through the ropes that bound your ankles together. You didn’t know his intentions though you’d come to expect it from men over the years. If he wanted to take advantage, he surely would’ve gone ahead with it last night. Sure, Joel hadn’t intended it at first. But now that you were available…

Reliable contraception had died with the world. Too risk averse in this specific matter, he’s contented himself with the rare blowjob. Pussy was a delicacy he hadn’t had in a while. You didn’t protest as he tore your pants off of you, finding skin beneath.

“Be good and I might just kill you in the end, darlin’…” he promised and you spread your legs, cooperating, being good so he would consider it. You didn’t know when the next person would pass by this place. Even if someone did before you could die a slow death, there was no assurance that they’d kill you rather than prolong your miserable existence.

“Wha’s your name?”

“Joel.”

Joel. Joel brought a damp cloth to your face, wiping the blood and dirt off you. It was…strange. It felt as though you were being taken care of. It wasn’t the case of course. But it felt good to believe he was taking care of you. It was the first bit of humanity you’d experienced in a very long time.

The blade slipped under your half torn t-shirt, cutting up the fabric that had done a poor job so far of giving you any dignity. His large hand roamed your now naked torso. Calluses caught on your somehow soft skin. The sensation was the first pleasant thing you’d felt in a long time. You attempted unconsciously to lean into his touch, but your weakness kept you glued to the ground. Even the cold blade of his knife felt good. You’d gone mad, surely. This was definitely a stage of delusion caused by your dehydration and starvation.

He cupped your cheek and leaned down, capturing your lips with his. It was as though you’d forgotten to kiss. The men who took interest in you were less concerned with making use of your lips for a kiss. If Joel had put his cock between them, you would’ve known better what to do. It seemed he’d also forgotten. He wasn’t kissing you. He bit and sucked and devoured.

Your hands were still tied behind you. They dug into your back. But it didn’t hurt as much as Joel’s hand supping your tits. Even the animals who last had you under their control were gentler than this. But you weren’t too offended. It hurt. But there would be sweet death at the end of all this pain. So you embraced it fully, letting out nothing but a little whimper as a sign that you were at all affected by his touch.

Even in your state of near death, you could tell that he was a handsome man. Grey interspersed black curls on his head. Patchy beard hid rugged, sun damaged skin. His aquiline nose would’ve inspired sinful thoughts in you had you been further away from death. In a normal world, he would’ve been getting a drink at a bar and you would’ve noticed him.

Joel spit on his hand and rubbed it around on your dry cunt. With his thumb and forefinger, he parted your cunt lips before inserting his middle finger. Inch by painful inch, he penetrated your unwilling body that was attached to a very willing mind. There was no water left to be spared to wetten your cunt for the man.

“C-cut me,” you suggested, desiring the penetration to be smoother. If this was the last time you got to be fucked, it wouldn’t hurt to hurt a little to enjoy the last few minutes on the mortal plane. “Bl-blood.”

He seemed to understand your weak implication. You hissed as the sharp edge of his knife cut through the top layers of your skin. Red blood oozed out and he swept his hand over it, collecting the blood and smearing it over your cunt. He slipped a finger inside you, lubricating your hole with your own blood.

He knelt over you, his knees on either side of your body. Then he unzipped his jeans, the teeth of the zipper making a scratching metal sound. He was a good length, girth and veiny. He stroked himself as he stared at your bloodied hole.

Fucking a dying woman using her own blood as lube. Of all the messed up things he had done, this was easily on the top ten. Not that he maintained an actual list. Despite her decrepit state, she looked welcoming with her legs spread out and eyes on his cock. He bent your legs at your knees, your body pliant in its weakness. You were a thing of rare beauty in his journey. Nature had reclaimed its place, growing between abandoned cars and splitting into giant overpasses. This, you, were another part of nature to him.

Woman, all beautiful in your vulnerability, laid out to be claimed.

He guided his cock between your legs and forced himself in. Red lube you’d given up for him to use on you coated his cock, reminding him of the violence of his desire. He twitched inside you as he pushed in, a perverse sort of excitement stimulating him.

He brought the knife up to your neck and rested the blunt edge against your throat. You gulped. Your eyes widened. Your breaths quickened. Your cunt clenched around his cock and Oh God how divine you felt this way.

You’d asked for death, practically begged for it. But fear was not something you could prevent. Your wretched mortal body was programmed with the foolishness of wanting to stay alive.

“Been so long,” he muttered when he bottomed out inside you. Though you’d had many men inside you, it’d been long since any stretched you out so good. You took a deep breath and wished you had your hands free. You were overcome by a sudden urge to touch him. To run you hands down his sturdy arms and solid chest. It’d been so long since you wished.

“Good?” You asked, squeezing his cock. He smiled and bent forward to kiss you. Your lips, your chin, along your jaw. It was tender. Too tender for sex in the woods with your clothes torn off and your thigh bleeding into the soil.

He began to move, pulling out just a little before pushing back in. He savored it. After all, this could be his last chance at a cunt for a very long time. He grabbed on to your tits to use as handles, making you squeeze around him. Your lips let out a painful little whine, but he didn’t feel guilty. What bad did a little more pain do? You were going to die anyway. If you weren’t making use of your tits and cunt, at least he could enjoy them.

“So good…” he praised and you responded in kind, thrusting back weakly. “Yeah? You like that, cunt?” He asked, using the crude word in place of your name. He didn’t even know your name. But Cunt was appropriate for the purpose you served. You nodded. “I really struck gold in the fucking woods of all places, huh.”

“Good cunt,” he praised, the words shooting straight into said body part.

“Feelin’ good?”

You nodded, unable to say much else under the assault of the sensations. You didn’t have to for he claimed your lips once again in a kiss. He was better this time and so were you. Your lips stayed connected with his just like your pussy with his cock, devouring each other in desperation for a taste of something good in all the wretchedness.

Joel’s cock drilled into you. Merciless, fast, painful. All you knew before was hunger and suffering. With him, it had all disappeared. It was just Joel now. He consumed you, turning you from a discarded body passed from one raider to the other to Good Cunt. You liked the sound of those words on his lips.

“Just like that, Cunt,” he hissed as you milked his cock, your thighs cramping as your muscles contracted. Something pulled somewhere and you screamed in pain and your cunt tightened for him. Warm cum spilled inside you, the sensation a distracting relief in the midst of the pain.

Tears slipped down the sides of your face, cooling your skin.

“Did well. Did so well, Cunt,” he praised as he tucked himself back inside. He hadn’t felt so good in forever. Such a relief. Such an unburdening of stress and anxiety over his smuggling and its chances of success. He zipped himself up and bent over to retrieve his weapons.

“How do you want to go?” He asked, weighing the gun in one hand and knife in another as he looked down at your debauched body.

You made your choice, thanked him for his mercy and closed your eyes.

.

.

.

My Masterlist

[roseaesynstylae]

So, the idea of the Bad Batch (minus Echo, plus Emerie) being the other half of the Nulls has consumed my goddamn mind. Therefore, as you do when an idea takes up residence in your frontal lobe for the foreseeable future, here's some headcanons.

The Bad Batch (except for Echo and Omega, who have no clue what's going on) hate the Nulls. As in, "murder on sight" hate them. From an in-universe perspective, there could be a myriad of reasons, ranging from feelings of abandonment to resentment over them having a better life. From a writer's standpoint, it's because I love me some good old familial dysfunction and angst.

The more...unhinged...tendencies the Nulls are known for manifests in the Bad Batch more as "let's jump off this cliff and use explosives to direct our fall!" and less as "hey, check out my new skin gloves!" Of course, if you push them too far, it's a different story. In order of least to most likely to pull a "lemme turn you into an art installation," it's Omega, Wrecker, Hunter, Crosshair, and Tech. Omega wouldn't do that, at least not at this point in her life. Wrecker, when enraged, goes for the just-hit-them solution. Hunter's a decent human being and usually wouldn't do something like that...Unless his kid's been kidnapped by a crazy Imperial doctor for the fifteenth time, on which point he starts becoming a little deranged. Crosshair hovers close to the line but wouldn't do it to someone unprovoked. Tech is a special case, in that he has to be pushed, but when he is, the results make the rest of the Nulls go "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST."

The Nulls want to reunite with their lost siblings and build a relationship, but that's kind of hard to do when said siblings (except Omega) keep trying to kill them on sight and none of them were built for intricate and deeply complicated emotional issues. Still, they persist. Eventually, they could probably get to the level of "awkward conversations" but it'll take a lot of work.

The Bad Batch have what makes the Nulls superior to regular clone troopers, plus their unique enhancements (which in this version are less defects and more Nala Se picking an attribute for each of them and cranking it up to 11). They feel that it makes them better than the Nulls, something they're not shy about expressing.

Emerie is the same height as her estranged (I can't think of a word that applies to this specific situation but this one will do) brothers, because I stan a tall queen.

Nala Se is smug as hell whenever she sees Orun Wa. "CT-9904 just broke all records for accuracy, CT-9902 discovered a new element, CT-9903 crushed beskar like it was paper, and CT-9901 tracked a man through five systems and a solar storm. What are your clones doing, again?"

There is no understating the sheer "wtf" that goes through the Nulls' heads when they first see Omega. But, of course, this is Omega. Imagine the cutest image of her you've seen, fanart or canon. That's what the Nulls see when they meet her. Unsurprisingly, the Nulls, who got the Mandalorian gene to adopt anything that isn't nailed down, go from "wtf" to "so smol 🥰" in roughly a minute.

Kal Skirata is in the corner. His attempt to interact with the Bad Batch did not go well. He casually calls Hunter "son," as he does with various characters, and the resulting explosion puts a thermal detonator to shame. Since it's clear that his presence is not making things better, he's sort of just in the corner.

The rest of Clan Skirata, and associates, are staying out of this. Gilamar and Vau took one look and retreated to the bar because they know better than to get involved. Everyone else witnessed one of the less acrimonious encounters and collectively decided that they are not jumping into the emotional equivalent of a pit of rabid wolverines.

Echo is the go-between. He does not want to be the go-between. But he's the only neutral party in this thing aside from Omega, and the rest of the Batch don't trust the Nulls with her.

Spare a though for 99. He raised four of these guys, often with the aid of leashes. Truly, he is an unsung hero of the Clone Wars

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Chase (Evil Reptilian)

For @turbulentscrawl who knows im trying to feed us professor scalie food fvnjfonjfvjn

Rated Mature | Warnings: Hunter/prey kink

Sometimes new places are somehow created and never announced until after a match. Everyone on that team just wakes up there.

You look around as you are placed outside of what looks like a college entrance. The first thing you notice, your clothes are different. A lab coat with goggles on your head like a headband, large black lab gloves, shiny black pants, and luckily decent long boots. You are always amazed when any of the lady survivors flywheel in heels.

When you look at your reflection through the glass door of the entrance, you almost laugh! The costume looks so stereotypical of a mad scientist costume! All you are missing is crazy hair with a white streak.

“(Name)!” You turn to see Lucky Guy dressed in a varsity jacket and the rest of his usual clothes, “You got changed too!”

“Yeah,” He sounds excited but thankfully not loud. “Did you see the others yet?”

He shakes his head, “Here,” Tossing you a flashlight, “Found a chest nearby. I'll go check the football field for a cipher.”

“Do you recognize this place?”

“Yeah, my old college. That building,” Pointing to the one you are in front of, “That's the science building.”

The sound of the bell going off cuts the conversation short. The cheerleader got hit.

“Shit.” You both say before going two different paths to find a cipher.

Cheerleader chaired first, rescued by Lucky Guy. Lucky Guy used a perfume. The cheerleader found Mind’s Eye and got healed. Lucky Guy was kiting Evil Reptilian until he was terror-shocked. You saved Lucky Guy by using the flashlight, but now the lizard man is after you.

One cipher was found and completed by you during this mess.

The part that is most intense when it comes to hunters like Evil Reptilian-- Luchino-- is how Jurassic fucking part this feels when you hear him behind the door of the classroom you are hiding in. His claws scraped against the floor and his tail swayed and sometimes knocked into things in the hallway. You hate it, the way your heart races as you have to carefully move behind a lab table as the door is thrown open and the large creature bends down to enter through the doorway.

You can see him through the glass cabinet above the wall, you grip the dying flashlight in your hand as he jumps onto one of the other tables to survey the room.

He can smell you, his tongue sticking out more accurately, the mix of your scent and the faint scent of his counterpart. When in matches with you both, he cannot sometimes pinpoint who is who, likely a trick the professor uses to have the lizard go for him first.

A flex, as you say, would be another way to put it given both are possessive of you.

The second he leaps forward you flash the light in his eyes causing him to crash into the cabinet wall giving you time to run out of the room.

A cipher pops when you are in the hallway running for your life!

“Why can't you be normal!?” Shouting as you run and dodge a swipe of the machete meant to hit your back, “Stop that!” You make a sharp turn just as he tries to jump in front of you to block your path.

“Saying that will not stop— Agh!” You threw the broken flashlight at him but he blocked it with his arm, “Haha!” The laugh that follows makes you jolt quickly knowing better than to stand around like a deer in the headlights.

The predator chasing the prey adds to his excitement, the palette you drop does nothing but get him closer. Your flywheel helps you try your next plan as you remove your lab coat and vault through a window into another classroom. A burner is on as it makes whatever is in these glasses of various shapes and sizes burn.

“Back off!” You burn your coat and use it to keep him at a distance.

It is always fun going against you, this will of yours to live never dying down, snatches the coat out of your hands but you start throwing the mysterious chemicals-filled glasses around not giving a damn.

The mindset of: “If I am going out I'm taking you with me” is admirable.

Luchino can smell it is just water and food coloring, nothing harmful else he would have panicked. Not only for himself but for you too.

Though he is hunting you, you are still important to him.

A cut across your chest ripping into clothing and flesh, he is doing his job and you fight as expected of you.

Wounded. You didn't use that ability to give yourself a second wind.

He can taste your blood and sweat, the fear though is lacking. Good, he prefers you to be brave.

Two ciphers are remaining and you are getting tired, you found a syringe though when Evil Reptilian lost you for a second in the basement level. He downed you but you used your ability to get back up.

It will be a long while before you can use it again and hopefully by then the ciphers and exit gate will be open.

Hoping as he has the advantage of jumping here in this odd basement.

Did Mad Eyes make this!? You have to be careful not to get snagged by something or the steam from the boiler disorienting you.

Scraping of claws on metal is freaking you out and fear is finally kicking in. Fear makes you… Not so smart and you scream when you fall and feel yourself get lifted and then tossed into something. It was like being a ragdoll for a brief moment. You fight to get out of this weird placement in the wall but all it gets you is the attention of the hunter on the other side.

You jerk when his large hand grabs your leg and attempts to pull you out of the hole in the wall.

“This is stupid!” Stupid and the making of a bad joke. “Luchino help!” Because you do not like this and if anyone is going not be weird about this it would be him.

You think.

He tries again by tugging from your waist but stops when all that does is make the device keeping you in this strange wall tighten.

“There may not be a way for me to force you out.” You hear him say while his hand shifts to your back just above your ass. Being bent over with no way to look behind you is making you very aware of what is touching you.

“You don't sound too worried about it.” You kick at him when his claw tugs as the waistband of your pants.

“Why should I? You can remain here while I deal with your teammates.”

Shit. You try getting out of this but all that does is give the Evil Reptilian a show of your ass wiggling in front of him.

Tempting.

Would not be the first time he had you, comes with the territory of your relationship with his counterpart. Shared emotions and all. You do not mind, the first time it scared you naturally but you are a very adaptive little human with the bravery of a creature ten times his size. Sometimes you should keep that in check, though hunting you would be no fun if you gave up without a fight. You are no deer, nor rabbit, you are like a snake. Hissing as a warning with your commentary and striking with an object when the warning is ignored. Though he knows you are not above actually biting as once he heard Ithaqua ask the other hunters if ever a survivor has ever bitten them.

“Luchino?” You call out to him, “You know…” His eyes narrow at the way your legs part a bit, enough to hit your intentions, “You could chair me after we explore a little something.” Being cute with your voice as this is not the first time you gave yourself to him during a match. Not like it often, you do have pride but you are also one to do when he least expects to throw him off.

There is a ripping sound, you squealing, and metal being scratched into by claws.

[it-was-too-cold-always]

We're Not in CW Anymore - 6

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

The reader gets blasted into another universe - one where Sam and Dean Winchester are real people, real hunters, and really fucked up. To her surprise (or horror), Dean has been getting glimpses of her life in his dreams and is completely enamored with her. It's nothing like the cable-friendly CW show that she knows and loves.

Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: language, violence

Chapter 6: The Family Business

“Dean, that’s not a fucking ghost!” you yelled. “It’s Family Remains!” you said as if that would explain the situation.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean yelled back, shooting you a look of confusion. Before you could reply, the psycho girl pulled a knife out from her pocket and bolted towards Sam.

“Everyone to the shed!” you commanded, ushering the family out the front door. Surely the boys could handle a little girl with a knife, you told yourself. You were saving people, they were hunting things. The family business, right?

You practically shoved the family into the shed and took a headcount – the son was missing.

“Danny? Where’s Danny? Oh my god, where’s my son?” the mom sobbed, bolting to the door. You quickly grabbed her and put your hands on her shoulders, preventing her from leaving.

“Listen to me, your son is okay,” you said, knowing exactly where he was – the demon kids have him tied up underneath the house. You definitely remember that part. “You’re going to have to trust me. They won’t hurt him. I promise,” you said firmly. You sat her down on a bench and rubbed her back. “I know it’s hard, but we’re safer together. Once Sam and Dean get back, we’re going to get your son.” You got up from the bench and walked towards the door. “I’m going to stand guard. Stay put,” you instructed. The authority in your voice surprised you. Look at you, being brave. Maybe you could do this hunting stuff after all.

You waited outside for what felt like forever, every rustle from the bushes causing you to jump out of your skin. Finally you saw Sam and Dean run out the front door towards you. Thank god. Dean put his hand protectively on the small of your back and guided you into the shed. He stood close to you, looking over his shoulder to see if the girl followed them outside.

“Okay Y/N, time to explain,” Sam said, shutting the shed door behind him.

“Okay so this is Family Remains – my favorite episode, remember? I told you about it at the diner. What killed the old man wasn’t a ghost, it was his granddaughter, who literally lives in the walls of the house. Well, granddaughter/daughter, he was a nasty man. Anyways, it’s not a ghost, there’s a boy and girl who live in the walls and underneath the house. They’re crazy, completely removed from the world, and out for blood. They have the son tied up under the house. There’s a spot in the kitchen that we can open up and get right to him,” you explained. “How’d it go with the girl?” you asked, noticing the blood spatter on their clothes.

“She won’t be a problem anymore,” Dean said. It sent a shiver down your spine – the man you were warming up to just stabbed a little girl to death. A crazy ass killer little girl, but still. Her blood was all over his flannel.

“Okay well the brother is still a threat. And he’s probably pissed we just killed his sister,” Sam said. “Y/N, what’s the plan? What happens next?”

“Well first we have to open up that spot in the kitchen wall. Dean, you go down there while Sam and the dad make a rope out of sheets. All your guns are down with the son, so you’ll be able to neutralize the brother,” you explain. “He’s going to come for you, so you have to watch out. But he’s never seen the light of day, so shine a flashlight in his face. It should stun him long enough for you to grab a gun.”

Dean nods, turning to Sam. “Well, Sammy, sounds like we’ve got a plan.”

As you walked back to the house, your stomach did flips. You hoped to god you were right. In the actual episode, the mom kills the girl. Does this change things, now that Dean had already killed her? Is this reality different? Maybe the son wasn’t safe like you promised. The thought made you want to vomit.

Sam made quick work of opening up the drywall in the kitchen. Immediately the smell of rotting flesh wafted into the room. It made you want to gag. You covered your mouth and nose with your hand to get some relief from that rancid smell. Sam and Dean seemed unphased.

“Jesus christ, that’s disgusting! Do you smell that?” the dad exclaimed.

“Every goddamn day,” Sam said flatly, setting down the hammer.

You turned your gaze to Dean, fear welling up inside you. He was about to go right into the danger pit, and you weren’t entirely sure he’d make it out alive. His eyes met yours and it felt like he could read your mind.

“Am I about to die? Because you’re looking at me like I’m about to die,” Dean said, a little amusement in his voice. He clearly did not share the same concern you did.

“No, I’m just…this is going a little different than the episode. I’m worried other things will be different too,” you said solemnly. “Please, be careful.”

“Sweetheart, I’m always careful,” he said, leaning in to peck your cheek. “Just another day at the office.” He shot you a wink before lowering himself into the hole in the wall. “Please nobody grab my leg, please nobody grab my leg,” you could hear him say. Even in the face of danger, he was making you smile.

The silence that followed was painful. Unlike in the show, you couldn’t see what was happening. You busied yourself with the sheets, tying them together as securely as you could. The sound of two gunshots made you jump. You looked over at Sam, who gave you a look of reassurance. They do this every day, you told yourself. Dean’s a big boy, he can handle himself.

Danny’s shouts from the hole in the wall made you spring into action – thankfully you had just finished tying up the last sheet onto your makeshift rope. Sam and the dad quickly pulled the boy up. As the father and son embraced, Sam shouted down into the wall, “Dean! Get your ass over here!”

Several beats of silence passed before you heard Dean’s gruff voice shout back, “Sammy, knock off the attitude! I’m grabbing all our shit. Those kleptos threw everything down here.”

You let out a sigh of relief – he was okay. He was good enough to be snarky and irritated.

By the time the family was fully reunited in the shed (minus the dog), the sun was starting to rise. Dean turned to Sam, rubbing his hands together.

“Bodies or tires first?” he asked. You blinked – what did he just ask?

“Bodies. I hate changing tires,” Sam replied. “Y/N, grab a shovel. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go the fuck to sleep.”

The boys shoveled into the hard soil with ease. You, however, were struggling. Dean, sensing your frustration, suggested you grab the lighter fluid from the car. You were more than happy to do so. You practically skipped to the driveway. When you came back, the 6-foot hole was almost done.

“Grab the girl, I’ll go get the boy,” Sam told you.

“Absolutely not. I’ll grab the girl. Y/N stays here,” Dean snapped.

“Someone’s gotta finish digging this hole, Dean,” Sam replied.

“It’s fine, I gotta pull my weight,” you jumped in, though you were not entirely sure. Would you be able to handle carrying a dead body? Not only mentally but physically? You were about to find out.

Making your way into the living room, you saw the lifeless body of the little girl slumped in the middle of the room. Taking a deep breath, you squatted down and picked her up bridal style. It was rough at first – she was heavier, dirtier, and smellier than she looked. Once you were able to stand up, it was easier.

As you approached the hole, you saw Sam leaning up against a tree, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. Just another day at the office. From the hole, Dean reached his arms out to take the body from you. The boy was already laying down there next to Dean’s feet. Dean put the girl down next to her brother, and with a ridiculous amount of agility, hopped out of the hole. Sam dumped salt and squirted the lighter fluid generously into the grave and set it alight. Dean sat on the ground, catching his breath from jumping out of the grave. Sam chuckled at a video he was watching on his phone. Their casual demeanor really took you off guard.

“Um, I got the tires,” the dad shouted from the side of the house. You could sense his hesitancy from here. You don’t blame him. Who would want to approach the two massive men who just lit two dead bodies on fire?

With a frustrated groan, Dean got up from the ground. “You can do the car and U-Haul. I’ll do the Impala. I don’t trust your grubby little hands with her,” Dean said to Sam.

It didn’t take long for them to put the new tires on the vehicles. The mother repeatedly thanked you, giving you countless hugs and crying about how you saved her baby. Despite how you felt about the two kids that you just helped salt and burn, you were very grateful that the family was okay. You supposed that, overall, this was a win.

The three of you couldn’t decide on a place to eat, so Dean took it upon himself to pull into the nearest burger joint. Sam shot him a look, and he shrugged. “I’m sure they have some sort of salad here. Quit whining.” Dean, of course, ordered a bacon cheeseburger, Sam got the only salad on the menu, and you opted for a BLT. The food arrived quickly, and the boys immediately dived in.

As you took a bite of your sandwich, the images of the dead little girl flashed in your mind. Her face was sunken, eyes wide open, frozen in horror. Her final moments were pure fear. Your heart clenched in your chest. This poor girl lived a miserable life. Did she even have a name? Your stomach did flips as you thought about it. Suddenly you weren’t very hungry.

Dean watched you as you set down your sandwich and pushed your plate away. He tried handing you his burger. “Want mine?” he asked, as if the issue was with the BLT and not the horrific night you endured. You shook your head.

“How do you guys do this? All the smells and the gore, and you’re chowing down only hours later. Doesn’t it disturb you?” you asked. They shrugged and continued eating.

“You get used to it after a while,” Sam replied. “Sure, there are still some situations that will make me lose my appetite, but it’s rare these days.”

“But…you killed two kids today. And the smell of their flesh burning…it was awful. You aren’t bothered by it at all?” You couldn’t believe they could treat this like any other day. They were so nonchalant about it.

“Decomposing flesh burning – now that’s a smell that’ll bother me,” Dean said with a mouthful of food.

You looked at him in disbelief. But then it dawned on you – to them, this IS any other day. The horrors you witnessed today were something they see every damn day. The smells, the screams, the tragedy. Your soulmate was a hardened killer.

Tags 💛

@5tud10-54r4h  @deans-spinster-witch @nelachu2423 @nancymcl @nelachu2423 @ghxul-x @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @verypostcrown @thej2report @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @lino-se @pycobutterpie @beforethepen @pizzagirlxnsfwx @globetrotter28

[buckybarnesss]

Where did this idea that Chris Argent is the one Argent who cares about the code come from? He's just as bad as his wife, who wants to murder Scott for existing.

I feel like I have a completely different understanding of this that everyone else does. I like him BECAUSE he's a weak-willed jellyfish of a man. He follows orders, there's not much kindness left in him and it's only directed at his daughter. He's a liar who enjoys tormenting teenagers - he was willing to kill Derek and Scott even though he knew they hadn't killed anyone.

The entire point of the Argents is this corrupt family structure. "Women are leaders" they say, as they lie and gaslight Allison. "We don't kill innocents" they say, while shooting Derek and Scott for being outside at night.

How many times did they get it wrong and kill humans? We'll never know because of course they would just cover up the evidence. They were taking potshots at Scott and Derek and didn't even know WHO they were shooting at.

Literally none of them follow the code. They manipulated Allison into setting it aside. The code is bullshit.

"Chris would never torture innocents" bro what show were you watching, you think he didn't know Kate was sexually assaulting and electrocuting Derek?? He didn't seem that fucking surprised to see Erica and Boyd in his goddamn murder basement.

I feel like I am going crazy!!

you are so right.

what do i think of chris argent?

chris argent is compelling to me because he's not really that good of a person. he has deluded himself into thinking he is.

the indoctrination amongst hunters runs very, very deep. especially with the argents. he never fully becomes deprogrammed. gerard argent deeply damaged both of his children and that is the point. there is no happy ending for the argent family.

kate was gerard's golden child because kate was full tilt sociopathic and enjoyed killing. chris was the lesser of the two in gerard's eyes. we know that while chris did gerard's biding he hadn't been in contact with allison since she was three years old at the time of kate's "death". that tells you chris knew his father's influence was dangerous and corrupting. yet he still let it happen and watched allison be manipulated by his father and become like kate.

three children ended up in his murder and torture basement and the only one i can see him not fully knowing about is stiles because that was gerard's little game. he knew about erica and boyd, he knew what was being done to them and he allowed it. they hadn't done anything to anyone and again they were children. the same age as his daughter. her own classmates. trussed up in his basement.

his intimidates stiles, scott, jackson and derek more than once. people who hadn't done anything wrong. scott, jackson and stiles are all children.

chris also knew full well who and what kate was. he was in denial about it and ignored it. chris isn't a stupid man and i thought it was pretty clear throughout season 1 he had suspicions about kate so he's not even surprised when confronted about it code breaker. he's just disappointed.

he clings to the code because it gives him cover. it gives him a convenient excuse. he can wrap himself up in the code and declare himself a good hunter, not like the others, not like his father and sister when he is. the code is his self-delusion.

he changes because allison died and his code becomes the memory of his daughter. his shitty family and his lack of backbone led down a path that eventually led to her death.

yes allison's decision that night was her own but it was also reckless. why was the archer on the ground? why wasn't she high up like she'd been wise enough to do in frayed or in alpha pact? allison was desperate not only to save lydia but also to prove herself good and make up for her mistakes.

and even when he begins to change it's often conditional.

chris is an interesting character. i like him a lot actually but he's a fucked up person who makes many questionable decisions thought-out the series. he only looks good because gerard and kate are more terrible.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Different Kind Of Test

Pairing: Castiel x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: none

Request by anon: Hi i have this crazy idea but you are the perfect to write is something like the reader is a normal girl (22 years) not a hunter just normal that is like a daughter two both angels and demons and The Winchester find about her because the follow Castiel to her apartment and meet her and Castiel said her backstory to them like she was found as a baby thanks to angels and demons that was fighting next to her or something like that and she always said that they are her parents? Fluff and confused Sam and Dean 

Summary: After you were found by the angels, Castiel took care of you as if you were his own daughter. He wants you to be prepared for anything that might come your way, and he has a funny way of teaching you how to.

Square Filled: silver/salt/holy water test (2020) for @heavenandhellbingo

Author’s Note: i changed the age of the reader to just a big older!

x

The words on the pages are starting to blend together, but you promised yourself to get through this chapter. You’re almost done studying so you can eat and relax afterwards. College is a lot harder than you thought it was going to be, but you’re going to prove to yourself that you can do it. You started your Freshman year a little later than everyone else, and now you’re twenty-nine years old and about to end it.

If only you can retain this information and pass your fucking final.

You turn the page to read the last page of the chapter when your phone lights up. Your dad, Castiel, is calling. He’s not biologically your dad but he counts for one in every other sense of the word. He put his blood, sweat, and tears into raising you to be the best version of yourself as you can be. You owe everything you have to him.

“What’s up, Dad?” you answer the phone.

“I need your help. This is urgent.”

“Are you okay?”

You cap your highlighter and close your textbook in concern.

“I really need your help, Y/N. Code Black.” Your entire body goes rigid and fear creeps down your spine. “I need you to hurry.”

“Where are you?”

“Twenty minutes from you. The bar that got shut down on the edge of the city?”

“I’m on my way.”

You hang up and immediately prepare yourself for the fight you know is coming. The thing you know you’ll need is your holy water, angel blade, silver knives, and iron bullets. Code Black means demons and if your dad is asking you for help, then you know he’s in big trouble. You change out of your loungewear and into something more suitable for fighting. Something you wouldn’t mind getting blood on.

Once you’re done, you leave your apartment and get into your car. He says he’s twenty minutes away, but with your speeding, it’s twelve minutes. The parking lot is empty but you have no doubt there are a bunch of demons inside. You check the bullets in your gun once more before heading to the front door that’s suspiciously open. You kick the door open and train your gun in front of you, making sure to scan the entire area before advancing.

The place is eerily quiet and empty. Where is your dad? Where are the demons? The place looks as if it still runs but you know it’s been abandoned for a while now. The booths are covered with dust as well as the tabletops and bar counter. Still, you don’t lower your guard. Just because you don’t see anything doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone here.

Something moves to the right of you and you turn swiftly hoping to see someone standing there. However, there isn’t anyone there. You could have sworn you saw a flash of clothes run by you. There are no curtains on this side of the bar, so the only explanation would have to be if it’s a person. You walk closer to the area to inspect it when you see someone step forward. Your iron bullets won’t do as much damage to a demon than an angel blade, so you unsheathe it and throw it at the person.

The person ducks so the blade goes into the wall behind them. The man (you can see him clearly once he steps into the light) runs at you and tackles you to the ground. You kick him away as fast as you can and scramble to your feet. You jump on his back before he has a chance to get up, and you grab his right leg tightly. You pull it toward you and grab the opposite arm to pull to you so that he’s trapped in your grip. You’re not sure why this demon isn’t fighting back like how you’re used to, but you don’t question how easy it is.

Another but taller man comes running from the shadows at you, and you let go of the man below you to focus on him. You step on the first man’s back to get over him and he groans in pain from the pressure. You’re much smaller than both of these men so you use your height against them. The taller man goes to grab you but you ram your whole body into hs lower half, sending him crashing to the bar counter. You grab his legs and lift him over, watching as he crumbles to the ground behind it.

You grab the holy water attached to your hip and toss some at the man behind the counter to the first man who is just now getting up. You expect them to scream out in pain but they stand there looking wet and annoyed. The man behind the bar jumps over the counter and both of the advance toward you. You take out one of your sharp daggers and hold it out to them a s precautionary. 

Before any more damage can be done, your dad comes rushing into the light.

“Wait, stop!”

“Dad!”

“Dad?” both men ask with confused faces.

“Y/N, they’re not demons. I just made that up. I’m not in any actual danger.”

“God, is this just another one of your tests? I thought we were done with this,” you groan and put away your knife.

“I have to make sure you’re prepared.”

“Yeah, and the seven years you spent training me was all for nothing?”

You walk over to the angel blade still stuck in the wall and yank it out. There is no way you’re giving up one of these bad boys.

“Wait, hold on. Did she say dad?” the shorter man asks.

“Sam, Dean, this is Y/N. She’s not biologically mine but I did help raise her. She’s human and was found as a baby in the middle of a battle ground. Demon and angels were fighting all around her without knowing she was there. When she was found, the angels decided to take over for her. I became the main parent. She calls me Dad because that’s all she knows.” Castiel turns to you with a worried look. “These are my friends, Sam and Dean Winchester. They’re human like you. I worry about you and want you to be able to protect yourself.”

“I appreciate that, I really do, but I have a major test to study for. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when you call me for help. Next time, make sure you’re actually in danger or I might not come,” you chuckle.

“Deal,” Castiel chuckles.

“They’re lucky or I would have knocked their heads clean off.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. You caught me off guard. You wouldn’t have one,” Dean shakes his head.

“Yeah, okay, old man.”

“Old man?” Dean turns to his brother. “Did she just call me an old man?”

“I took you two down without getting my nails dirty. I think you’re the ones who need to be tested. I gotta get back to studying. See ya.”

You leave the bar and Dean is flabbergasted at your sass. Castiel sees the look on his face and immediately shuts it down.

“No, Dean. Leave her alone.”

“What, I wasn’t gonna do anything,” Dean shrugs but smiles at the thought of you.

x

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[bugsysaboy]

Kite Headcanons <3

ALRIGHT THIS ONE IS FOR MY FELLOW KITE STANS!!! all 5 of us!!!!

No content warnings, sfw

-has the worst appetite known to man /hj

-he usually just eats soup

-he can easily be thrown off by the texture of certain foods (certified jello hater!)

-although, honestly, if he's hungry enough he'll eat anything.

-autism be damned, my boy can work a grill campfire.

-anxious as FUCK in restaurants. He's too awkward to order and will just s t a r e for too long unintentionally at the waitstaff.

-also will be awkward about starting his meal and will just hork it down when no one is looking. (Look, he grew up on the streets, eating fast so no one takes his food is just a hold over.)

-REALLY GOOD CANDID PHOTOS BUT DO NOT ASK THIS MAN TO POSE! HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING!

-you know that meme that's the person doing the half a heart with their hand and the other person has a thumbs up? ...yeah.

-ACTUALLY THAT BEING SAID he's really handsome when caught off guard, but when he's actually engaging in conversation with someone he's kinda funny looking? Like he'll suddenly be aware of how he's carrying himself and maintaining eye contact and he will over correct.

-This man has no game!!! This man can neither pull nor flirt! 29 years old and even the idea of holding hands gets him flustered.

-on top of this if he's romantically interested in someone he's really prone to just avoiding them.

-KITE AND CRAZY SLOTS IS JUST MANZAI! KITE IS THE STRAIGHT MAN AND CRAZY SLOTS IS THE FUNNY MAN! KITE SAYING "ah, bad roll" AND GRIPING ABOUT CRAZY SLOTS IS JUST A BIT TO HIM! HE THINKS IT'S HILARIOUS BUT NOBODY SEES THIS.

-dad jokes and puns all day everyday

-also he can actually be pretty chatty, like don't get me wrong when he's really focused he'll probably just shut up but during downtime? Around a campfire? He loves to spin a yarn or talk about his work.

-He also loves to hear about what others are passionate about!

-gets a general feel for people really quickly- he'll open up to people he gets good vibes off of pretty fast, but others he's more iffy on he may keep things cordial. This can, however, lead to snap judgements about people that might not be always correct.

-excellent pickpocket, now that he has a stable income through being a hunter he won't use this ability often...

-okay might do it to prank someone

-...or humble them.

-Met Ging when he was 15 and Ging was 18

-if he sets an alarm he somehow always manages to wake up just before it goes off

-hammock conoisseur 😌

-if he was in the real world he'd be Russian. (This is literally just based off of vibes and some edit an artist made of Kite running to Russian hardbass.)

-thinks it's really funny to say "have you considered..." to someone and when they ask him to elaborate he just says "...just... have you considered."

-loves sunflowers, loves sunflower seeds

-likes to keep a spare scarf handy in case someone needs it

-makes the crazy slots noise when he's really trying to concentrate

-favorite candy is saltwater taffy

-I like to imagine that he got the idea for crazy slots because of a boardwalk carnival in the town he grew up in. The carnies knew that Kite could win any of the games they had, no matter how rigged, it was uncanny.

-...probably used the plushies he won as pillows, maybe with the smaller ones he'd let his dogs play with.

-AND YES, HIS DOGS ALL HAD NAMES. ALEXEI, BORIS, SERGEI, PUSHKIN, FYODOR JUST TO NAME A FEW

-Favorite author is Dovstoevsky

-legitimately does not remember where he got his hat from, it's just kinda always been there, you know?

-he's not super focused on material goods and he doesnt really like receiving gifts (exceptions are made for anything handmade or a really cool rock.)

-...call him pretty and he'll fold

[day-at-rhodes-island]

My main issue with the seaborn is that they are the least interesting part of the situation they are in, and the fact that they have been given center-stage is frankly criminal.

As always, this is my opinion and not objective fact, but I'm right and would die on this hill.

Let us imagine for a moment that literally nothing is different except that Skadi killing Ishar'mla worked, and all the sacrifices of the abyssal hunters actually did something (we'll get back to this). The only seaborn left are in scattered groups, cut off from we many, that occasionally get attracted to the Abyssal hunters so Hypergryph has an excuse to use those game mechanics.

The first theoretical abyssal hunters event is fairly similar to the Under Tides we do get. It focuses on introducing Iberia and exploring how the inquisition rules with an iron fist even after the danger has passed. Talk about the mass killing of AEgirians and how the terrified communities just let it happen. Glaadia is smitten by Kal'tsit, we get to meet Laurentina, roll credits.

The second abyssal hunters event is about exploring the golden days of Iberia before the profound silence as the Abyssals search for a way to safely return home. Focus on how the partnership with the AEgirians made them strong, and how the inquisition rose to power in the chaos and fear of the silence. They eventually find an old ship and after fighting off the obligatory small swarm of sea terrors set off to finally go home.

The third abyssal hunters event introduces us to the Atlantean AEgirian civilization. It explores the program that created super soldiers with an early expiration date, and how the political situation in AEgir allowed it. People get mad at the abyssals for attracting yet another group of sea terrors. The boss is what is left of an abyssal hunter fully lost to the transformation (perhaps this is a good time to introduce The First To Talk?).

That would be better right? I mean most of what I've described (for the first two) is actually in Under Tides and Sultifera Navis, it just gets overshadowed by the focus on the big spooky ocean monsters and how big and spooky they are.

So, enough talking about what could have been, let's talk about what is, and why it's bad enough that it got me thinking about this in the first place.

The seaborn have no personality. This is intentional. Practicing art and maintaining a sense of self is how the abyssals we do meet have managed to last this long, their self expression literally protects them from the consuming uniformity of we many. This is not, on it's own, a problem.

The fact that this is true and that the seaborn are treated in the story as the antagonist is crazy. They could have been presented in a 'man against nature' conflict sort of way, providing a situation in which the protagonists could shine on their own. Unfortunately, they didn't even do that, as is clearly shown by The Bishop and Amaia.

The most compelling enemies in Under Tides and Sultifera Navis are the church of the deep. You know, the characters that aren't seaborn. Arknights likes having complex villains, and nothing is a less complex character than a seaborn (again, by design!) so they have to bring in characters that aren't seaborn. Just don't make the seaborn the focus in the first place!

Also, by presenting the seaborn as a genuine threat they are giving justification to the Inquisition and the Abyssal Hunter project. I know there are scenes that are meant to show that these things were actually bad, but they're a bit hard to get behind when you have a whole fucking game mode set in an alternate future timeline where the seaborn are an existential threat to all other forms of life.

Another issue with going 'the seaborn are still a genuine threat' is that all the shit Skadi and the other abyssals went through apparently didn't do much, I guess. It feels like they are retroactively ruining a story we didn't even get the chance to enjoy.

I'm going to cut myself off here. There's more narrative nitpicks I have about the seaborn (Like how, just because they don't have personalities doesn't mean they have to be boring, and yet!) but they get even more into how it was executed rather than fundamental issues, and this is long enough as it is.

In conclusion: If the next abyssal hunters event's main story is 'there are spooky seaborn doing bad things, got to go stop them' again, I'm going to scream.

Part 2