#tidal hunter

[sentientballofpeas]

Hey everyone! I drew a tidal najarala badly.

Will post more soon.

[mariocki]

The Human Factor (1975)

"How does this put Mr. Kinsdale in difficulty?"

"He's found his killers. And he doesn't want them in jail. And neither the machine nor I know just how successful he's going to be."

[katyvern]

Honorable Mention: Tidal Najarala

Another Honorable Mention with the Tidal Najarala. Another subspecies I prefer over the main species. Its a very pretty monster and has some good weapons imo but it is a bit annoying.

[grassbreads]

Screenshot of a woman who is extremely normal about the album Antimai by The Dear Hunter

[hollowfaith]

i slep but have a free bully me FC panel for u to throw ur darts at if ur muses are into that!!

[seregios-seer]

Monster Review: Najarala

(I’ll also be instantiate by a new rule here that any monster with subspecies/ wildly different fights from game to game will get the long post cutoff after base monster intros)

Snaky Jakey here is a funny one. This guy was one of the monsters that blew ten year old men’s mind when I first saw his intro cutscene. Najarala still defines the primal forest to me even now. It’s the first time Monster Hunter had a proper snake monster, but thank god not the last. The coloring on Najarala really strikes me sometimes, the muted tones still coming off vibrant in contrast to the fins (plates? Spines?) on its neck. I must say I have a weird outlook on this one, since I really like the design but it somehow still comes off as middling for me, and I’m not really sure why.

4U (IG): The actual fight with Najarala is just as unique as the snake itself. The most unique attack of his (that he really likes doing in my experience) is his coil. He makes a wide circle around you, and slowly pulls closer before bursting upwards in an inescapable burn. Requiring hunters to either find the gap in his loop or dive is really neat, but as a Glaive main I never actually had to deal with this attack. The second big thing Najarala has is the scale launch. The massive tail scales he launches from his tail being able to explode due from a follow up screech is really unique, although once again I never really found much difficulty in this, although the detail of being able to destroy the scales is not lost and very much appreciated. The biggest issue by far comes from the lunge and sliding attacks at the Najarala’s disposal, and are about 8/10 hits I take from this one. Despite this, I was well into master rank before I ever realized some of the bite lunges could inflict paralysis. Not sure how tbh.

GU (Various): This fight's a lot like the 4u edition, but it certainly feels like paralysis bites are more frequent in this one. When played against hunter arts, and I used a lot of diffferent ones against this one, it becomes a really short fight tbh. Najarala flees less, and doesn't seem to have the burrowing attacks like in 4u, which were already somewhat rare already. I'd usually manage a kill before the bastard even leaves the area more often than not, so I'm overall kinda shocked how much easier this fight is.

Rating: 7.7/10

Much like his biggest attacks, the design just doesn’t hit for some reason (still soo good though).

Tidal Najarala:

So it took me a looong time to hit G rank in 4u (I was an idiot kid when I first got the game, ok?) and when I finally did, the new monster subspecies felt so refreshing and unique, and this beautiful, glorious freakshow-colored reptile is right up there for me. The colors and the elemental effects really bump my personal opinion of Najarala as a whole. Plus the coloration and status given to being a G rank monster really lands the whole "exotic" aspect for me.

4u (IG): This fight is by far faster than the baseline Najarala, and that obviously bumps the difficulty quite a bit. The amount of slam attacks I got hit by really skyrocketed in this fight. It was a bit of a coin toss on whether it felt balanced or unavoidable, but more often than not seemed like my bad. The addition of a spit attack for instilling water blight really gave some ranged ability to this fight, although Tidal tends to do wide tail sweeps compared to the small swipes of the baseline species. One of these sweeping attacks is actually the pin attack Tidal uses, which I hate purely because it makes no damn sense. If you're hit on the right, why would you ever go flying perfectly forward? But that's really more a stupid peeve of my own than anything, and overall the fight is still really fun, even moreso than the base species after you acclimate from your first attempt.

Rating: 8.6/10

Preddy colors... so cooool...

[cuinaminute229]

With death comes life part 2

pairing: Agatha x Rio x reader

a/n: this is sprinkled with angst and fluff

part 1, part 3

...

The surrounding trees are all twisted and dead, with heavy vines hanging from branches too high to reach. What you see is a barrier. A makeshift fence that keeps the witches to the road.

The air carries a subtle fog that lingers just out of reach, shrouding the forest of the road into the unknown. Even the leaves that make up the path are all dead. Only magic keeps them vibrant with false life.

You almost feel insulted. 

Nothing here can sustain life. It never will.

The road is an abomination. It shouldn’t exist.

And yet here you are.

When you look up at the sky, a feeling of loss settles in your chest. The sky is not real; the moon is a false imitation, and the stars are all wrong. 

You will never not hate this place. 

The soft whispers of a conversation tug at your attention when you notice the witches at your back are talking about you. With a subtle shift, you slow your steps and listen in. 

They speak so carelessly about your reaction to seeing Agatha, about the anger they saw. About how they could use your emotions to drive a wedge where, unbeknown to them, there is a canyon. 

In the simplest of terms, they want to manipulate you to their advantage because they do not trust Agatha. 

Because you do not trust Agatha. It’s insulting in the most human way possible.

Where on earth did she find these people? Why did she find them?

There’s something you're missing, you just know it.

The moment you hear Rio's name is the moment you turn around, you do not care what they are going to say. Their little conversation ends now. The shift in your momentum is fluid as you turn around mid step, eyes narrow in suspicion. 

You keep your face blank when they all jump in union. The very obvious change of demeanor tells you they did not know you were listening in on them.

You let the silence linger as your eyes scan over the small group. They cling to each other for comfort, but it only takes a moment for you to recognize that their bonds as a coven are new. They are still easy to bend, easy to break.

“You know,” Your voice is gentle, giving nothing of what you feel away for them to see. “To betray one's cover on the road,” 

You spread your hand out to emphasize exactly where you all are. “To break the rules only punishes all.”

“She is the one that tried to cheat!” The pink dressed witch points out like you need to be taught, like she needs to tell you who Agatha Harkness is.

As if you don't know exactly who she is. It's almost laughable how much this witch thinks she knows more than you.

“And now one of you is dead. How tragic.” This is not the first and will not be the last time a witch loses their life on the road. Do they not understand that?

“But that death is not her fault.” This time your voice is cold, stern. It feels like you're scolding children. “You failed as a coven. So do not blame your misgivings as a group on her.”

When only silence becomes their response, you decide to turn back around and continue down the path. The next trial awaits, and you want to get this over with as soon as possible. 

But a voice makes you pause. 

“Why do you hate her?” The unexpected question knocks the air out of your lungs and the world seems to stop. As if everything dead and alive waits for your answer. 

Memories rush forward with such force you wouldn't be surprised if you can never breathe again.

The sight of a never ending forest, a small cottage tucked away from hunters and strangers alike. The laughter of a young boy with Agatha's hair and Rio's smile, a bright yellow flower in his hands.

The years before tragedy felt like a lifetime. 

You were happy. You were loved. 

You want to cry. 

With a small hitch in your breath, you close your eyes and push down the tidal wave of emotions. If you become overwhelmed, the road’s magic will latch onto you like a leech. You can't risk it.

“My reasons are my own. Focus on surviving the road.” Your words are final, empty of the emotions that are battling beneath your heart. You know you can never pick up the pieces of yourself that are broken. 

But for now, you can ignore them.

You will not let them see you like this. Never again will Agatha see this side of you.

When you finally catch up with Rio, you take notice of the house in the distance, the windows lit in a deep orange sunset light. The fog of your surroundings only adds to the ominous look of it.

That must be the next trial.

What catches your attention next isn't Agatha arguing with the boy. It's not the group of three walking over to settle whatever disagreement there is. No, it's the fact that Rio is leaning against a tree, feigning boredom. Her knife in hand, twisting it in her grip as if she's studying the blade.

The leaf in her hair is bright in color, almost like fire, and it stands out against the rich brown of her hair. As if she can sense eyes on her, Rio glances up. Her eyes find you in an instant and you give her a small smile.

She waits as you walk over to her and it's only once you stop in front of her, your back to the others, does she return your smile. She tucks her knife away and holds out her hand, a small flower blooming in her palm. “For you.” 

Your smile turns bittersweet as you reach for the flower, the baby blue petals remind you of a clear afternoon sky. As your fingers touch the stem, it flourishes. Reacting to the caress of your magic that trickles from your fingers. You hold the flower for a moment before tucking it beneath your coat. 

As you look back to Rio she pushes forwards, off the dead tree that she knows you won't touch. When she steps into your space, it feels like you’ve broken the water's surface and can finally breathe again.

“You look filthy.” You tease her before she can notice if anything’s wrong. The dirt that covers her skin and her clothes gives her a rough look, and yet her makeup is as pristine as ever. Her hair looks like she’s just rolled out of bed. There are twigs and leaves and who knows what else hidden in the mess of her hair. 

“Says the one who also had to crawl out of a grave.” Rio responds, leaning just a bit closer when you reach out to brush your fingers through her hair. Her hand settles on your waist with ease, her thumb brushing back and forth in a soothing motion.

“Which I'm assuming is your fault.” You voice your suspicion as you tug on the largest of the leaves you can see in her hair. 

To summon a green witch, let alone any witch to the road, is almost impossible. You don't even know why they tried it in the first place. 

Rio says nothing for a moment. She just lets you thread your fingers through her hair, pulling at the twigs and leaves you find. She licks her lips when you brush your thumb behind her ear, letting out a soft sigh as she closes her eyes.

An annoyed huff and angry footsteps causes you to pull back from her, suddenly self conscious. But Rio's hand catches your wrist before you can step out of her personal space. When she blinks open her eyes to look at you, her brow furrowed slightly. You can't help but give her a reassuring smile. 

Agatha is storming off again. Because of course she is. She will not wait for the two of you.

“Tell me later?” You know this conversation isn't close to over, but right now, time is essential. Rio gives you a small nod and only then do you step away from her.

Finding Agatha is easy. She's at the next trial, waiting for the two of you. The door is decorated with stained glass, the phases of the moon surround the centerpiece, which is the waxing moon. It's almost beautiful if you didn't know that danger lies just behind it.

You feel Rio just behind you, watching the group intently. The graze of her fingers on your back is a welcoming sensation when you realize who’s trial this is.

The protection witch.

With a quick scan, you find her easily, the witch with the red streaks in her hair. She looks the most nervous, hands shoved into her pockets, shoulders hunched.

The teenager is the one to usher her inside, voice reassuring. He calls her Alice and holds his hand out for her and once she takes it; he walks through the door beside her. The other two follow close behind, nerves elevated for what is to come.

When there is only you, Agatha, and Rio left at the door, the tension seems to skyrocket. 

You clench your jaw when she looks at you as if she expects you to go first, but you don't move. The door stays open and no one moves.

When Agatha’s patient wanes, she jerks her head to the door, her voice callous, and yet she can’t look at you when she speaks. “After you.”

It’s only when Rio pushes her knuckles against your lower back do you finally give in. The very moment you walk through the door, you’re blinded by a light as bright as a newborn star. It’s honestly a weak imitation, but that doesn’t mean it can disorient you any less.

As the world around you slowly comes into focus, you notice two things right away. 

One, the air is pungent with magic. It’s so bad you swear you can taste it. Two, when you turn to look at the others, you notice everyone is dressed in seventies fashion attire. 

Glancing down, you see that you too, have also changed outfits. You brush your fingers over the gold embroidered that stands out against the white design of your clothes. Small beads and complex stitches run in calm waves up your sleeves. As you turn your arm to follow the designs, you notice your nails are also painted white. 

“Don’t drink anything. Don’t eat anything. Don’t touch anything.” Alice tells everyone as she glances around the room with a distrust that runs deep. 

“Sounds like there’s a story there.” Rio says as she looks at Alice, brows raised in intrigue. When she catches your gaze, she’s not subtle as she looks you over. She’s adorned in black and gold. The low cut of her blouse catches your attention and you may stare a little too long. Her smile is predatory when she notices you looking. 

“The road isn’t subtle.” Alice mutters, her disdain clear.

You glance around at her words, curious about the history that this trial will bring up.

The room looks like a music lounge studio. Instruments and microphones are set out like they are just waiting to be played. The floor is covered with different rugs; the lights have a certain aesthetic and even the walls are mismatched stones with different things decorating them. 

Your eyes land on the grand piano when everyone gathers around a wall mirror that one of the witches has found, getting a clearer look at the clothes that now fit the aesthetic of this trial. You leave them to their curiosity and walk to the center of the room, a metronome catching your attention from where it sits atop the piano. 

You don’t notice her at first, brow furrowed as you brush your fingers over the edge of the piano lid. You hum a soft lullaby as your fingers tap to the rhythm in your head.

When you see her fingers graze over the piano, you freeze. When she finishes your melody, her beige nails tapping lightly against the polished black case of the piano, you step away.

You look at Agatha like she’s a ghost. 

She’s not—she wasn't—you never told her. Rio doesn’t even know.

It was only for Nicky. It was his song.  

“What are you doing?” You back up when she finally looks up at you. She can’t hide it when her eyes glance over your attire. You know her too well. The way her eyes linger just a little too long, the way she clears her throat before jerking her head back to the piano. She takes a deep breath, rolls her shoulders like she’s buying time.

She looks like she wants to say something but stops short. When she reaches for her brooch, finger tapping lightly as if she needs a physical reminder it’s still there, you understand. 

He told her. Of course he did.

Whatever Agatha is trying to accomplish by reminding you of a life you can never get back, you need her to stop.

You can't do this. The emotional whiplash is getting exhausting.

“Why are you here?” She tilts her head to look at you, her expression clouded with suspicion.

“Why are you?” You deflect her easily, asking your own question. To walk the road once and survive is akin to a miracle. Why would she come back here?

“I asked first.” She pushes into your space, eyes narrowed, her tone condescending. When you shift to move away from her, she grabs hold of your wrist. 

You don’t expect what comes next. You have no time to prepare as your magic comes alive with the contact. It’s been so long since she’s touched you that a lifetime couldn’t prepare you for her pain.

The absolute onslaught of unchecked emotions feels like agony. Her touch burns. It’s scolding hot with the centuries of anguish and hatred that Agatha has clung to. It seeps under your skin like a parasite.

You want to scream.

You need her to let go. Right now.

“I am not here for you. I want absolutely nothing to do with you.” Your words are brutal, every ounce of hatred you have ever felt is directed at her. You know you will regret this later but right now you are desperate.

Agatha steps back as if you physically slapped her. As if you ran a knife right through her heart. But she lets go, that's what you needed.

When you move away from her, cradling your wrist close to your chest, she scoffs. 

“And they call me cruel.” Her voice wavers, head turned away so you can not see her vulnerability. Your heart already hurts but you say nothing. 

The churning in your stomach makes you feel sick. You weren't expecting her to touch you. You weren't expecting your magic to respond to her.

Not like this. Not after all this time.

As you look down at your trembling hand, fingers clenching into a fist, you know one thing for certain. You didn’t feel a flicker of magic from her when she touched you. 

Agatha has lost her magic.

...

[dazed-and-confused23]

Hi, can I request a story where a female reader wants to fuck Cooper and keeps making advances at him but Cooper always shuts her down. But when reader meets Hancock, she's so desperate to get her rocks off that she asks him to bang her, which he immediately agrees to because, well, it's Hancock. Reader and Hancock aren't exactly quiet when they're having sex which causes Cooper to be unable to sleep. They noises they make get to him and he jerks himself off. Internally, he's wishing he didn't blow off reader so many times because he could've been in Hancock's position by now.

Anon. I can't thank you enough for such a lovely prompt ❤️. I hope I've done it justice!

Opportunities

Part 2 -> HERE

Cooper can admit that you're a stubborn little smoothskin. This is the fourth time in three days that you'd slid up to him, all soft flesh and smelling delicious, and looked at him with such an innocent gaze that it always shocked him at the filth that spilled out of your mouth.

"You should let me suck your cock."

Cooper sucked in a harsh breath, his lungs rattling and sending him into a short coughing fit. You pat his back softly, expression concerned, until the ghoul shrugs you off and stomps forward.

"Shouldn't be sayin' shit like that to men like me, Smoothie," Cooper bit out, and willed down the arousal that wanted to rise up and consume him like a fuckin' tidal wave. They rounded one last corner and came upon the entrance of Goodneighbor, and Cooper slumped a little in relief when they passed inside the safety of the walls. Boston was a dangerous place.

Down in the Third Rail, you sit by yourself at the bar, an annoyed pout on your lips as you sip the drink Charlie had whipped up for you. Cooper has already retired for the night, shacked up in a room at the Hotel Rexford. You don't understand why your ghoulish companion doesn't want to have sex with you. There wasn't something wrong with you was there?

Your self depreciating thoughts are interrupted by a smokey voice, made rough by radiation and chems.

"Why the long face, sister?"

You turn and see one of the most attractive ghouls you've ever lain eyes on. He is lean and willowy, but you could see a hidden strength in the way he held himself. He wore a red colonial outfit, complete with a tricorn hat, and a smile so friendly you knew there was danger lurking beneath.

"Cat got your tongue?" He drawls after a moment, and you flush, thighs squeezing together just at the sound of his voice. It's over for you after that. You learn that his name is Hancock, and he's the Major of Goodneighbor. He buys you drinks, and it's an embarrassingly short amount of time before you turn to him, eyes hopeful.

"Will you have sex with me, Hancock?"

The ghoul doesn't miss a best, hands already on your hips as he leads you out of the Third Rail and to the hotel across the street, and conveniently right beside Cooper's rented room.

The bounty hunter wakes to the sound of two people fucking, and they are not being quiet about it. Cooper is seconds away from smacking the wall and snarling at them to shut the fuck up, when he recognizes the sound of your voice, and his annoyance turns straight to burning aroused, jealousy.

Blood rushes to his cock, and Cooper falls back in the bed, head hitting the pillow as he clenches his eyes shut. The sound of your breath moans, begging for more ring in his head, and the ghoul breaks. He pops the button of his pants and shoves them down, taking his aching dick in his hand and stroking roughly.

"Ahh~ harder, John. Please."

Cooper grits his teeth, regret curdling his stomach as he listens to someone else fuck you, take what he kept pushing away. It should be his fuckin' name that you moan, his cock that should be buried in your tight cunt. Coop wouldn't have kept pushing you away if he knew you sounded so sweet stuffed full.

"That's it, baby, ya feel so goddamn good."

The second voice is rough, and that green envy grows at recognizing the sound of another ghoul. Cooper snarls lowly in the room, his hand tight around his cock as he fucks his fist and imagines that it's him in the room with you, bending you over the bed and fucking you just like you've been begging him to.

The sounds you make grow in pitch, and Cooper follows right along, stroking his cock in time with the breathy pants that's fall from your lips. A strangled moan leaves his lips when his balls tighten, and he comes, seed spilling and coating his fist. Cooper sits up and wipes it off on the sheets without a care, brows pulled down in a scowl when the noise in the next room ceases.

Cooper stuffs his dick back in his pants and leaves the room, loping out of the hotel and back to the bar. He'd wait until you were finished with whoever the fuck John was, and then he'd be there to sweep you up. Coop wouldn't miss that opportunity again.

[bobbedazzled]

TIDAL

pairing: rafayel x reader | sea god x bounty hunter  word count: 3.3k content: enemies and lovers (?), some violence, stabbing, dub con, hypnosis/spell casting, minor blood/knifeplay(?), fingering, unprotected sex, tongue branding, blood tasting, wound licking, idk why I wrote this  a/n: taking a break from the college au, sorry I disappeared I got sick and had to study for a final for a class I hated. I got lazy near the end so in case the fight scenes don’t make sense…yes theyy do.

Under the shroud midnight light, your work is whispered about in the gilded halls of nobility. An assassin of efficiency, and utter discretion. Your blade serves the highest bidder, those draped in velvet and adorned by rings and guilt alike. You are both a sword and shadow hidden in the thick of political disputes.

Yet, even the bloodied hands of nobility do not require constant cleansing. When the seasons shift and the power struggles settle, your contracts grow sparse, and you are left to seek coin by other means. Bounties. Less refined, less personal, but profitable nonetheless. The work is grittier, the targets less acclaimed, but coin is coin, and survival does not afford you the luxury of idleness.

It is during one lull, while scanning the ever-changing board of wishes and hastily scribbled contracts, that your gaze lands upon a peculiar ticket. Unlike the others, it bears no name of a scorned lover or a debt-dodging merchant. Instead, it is a plea, written not by a single trembling hand, but under the weight of collective desperation. The nobles one again, faceless in their cowardice, have set their sights on something they cannot control.

The God of Sirens. A rebirth of the God of the Tides, awoken with a fire that replaced his missing heart. He reclaimed the seas and went after those who enslaved his children. A myth from long ago that reentered chamber walls after a city went to ruins for reasons unknown. It’s said he sits in the palace idly, waiting to be challenge.

A trickster, a lingering echo of something too powerful to be dismissed yet too dangerous to be allowed to roam freely. He is the embodiment of temptation, of illusions spun so intricately they unravel the minds of those who listen.  He stands before you, neatly condensed into a single offering of wealth great enough to make even the most seasoned hunter hesitate.

"Wrong." His voice cracks through the dawn like a snapped wire. A second later, the world twists as gravity betrays you, the air slicing past your ears before instinct takes over. A pivot, a breath, and the cold marble railing catches your boots. You crouch low, steady, but his scrutinizing glare chases after you like a predator unwilling to let its prey recover.

"Try again," he calls from above, lounging in his window like a bored god surveying those below. 

Your face contorts at his tone. You have no interest in being toyed with. Your bounty has already spotted you, there’s no point in staying. It’s time to retreat, to cool down. But as you turn, a flicker of fire licks your cheek, searing the skin before you can react. A slow burn spreads across your face as you cup the scorched surface, eyes snapping upward.

He leans further out of his chamber, expression unreadable. 

“I don’t usually repeat myself.” He goads. His gaze does not meet you as an adversary’s would, not even as a nuisance. But as something far worse. A plaything. His smirk holds the mirth of a child poised over an anthill. You narrow your eyes, fingers twitching toward the blade at your belt before walking away.

When you return to the bounty board, you toss his ticket back to the merchant who had so smugly handed it to you. Laughter erupts around you, rolling in waves of mockery. You ignore it, though the sting to your reputation is undeniable.

Not every bounty can be fulfilled, and it’s better to admit that than to die for the money.

The others are too proud to concede. One by one, they pick up where you left off. None return. The dunes outside his palace swallow their remains. 

Under the moonlight, the sand glows like a sea of silver, its ripples forming a pathway that calls to you, daring you to return. A question sat in your mind. 

Why didnt he kill you as quickly as the others? Is this a game worth playing?

──   .⋆｡𖦹 . ঔঌ ˖°

Flames flicker at your feet. They curl around your boots, beckoning you to come forward. You don’t immediately obey, wincing as it burns through your sleeve.

“Careful,” he murmurs, back still turned. “I don’t conjure natural fire.”

You seize the moment, fingers tightening around the weapon hidden at your side. The instant you raise it, he scoffs. A snap echoes through the air. Instinctively, you drop your weapon as it’s set ablaze, ash scattering to the ground.

“Sloppy.” He exhales, more disappointed than amused. “I expected better.”

He rises from his lounging position, movements unhurried.

“I’ve never met a female hunter before,” he muses, eyes smiling. “Has my bounty gone down?”

“You’ve killed plenty,” you counter. “Naturally, that’s done the opposite.”

“So, my price has turned me into nothing more than a lottery?”

“I’m not confident. I’m curious.”

“Curious?” His voice lilts upward, mockery woven into the syllables. “How insulting.”

“Why haven’t you killed me?”

At this, he turns. His gaze is an ocean, dark and endless, with pink gleaming in its depths. You understand, now, why others have fallen under his influence. The thought makes your stomach twist.

Something sharp glints in your periphery—you duck, evading his blade and returning a weapon in one breath. He catches it between two fingers, unimpressed.

“Sloppy,” you echo.

He hums, stepping forward, the room shrinking between you. “You think I find you entertaining?” He flips the blade in his grip, offering it back to you. “To call you that would be an understatement.” He leans in, close enough that your breaths mingle. “I find you fascinating.”

You shove a hand against his chest. He barely budges. In one swift motion, he seizes your wrists, pinning them above your head as he presses you back against the cold stone wall.

“Compared to the others, you’re far less desperate.” His nose grazes yours, lips a mere breath away. “It’s disappointing.”

You turn your head, unwilling to meet his gaze. He tuts, grasping your jaw and forcing you back to him. His grip is firm but not painful, fingers featherlight as they trace your cheek.

“You saw my bounty,” he murmurs, voice lowering, “and had the audacity to trespass just to marvel at me.” His lips brush yours as he speaks, a phantom touch. “I find that rather offensive.”

The flames at your waist flicker higher, eating away at your clothing . The hand pinning you move to the skin uncovering at your waist. You refuse to cry out as the dull drag of his nails mark your skin. Instead, with your wrists freed, you strike.

A razor, hidden beneath your sleeve, slices across his torso. He barely reacts, expression unreadable as he watches the surrounding flesh redden, blood staining his garments. Then, with a single effortless movement, he retrieves his dagger from the wall, steel gleaming. The blade bites deep into your shoulder. You choke on a gasp, shoving him away and stumbling back, your arm quickly slick with crimson. He exhales, slow and deliberate, pressing two fingers to the shallow cut at his stomach. A smirk tugs at his lips as he watches you falter.

His blade twirls between deft fingers, feet bringing him closer until he towers above you. Your knees scrape against the tile as his fire coils around you, framing your silhouette in flickering gold. He halts an inch from your whitening knuckles, gaze alight with amusement.

He extends the dagger to you once more. “Try again.” His smile barely hides his teeth, his pupils blown wide. His very presence hums with something heady, intoxicating.

Your pulse quickens, adrenaline crackles beneath your skin. As you reach for the dagger, it flicks out of your grasp before you can claim it. 

Pain ignites in your palm. A ball of fire unravels where the blade separates your flesh. Your scream rips through the chamber, raw and unbidden.

“You were taking too long.” He teases through your cries, slipping the metal from your flesh. His voice is silk, his eyes gleaming. He watches, enthralled, twirling the knife in his grasp before  tossing the dagger.

You collapse against the wall as his gaze engulfs you. When losing, you’re used to looks of disgust, disdain. But him, intoxicated by his excitement, your body trembles. He kneels before you, his presence suffocating. The heat of his flames flickers dangerously close, picking at the edges of your tattered frame. Fingers tighten along your jaw, tilting your face toward the fallen dagger across the room. His lips ghost along your cheek, voice velvet, poison-laced.

"Fetch."

For a moment, you don't move. Won't move. Your pride coils in your gut, hissing, demanding you refuse him. But then his grip shifts— just enough to let you feel the raw strength beneath his amusement. Your voice cracks through the cold air, “Does it always take you this long to kill?”

“Kill?” His voice lowers. “And what fun would that be with you like this?” He leans away from your face and grabs your wrist, marveling at the blood painting your skin. He lifts your palm, still raw and bloodied, to his lips. “Why would a fish play with their food?” He murmurs.

His thumb slides beside the opening of your wound, pressing down against the flesh. His mouth is agape as you scream, watching, as if truly entertained by your agony. His tongue slips slowly over the raw opening, setting your nerves on fire. 

“It’ll be easier to eat after breaking you down.” 

His mouth is dirtied by your blood. He leans in, fingers press against your pulse. His nails ghost down your throat as if debating whether to carve further.

"You're hesitating," he taunts, grip loosening just enough to let you scramble free. The moment your feet touch the ground, you bolt. But you don’t run for the dagger— you run for the window.

He watches as you leap, landing hard in the palace garden. His dagger nearly misses your ankle as you gather yourself, dashing through the lush palace yard to escape his heavy glare.

──   .⋆｡𖦹 . ঔঌ ˖°

The memory of his fire clings to you like the scent of something burned too deep into fabric. A single spark from a passing lantern makes your fingers twitch. The smallest ember makes your breath hitch.

The bounty board is quieter now, the crowds that usually gathered has thinned. The Siren’s posting remains, its price climbing higher with each passing week. As he said, he became a game of chance. A death wish dressed in gold. You trace a scar along your hand, a parting gift from the last time you entertained the idea of collecting.

And yet, despite the warnings carved into your own skin, your feet still hesitate before walking away. Nobles continue to complain as they lose hunters by the day, and you can’t help but be proud at how desperate the city is to have his head. 

──   .⋆｡𖦹 . ঔঌ ˖°

Rafayel lazed over his furniture, the ornaments adorning his body gleam against the setting sun. Fish swimming at his fingertips ignite and scatter around the room, lighting his candles. Melted wax hangs from their silver plates, branded with a royal emblem he does not own. A hum escapes him as the breeze tickles his neck.

“A visitor?” He sings. His head tilts upward to hang from his seat, a smile already playing at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve missed you, my dear.”

Your laugh is short, amused at how quickly he recognized you. Your heart quickens under his gaze. “Have you charmed me, siren?”

He smiles knowingly, “Amplifying the emotions that are already present is far more exciting. Why else would you come back to me?”

You shrug, “I’ve come to congratulate you. Your life bothers the inner city so much that your head no longer has a set price.” 

It’s true. After collecting from another mission, you noticed his poster. His face decorated a large canvas, emboldened by red spelling. Under his picture, the price tag reads: 

⋆ ANY ⋆

His bounty is now a blank check.

“Ugh, that explains why I’ve been so bored lately.” He swings his head, leaning over the lounge chair to meet your eyes.

“How should we celebrate?”

A dullness stirred in your stomach. The orchid in his eyes bloom as a smile dances across his face. His color becoming clearer, more vibrant, more beautiful than before.

“Come closer, my love.”

Your heart pounds, you fully acknowledge that you’re under his spell but feel no need to fight the thoughts his power amplifies.

Slowly, you approach him. “Curious, what does a fish want to do with a palace anyway?”

He laughs slightly, “Humans. Curious but not cautious.” he mutters, reaching a hand out to you. Your palm slips into his grasp, body following as he guides you on the lounge chair. “Invade my kingdom, take my children as pets.. . and then question why I retaliate.” He lies in the chair’s silk as you climb in. The room shrinks at the sound of his voice, melodic and heavy. 

“Such filthy resolve.”

You sit atop him staring into the colors of his eyes. Your fingers brush against his lips as they move, inattentive to the scorn leaving them.

“You, Ms. Hunter.”

An idle hand explores his chest, drawing lines in his neck down to his collarbone. His darkening gaze flickers through his lashes as your hand treads down, tracing the muscle of his torso. 

“You’re getting cockier with every visit.” 

You lean dangerously close as you study the jewelry that wreathed his hips. His nose nudges your cheek, he speaks against your lips.

“Do you enjoy how I favor you?”

“Favor?” a small laugh leaves you. “Do you scar all your toys?”

“With my reputation, would it make sense for you to leave me unscathed?” He hums as his fingers trace your jawline. “I’m protecting you, my love.”

Inattentive to him undressing you, his hand slips past your clothing as his voice continues to charm you. He feels cool against your flushed body, dragging against the uncovering skin. You lean into him the lower he trails, accepting his touch. 

“You’re so cute.” He murmurs.

His hand drags down your body before slipping between your legs. Your breath hitches as he fondles your slicked folds. A moan escapes you as slender fingers slip into your slit. Shallow breaths settle in the haze between the two of you. He becomes restless, his free hand roaming your waist. His cock twitches at the sight of you grinding against his hand, almost jealous of the hand surrounded by your soft velvet. He pumps another finger inside, taking in the cries escaping you as he maintains his rhythm.

“Almost there baby?” 

Your grip on him tightens as you nod against his shoulder. He watches as your hips roll into his knuckles, body twitching as you inch closer to your release. Suddenly, his ingers slip from your warmth. Irritated and empty, you whine— body searching for something to finish you off. He kisses down your neck as he pulls away from you.

“Do something for me first.” He cups your face, planting tender kisses against your lips, “Then I’ll reward you.”

He holds you by the waist, tapping a finger to your lips with his other hand.

“Open.” He commands, voice colder than before. You follow, parting your lips and meeting his gaze. His thumb glides against your tongue as another hand holds your face steady. His nail pierces through the surface of your tongue. You flinch as his fire carves lines down the muscle.

“Shhh, almost done.” He coos, watching you wriggle in pain.

A hint of smile tugs at his lips as his thumb rubs against the scar. The softness of your tongue is disturbed by the roughness left behind. He presses against the muscle and is pleased by your obedience. He watches you shamelessly wrap the injured muscle around his finger as he retrieves his thumb.

“A brand for my favorite pet.” He murmurs. His lips rake up your jaw, settling against the tender skin under your ear. “You’re mine now.” He says, voice rough.

His hand presses against the small of your back, pushing you close once more. “Want your reward?” His cock springs from the easy access of his garments, the heat of him rubbing against you. You grind down on him as his lips find yours, hungry and eager as he tears off what’s left of your clothes. 

He teases himself between your folds, rimming the tip around your throbbing entrance. You grip his shoulder, breath uneven as he lowers you down his length.

“That’s it, take me like a good girl.” He purrs. An encouraging hand holds your waist, directing your body to move. You melt into him as you moves. 

His breath is hot against your neck as the pace quickens. Your moans echo through the night as your hips collide. Hands finds solace on your ass, kneading the skin as you lose yourself in his ecstasy. He feels so soft, his embrace suffocating yet addictive. You cant help the noises that escape you as the knot in your stomach aches to unravel. A trail of kisses tickle up to your neck while a hand holds your waist, “That’s it baby, leave yourself wide open to me.”

Rafayel stills himself, watching as you ride closer to release, as you unravel against him. A dull pressure breaks through your skin— A blade penetrates your dorsi. You suddenly stiffen, body twitchy from your interrupted orgasm. Your wails rip through the haze thickening the room as he nuzzles his smile into your neck.

“You sound so beautiful, my love.” He pulls you closer to continue his praise. His kisses do nothing to distract from the pain welling around your wound. 

Hand prints stain your skin as he strokes your cheeks, untucking the hair past your ear. “Why aren’t you moving? Have I played too rough?”

You find the strength to fight out of his hold. You knock him in the head as you lift a leg, kicking him away and off the lounge chair. You both fall to the floor, a strained groan escaping from you as you unsheathed the blade from your flesh. A hand ghosts over your figure, desperate to keep you from escaping. The blade twirls in your palm before you turn to face the figure behind you. You pin his hand to the floor with the blade, imitating a move done to you nights before. 

You don’t meet his eye, hurrying to your feet. The siren sits there silently as your blood trails out the nearest exit. He scoffs, tossing the weapon aside. The wound barely bleeding as it closes itself. He lies on the ground, chest still heaving from the fight he started.

“Ah, I wasn’t finished.” He sighs. 

The sand is still warm between your feet as you run through the desert. The city’s light reflects off the dune’s curves, guiding you to its gates. His voice echoes through your ears, his unwavering spell following you through the darkness. You shake your head, heart thumping with adrenaline. You’re far enough from his palace walls but it feels like he hasn’t let go of you. 

You return to the city completely tattered and injured. The people of the night quickly look over you in contempt as you drag your body through the crowded streets. 

──   .⋆｡𖦹 . ঔঌ ˖°

His oceans are strongest the nights he craves you most. Nights you spend fighting against his spell, ignoring his melodies. You see him, hear him, feel him. His whispers and praise tickles your neck. The ghost of his fingertips graze your skin and prickles its surface. His voice taunts you the more you try to ignore.

“Come to me. Return to me.”

Nights have passed and your return to the city has left you restless. The scar he left on your tongue brushes against the roof of your mouth as you stroke the wound healing on your back. You so carelessly allowed him to brand you, leaving his spell to continue to haunt you. 

ه*:･゚ঔঌ ৡ

[fckwritersblock]

Something More…

Jinwoo Sung x Black Reader

Description: Drabble. Unedited AF. No real plot, it kind of just starts. A piece I was debating on whether or not I should turn this into something more but for now this is what I got.

A/n: I’ve been in my anime bag heavy lately and I just started bingeing solo leveling since I’ve been sick the past few days. Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling angsty. Anywho enjoy

---

“Fuck me?!” Jinwoo exclaimed, disbelief etched on his face as he stormed out of his room, hot on your heels.

“Yes! Fuck you, Jinwoo!” You shot back, eyes blazing with anger. You pivoted sharply, jabbing a finger at him, each step you took toward him echoing with the weight of their unresolved issues. “You think I’m jealous of your newfound success? As if I’m the one who’s been blowing you off and acting different—”

“All of a sudden your the victim” Jinwoo interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he crossed his arms defensively, desperately trying to shield himself from the confrontation., trying to mask his own insecurities with bravado.

“Kiss my ass, Jinwoo! I’ve never needed somebody to come and save me!” Your voice was low and fierce, teeth clenched as you hastily shoved items into your duffle bag, the fabric crumpling under the pressure of you frustration. Each piece you packed felt like a part of your friendship being discarded.

“I knew it, I knew you always thought I was weak. That I needed you to save me. Without Y/n, poor helpless Jinwoo would be—”

“Oh, go to hell!” Your voice rose, filled with raw emotion. “That’s never been me and you know it. Who has had your back the entire time? Who has done everything in their power to make sure you come back to your sister alive? Me! Who has encouraged you, pushed you to see how bright you shine in the world before you even became…” you flailed her hands, searching for the right words, “whatever the hell you are now? Me! And you have the nerve to make it seem like your new found power is my problem?!”

“I didn’t mean—” Jinwoo tried to backtrack, the realization of his words crashing down on him as he saw the hurt swirling in your eyes.

“Yes, the fuck you did!” You practically screamed, her voice breaking with emotion. “I couldn’t figure out why you’d been so distant, so cold. Even now you’re standing there trying to hurt me. Me! But now I see it’s because I’m not constantly stroking your ego!”

“Y/n,” he pleaded, reaching for you, but you recoiled, your anger a shield around your heart. Jinwoo wanted to de-escalate the situation, but it was too far gone.

“I’ve always been in your corner, Jinwoo! I’ve always been your biggest fan!” Your voice trembled, the raw vulnerability beneath your anger breaking through the surface. “ Somehow you’ve become this power hungry hunter who won a little bit of attention from some girl and you let it change everything! I always thought we’d… I thought we meant something more.” You paused, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat, fighting to keep your composure. “But I know better now. As much as I want to blame you for making me feel…making me believe, I fucking knew. I always knew, I was foolish to think you could ever love me the way that I love you.”

The confession hung in the air like a heavy fog, and Jinwoo froze, the weight of your words crashing over him like a tidal wave. He hadn’t prepared for this moment, and the paralysis of shock rooted him to the spot. His mouth opened, but no words came—he couldn’t even move as you snatched your keys from the counter, your expression a mask of pain and fury as you gave him one last look before turning to leave.

“Y/n, wait!” he finally managed to stammer, but you were already out the door, slamming it behind you with a force that reverberated through the stillness of the apartment.

Silence enveloped him, the chaos of the argument replaced by a deafening void. He remained rooted to the spot, his heart racing as disbelief and guilt waged war within him. He could hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching and turned to see his little sister, Jinah, standing in the doorway, her expression a mix of disappointment and concern.

“Oppa… you screwed up,” she said softly, the weight of her words sinking deep into him.

“Yeah, Jinah… I screwed up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, the gravity of his actions settling heavily on his shoulders. He felt like he had lost not just a friend, but a part of himself, leaving him hollow and yearning for a chance to make things right.

[hellothereobiwankenobi]

retribution | chapter one

⟢ summary: A group of hunters stumbles across Jackson.

⟢ tags: DDDNE, graphic descriptions of violence/torture, death/murder depicted, jackson! joel, noncanon complaint, angst, found family dynamic, no beta reader we die like men

⟢ pairing: joel miller x afab!reader (descriptions scars from surviving in a post apocalyptic world)

⟢ wc: 3.5k

⟢ authors notes: I hope you all enjoy the first installment of this horror inspired fic. I’m love to read stories with dark themes, but I’ve never written one. So, this will be a learning experience for all of us.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

A loud crack echoes off the dilapidated walls of the abandoned cabin as fist meets flesh. A middle-aged man sits bound to a metal folding chair in the center of the small den, his hands tied behind his back with a black extension cord. A large purple bruise develops on his left cheekbone as his eye swells closed. In between each strike, he futilely struggles at his restraints.

A handsome younger man stands before him, one hand gripping the older's hair, forcing his head upright. His other hand recoils back after making contact with the other man's face—a pair of reflective brass knuckles wrapped around the tanned fingers of his right hand.

The sound of a fire crackling mixes with both men's heavy breathing. A teenage girl sits on the stone hearth connecting the fireplace to the room. She holds the fireplace's metal poker in the flames, tip glowing cherry red. The firelight illuminates her deep umber skin.

The younger male releases his grasp and steps away. The bound man's head falls forward to his chest. He musters the strength to lift his gaze to his attackers before speaking.

"C’mon… We can work out a deal." Turning his head, he spits on the ground. His saliva mixes with crimson blood, "Just name it. You want a cut of the sale? It's yours."

You step forward, planting your heavy boots in the space before the man. Leaning forward, you bend at the waist until you are eye-to-eye with your current prey. "All we want is the truth. Admit what you did."

"You little cunt." He growls, staring you down. His eyes catch the long scar that travels diagonally from below your left eye, over the bridge of your nose, and across your right cheek. "My buddies are gonna find me, and you'll get what's coming to you."

"Oh, you mean this buddy?" You snap upright as a third young woman, her black hair cropped short on the sides, approaches you. She holds open an army-green canvas knapsack. You reach into the bag before jerking your arm back, revealing what's inside. Your fingers hold the decapitated head of an older caucasian male by the hair. The word "SLAVER" is carved into its forehead in jagged capital letters. The head's eyes are half-lidded, and his mouth hangs open.

You shrug nonchalantly and look down at the head in your grasp. "I don't think he is going to be much help."

A tidal wave of nausea-inducing terror overtakes the man in the chair, threatening to drown him.

"Your friend made a smart decision. He told us what we wanted to know without putting up much of a fight. So, I made it quick." You nod behind you, gesturing to the aged double-headed axe hanging from a leather sheath strapped to your back. "One clean swing, and it was all over for him."

You smile, and a sickening twinkle flashes in your eyes as your gaze flicks between the severed head and the tied up man before you.

"Catch." Your voice is sweet, like a child playing a game with a friend. You toss the head into the man's lap.

The man screams in horror and instinctively jerks away as the head makes contact with his thighs before falling to the floor. His sudden forceful movement causes the metal chair to clatter to the ground, slamming him on his side. The man continues to shriek as he tries to push himself away, still attached to the folding chair.

The room erupts in sickening laughter as his four captures find amusement at his panicked response.

Boots thud across the wooden slat floor as you approach his pathetic quivering form. His eyes are still locked on his friend's head, lying lifeless only a few feet away.

Using the toe of your boot, you turn his attention up at you. "Now, I'll ask you again.”

Without breaking eye contact, you hold out your hand for the glowing red poker. The teen girl places the handle in your open palm as you wrap your fingers around it. The man below you can feel the heat radiating off the metal as you bring the glowing end close to his face, lining it up with his right eye “Admit what you did."

· · · ────────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ────────── · · ·

Joel takes in a deep breath through his nose. The air is warm as it enters his nostrils. It's still early in the day, but summer has finally come to Jackson. The snow has melted away to reveal lush green foliage and wildflowers in bloom. He has grown to enjoy patrol duty. Time away from the hustle and bustle of the town he now calls home, where a man can clear his head and get some peace. He enjoys the silence, hearing the natural sounds of the Wyoming wilderness. That is until Tommy decides to break the silence.

"I swear, man." Tommy begins, holding the reins of his horse with both hands. "Benji called me 'daddy' last night."

Joel shoots a pointed look at his brother.

"Hand to God, man. He said it." Tommy defends himself.

Getting used to Tommy being a first-time parent has been an adjustment for Joel. He was happier than he could admit for his younger brother. He understands firsthand the pure joy being a father gives a man. Fatherhood was the greatest blessing Joel ever experienced with Sarah. And now he has gotten a second chance to experience it again because of Ellie. But Tommy never stops talking about his infant son.

"He's three months old. Babies can't even hold up their own heads yet." Joel informs his brother.

"That's why it's so fuckin' amazin'!" Tommy exclaims, "He's a genius. Just like his mama."

"Tommy, just watch for any damn infected." Joel sighs.

The two continue their patrol, only getting off their horse to sign the books at designated checkpoints. Once the final checkpoint has been cleared, the brothers ride back to Jackson.

The horses stroll leisurely, using the same path they came from.

Joel is dressed in a pair of fitted jeans and a worn cotton t-shirt, but he is starting to sweat from the sun's heavy rays. He guesses it must be midafternoon from the way the sun is positioned just above them in the sky.

He reaches for the stainless steel canteen attached to his saddle. Bringing it to his lips, he takes a pull of cold water. After screwing back on the lid and clipping it back in place, Joel scans the horizon lazily. He isn't expecting to see anything unusual from how quiet it is, but his eyes catch sight of a strange silhouette in the tree line. He's sure that wasn't present when they first passed by. It looked almost like something was hanging concealed high in the canopy. He tries to squint his eyes, but they are too far away to make out.

"Tommy." Joel alarms his brother, gesturing to the tree line.

Tommy nods. "Yeah, I see it too."

The brothers jerk their horses' reins toward the forest's edge. As they approach the dense trees, the silhouettes come into focus.

The bodies of two men hang lifelessly from a branch of a centuries-old pine tree. Joel's eyes search the corpses, head to toe. He sees both men share a similar message carved into the flesh of their foreheads. The words "RAIDER" and "RAPER" are crudely carved into their thin skin.

"Jesus Christ…" Tommy's voice is just above a whisper. He points down directly below the two bodies. The decapitated body of a third man lay propped up in a sitting position against the tree trunk, holding what Tommy can only assume is its own head in its lap. The third man shares the same writing across his forehead. This one reading "SLAVER"

Joel pulls the silver revolver from the holster on his hip. "Keep an eye out."

Tommy nods and pulls his own handgun from the strap on his thigh.

The two brothers hurry back to Jackson, their horses' hooves thundering against the solid ground. They make sure to keep a close lookout for whoever is responsible for the death of the three men.

As they approach Jackson's large wooden gates, the sun sits low, casting the sky in a collage of pink and orange. The gates open, welcoming the brothers homes. Once inside, they holster their side arms and slide out of the saddles. Two guards come to usher their horses back to the stables.

"We need to tell the council about whatever the fuck that was," Tommy tells Joel as they walk onto the main street.

"We don't need to scare people." Joel disagrees.

Tommy looks at his brother "There are some psychos stringin' up bodies out there. The other patrol groups need to know."

Joel runs a hand through his graying curls. Deep down, he knows Tommy is right. He only wishes they knew more before bringing this to the council.

· · · ────────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ────────── · · ·

You lay flat on your back, staring up at the night sky. Santiago sturs a small cast iron pot suspended over a crackling fire. He is preparing his famous "Rabbit and Whatever the Hell Else We Can Find" stew for tonight's dinner. Safiya sits on a flat rock, rubbing an oiled rag across the delicate inner workings of her rifle. Adriana sits at Saf's feet and leans against her leg for support.

"Adriana, get off me. It's too damn hot for all that." Safiya complains, trying to shake the younger girl off. With the fire burning and the summer air still warm around them, it was too hot for such close proximity. "And you smell awful."

"Sorry, I just wanna be close to you." Adriana sucks her teeth as she stands, rolling her brown eyes. She walks around to the other side of the fire and lies next to you.

"What are you thinking about, professor?" the teen asks, using the nickname she knows you can't stand.

"I was coming up with a plan to get some peace and quiet for once." You reply flatly. You aren't really upset with her. Over the decade you and Adriana have traveled together, she's become the younger sister you never had.

"What month do you think it is?" Adriana ignores your not-so-subtle jab and asks.

You raise your right hand toward the sky and trace the path of a specific constellation with your index finger, "Do you see that line of stars? It looks like an uppercase T with a long curly tail?"

Adriana nods, her eyes fixated on the twinkling sky.

"That one is called Scorpius. It's only visible in North America during the summer months." you explain as Adriana "oohs" and "aahs."

"I could have told you that," Safiya remarks under her breath.

You turn your head to the side, finally removing your gaze from the stars and to the girl lying next to you. "I would say it is probably early to mid-June."

You pause and scrunch up your nose, "You really do smell bad."

Adriana gasps offendedly and sits up with a huff. "You both are a couple of grouches tonight. Santi would never treat me like this." She pushes onto her hands and knees and crawls closer to Santiago.

He looks up from the bubbling stew before him and meets her eyes, jokingly waving his free hand in front of his nose. Adriana shoots up to her feet and stomps against the ground of the campsite. Her eyebrows are drawn together, and her hands are curled into fists, resembling a child about to throw a tantrum. You and Safiya can't help but laugh at Adriana's frustrated display. She is nineteen years old but never outgrew her bratty preteen phase.

"Fine then." She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm going for a walk since clearly none of my friends love me anymore."

She turns her back on the group, marching into the darkness. "Come get me when dinner is ready."

"Don't wander off." You call after her, sitting up with one last chuckle.

"Can't be that mad if she's still hungry." Safiya continues her ministrations, caressing her rifle's frame like it was her lover.

You raise one arm up and take a sniff, the smell making your expression twist into something sour, "We could all use a good bath in the river tomorrow. I'm sure it will be warm enough again. We definitely earned a little reward after today."

"Finally caught the bastards. About damn time." Safiya is now reassembling her rifle, clicking every tiny piece into place with just muscle memory. "We've only been tailing them since Boulder."

You pick at a loose thread on the leg pocket of your brown cargo pants. "It's probably about a day's walk to Grand Teton from here. Then from there, it's only a stone's throw to Yellowstone. We could head west after and see the battlefields at Little Bighorn."

Looking up from the lone offending string; you see Santiago and Safiya staring blankly at you.

You sigh, "It was where Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull led an army of Native American warriors in order to stop westward expansion and preserve their ancestral way of life."

The two younger group members' expressions remain unchanged.

"Does your head ever feel heavy from all that book learning weighing it down?" Safiya asks, mostly joking.

"Haha," You speak dryly, rolling your eyes. "Socrates was persecuted for the pursuit of knowledge in his time as well. Some 'book learning' might be good for you. Expand your mind a little. The only thing you care about is that damn gun."

"Until the day Socrates comes back to life to fight off infected, I'll stick to this girl right here." Safiya hugs her beloved rifle to her chest.

You shift your body to lie back down when you hear Adriana’s

voice carrying through the surrounding forest. The three of you spring to your feet, your hands immediately reaching for your respective weapons.

"You guys!" Adriana's boot crunch against fallen leaves and twigs as she sprints back to the group "You guys come look!"

The teen erupts from the darkness into the light of the campsite. "Come on!"

She waves her hand, motioning you all to follow her. She turns on her heels and speeds back to her discovery. The three of you rush to follow her into the expansive forest.

When you finally catch up with her, Adriana is standing in a clearing next to a cliff overlooking a deep valley. An unnaturally bright glow emanates from the very base of the valley.

It's a settlement. No, it's more of a city. What looks to be a couple hundred buildings illuminated by electricity burns like a beacon in the middle of the Wyoming wilderness. It's bigger than anything you've seen before during your travels. More grand than tent villages powered by portable generators and bigger than makeshift towns constructed by those lucky enough to have survived this long. It looks like the kind of cities that existed from before the outbreak.

· · · ───────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ───────── · · ·

The council assembles an emergency meeting a few hours after Tommy and Joel's return. The brothers stand side by side in front of the council's long, curved desk, explaining what they saw on patrol.

"They all had a different word written in their skin." Tommy squeezes his hands tight, trying to keep his fingers from fidgeting. This is an odd feeling for him. He's usually sat behind the desk in these meetings, not speaking before it.

"What did they say?" Maria asks her husband.

"Raider, raper, slaver," Joel answers, his voice coming out low.

"Maybe this was personal." An older woman with snow white hair sitting at the far end remarks. "Whoever did this could have already left the area."

“Takin' down a group of raiders ain't easy. Whoever did it had to be skilled. And well armed." Tommy continues. "This is a kind of brutality that ain't something that should be ignored."

He thinks back to the headless man propped up against the tree trunk, "One of 'em, his head was cut clean off."

"With what? A knife?" Another council member asks.

“Nah," Tommy shakes his head, "Something big, heavy."

Like an axe, the conclusion came to Joel as soon as he saw the precise cut.

Maria closes her eyes and takes a deep breath through her nose, "We should double patrols until we know for a fact whoever did this is gone. And increase the numbers on the walls."

This time, Joel is grateful for Maria's pragmatism. While the other members want to bury their heads in the sand and pretend there isn't a threat in their backyard, Maria is willing to admit they may be in danger.

Maria calls the meeting adjourned. She and Tommy need to rearrange patrol and guard duty schedules for the next week to accompany the extra shifts.

Joel exits the city hall building and makes his way home. The summer air feels good against his skin. Jackson's winter had been bitingly cold. Even the spring was still too brisk for his liking. But the summer here reminds him of Austin in the spring, just not as humid.

He returns home and hears the soft strumming of guitar strings coming from the backyard. Joel approaches the small garage that Ellie has made into her new living space. Joel knocks on the door, and the guitar chords come to an immediate halt.

"Come in!" Ellie shouts through the closed door. Joel pulls the door open and enters the dimly lit room. Only the old Christmas lights that they found in the house's dust-filled attic illuminate the space.

"It ain't too dark in here for ya?" He asks, looking around the garage.

"Nah, I like it dark." Ellie shrugs. She's sitting at the edge of her bed, acoustic guitar resting in her lap.

Teenagers, Joel shakes his head.

"You eat dinner?" He comes to sit next to her on the bed.

Ellie nods "Me, Dina, and Jesse went to the dining hall earlier."

Joel inhales. "There is something… weird goin' on outside. It might be a while before we go out explorin' again."

Ellie furrows her eyebrows. "Weird, how?" She sets the guitar on the floor, leaning the neck against the bed.

"Don't know yet." He tells her before standing, "Just promise me you'll be careful for the next few days."

"Are you just being extra paranoid again or something?" She asks skeptically.

"Ellie." He speaks her name in a warning tone.

Ellie hears the seriousness in his voice. She notices his posture is stiffer than usual, too. "Okay, I promise."

· · · ────────── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ────────── · · ·

"We should go!" Adriana exclaims before shoving a spoonful of stew into her mouth. The idea of going to Jackson makes her eyes shine with excitement.

Your group has returned to the makeshift campsite and are eating Santiago’s rabbit stew from aluminum camping bowls and matching spoons.

"We don't know anything about them. It's not safe." You immediately shut down her little fantasy. She should know better than this.

"But they have walls. And electricity. Maybe even running water!" The younger girl continues trying to argue her point.

"They could be a town of cannibals for all we know." You bring the spoon of stew to your lips. "Cannibals that like to eat pretty girls like you."

“Not everyone is out to get us," Adriana replies softly. She knows you're overprotective for a good reason, but sometimes it can be too much.

Safiya chimes in, "Adriana might be right. They could even be willing to trade. We could use some medical supplies, and who knows the next time we’ll see another settlement."

You can't believe your ears. There aren't many rules amongst the group, but not purposefully putting yourselves in danger is definitely one of them. "We survive by laying low. We don't know anything about these people."

“What makes you think they would even let us enter their town in the first place? You two are living in fantasy land." You look at Santiago. "Santi agrees with me."

He averts his eyes to his bowl and continues eating his meal.

"Why don't we vote on it?" Adriana volunteers, letting her gaze scan the group. "All in favor of not going?"

You're the only person to raise their hand.

"All in favor of going?" All three of your traveling companions raise their hands.

"Guess it's decided then." Safiya shrugs, "We aren't gonna stay forever. Just check it out, then we can keep heading east."

Your heartbeat is audible in your ears as you feel blood rushing to warm your face. How could they all be so trusting? All four of you have seen the worst humanity has to offer. All four of you have experienced it firsthand.

You push yourself to your feet, grabbing your axe from beside you before resheathing it on your back. "I'll take the first watch."

You leave the light of the campsite before anyone can protest. You just need some time to clear your head.

[bunnyboowrites]

Can you do more Luffy x black female reader

Sorry it took a while and I hope you enjoy! Xoxo Bunny boo

Warnings: P in V sex, female reader, ooc Luffy (because cannon Luffy having sex is very unlikely)

Being Straw Hat Luffy’s girlfriend has its perks. Life with him is an endless whirlwind of excitement—crazy adventures across the Grand Line, indulging in delicious food, and being surrounded by the most loyal and unique crew you could ever imagine. Every day feels like a new chapter in a story you never want to end. The camaraderie, the laughter, and the thrill of facing the unknown make it all feel like a dream.

But, as with any great journey, there’s always a downside. The constant danger lurking around every corner, the relentless pursuit by enemies and bounty hunters, and the sacrifices that come with chasing the One Piece can take their toll. Being with Luffy means embracing the chaos and uncertainty of a pirate’s life, where every moment is unpredictable and safety is never guaranteed.

Luffy’s bounty had just skyrocketed to an unbelievable 3,000,000,000 berries, and, true to form, he did what he always does—insisted on celebrating a job well done. With his boundless enthusiasm, it was impossible to say no. The Thousand Sunny docked at a lush island that felt more like a luxurious resort, and soon enough, the whole crew was running wild, each indulging in their own version of fun.

Usopp, Franky, Brook, and Chopper were tearing through every daredevil slide they could find, their laughter and excited shouts echoing across the resort. Zoro, as expected, had stationed himself at the bar, steadily draining it of its supply while challenging anyone daring enough to keep up. Luffy was practically glued to Sanji’s side, pestering him for food with the wide-eyed persistence only Luffy could manage.

Meanwhile, you, Jinbei, Robin, and Nami had opted for a quieter kind of indulgence, lounging in the cool shade near a massive pool. The tranquil setting was a welcome reprieve after your recent adventures. As you stretched out on the comfortable lounge chair, the sound of splashing water and distant laughter blended into the background while you exchanged stories with the others, recounting the chaos and triumphs of your latest journey. It was one of those rare moments of peace, where the weight of the Grand Line seemed to melt away, if only for a little while.

“You ladies look absolutely radiant!” Sanji gushed, his heart practically floating out of his chest as he addressed you, Robin, and Nami. His eyes sparkled, but Luffy’s attention suddenly snapped to you.

You were stretched out in a white bikini, your brown skin glistening under the sun, misted with sweat that only accentuated your natural beauty. Luffy stared openly, his grin widening as if he’d never seen anyone so dazzling.

Robin and Nami, unbothered by the usual antics, each requested drinks, and Sanji immediately sped off to fulfill their every wish, leaving the three of you with Jinbe still reclining in his spot.

“So,” Nami began with a sly smile, leaning in slightly, “have you and Luffy done any couple things yet?”

The question hit you like a tidal wave, and you felt the warmth of embarrassment rush to your cheeks. “I, um…” you stammered, glancing nervously between them. “We’ve only been dating a couple of weeks, and, well… Luffy can be a little clueless sometimes.” You gave a small, nervous laugh, scratching the back of your neck as their curious gazes lingered on you.

Robin chuckled softly, her calm demeanor adding a gentle ease to the conversation. Jinbei, however, spoke up with a knowing smile. “You’ll have to be direct with our captain,” he said wisely. “He may be strong, but when it comes to these things, he’s… not the brightest.”

The group laughed, and you couldn’t help but join in, the tension easing slightly. You glanced toward Luffy, who was now bouncing up and down in front of Sanji, pleading for a snack. Maybe Jinbei was right—subtlety would probably never work with someone like him.

As the afternoon stretched on and the festivities began to settle, Luffy, in his usual energetic fashion, bounded over to you with his signature grin. “Hey! Let’s go explore!” he said, grabbing your hand without waiting for an answer. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you didn’t even think to protest as he led you away from the group and into the thick jungle surrounding the resort.

The sounds of the crew’s laughter and chatter faded as the dense foliage engulfed the two of you. Luffy’s grip on your hand was firm but gentle, his excitement radiating with every step he took. He didn’t have a destination in mind, but with Luffy, you didn’t need one. Just being by his side was its own adventure.

After some time weaving through vines and ducking under low-hanging branches, you both stumbled upon something unexpected—a natural hot spring nestled in a clearing, steam rising delicately from the crystal-clear water. The sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting a golden glow over the serene oasis.

“Whoa!” Luffy exclaimed, eyes wide with amazement. “This is awesome!”

You couldn’t help but smile at his childlike wonder. “It’s beautiful,” you said, stepping closer to the edge of the spring. The warm steam kissed your skin, and the bubbling water looked so inviting after the day’s heat.

Without a second thought, Luffy started stripping off his sandals and unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it aside. “Let’s get in!” he said eagerly, already wading into the water.

“Luffy!” you laughed, turning away as he plunged in, fully embracing the soothing heat. He surfaced a moment later, shaking his head like a dog and grinning at you.

“Come on!” he urged, holding out a hand. “It feels amazing!”

You hesitated for a moment before giving in. Sliding into the water beside him, the warmth wrapped around you like a comforting hug. You sighed in contentment as you sank deeper, the tension melting from your body.

Luffy floated nearby, his carefree smile never fading as he glanced over at you. “This was a good idea, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, meeting his gaze. “It was.”

The two of you stayed there for what felt like hours, talking about everything and nothing. The jungle seemed to stand still around you, the moment entirely your own.

Luffy’s grin widened, his brown eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and something deeper—something that made your heart race. There was an intensity in his gaze, a desire so pure and earnest that it left you breathless. Slowly, he swam closer, the gentle ripples in the water giving way to his presence until he was right in front of you.

His wet body pressed lightly against yours under the warm water, and you could feel the heat of his skin blending with the soothing heat of the spring. The firmness of his muscles was undeniable, a testament to his strength and determination, but his touch held a softness that made you feel safe, cherished.

“Hey, Y/N,” Luffy said softly, his voice dipping into a rare tone of vulnerability. “You’re so beautiful… and really pretty.” His shy smile stretched across his face, and you noticed the faintest blush dusting his cheeks—a rare sight for someone usually so confident and carefree. “I like you. A lot,” he added, the words tumbling out in a way that felt so completely him—honest, simple, and straight from the heart.

Your breath hitched as he lifted his hand, the rubbery texture of his fingers unusually gentle as they caressed your cheek. His thumb brushed lightly over your bottom lip, the touch so soft and intimate that it sent a shiver cascading down your spine. The world seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of water bubbling around you and the rhythmic pounding of your heartbeat.

Luffy’s gaze was intense yet unassuming, filled with an innocent longing that made the moment even more profound. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to read your thoughts, before he leaned in just slightly, his lips parting with anticipation.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the hopeful edge tugging at your heartstrings. His question hung in the air, tender and raw, as if he was offering you his entire heart in those simple words.

You could feel the warmth of his breath, the proximity making the steam swirling around you both seem even heavier, like a dream you didn’t want to wake from. His presence was magnetic, drawing you closer as his hand remained on your cheek, his thumb now tracing small circles on your skin.

Unable to find the words, you nodded, your lips trembling slightly as you tilted your face toward his. That was all the encouragement he needed. Luffy closed the small distance between you, his lips brushing against yours with a hesitancy that surprised you—gentle, almost testing, as though he wanted to make sure he got it just right.

The kiss deepened as you leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders. His lips were soft and warm, moving against yours with a sweetness that left you feeling lightheaded. The innocence of his touch mixed with the quiet passion he poured into the kiss made it clear just how much he cared for you.

When he finally pulled back, his face was flushed, and his grin was even wider than before. “That was awesome!” he exclaimed, his excitement breaking through the intimate stillness. His joy was contagious, and you couldn’t help but laugh, your own cheeks warm with both the heat of the spring and the lingering warmth of his kiss.

“Yeah, it was,” you replied, your voice soft but full of affection as you looked at him

“Luffy I wanna try something” you stated, hands moving to pull the tie of your bikini top and bottom. Letting them float away you grin. The water is covering your body as you press yourself into him. Luffy's eyes widened in surprise, and he stumbled backward, his hands instinctively reaching out to grasp your waist. His face turned bright red as he struggled to process what was happening.

"W-what are you doing?" he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. The water around you seemed to amplify the sensation of your skin touching his, and Luffy's eyes darted back and forth, as if searching for an escape or a distraction. Despite his initial shock, a sly grin began to spread across his face, and he leaned in closer, his voice taking on a more playful tone. "I-I mean, I'm not complaining or anything..."

“I want to take our relationship to the next level Luffy, I love you and people in love do these things” you toy with the strings of his bottoms. Your naughty hands exploring his hard abdomen.

Luffy's eyes sparkled with excitement, and he let out a nervous chuckle, his hands tightening around your waist. "O-oh, I see," he stuttered, his face still flushed with embarrassment. As your hands explored his abdomen, he couldn't help but let out a slight moan, his body responding to your touch. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "I love you too," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

His hands began to roam, tracing the curves of your body, and he pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. The water around you seemed to fade into the background as you both lost yourselves in the moment, the only sound being the beating of your hearts and the gentle lapping of the waves.

A gasp left your mouth, your body was so reactive to his touch. You hadn’t done this before and you also assumed he hadn’t as well. Your hands slipped under his trunks and moaned feeling him, your fingers could barely wrap around his length. Luffy's eyes widened in surprise, and he let out a low groan, his body tensing up as your hands wrapped around him. He had never experienced anything like this before, and the sensation was almost overwhelming.

His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth. As you moaned, he felt a surge of excitement, his body responding to your touch. He couldn't help but move his hips, subtly thrusting into your hands, as if seeking more of the pleasure you were giving him. His voice was barely above a whisper, but he managed to stammer out, "Y-you're... really good at this..." His face was still flushed with embarrassment.

“Take your trunks off Lu, I wanna feel you for the first time.” You pulled yourself away from his body and turned to lean over the rocky edged wall of the spring. Your ass peaking out of the water as you arched and wiggled your ass to entice him “don’t you wanna feel me around you?”

Luffy's eyes went wide as he stared at your arched back and the enticing sight of your ass peeking out of the water. He felt a surge of desire and his face turned an even deeper shade of red. He stuttered, "Y-yes... I wanna feel you..." His hands trembled as he reached down to push his trunks down, his eyes never leaving yours.

As he stepped out of his trunks, he felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. He had never done this before, but he couldn't wait to experience it with you. He took a step closer, his eyes fixed on your ass, and his hands reached out to grasp your hips. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, and whispered, "I wanna feel you so bad..." His body was tense with anticipation, and he slowly began to push himself closer, his tip brushing against your entrance.

“Come on Luffy let me show you how much I love my captain” you spread your pussy lips open as invitation. He took a deep breath, his face still flushed with embarrassment, and slowly began to push himself into you. As he entered, he let out a low groan, his body tensing up with pleasure. He felt a sense of wonder and excitement, as if he had never felt anything so good before. His hands tightened around your hips, pulling you closer as he began to move slowly, his body adjusting to the new sensation. "A-ah... I can feel it... I can feel how much you love me..." he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. As he moved, he felt a sense of connection and intimacy with you, and he knew that their relationship had reached a new level. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, and whispered, "I love you too... so much..."

The sensation of him filling you up was intense, the painful pressure was mixing with the pleasure of him inside of you, you could barely moan out a response “I-i love you too captain” you knew how much he loved to be called that, especially by you.

Luffy's eyes sparkled with excitement as he heard you call him "captain", and he felt a surge of pride and pleasure. He began to move more slowly, trying to savor the sensation of being inside you, and his hands tightened around your hips, pulling you closer. "A-ah, say it again... say it again, please..." he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. As he moved, he felt a sense of ownership and possession, as if he had claimed you as his own. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, and whispered, "You're mine...my love... you're all mine..." His movements became more gentle, as if he was trying to make the sensation last forever, and he whispered, "I'll always protect you, I'll always love you..."

“Please captain, faster please” you preened, the feeling in your belly was so intense and you didn’t want it to end too early but you needed him to fuck you like there was nothing and no one else in the world but you. Luffy heard your plea, and he felt a surge of desire to fulfill your request. He began to move faster, his hips thrusting into you with a newfound intensity, and his hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place.

"A-ah, like this? Like this, Y/N?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with passion. As he moved, he felt himself getting lost in the sensation, his mind consumed by the thought of being inside you, of being the only one who could make you feel this way. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, and whispered, "I'll give you everything, I'll give you all of me... just for you..." His movements became more frenzied, his body pounding into yours, as if he was trying to merge their two bodies into one. The sound of the water, the sound of their heavy breathing, and the sound of their skin slapping together filled the air, creating a symphony of passion and desire.

The knot was so close to snapping, you reach down and play with your clit and push yourself over the edge. He felt a surge of pleasure at the sight of you bringing yourself to orgasm. He moved faster, his hips thrusting into you with a newfound intensity. As you moaned out his name, he felt a sense of pride and ownership, knowing that he was the one who had brought you to this point. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, and whispered, "I'm coming too,Y/N... I'm coming with you..." His body tensed up, and he let out a loud groan as he reached his own climax, his seed spilling into you as he held you tightly in place. The two of you remained there for a moment, frozen in time, as the waves of pleasure washed over you, and the sound of your heavy breathing filled the air. Finally, Luffy collapsed against you, his body spent, and his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "I love you, Y/N... I love you so much..."

The hot spring remained still, its warmth wrapping around you both like a gentle embrace as the quiet moment lingered. Your heart was still fluttering from the confession, but you managed to steady your breath and offer a playful smile.

“We better get going back to the Sunny,” you said with a soft laugh, tilting your head toward the direction of the jungle. “They might actually leave their captain and his girlfriend behind.”

The word “girlfriend” slipped out naturally, and you couldn’t help the small blush that followed. Luffy’s reaction, however, was as simple and heartwarming as ever. His signature kilowatt smile lit up his face, his eyes gleaming with unbridled joy.

“Yeah!” he said enthusiastically, nodding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But first, I’m hungry! Let’s get some food from Sanji!”

You laughed, shaking your head fondly as Luffy climbed out of the water, his movements as carefree as ever. He held out a hand to you, helping you out of the spring with surprising gentleness. As you both gathered your belongings and started making your way back through the jungle, Luffy kept your hand firmly in his, swinging it slightly as he led the way.

The journey back was filled with Luffy’s chatter, mostly about what he was planning to ask Sanji to cook and how much he was going to eat. Every now and then, he glanced back at you, his grin never wavering, and you couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom in your chest.

By the time you emerged from the jungle, the sounds of the crew’s laughter and chatter reached your ears once again, and the sight of the Sunny docked in the distance brought a sense of home.

Luffy turned to you as you walked up the beach, his expression as bright as the sun overhead. “I’m glad we went,” he said simply, his voice filled with sincerity.

You squeezed his hand, smiling up at him. “Me too, Luffy.”

[floralpools]

hihi!!

i loved ur dean blurb and i was wondering if you could do a similar one, but for sam?? and possibly make them enemies to lovers type beat

you're such a good writer too btw :))

a/n: tysm for the support!! ofc I gotta follow up with some sam content, enjoy🫦

Hungry Eyes

Warnings: Minors dni; Smut, side-wind, unprotected, m!receiving, overstimulation, language, some angst, size-kink

Pairing: Sam Winchester x you

Summary: You're a hunter, familiar with Sam and Dean's work —and that wasn't a good thing. So, it took no time at all for you to bump heads with the youngest brother, though it becomes difficult to ignore the underlying attraction there.

Word Count: 2k

...

You crouched low behind the thick underbrush, breathing steadily as you surveyed the clearing ahead. The late afternoon sun painted the scene in golden hues, illuminating the blurry figures of two men, struggling against a group of snarling demons. Your heart raced—not from fear, but from that familiar adrenaline. You had been trained for this, to hunt the monsters that lurked in the shadows, and protect those in need.

Just as you braced yourself for a fight, unexpectedly, you recognized one of them. Sam Winchester... The hunter who had opened the gates of Hell, fed on demon blood, and dismantled every hunter's code in a hungry pursuit for power. He and his companion matched their descriptions spot on, and a swell of anger surged within you, merging with the adrenaline.

The Winchesters were the last people you wanted to help, rumoured as selfish and pathetic, yet there they were, fighting valiantly to save a young girl caught in a demon’s grasp.

Against your better judgment, you emerged from your hiding spot. You rushed into the fray, taking down one demon with a swift slice of your charmed blade. It felt surreal; to combat alongside a man you despised by name. As you worked together, you couldn’t deny the rhythm that formed between you, each of you covering the other’s blind spots.

When the last demon fell, silence enveloped the clearing. You stood panting, blood pumping violently through your veins. You then narrowed your gaze onto Sam and an unfamiliar warmth bloomed in your chest. He was dishevelled and dirty, but even covered in grime, you could see the strength in his handsome features. 

But that warmth twisted into disdain as you recalled why you hated him. “You’re lucky I don’t bleed you out myself Winchester,” you spit hostility, using your sleeve to wipe your blade clean as you turned away. You felt his heated stare bore into your back. It was a mix of confusion and something deeper, but you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it. 

“Right,” he snapped rather sarcastically, voice low, clearly stung. “Thanks for the help, I guess," he uttered, followed by a mumble of, "Whoever you are."

You rolled your eyes. His wounded pride brought you a sense of satisfaction. You liked not having bothered with the usual pleasantries between fellow hunters, or even an introduction. However, you couldn't shake how painfully aware you were of how attractive he looked. Your mind warred with your heart, anger battling lure.

Months passed since then, and fate had an unsettling way of pulling you deeper into the web of chaos that surrounded the Winchesters. One evening, on a cool January night, after a particularly gruelling encounter with a demon, you found yourself in the same motel room as Sam. You both got soaked by an abrupt tidal of rain, and though you changed into some of the boy's spare clothes, Sam made no effort to switch out of his drenched attire.

He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, head in his hands. A heavy, uncomfortable silence filled the air, dense with the weight of loss and failure. Another causality was had, and it seemed to affect Sam in a different way than you and his brother, who have grown disturbingly desensitized to death.

You observed Sam, and something inside you softened as you recalled the stories you’d heard—how he had lost so much, which later led to all the Hellfire and bloodshed. The vexation you carried for him began to fade, replaced by a deep-seated empathy. Your instincts kicked in, and without thinking, you approached him.

“Sam?” You called softly. He didn’t respond, the shadows of despair looming over him like a shroud. Disturbed by his silence, you knelt beside him, uncertain yet compelled to bridge the gap between you two. With a tentative hand, you rested it lightly on his back, which tensed, muscles tautening under your cool touch.

When he finally looked up, his eyes were glassy, filled with unshed tears, though they held you with such an acute regard. Without a word, you sat down beside him, the side of your thigh flush against his when you embraced him. It was an impulsive act, a comfort that transcended what defined your strange relationship. Surprisingly, he melted into you, his body shaking with silent sobs. He clearly was desperate for someone to lean on, especially with his brother still outside tracking the monster that attacked you all. 

Minutes passed in that quiet cocoon of shared grief before he pulled back and peered down at you with a vulnerability so scalding, that you nearly shied away. His gaze was disarming and it had a glint of something you had only seen momentarily, on the day you met.

Then his eyes darkened, demeanour shifting. You inhaled sharply and held that breath. The warmth of his presence, so close, burned your skin like a fever —and then he kissed you. The world stilled and the only sensation you felt was the soft, tentative flesh pressing against your lips. It was more of a question rather than a demand; It was gentle —just like you'd grown to understand Sam was.

After a second of hesitance, you shoved his buff chest away with both hands. “No,” you spoke firmly, heart stuttering. “You’re just… you need comfort right now. This isn’t fair," you expressed, though you were unsure of who it was 'unfair' to.

Sam's brows furrowed, daze soon morphing into frustration. “You think I’m just looking for comfort?” He asked before sighing your name, his voice hoarse, thick with disbelief and pure frustration. You shuddered at the depths of his tone. “I want you. I'm tired of pretending that I don’t.”

His words hung in the air, laden with a truth that veered your perspective entirely. The walls you had built began to crumble, and all the reasons you had for hating him felt hollow. You couldn't even look into his puppy-dog eyes, as they surveyed every emotion that flickered across your face.

“Sam,” you whispered, grappling with the surge of feelings you had been filing away, that was now threatening to overwhelm you. “I—”

But he leaned in again, capturing your lips with his, leaving no room for doubt. This time, you didn’t retract into yourself. Instead, you thawed against him, eagerly allowing his larger frame to envelop yours.

The kiss grew frantic and you clawed at his thin, wet shirt as you wrapped around him. He then threw you onto his lap so you straddled his stocky thighs. Sam groaned into your mouth and you swallowed it with a pleasant hum. He cupped your head and pulled you deeper into his pressing kiss as if time were against you both.

Your hands roamed down his spine, keen to remove his clothes. You reached the hem of his shirt and lifted it. Sam instantly convulsed against your body and gasped away from your mouth. He let go of you, hands hovering beside your face as he paused, lost in a trance. Suddenly, his stupor cut short and he swiftly refocused on your body, eyes tracing your torso. He gulped before flipping you both. You land on your back, bouncing slightly on the mattress, releasing a yelp of surprise before Sam kneeled above you, mouth agape as he tore off his shirt, throwing it across the room. He then lowered his face to yours, frantic to taste your mouth again. You whimpered when his cold hands moved under your shirt and unclipped your bra.

After he worked off most of your clothes, leaving you in just your undergarments, your hands zipped to his belt, unbuckling it. He grunted before he began an assault on your neck, sucking it, likely leaving numerous hickeys in his wake. “Sam,” you whined, weaving your fingers into his silky hair. “Sam, I need more,” you whined some more, losing the strength in your body while he caged you in, holding you firm against him.

“More?” He questioned, mouth releasing your skin to peer up at you. His dilated pupils surveyed you, brow arching. “Yes,” you whispered airily. Biting your lip, your gaze darted to his undone buckle, hoping he would finish the job. Understanding your wordless request, he rose to tear off the rest of his clothes. You suck in a terse breath at the sight of his naked body, wetting your lips. He was big in every way and you were desperate to feel his weight atop you again.

“Come here,” you whispered seductively, stretching your arms out to him. He promptly accepted your embrace and dropped down to your level. You both sighed into one another, recognizing that this was what you both needed all along. “Jesus, how long have I been waiting for you?” He asked, murmuring to himself. Before you got the chance to respond, the head of his cock pressed against your clit, slowly sliding to your entrance.

You held eye contact with Sam, mouth wide open as he pushed into you, bottoming out in one motion. The air fled your lungs in a single exhale and you're left gasping for breath. You felt Sam watching, observing your bare chest as it rose and fell before kissing you hungrily. His tongue slipped into your mouth, memorizing every square inch.

You moaned loudly when he finally moved. It didn’t take long for him to build up a rhythm. Suddenly, he disregarded that tempo and pulled away from your kiss to straighten up. He then took one of your thighs and threw it over top of your other leg, positioning you on your side. His palms cupped your hip and you groaned at the change-up.

Sam eyed you, visibly pleased by the new angle. He then started pounding, roughly ramming into you, skin smacking against your lower half. The collision was loud and the room was crowded by your sobs and Sam’s grunts.

When you reached your gut-churning orgasm, clenching around him, he hoisted up the leg he had flipped, tossing it over his shoulder, gaining more access to you. You shouted and whimpered but he didn’t relent, letting out a week's worth of frustration, toward you, and the universe. He growled your name once, and with that, he carelessly came inside you.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, head tilting down in pure exhaustion. Your eyes fluttered shut as his warmth filled your core, making your body quake. Then he removed his hefty build from your limp one, rising to fall back down to your side. Sam hissed as he left your center, huffing as he dropped onto the soft cushion.

You watched him as he took the time to catch his breath, eyes closed. He was so vulnerable in front of a woman who had threatened him, several times, and it was an alarming sight. To have Sam simply breathe you in, and take you savagely, as if you were his first meal in decades.

Your mouth practically watered at the view of him after sex, tousled hair and sweat glistening across his forehead. Biting your inner cheek, your hands slowly glided towards Sam’s cock. His eyes shot open —wild and stunned— before they squeezed shut again when you applied pressure. You fisted his length, stroking him till you felt cum leak from his tip.

You rubbed him a few times, listening intently to every breath and groan that left his throat. It didn’t take long for him to cum a second time. He just about whimpered your name, weak to your touch, liquefying further into the bed. His hands quickly gripped your wrists when you continued to stroke him even after his orgasm. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, almost in exasperation, though you knew that was his usual play with sarcasm.

“You're killing me here,” he murmured breathlessly, to which you grinned smugly, whispering into his ear, “Don’t tempt me Winchester.”

[meguwumibear]

dominant!zayne x submissive!reader

tw for light BDSM, bondage/shibari, sex toys (vibrator), fingering, and some minor angst. mc calls zayne sir like twice. if i've missed something else that needs a tag, just ask! nondescript female reader with a bit of a backstory, just to make her feel more connected to the world.

Additional Disclaimer: Takes place after the events of the main story (which I am not fully caught up on). Reader is NOT the game MC in this fic. In my mind's eye MC decided to romance one of the other characters and Zayne does what he can to move on.

and yes, zayne's harness in the fic is 100% inspired by his harnes in the new trailer

In 2034 the world you as you know it ends. It happens suddenly one mundane spring afternoon. A great, gaping maw opens in the cloudless blue sky above Linkon City, releasing a tidal wave of ferocious monsters unto the earth. Locals come to call the event the Chronorift Catastrophe. The world later discovers that the great, gaping hole in the sky was the appearance of the first ever Deepspace Tunnel which attracted alien beings now colloquially referred to as Wanderers.

Everyone in Linkon City remembers where they were that day. They remember what they were wearing and who they were with. A flashbulb memory, the psychologists call it. A memory that endures. A memory that persists.

Like most survivors, it isn’t just the red rain falling from the sky or the horrible sound of the earth splitting around you that you remember: it’s the actions you took to survive. The people you ran past. The neighbors you didn’t save. The hand you didn’t extend to the woman who tripped over her own two feet running from the creature. The debris you didn’t help remove from the body of the elderly man too weak to push the plank away without aid.

For three weeks you see a therapist. You’re an adult now, still plagued by nightmares of the event. You tell the woman you’re meeting with that you are suffering from memories. She tells you that your body needs to learn that the danger has passed. The problem with that logic? The danger hasn’t. Your body can’t stop secreting stress hormones when your daily lunch breaks are constantly interrupted by Metaflux monsters.

Your past becomes a prison. An inescapable cage. Your therapists asks how you would feel if someone flung open the doors for you. You tell her it would depend on who opened the door and what’s happening outside.

The session before you ghost your shrink, she asks you to practice breathing exercises. She prattles on and on about the importance of nervous system regulation in trauma recovery. Apparently exhaling is supposed to activate the “rest and digest” response—the antidote to the “fight and flight” response that your body is stuck in.  

And that’s all well and good but even twenty years later the Wanders keep manifesting in Linkon City in numbers that the Hunters can’t keep up with. You’d move, maybe, if you had the means, though you did read somewhere once that a scared animal will continue to seek out their home, even if their home is no longer safe.

So you find an alternative way to cope with the stress of the new world.

There’s budding red light district about an hour outside the city. You go sometimes on weekends to decompress. Your favorite haunt is a small BDSM club run by a couple of old widows who lost their husbands to the war. They verify ages at the door and ensure all the drinks at the place stay virgin.

You’re not heavy into the scene or anything—you actually have quite a few hard limits—it’s just…nothing else you’ve tried has helped you to shut off your brain. To shift your focus from the past to the present. To shut out all thoughts of Hunters and Protocores and Wanders.

The doms you’ve had up until this point were perfectly adequate; they listened diligently to what you were open to and respected all of your boundaries. You aren’t sure why you’ve never asked for a more consistent routine with any of them. Something, somehow, was always missing from the encounters.

There are a lot of new faces at the club tonight. Or, rather, there are a lot of faces new to you. The club has many regulars, but you don’t make the hike often enough to have them all committed to memory. Still, you’re certain you’ve never seen the tall, stoic man in a leather harness swarmed by a gaggle of women before. Despite the fact that he clearly has his pick of the litter, your gaze keeps wandering to his solid form. The way his abs flex when he breathes. The way his lips quirk when he talks.

He's halfway across the room but must somehow still feel the heat of your wandering gaze because after a few stolen looks he locks eyes with you. Your whole body flushes as he acknowledges you with a raise of his drink. The tips of your ears burn as he takes a healthy swig of the beverage without breaking the eye contact. It’s you who looks away first.

When you chance a glance back over, he’s excusing himself from the women who flocked to him like a tourist attraction to pick his way towards you. Your heart flutters anxiously as he closes in, and you have to remind yourself not to take a step back once he’s close enough to touch.

“First time?” he asks, voice smooth like ice.

“Ouch,” you reply, gripping your own water glass to ground yourself. “It’s not. Do I really look that unaware.”

His expression doesn’t change but his eyes move to assess you, “What are you drinking?”

Though his tone is relaxed you can’t help but feel as if the question has a correct answer.

“Just water.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Something with electrolytes would be more efficient. If you’re looking for a session tonight, that is.”

“I don’t like the taste,” you tell him, trying to keep the glass in your hand from shaking as desire swells within you.

He frowns, “Without electrolytes, your body will dehydrate, no matter how much water you consume.”

“You a doctor?” you ask.

He hums in what sounds like confirmation before wrapping his hand around yours. “I take the health of the people I play with seriously. This is about much more than sex to me. I like when my partners eat three square meals a day and have an effective exercise regimen implemented.”

You don’t resist when he slips your water from your grasp. You also don’t hesitate to open your mouth when he raises his own perspiring glass to your lips. His fingers don’t even graze you as you swallow down the fruity liquid, yet you can feel your insides come alight as you obey. As your pussy begins to leak it becomes increasing clear to you that you would do just about anything to have this man dominate you tonight.

“Good,” he says once you’ve downed the drink. “Now, do you happen to have a list of what you enjoy and your hard limits on you?”

With shaky hands, you reach wordlessly into your bag to retrieve what the man has asked for. He spends a few moments skimming the contents before simply stating, “I believe we are compatible.”

You follow him to a private room near the back of the club and watch as he begins to gather some equipment for the session. Without turning to look at you he says, “I noticed that you have some experience with light bondage. I prefer to use traditional single ply shibari rope or silk as restraints. These two methods prevent chafing and other potential complications like skin lesions or rashes. Do you have a preference for today’s session?”

“No preference, uh…” you trail off, wondering what the man would like you to refer to him as.

Sensing what’s on your mind, he offers, “I have no preferred titles, but you may assign me one if you like.”

“No preference, Sir,” you say, watching the man for his reaction. He seems unfazed by the moniker and continues to ready himself.

“Do you have any allergies or medical conditions I should be aware of?” he asks.

A lie forms on the tip of your tongue but the truth slips out anyway, “My heart’s a bit weak. Nothing serious. It didn’t develop properly when I was younger. I haven’t had any issues with it before.”

The revelation seems to give the man pause. He turns to you and motions for you to hold out your wrist for him, so you do. His warm fingers slip under your sleeve and find purchase on your pulse point. After a few excoriatingly silent minutes, you attempt to put his mind at ease.

“I’m, uh, a bit more excited than usual at the moment. My resting heart rate is probably higher than normal.”

The pads of his fingers don’t leave your wrist when he asks, “What’s your typical resting heart rate?”

You want to ask what that fucking matters, but sensing that won’t get you any closer to what you want you decide to humor the man. It’s been a while since you’ve been to a doctor. Back when they used to have you track it, the rate could vary depending on what task you were completing. It was higher, usually, when doing something strenuous. When you rested it would drop again.

“Usually around 90 beats per minute.”

His eyes flick to your face as he drops your wrist. “You should see a specialist.”

You roll your eyes impatiently, “Are we fucking or not?”

In response to your outburst, his hands find the hem of your shirt. “Who said I had any intentions of fucking you?” he asks, voice frustratingly emotionless. Your arms raise instinctually as he toys with the fabric, and the takes the opportunity to relieve you of the garment. “As I said before, this is about much more than sex to me.”

He circles behind you and draws you in close to him. It occurs to you suddenly just how much larger than you the man is. He rests his chin on your head as his fingers slowly trace down your sides, leaving a field of goosebumps in their wake. His hands make their way to the button on your pants.

“You aren’t just here for sex. Are you?” he asks, voice low. You feel the words vibrate his chest as he speaks them.

“No,” you whisper, eyes suddenly blurring.

“Good,” he says, undoing your buttons. “Let’s use the traffic light system today. It’s a simply way for me to check in on you and see how you’re doing.”

He lets the words sit in the air for a bit, fingers fiddling with your zipper. The only sound in the room is your own uneven breathing that you fight for control over.

The man pinches the tab of your zipper and shifts so his cheek is pressed against your forehead. “Color,” he asks, breath hot on the shell of your ear.

“Green,” you practically moan.

He slides off your pants with ease once he’s taken care of the zipper. He even helps you to keep your balance as you step out of them, one foot at a time.

“Color?” he asks again, as his fingers settle on the clasp of your bra.

“Green,” you reply, voice steadier now.

He undoes the hook with one hand.

You expect him to remove your panties next, but his fingers instead find the meat of your breasts. One of his arms wraps around you, securing you tightly against him, as you nearly keel over in a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

“Sensitive here,” he observes, cupping one of your breasts in his free hand. He uses a foot to nudge your legs further apart and slip a leg between them. The man isn't lying about getting off on this; his cock is hard as a rock against your ass.

“Fuck,” you whine as his bends you over ever so slightly. Just enough to rub your clothed pussy against his pant leg.

“Wet already,” he informs you, as if you don’t already know. As if you can’t feel the way the cotton material sticks to your lips. “All I did was undress you. That eager to begin?”

“Please,” you groan, desperate for him to take you apart with his slender fingers. “Please, Sir, I want you so fucking bad.”

“On the bed,” he instructs, releasing you, careful not to harm you as his leather harness peels away from your skin.

The rope he ends up choosing for the session is the jute rope. He takes his time winding the instrument around your wrists and pulling them above your head. His movements are practiced and skilled. His hands steady like a surgeon’s. You don’t even realize the effect watching him restrain you is having on you until a firm hand finds its way to your pelvis to stop your squirming.

Once you’ve settled, he retrieves two strands of additional rope.

“Are you familiar with the Spiral Futomomo tie?” he asks. “I understand that you’re still a beginner and tie will force you into a fixed position for an undetermined length of time. I trust you will use your safe word if needed?”

“You can trust me,” you assure him. “I know my limits.”

He must believe your words are sincere because he sets to work binding your ankle to your thigh, checking in periodically to ensure the wrappings aren’t too tight. The man is clearly in no rush and seems to delight in taking breaks between knots to steady your shaking form. You also notice the way his eyes shift to the growing wet spot beneath you as he progresses.

“What do you like about bondage?” he asks as he begins to work on your other leg.

“I don’t know,” you say, attempting to shrug before remembering your pose prevents you from such movement. “I’m never in control of my life anyway. May as well surrender myself to someone I know will take care of me.”

He doesn’t look at you, but you can see the way his eyes lighten. Your response must please him somehow. You decide to push the issue, “You like being in control?”

“I like caretaking,” is his response. “I like giving people what they need.”

“What if I need your fingers inside me?” you dare, feeling bold.

A small smile, but a smile all the same. “Then, you’ll have to patiently wait until I’m finished with the task at hand.”

He double checks all of his bindings once he’s finished securing you, mumbling under his breath about optimal blood flow. It’s cute, the way he seems so set on ensuring this is the best possible experience for you. You can’t remember the last dom you had who was this doting.

When he finally situates himself between your legs, it’s with gloved hands and a vibrator. You jump as the cool leather of the hand covering finds your inner thigh.

“Keep these spread for me,” he says, referring to your legs. Then he’s rubbing the vibrator, still off, up and down your panties with just enough strength for you to truly register the tool.

“You’re soaked,” he observes in that neutral tone of his, though his eyes glisten with awe. You wonder if he even realizes the vibrator isn’t on. His eyes find yours and for the first time all evening he smiles warmly at you. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take excellent care of you.”

Then he turns the vibrator on its lowest setting and your pussy truly begins to drool. He circles the vibrating toy around your clit strategically, watching your response to his ministrations intently. Fire pools in your belly as he slides the vibrator down your cunt and presses the tip of it gently against your opening. The panties you’re still wearing dull some of the vibration, but you can still feel the ungodly amount of slick that slips out of you at the slight penetration.

You do your best to stay still for him as he ups the setting, but your body starts to twitch in pleasure, back beginning to arch, toes threatening to curl. Your breath quickens as well as all the blood in your body seems to pump directly to your swelling clit. The same clit the man is now more firmly rubbing the vibrator against.

“Fuck,” you cry, starting to lose your composure. Your hips buck away from the relentless thrumming of the vibrator. Or maybe towards it. You’re not actually sure. It’s both too much and not enough at the same time. You need more. You need less. You need…

His unoccupied hand presses your hips back against the bed. “Easy,” he coaxes. “Don’t pull against the ropes.”

When you’re unable to obey, too overwhelmed with desire, he switches the vibrator off. The lack of sensation is so abrupt the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill, slipping down your heated cheeks. An animalistic whine you didn’t even know you were capable of escapes you.

“We’re not done,” he assures you, swiping at your tears with his thumbs. You wish suddenly he wasn’t wearing the leather gloves. You yearn to feel him skin to skin. The fabric is warm at least from the heat of his fingers. “You’re just getting a little fussy. I want to make sure everything is alright before we continue.”

He settles back between your spread legs and hooks his pointer finger in the bottom of your panties, pulling it aside to expose your dripping core and swollen lips. “Impressive,” he says, “how simple it was to elicit this response from you.”

He collects some of your spend on his index finger before starting to slide it inside you. It’s met with no resistance. He sinks easily in, straight to the knuckle. When he slips out it’s only to coat a second finger in your slick so he can sink that one in alongside the other. The two digits begin working you in tandem with each other, pumping deliciously against your walls. It doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for.

“Here,” he states, pressing and holding the tips of his fingers against the sensitive area. You involuntarily clench around them, body begging him to move them once more, but the man—to the devastation of your body—is nothing but the living embodiment of self-control.

You audibly cry out when he pulls his fingers from you. He locks eyes with you as he coyly promises, “Soon. I’d never leave a woman unsatisfied, and any man who would isn’t fit to be a dom.”

He picks the vibrator again and this time, when he touches it to your clit, it’s under your ruined panties. The thrumming sends a bolt of electricity skittering up your arched spine. Fuck, you’re so unbelievably wet. You feel your pussy fluttering around nothing and hiccup out a sob. You’re so empty. You’re so, so empty.

“Need,” you hiccup.

“What?” he asks patiently. “Tell me what you need.”

“Your fingers. I need your fingers. Please.”

He slips the same two from before back inside you.

“So well mannered," he praises. Then he asks, "Here?” as he presses the appendages against that spot once again.

“Yeah,” you agree, though you’re so far gone you would agree to anything he asked of you in this moment. “Yeah. Yeah. There. Right there. Fuck!”

He uses his fingers and the vibrator to bring you right to the brink of an orgasm. It’s so good. He’s so good. He’s touching you everywhere you need to be touched. Pushing all the buttons that need to be pushed. Your time in these rooms has never felt anything like this before, and you doubt it will ever feel anything like this ever again.

“Can I-”

“I don’t remember telling you that you needed my permission.”

Your orgasm ripples through you, strong and steady like a cresting wave. Once he’s certain he’s wrung the last of it out of you, the man withdraws his fingers and switches off the vibrator.

“I’m going to remove my gloves and start undoing your bindings,” he says.

“Yeah, okay,” you reply.

It takes a few minutes for him to completely untie you. Once he has, he asks permission to massage your legs and arms to reencouraged blood flow which you readily agree to. He produces a bottle of lotion that smells like eucalyptus from his bag and starts working the muscles of your arm.

“I wish they had showers here,” he offhandedly comments. “I don’t like sending people home without a proper washing.”

“A bath does sound nice,” you agree, sagging into his embrace.

“Promise me you’ll take one when you get home. I don’t want you getting into your bed dirty.”

“I would never make a promise I couldn’t keep, Sir.”

A comfortable silence falls over the room as he continues to provide you with aftercare.

“Zayne,” he eventually says, eyes fixed on the foot he’s been massaging for the past few minutes.

“What?”

“My name. You could use it if you’d like. Sir is fine too, if you’d truly prefer it, but I find names are much more intimate.”

“Oh,” is all you muster. Then you tell him yours.

“Could we move to the sofa while we continue to wind down?” he asks after testing the sound of your name in his mouth. “I like the casual skin to skin contact after a session. I’ll remove my harness but leave my slacks.”

“Fine with me.”

It takes Zayne a moment to remove his harness. Perhaps it’s his first time wearing this particular set of gear. You watch him wrestle with the final clasp through drooping eyelids. His expression softens when he catches you lazily staring at him.

“Admiring the view?” he teases.

“Never had a better one,” you reply easily.

He positions himself behind you when he joins you on the sofa. The two of you lay there comfortable for some time, breath seeming to synchronize in the quiet of the room. The world outside this secluded space slowly begins to creep back into your mind. Back to Metafluxes and Protocores. Back to Wanders and Hunters.

And then you start to cry.

If you weren’t so close to Zayne, you could probably hide it from him, but he notices the change in your mood instantly. He tugs gently at your arm, a wordless plea for you to turn to face him. You allow him to reposition you, curling yourself into his large body, tucking your face into his neck.

He pets at your hair soothingly while you let the worst of it out. When an appropriate amount of time has passed, he asks, “What brought that on?”

“It’s, uh, well it’ll probably ruin the moment if I told you.”

“I’d still like to know if it’s all the same to you. Debriefing is part of the scene after all.”

At first, you’re not sure you want to tell him what triggered the outburst, but considering the dynamic, you figure you owe it to him.

“I was thinking about my ex,” you admit.

Zayne stiffens, his caressing hand on your head stills. “They hurt you?”

“They loved me.”

 Zayne tangibly relaxes at your response, and he resumes petting your hair.

“What happened to them?” he asks, tone carefully neutral.

“They left me.”

The silence that follows your confession is welcome. You think you even dose off. When your eyes open again, Zayne is full dressed, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he sanitizes the sex toy you soiled.

Sensing you stir he says, “You’re awake.”

“I am.”

Zayne dries the toy and sets it aside, turning to face you.

“I like to follow up with the people I dom for. You don’t have to give me your number if you’re not comfortable. An email will suffice.”

“You can have my number,” you say, gesturing for him to hand you his phone. “I’d actually appreciate a check in tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

He walks you to the train station once he’s certain the number you’ve given him isn’t a fake.

“Remember to get a full eight hours of sleep tonight,” he tells you. “And please eat a protein-based meal for breakfast. Something with eggs and meat, maybe. A shake if absolutely necessary.”

“Yes, Doctor Zayne,” you joke, offering him a crisp salute as you step onto the train platform. Maybe you're imagining things, but you swear he flinches at your response.

A firm hand on your wrist stops you from fully entering the car. You turn to face him one final time.

“About that,” he says, expression unreadable. “I was serious about you seeing a specialist for your heart.”

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Unscripted Redemption Bracket — Round 5.5−1

Propaganda

Sammy Sinclair, the Scat King of Ganymede (Tidal Wave Games Podcast: SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY...) (Boba Count: 3):

Listen: we have fun here but there are two things Sammy Sinclair does and does well, and that's play the saxophone and fuck like a freight train. There's a reason he's left a trail of ex-lovers across the entire solar system, and while it's true the majority of them want him dead, that shouldn't be taken as any indication of his abilities. It's just because he's an asshole

In character audio propaganda against Muldan Foxskull.

Spanks Sinatra (Tidal Wave Games Podcast: SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY...) (Boba Count: 1):

When not performing, is drinking. When not drinking, is beating people up for money. When not beating people up for money, is performing. Life is purposefully structured to avoid encountering a thought for as long as possible

Vote for Spanks, he doesn't need a psychic ghost to turn you to rubber

Art of Sammy Sinclair by @areyoshi.

Art of Spanks Sinatra by @violetfoxsketches.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Sammy Sinclair, the Scat King of Ganymede (Tidal Wave Games Podcast: SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY...):

Don't be crass, it's scat as in jazz. Formerly known as the Sax King of Ganymede, before the loss of his prized saxophone in a debt to the Space Mafia necessitated a rebrand

Pansexual, pangalactic, personal pan pizza

4'10"; but it's not the size that matters, it's what you do with it

As a saxophonist, is good with mouth and fingers and can hold breath for a VERY long time

Say hi to your mom/dad/aunt for me

In-character audio propaganda from when he was against Lup.

you know what's sexier than being an umbrella? Making da fuckin corpos so mad they cancel you.

I heard that swearing is sexy, or something

sexiestpodcastcharacter lore

PLEASE VOTE FOR SAMMY SINCLAIR, SCAT KING OF GANYMEDE!!!!!

In-character audio propaganda with Spanks Sinatra from a previous round.

Husky: Vote for Sammy or else... well let's just say that you will not like what happens.

Alright here's my final appeal to vote for Sammy: a spoiler-free clip from after a very pivotal moment where shit has gotten real and he has to make a decision with far-reaching repercussions. It's not all goofs and gags in SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY…, Sammy can lock in too!

In-character cover of The Slur Song.

Spanks Sinatra (Tidal Wave Games Podcast: SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY...)

He/him lesbian drag king Frank Sinatra impersonator

Is too old for this shit (is 30)

Loves to use his fists

Is so tired

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Don't forget that Spanks' name is Spanks Sinatra ok, this is very important. Appreciate my jokes.

Don't you want to reach over and give him a better reason to turn his brain off for a while?

Spanks self-describes as a "himbo", but he's really not; he's highly intelligent and analytical, with a lot of shit in his past, and at the time you meet him the most effective way he's found to keep his own brain from overwhelming him is by beating it into submission with a life of hard drinking and violence

Important note: Spanks is a woman, he just uses he/him pronouns for various reasons, most of which are that he's a butch drag king.

Also vote for him.

Vote for Spanks Sinatra!!!

Who are you going to vote for: the he/him lesbian who can bench press you, or the tangled bundle of Christmas lights in your attic?

Come ON, you're going to let the he/him lesbian drag king Frank Sinatra who is also a bounty hunter get beat by a pile of cold, unflavored spaghetti??? Seriously?

Audio propaganda with Sammy Sinclair.

Art propaganda of Spanks Sinatra being crushed by Husky, as mentioned in the above audio propaganda.

Vote for my sad messed up drag king

Spanks is a he/him lesbian. come on. look at him

Anyway if it's rope/cable play you're into, Spanks has a move for that

[barefoothighlander]

deluminate

summary: kylo ren stops at nothing to capture his target

kylo ren x fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), unprotected pinv, slight hunter/prey, force bondage, choking, dub con, mind reading?, creampie, idk how the force works, kidnapping?

a/n: having kylo ren brain rot so i needed to write this, i want to hear nothing about realism none of this makes sense, not proofread

Where are you.

His voice rings clear and heavy in your head, a tidal wave through the hazy ocean that was your mind, fogged and weary from his preferred methods of interrogation.

It was purely chance that you had gotten out, a fluke in timing on the account of the troopers that usually haunted your room, one small mixup in shift change and you were left unguarded for invaluable seconds.

You had no idea where you were going, simply letting your legs carry you on their own accord, twisting down hallways and turning the sharp corners of the black metal walls that made up the labyrinth of his ship.

It felt like weeks you had been locked in that room, the days fading into eachother as he searched your mind for any piece of information that could help him, reaching deep into your thoughts and fears, urging you to give up the location of the map.

Truth be told you were the last person he should’ve been asking, a minor ship technician that aided the rebellion with not the slightest inclination as to where the forces were keeping such a lucrative item.

I will find you.

The husk of his voice vibrates in you as fear sweeps your nerves, even if you did somehow outrun him, there was nowhere to go, you had no idea of the ship had landed somewhere or if it was simply tumbling through hyperspace, an eerie quiet settled in the air of the halls, only broken by the sudden hissing of pipes or clanging of armour as patrols made their way.

It didn’t make sense, how he was able to see into your mind, control your body the way he did, a simple twitch of his finger and your limbs were frozen, a nudge of his chin and he could see into your darkest thoughts, the most private and secret, held deep in your psyche for only you to see.

Why run? Come back to me and I’ll give you what you want.

A taunt, emphasized by the honey dripping from his tongue, even through the mask you can hear it. There was no trying to hide behind it, he saw right through you, that obscure primal attraction you held for him, the longing to see him beneath the cloak and mask, to feel that power on other parts of your body.

He was using it against you, like somehow he course sense the throb between your legs as his voice spoke to you, the heat that pooled as he used only his mind to restrain your body.

Sweat beaded your skin, falling in drops down your spine as you rest against a wall, legs screaming in pain, how far had you ran? There was no way to tell if you’d even gotten far, every hallway turning into another, every corner identical.

The conversation of troopers has you holding your breath, careful to keep quiet as they pass by, praying to the maker they were truly as stupid as people made them out to be.

You’re near, I can feel you.

Clasping your hand over your mouth and breathing through your nose, you turn a quick glance around the corner, no sight of the massive cloaked figure, there was no way he knew where you were, he couldn’t.

Down the hall you can see a pair of doors, if you could get in you could lock them, you’d worked on ships similar, nothing this large and nothing from the new empire but they had to have similar wiring.

You will your aching limbs to carry you the few feet toward them, slamming a palm to the panel, a whimper escaping your lips as the screen flashes red.

You drive your fist against the metal doors, willing them to open, to let you in but they don’t budge, a deferred breath falls as you rest your head against it, the cold bite of them cooling your skin.

It’s a gasp of shock that falls from your lips as the doors part, cool air rushing against your skin, how did they-

“There you are pet”

Fear strikes through your body like lightning, this time his voice sounded to close, the crackle of the mask like sparks in your ears. His presence is heavy enough that it sucks the air from your chest, a tear falling from your eye as you slump your shoulders, refusing to turn and face him.

He places a firm hand to your back, walking you forward into the room as the doors close behind you, the tell tale sound of a lock snapping into place as your legs give out, knees buckling sending you toward the hard ground.

You can hear the echo of his steps as he paces the room, damn him if he wanted to read your mind, there were no thoughts to be seen.

“It was a good effort”

Invisible arms will your body up, weak legs trying to regain balance as he emerges in front of you, dwarfing your figure.

His form sucks the life from the room, forcing you backward till your spine connects with the wall, harsh steel biting into your skin as he braces an arm beside your head.

“Are you ready to give me up?”

You shake your head, eyes refusing to look up at him,

“You know I can take whatever I want”

His gloved hand presses to your throat, holding you to the wall as an unseen force binds your hands above your head, leaving you at his will.

“Is this not what you wanted? I’ve heard every thought you’ve had, they’re very loud”

You squeeze your eyes shut at the words, your throat bobbing under his grip.

“I’ve seen what you dream of, how you want to be touched by me, it’s.. obscene, the way you offer yourself up on a platter”

There’s nothing you can do, he has you at his will, a simple prayer to the maker that he’d atleast bestow some form of mercy upon you.

“Do you want to see what I think about?”

His voice is gruff, laced with threat as his fingers squeeze your pulse point.

“Open your eyes”

You obey, parting your wet lashes to look at him, staring deep into the black visor as he watches you, you struggle in his grip as the force on your hands tightens.

He reaches his free hand to his neck, a hissing sound filling the air as the chin of the mask parts, the black helmet rising on his form to reveal his face.

Every sense in your body betrays you at the sight of him, obsidian hair that curls around his pale face, his cheeks flush from the exertion of power as plush lips and dark eyes stare back at you.

He closes his eyes, tilting his chin toward you as he wills his thoughts to yours, flooding your mind with images.

He too had thought about you, your naked body in front of him, legs parted and sex on display as you writhe against the sheets, the tip of his nose nudging against your swollen bud as he feasts on you.

The image sense shockwaves to your core, heat pooling as he continues to show you yourself, bent over a table, your ass arched in the air for him as his cock drives deep into you, practically forcing the air from your lungs with every thrust.

It’s too much, the visions, it feels too real, your skin flushing as he pulls back, his dark gaze glued to you.

“Do you see pet, what you do to me, why I could never let you run away”

He releases one of your hands, gripping your wrist as he drags it to his groin, forcing your digits to cup his length as he grunts. Even through the thick cloth of his pants you can feel his size, massive and pulsing, like pure iron in your weak grip.

You part your lips in shock as he grinds his hips into your palm, his hand on your throat tensing.

“Don’t shy away now, not when you’re so close to getting what you want”

Another grind of his hips has your fingers squeezing his bulge, a primal grin forming on his lips as he ducks his head next to yours.

“That’s it, give yourself over”

His breath ghosts over your ear, tingling the hair on your neck as his teeth dig into your earlobe, nipping at the skin.

His fingers creep over your stomach, inching down toward the pulse that’s settled between your thighs, strong hands tugging at your bottoms as the skin of your ass is revealed, the cool air hitting it.

He cups your sex with his palm, grinding the leather of his glove against your aching bud, cheeks heating as the sound of your slick fills the room.

“So wet for me already”

His words give rise to a tinge of embarrassment in your face as you roll your hips into his hand, searching for the contact against your clit as his cock strains against his pants.

“M’gonna drive my cock so deep into you, there won’t be any thoughts for me to read”

The threat has your core aching, clenching around nothing as he rips his hand from you, the black fabric of his gloves glistening in your slick as he raises a hand.

His free hand moves to loosen his pants, biting back a groan as his cock springs free from the fabric, keeping his eyes on yours as he fists it, the harsh rub of his glove rough against the skin of his shaft.

“Open your mouth”

You move to reach a hand for him but it’s pulls to the wall with that same invisible force, keeping you flat to the metal as it digs into your spine.

“I said open”

You obey, parting your lips slightly to allow his fingers to tease around the flesh, pushing past your teeth to flatten against your tongue.

Swirling the muscle around the digits, the bitter taste of leather mixed with the sweetness of your own slick dripping down your throat as he forces the fingers deeper.

He teases the head of his cock through your folds forcing your eyes shut as you hum around his fingers.

“You’re gonna take every last inch, and you’re gonna keep your eyes on me”

Parting your lids in a haze your teeth dig into his fingers as he pushes in, one swift motion has his cock stuffing you full, forcing your cunt to adapt to the stretch of him.

The angle has him dipping below you, forcing his cock upward as he thrusts, the head of it grinding against that sweet spot into you as it drags against your soaked walls.

“That’s it, eyes on me pet”

His fingers tilt your chin to face him, eyes clouded in lust as you watch him bite back his grunts. His hand grips at your thighs, tugging them around his waist as he lifts you higher against the wall, length driving into you, forcing your body to collide with the hard metal behind you with every thrust.

“Wanted this since I first saw you”

The words come through gritted teeth, your eyes drifting to where the two of you meet, his hand withdrawals from your mouth allowing you to suck in a breath before it makes contact with your throat, pinning your neck to the wall.

“I said eyes on me”

It’s a struggle to even keep them open as his cock splits you in half, feeling impossibly full from him, the base of his length grinding against your clot with every stroke.

Your legs lock around his back, holding him to you as you roll your hips into him, meeting every thrust. A grin plasters his face at the sight, using his hand to tear at your shirt, the lose fabric falling around you as your breasts are revealed, nipples peaked from the cold air.

Like a beast to its prey he eyes your form, bound and free for his taking, he leans down, his teeth closing around a nipple eliciting a yelp from you as he nips at the skin, flicking his tongue over it.

“So good for me, letting me take you however I want”

Heat rises in your chest, it was true, he could have you, the sight of him alone that first day had your thoughts betraying you, his form oozing power and command.

You snap from your thoughts as an unseen pressure hits your clit, rubbing against the bud in a perfect pressure that has your back arching against the wall, pushing your breasts further into him.

It’s obscene the noises the flood the room, the sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the wracked moans that escape you, he peers down, his jaw slack at the sight of your pussy swallowing him whole with every thrust.

“Never gonna let you go pet, you’ll stay here with me, as my little play thing”

The words sting your chest, the thought of remaining captive to the man who could invade your very soul, but the feeling of his cock driving into you is too tempting, feels to good, the pleasure blooming from your core has you nodding”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, letting me stuff this little pussy everynight, getting used by me, fucking slut”

That invisible hand flicks against your clit as his cock drives deep into your walls, your legs tightening around him as your push squeezes him, keeping him inside you, letting your orgasm rip through your bones.

As your high lowers you open your eyes, straight to his gaze, his hair sticking to his forehead in a sheen of sweat as the slightest pink tints his cheeks, his cock sliding into your drenched walls.

In a second he slams his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you, hard enough that the grind of your back against the wall was sure to leave you sore.

His hand meets the flesh of your ass, squeezing the muscle with force as he holds your body to him, allowing his cock impossibly deep as he buries it inside you, his hips staggering with each thrust.

“Say you’re mine, fuck, say it”

He leans his head back, lowering it to your shoulder as his teeth dig into the flesh, tears pricking your eyes as your muscles scream.

“I’m yours”

The words trigger something in him, a growl from his chest vibrates against your skin as he spills inside you, the warmth spreading in your core as he moves his coco slowly inside you, shallow thrusts to force his cum deeper.

He holds your body to him, the force on your hands gone, allowing the now sleeping muscles to drop to his shoulders, your fingers splayed over the rough fabric of his cape as his breaths ghost over your skin.

“You’re mine”

The haze of it wares on you, your mind weakened from the combination of everything as your body fights to regain its strength, held up only by his body.

Slowly he pulls his cock from you, allowing his spend to drop down your thighs as his hands keep you still. His eyes glued to yours as he watches you wince from the loss of contact, a hand settling on your cheek, the leather dragging against the thin layer of sweat on the flesh.

He bites back the words in his throat as he closes his eyes, his fingers flexing against your skin as your mind goes blank.

You wake in a dark room, legs bare against the black sheets that have settled atop them, your chest covered only by the large cloth of a shirt, you can feel the soreness from earlier already settling into your body as you sit up, trying to look around.

There’s a stream of starts outside the large window, the only light in the room as you squint to see, it was some sort of bedroom, the furniture below you soft and cushioned, you were in a bed.

Turning to your left you can see the light shine on his pale skin, the expanse of his back visible, alongside the pink pines of scars the adorned it, his dark hair blending into the sheets as his body rised slightly with every breath.

You were in his bedroom, his private quarters, in his bed, shock hits you all at once, every nerve in your body telling you that you shouldn’t be there, but he had brought you there, changed your clothes as set you beside him in bed.

He had stripped off his cloak and leathers, tucked away the facade of Kylo Ren and went to bed, beside you.

Running a soft hand over the curve of his spine you feel him twitch, his breath remaining slow, he was still asleep, he didn’t look like that large beast that invaded your thoughts like this, he was softer, calmer.

The sheets are soft as you slip back below them, turning to your side to face him, watching his skin flow under the streaming stars as your eye slide grow heavier, drawing you back into sleep.